Chapter 3

The next day was like any in the lawyer's profession-stimulating in the human contact but all so routine and ordered in the procedure. For her the people made the difference, and Cynthia was proud of her ways as an understanding, compassionate lawyer.

By the time she and Maggie got home they were bushed to the bone. As they opened the door they caught a putrid whiff of something cooking.

"What in heaven's name?" murmured Cynthia.

When they sat at the table they got their surprise. Gladdie-May had fixed up a huge batch of fat collard greens. And all Cynthia wanted was a salad.

"I figured I'd cook you both some good, stout vittles," chimed Gladdie-May.

"Which you certainly did, Gladdie-May" she said firmly. Then as Cynthia flashed her a stern, warning glance, she added hastily, "You're a very good cook, Gladdie-May."

Gladdie-May beamed happily and preened herself a little.

"Bud always thought so," she assured them, and then the happiness faded from her young face and her full, red-lipped mouth quivered. "I just can't get over this awful thing that's happened. That old Mose Henslee dead-and Bud shut up in a cage, with folks thinking he shot Mose. He didn't, Miss Cynthia. Why, he was right there home with me and little Buck that whole night long! How could anybody think Bud would kill a man, shoot him in the back!"

For a moment she fought the threatening tears and then, with an effort that lit a glow of approval in Maggie's eyes, the girl had herself under control and gave them both a misty-eyed, tremulous smile.

"I'm sorry," she apologized humbly. "I know you're going to make 'em let Bud go, Miss Cynthia. And we and him'll never forget you for it. Not as long as we live, we won't."

Cynthia studied her for a moment and then asked quietly. "Gladdie-May, did Mose try to sweet-talk you?"

Gladdie-May's eyes widened with shock, and then blazed with anger.

"No, ma'am!" she flashed. "He knowed better than to try anything like that. Why, I'd shot him myself if he'd ever tried."

Her sense of outrage was so obvious that Maggie and Cynthia exchanged a glance, knowing she spoke the simple truth. But after a moment Gladdie-May's anger was followed by a startled, thoughtful look, and Maggie felt she could almost see the thoughts revolve in the girl's mind.

She looked hard at Maggie and then at Cynthia, and her jaw set hard.

"You mean if he had, Miss Cynthia, folks wouldn't blame Bud for killing him?" she asked softly, yet with a grimness in her voice that widened Maggie's eyes. "Then we'll just say he did! I'll swear it on a stack of Bibles high as my head, if it'll help Bud!"

"Hi, now, wait a minute," Maggie protested sharply. "You can't do that if it isn't true. That would be perjury!"

"If it would help Bud-" Gladdie-May insisted stubbornly.

"It won't help Bud for you to commit perjury, Gladdie-May; lying under oath could put you in jail, too!" Cynthia pointed out.

Gladdie-May's young chin tilted defiantly and her blue eyes were stormy.

"As long as Bud's there, you think it would make any difference to me if they locked me up, too?" she demanded harshly.

"With both of you in jail, who'd look after the baby?" Maggie asked, and saw the stormy look melt from Gladdie-May's eyes and the young shoulders droop.

"Yeah," said Gladdie-May heavily. "I reckon one of us has got to look after little Buck, seeing he can't do it for himself."

"Since he's a scant six weeks old, I hardly think we can expect him to start providing for himself just yet," Maggie agreed soberly.

"And besides, Gladdie-May, we don't want people to excuse Bud for killing a man; we want to prove that he didn't do it, don't you see?" Cynthia added gently.

Gladdie-May nodded despondently.

"Well, yessum, I know that's what we want to prove, but how are we going to do it? That's what's worrying me sick-how can we prove he didn't do it?" she wailed, and for a moment hid her face behind her work-roughened hands.

Maggie and Cynthia exchanged swift, pitying glances, and Cynthia made her voice very brisk and soothing as she answered, "Well, that's why you have a lawyer, Gladdie-May. It's my job to prove Bud innocent; yours to have faith in him and take care of his son and be waiting for him when it's all over."

Gladdie-May nodded and dropped her hands, managing a very small, heart-wrenching smile.

"I reckon Buck and me'll be waiting for him a hundred years from now," she said simply. "I can't ever remember a time when I didn't love Bud and want to be his wife. Yessum, we'll be waiting."

