The Client Who Was Waiting for Me on the Other Side of the Bars

I’m going to tell this myself, though I would never sign this story with my real name. I practice criminal law in a mid-sized city in the country, and a few years ago I took on a case that ended up crossing several lines I had promised myself I would never cross.

My name, for the purposes of this confession, will be Carolina. I’m forty-two, with two divorces behind me, my own office, and a secretary named Camila who knows too much about me. The day it all began, prosecutor Gerardo called me while I was going over a minor matter with a new client—Sebastián, a forty-five-year-old businessman whose eyes always stayed two inches below Camila’s skirt.

—I’ve got something that might interest you, Caro —Gerardo said, while I leaned over the desk to reach the receiver and, without meaning to, gave Sebastián a direct view of my cleavage and the black lace bra I was wearing under my half-open blouse.

It was a possession case. A guy a little over thirty, with no prior record, who’d had four kilos of cocaine found in his house. He’d done a favor for an old friend. Gerardo described him as a patsy, someone the police had caught in the net while looking for the big fish.

—You know those cases get to me, Ger —I replied.

I apologized to Sebastián, promised to be back in an hour, and left Camila instructions for filing. I never imagined then that my secretary would use my absence to close the deal with Sebastián in the most intimate way possible. I found out later, through a message from her, almost like a confession to her boss.

—I closed it, doctor —she wrote—. He signed the papers with his left hand. His right was busy with my tits.

I didn’t answer. When I came back, the office smelled different, of sweat and semen. The papers on the desk were slightly askew, and on my own chair there was a warm, sticky mark any woman would recognize: a thread of fresh cum still sliding over the leather. In the wastebasket, a tissue knotted up with the load drying inside. That morning, Camila had knelt for my client, sucked him off until he was trembling over my chair, and then opened her dress so he could empty his cock inside her. But that’s another story.

***

When I got to the police station, Tomás Ríos had already been in the holding cell for six hours. They brought him into the interrogation room with a split lip and bloodshot eyes. I asked for five minutes alone, and they gave them to me.

—Look, Tomás —I told him, sitting down across from him at the metal table—. Between you and me, there can’t be any secrets. Tell me everything.

We talked for twenty minutes. He gave me the friend’s name, an address in the south side, and his girlfriend’s number. When I leaned over to take notes, I felt his gaze drop to my cleavage and stay there, at the swell of my tits pressed against the bra. I let it go. I’m a lawyer, not a nun, and I’m forty-two: I use looks to my advantage when I need to.

That same afternoon I went to see the girlfriend. Romina was twenty-nine, with blonde hair to her shoulders and the kind of dark circles that come from not sleeping for two days. I took her hands. I promised her boyfriend would get out. She believed me. I believed it too, because I knew the judge on the case and because the prosecutor was a friend from law school.

What I didn’t know yet was that the warden of the prison where Tomás was going to be transferred—one Hugo Salinas, fifty-four years old, gray hair, gym-built body—already had plans for that girl.

***

Hugo told me himself weeks later, when it was all over. He told me over dinner, laughing, with a glass of wine in his hand. That Romina had gone to the prison to see Tomás against my instructions. That a guard sent a photo of her to his phone while the girl waited in line. That he, sitting in his office with his secretary Daniela reading over his shoulder, had decided that visit wasn’t going to be free.