"Well, the case comes up for trial the first week in October, Gladdie-May, and that's two weeks from now," Cynthia told her. "That gives me two weeks to find the guilty man."

She tried hard to put force and conviction into her tone, but knew as Maggie glanced at her that she had not fooled Maggie. However, Gladdie-May wanted to believe her and therefore found it easy to do so.

"Y'all go on out on the verandah and set," Gladdie-May urged, as she stood up and began clearing away the dishes. "While I do up the dishes."

"We'll help, Gladdie-May. We're not going to make a servant out of you."

"You got to, Miss Cynthia. You got to let me work. I'm aiming to wash tomorrow, so you and Miss Maggie put out all your dirty clothes for me where I can find 'em. And I thought I'd wash the downstairs windows and scrub the kitchen. I like to work, Miss Cynthia-I got to! Else I'll just about go stark, starin' crazy!"

The words came in a swift, explosive burst as she caught up a pile of dishes and hurried out of the dining room into the kitchen.

Maggie and Cynthia hesitated, and then Cynthia made a little gesture of defeat and walked with Maggie out to the wide old verandah. There was a wicker swing in one corner, shielded by a mass of honeysuckle vines, and Cynthia dropped into it, while Maggie took a deep, comfortable wicker chair near her and lit a cigarette.

They sat for a few moments in silence. The afterglow of sunset lay over the scene. The deep shadows beneath the live-oaks were already thickening and in the big magnolia tree near the fence, the fighting among the sparrows as they made ready for the night filled the quiet with a spiteful clamor.

"That poor scrap of a child!" said Maggie heavily at last. "I never dreamed collard greens and pork chops on a hot night could be the perfect meal, did you?"

Cynthia managed a rueful laugh.

"Delicious, wasn't it?" she agreed. "Maggie, what am I going to do? I've promised to free Bud, and I haven't the vaguest idea how to go about finding out the guilty man. There are so many people in the county who loathed Mose-too many suspects, and each one with a seperate motive all his own."

"Well, you'll think of something," Maggie said comfortably. "You always have. But when I think of those two kids, after their miserable childhoods, finding each other and their happiness out in that swamp, minding their own business, asking nothing but to be left alone-and now this! Makes you want to pick up a sawed-off shotgun and storm the jail to set him free!"

Cynthia sighed and nodded complete agreement with the lawless but inviting thought.

Alone in her bedroom, Cynthia once again reviewed the events of the day. Hank was an unexpected complication, all right. But Cynthia figured that she could handle him.

Cynthia fell asleep quickly-something she had always been able to do. But this night was different from the others. Perhaps it was the murder case, which had been dominating her thoughts.

But more than likely, the dream was just what it appeared to be: a sign of the tremendous physical attraction that had occurred when she first saw Hank.

As she tossed and turned in her bed, Cynthia's hand wound its way between her legs. It felt good there, warm and secure.

At first she dreamed of cloudy days and vivid bursts of color that didn't make any sense at all. But then her dream become quite life-like-and much more entertaining.

She was in her office, sorting through some papers, when Hank walked in.

"Hi," he said."Still interested in representing the Lucky Devils?"

She looked up at him. "What makes you ask that? Have I given you any reason to suppose that I wasn't interested?"

Hank laughed. "I guess not," he said. "It's just that I'm not used to dealing with a woman lawyer."

She felt herself getting annoyed. "And what does my being a woman have to do with this?"

"Women-well, women mean just one thing to me. And that's not representing me as a lawyer!"

"Are you saying that I am not capable? If that's the case, I suggest you seek out another attorney!"

Hank held up his hand. "Whoa. I can see that I'm putting my foot in my mouth here-why don't we pretend that I just walked in and then start all over again?"

She smiled. "That's fine with me. Now-how may I help you?"

"Well, seeing as you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, I was thinking that maybe the two of us could get together and have some fun."

She felt her back stiffening. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, relax," Hank said. "You're a big girl-surely you know what I'm talking about."

"I do," she said. "And I think that you have some nerve, walking in here and propositioning me that way!"

Hank laughed and unbuttoned his shirt. He tossed it on a chair and then turned to the door. "Does this thing lock?" he asked.

"Yes-just push the button," Cynthia said. Her cheeks were aflame. Here she was, helping him set up his seduction of her!

He turned to her and said, "Why not get out of that dress? It's real pretty, but what's underneath is prettier by far!"

She bit her lip. She wanted to tell him to get out, but she couldn't find the words. Besides, his crude sexiness made her center swell and itch.

"Well?" He was staring at her, a smile on his lips. To speed things up, he dropped off his pants, draping then over a chair.

Next came his shorts.

Cynthia gasped when she saw Hank naked. Lean and rugged, with whipcord muscles and a piece of heavy machinery hanging between his legs. He palmed and stroked the thick tool into hardness.

"I think we should stop," Cynthia said weakly. But her pulse was pounding as she grew aware of the dampening feeling between her legs.

"Nonsense," Hank said. He walked over and ripped off her dress. He slid her bra off roughly upward while he pushed her panties down. He pulled her naked body to his and pushed his pulsing pecker against her goose-pimpled flesh.

She rubbed against him now like a cat who finally knew it was okay to nuzzle. Over her fear and stimulated by his powerful, supple body, she pulled him hard against her. Her stomach seemed to flutter as his cock grew against it.

But Hank knew what he wanted. He leaned back against her desk and presented his prick by the foot. "Suck my cock, baby!"

At first she was angered, but he knew what he was doing. That flush turned to a wave of passion and she dropped to the floor and grasped his tall pecker.

In a way she was angered by his arrogance, but that also was a turn-on. She knew what she was doing, though, and in spite of her mixed emotions she swallowed his bulging tree. Her lips sucked at the cockhead and drew it in.

As she sucked she became more and more excited. There was an element of degradation in what she was doing, but instead of disgusting her, it made her even more excited.

She felt totally wanton, able to do anything as long as it gave Hank pleasure. She was sucking eagerly now, taking more and more of his length into her mouth.

Her face gobbled at him, taking in inches with hearty wet gusto, slipping her lips eagerly around more and more of him. His crushing bruiser slid across her tongue feeling wide and rock-hard. The skin was pulled so tight she could perfectly feel the bulging muscle beneath it.

She knew how to get a man to give up his seeds. It took a subtle combination of moves, a little ballet of sucking and swirling at the right times and places.

She got her mouth down to his fat and hairy base and started out on phase one. Eagerly she pursed her face around the bottom of his manhood and sucked at it. Her lips sealed fast around the skin and tugged, putting special pressure on the underside where his jizm would come pulsing up.

Meanwhile her tongue had a whole section of fleshy inches around it in her hot mouth. She cradled the bulging skin with it and licked back and forth. Soon her wet curls extended up and around the fat shaft, until she was flicking at him in a way that made his skin curl.

Then she locked into phase two, which was a fast action pull on his foreskin upward. Down she then pulled with her face still puckered to rub his glans sensually. Then she sucked back up, keeping each stroke at a deliberate speed.

She knew that she had him on his way when Hank started to let out little guttural moans.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!" he said. "Pull on that pecker!!"

She slowly speeded up, keeping her mind set to maintaining a tight face that could encase and swirl about his cock. She knew that soft rubbing would get his cock up to the edge. Then she could finish him with a gourmet round of flick and suck.

Her pace was planned and, for Hank, perfectly executed. She bobbed even faster, until the mushy purse of her mouth was smacking up and down along his rail.

She weaved her face along his dangle, her lips gripping tightly and pulling at him insistently. Hank groaned in anticipation.

Then she throated him, whirling her whole head around to squirrel him into her tight throat. He jabbed down and felt it grip him. She drew up and shoved him down again, her lips still holding an airtight lock on his rippled foreskin.

His balls ached and bulged, and inside a sticky brew was coming to a boil. Cynthia could feel it too-something in the way his cock stiffened just before discharge.

She slipped her head upward with firm suction and hoovered out his load into her mouth. He looked at her kneeling there, wantonly sucking at his tip and letting it slip in and out of her mouth.

The cock spat heavy, creamy juices all about her mouth and tongue, but Cynthia lapped it up happily.

Then he was pulling her to her feet and turning her around. Cynthia had never been so excited in her life. Her center was wet and puffy and when Hank ran his large, rough hand over her sensitive flesh she felt as if she might pass out from the hot pleasure of it.

Then he was standing behind her, and he tugged her by the hips and slid his prick between her asscheeks and when she felt it part her cunt she screamed with pleasure and he drove it all the way home with one move.