He told me how he talked her into it. An intimate visit with her boyfriend in exchange for a shoulder massage. How he started at her neck and ended up sliding down the straps until Romina’s tits were bare, her nipples hard with fear and something else. How he told her in her ear that if she wanted to see Tomás that same afternoon, she should get on her knees and pull his cock out of his pants. How the blonde, trembling, pulled down his zipper and took the whole dick into her mouth, tears running through her smeared makeup. How Daniela, the secretary, pushed the office door open with her shoulder and stood watching from the threshold, her skirt already hiked to her waist and two fingers between her legs, openly masturbating while the prisoner’s girlfriend sucked the boss’s cock. How, after a while, Daniela joined in without anyone asking, stripping off amid laughter in the middle of the office, bending down to lick Romina’s nipples while Hugo grabbed her by the hair and fucked her mouth without mercy. How the three of them ended up on the black leather couch, Romina in the middle, dizzy, Daniela’s tongue buried in her cunt and Hugo’s cock pumping her mouth at a rhythm that left her unable to breathe. How, when he came, he splattered his load over her face and tits, semen streaming down the neckline she had put on two hours earlier to see her boyfriend. How Daniela bent down to lick the semen from her nipples before giving her a kiss on the mouth with the boss’s own cum still warm between her teeth. Not really knowing how she had ended up there or what she was going to tell the man waiting two floors below.

—And you, Hugo, don’t you feel anything? —I asked, bringing the glass to my lips.

—Carolina, darling —he answered—. If I felt something every time a woman begs me for a prisoner, I’d already be dead. And if I came inside every woman who got on her knees for me, I’d have to retire tomorrow.

***

Four days later, I got special permission to visit Tomás. The official reason was to inform him of the case’s progress: we had caught the drug friend, and the judge was approving house arrest. The real reason, the one I confess now, was that I’d spent a week thinking about him. About the way he’d looked at me in the interrogation room. About the way he’d lowered his head when I spoke to him about his girlfriend. About the way he had thanked me by squeezing my hand for a second longer than necessary. I had masturbated two nights in a row thinking about him, with two fingers sunk inside my cunt and the other hand pinching a nipple, imagining him fucking me against the metal interrogation table.

Hugo Salinas received me in his office. I was wearing a red summer dress, no stockings, no panties— I made that decision in the car before getting out—, legs crossed and heels hanging off my right foot. He didn’t even try to hide where he was looking.

—Doctor —he said—, I ask that you understand my position. Your client got into an altercation in the yard.

—What altercation?

—Prisoner stuff. Someone told him his girlfriend had been with me, and well…

I stared at him without blinking.

—And is it true?

—Please, Carolina. I’m a professional.

I held his gaze for a long while. Hugo looked down first, straight to the V of my crossed legs. I asked to see Tomás alone, inside his cell, with no guards in the corridor. He agreed, of course he agreed. I offered him something in return that I won’t spell out here in detail, but it involved opening his fly behind the desk, kneeling on the rug, and pulling out his thick cock with both hands. I sucked him all the way, deep to the back of my throat, squeezing his balls while he held my hair tied back. I swallowed his load without coughing, my eyes locked on his, and wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my thumb before getting up. It ended up being cheaper than I expected: a good blowjob is worth more than any signed favor.

***

When I stepped into the cell, Tomás was sitting on the lower bunk, his back against the wall. His two cellmates had already been sent elsewhere by Hugo’s order. The barred door shut behind me with that hard sound I’ll remember until I die.

Tomás stood up and came to me. He hugged me. I hugged him back, gave him the news I had for him, told him that in forty-eight hours he’d be on house arrest. I felt his chest rising and falling against mine, faster than the news warranted. I also felt, pressed against my lower belly, what was happening in his pants: a cock that had already gone hard just from having me near. I took his face in both hands.

—Doctor —he murmured.

—Carolina —I corrected him—. In here, I’m Carolina.

I kissed him first, I confess it. No one forced me. No one threatened me. I was forty-two years old, had two divorces, and a choice of my own. I kissed him because I wanted to kiss him, and because the cell smelled of disinfectant and trapped male sweat, and because my bed had been empty for months. I pushed my tongue all the way in. I bit his lower lip. I grabbed his crotch with an open hand and squeezed his cock through the fabric until he groaned against my mouth.

—Take it out for me —I whispered in his ear—. I want to see it.

He yanked the straps of my dress down. My tits popped out, already without a bra, because I had taken the bra off too in Hugo’s office bathroom. He bent down and sucked one nipple, then the other, biting them with months of hunger. I unbuttoned his uniform pants and pulled them down to his knees. His cock sprang free against my hand, hard, thick, the tip already wet. I wrapped my fist around it and started stroking him slowly, looking him in the eyes.