Her inner depths burned with passion as he stabbed her. Cynthia knew a good rod when she felt one, and this big pole of Hank's had the depth and the thickness to really set her flying.

They kneeled on the' floor in their doggy hunch and slammed away. Hank reached around with one hand and tweaked a nipple while the other arm was around her waist and holding her from humping right off his erect and pulsing manhood.

Hank shoved right and left, up and down, taking her from all the aims he could and stabbing her to the max. She just rode it all out in passionate pleasure.

"HANK!!!" she yelled when he picked her right up on his hard pole and lifted her. "You're so huuuuge and stiff!!!!"

One of his arms held around the upper torso while the one around the waist slipped down to tickle her clit bud. Hank held her up in front of him on the pivot of his tool and frigged her love button.

Cynthia screamed and squirmed. "OOOOO HANK! I LOVE IT!!!! DO IT TO ME WITH YOUR BIG DORK!"

The heat of passion and shame inflamed her. She was a slave to his prick now, going in whatever directions the big pointer urged her.

Then Hank laid her back down and she hunched up her ass. Holding her rear tightly in position, she let him slam it to her with full force. She grunted in a most impassioned and wild way.

"UUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH-HH!!!!! SOCK THAT THING INSIDE ME!!!!! TEAR UP MY PUSSY!!"

She couldn't believe what she was saying, though Cynthia knew it reflected all the desires she felt right at this very minute. She wanted her womb to be pounded apart, chopped to a pulp by his pecker. That's what she was getting.

Hank banged at her insides furiously and mightily, mushing up her pussy with his slicing tool and keeping her up on the far reaches of desire. She swooned and spun as he wracked her heaving love tunnel, splitting her insides with his rail.

"HA A A A A A A A ANNNNNKK!!!" she yelled. " JAB IT TO MY CUNT! SOCK YOUR PRICK TO ME!!!!!"

He came in her with bucket loads of streaming, gooky come, humping the junk deep into her womb and making her insides buckle with his passionate fluids. She could not contain her joyful yelps.

"OOOOOO YOU'RE COOOMMINNGG!!! I LOVE IT!!! IT'S SOOOOO HOOOOTTTTTT!!!"

He spurted and shot within her until her little butt rested on his hard and hungry pivot. Hank wanted more sex.

He pulled his cock from her pulsing quim to discover that it was slathered and soaked with a mixture of his and her juices. The junk stuck to his fat pole and made him moist.

He slipped his cockhead out of the rear of her pussy and traced the few inches to Cynthia's asshole. He laid the thing against her small, tight hole. Just the mere presence at the gate of her tightest place made Cynthia's head rush with scared sensations.

"Oh Hank...." she cooed. "Will it fit? Your cock is so ... big, and my ass is so ... small. Please be gentle."

He tried to take it easy, but her rear was not entirely cooperative. At first he tried jabbing at the tight-fisted brown hole, but that seemed to no avail. With every knock of his cockhead the chute seemed to curl up tighter, locking him out.

Even the wet juices that were making her bum moist didn't help. She knew he wanted to be up there, so Cynthia loosened her muscles and tried to uncoil her rear. It did little good.

Hank knew he would have to dig his way in, and then tunnel and fight for every inch of her colon. It was the kind of battle he enjoyed-as good as a good court case any day.

He twisted his hips and tried to pry the flesh apart with his crowbar. Cynthia pumped her ass at him, trying to help.

Suddenly a tiny bit of the twisted skin gave way and let him up inside. He shoved and ground at her rear as it then tried to push him back out. After a fight, Hank held his inch and a half of ground.

He could feel the ass pinching and grabbing him, so Hank timed his jabs to coincide with the weakest moments in the fisted tunnel's heaving.

Finally as it untwisted for a second he grabbed another inch, and Cynthia screamed.

"OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH YOU'RE TEARING ME UP AND SPLITTING MY ASSHOLE!!!!!"

He pushed again, jiggling his hips about. The tight little coil let loose and he took two inches. It then clamped up tightly and hugged him hard and very hotly.

But Hank didn't stop. He dug and reamed and pushed until his head was lodged as deep as he could shove it in her ass. Then with little precise strokes he took her there in her burning bum, snapping at it fast and short, with the rear twist holding him as hard as it could. It milked his juices and made them spray as if from a firehose. She awoke still feeling violated in her rear.