—Suck me, Carolina —he begged, voice rough—. Please.

I knelt on the cold concrete floor, not caring about the dress, not caring who I’d been two hours earlier in the warden’s office. I opened my mouth and took his cock halfway in. I licked the entire length, from base to head, tasting the sweat of three days locked up. I sucked his balls one by one while I jerked his cock slick with my saliva. Then I took him all the way down, until the tip hit the back of my throat and tears filled my eyes. Tomás gripped my head with both hands and started fucking my mouth, thrusting into me carelessly, as if he’d spent months waiting to put his cock in someone.

—Like that —I said when he pulled out to let me breathe—. Fuck my mouth like that.

He took me to the bars. He turned me around, placed my hands on the cold metal, and lifted my dress from behind. He found no underwear. I heard the growl that came out of his chest when he saw I was naked underneath. I felt his mouth first, the hot breath traveling up the inside of my thigh, the tongue cutting its way between my ass cheeks, licking me from back to front, from the crack of my ass to my clit, in one long stroke that made my legs shake. He bit one cheek. He buried his tongue in my cunt, twisting it as he spread my lips with his thumbs. He sucked my clit with his whole mouth until I was dripping onto his chin.

I bit my lip to keep from screaming. I knew there were cells on the other side of the corridor, and ears, and a guard who took an envelope of cash to look the other way.

—Put it in me already —I begged, forehead pressed against the bars—. I can’t take it anymore.

He stood behind me. I felt the tip of his cock searching for the entrance, sliding between my soaked lips. He shoved it in with one thrust, all the way to the hilt, and the cry escaped me halfway, muffled against the metal. He started fucking me standing up, gripping my hips, pulling almost all the way out and driving back in with long, heavy thrusts. I clutched the bars with both hands, pushing my ass back to take him better. Every thrust shook my tits against the cold metal.

—Harder, Tomás —I panted—. Fuck me harder, you motherfucker.

He grabbed my tied-up hair, yanking it until my back arched, and sped up. The whole cell filled with the sound of his hips slapping against my ass, wet skin colliding with wet skin, my moans that I could no longer swallow. He brought a hand around to the front, shoved three fingers into my mouth so I’d suck them, and then pinched my clit between his thumb and forefinger while he kept ramming me from behind.

I came with my mouth open against the bars, soundlessly, my whole body trembling around his cock. I felt him tighten inside me, felt myself milking him without meaning to with the contractions of my orgasm.

After that he took me to the bed. He threw me on my back on the thin mattress, pried my legs open with his knees, and shoved into me again, this time face to face, my dress still on, wrinkled at the waist like a white flag. But it was I who pushed him onto the mattress and climbed on top of him. I pulled his pants all the way down. I took him with both hands, my own wetness still shining on his cock, and guided him to where I needed to feel him. I sank down slowly. I felt every inch as if I were measuring it, as if I were impaling myself on him.

—Carolina —he said, eyes closed—. You’re so tight, holy shit.

—Shut up and fuck me —I answered.

I moved slowly at first, hands braced on his chest, feeling his cock fill me up to a place no one had reached in months. I grabbed his hands and put them on my tits. He squeezed my nipples, pinched them with both hands until I groaned. Then I stopped being careful. I started riding him with savage force, lifting and dropping my ass over him, slapping his pelvis with mine. The bed was narrow and creaked with every thrust. The mattress struck the springs of the frame with an obscene rhythm that had to be echoing all the way out in the corridor.

I dug my nails into his shoulders. I bit his neck hard, as if I wanted to leave a mark he’d have to explain later. I felt his open hand on the small of my back, pushing me down, setting a rhythm that wasn’t mine but ours. He half-sat up, sucked my tits while I kept riding him, biting one nipple until I howled softly.

—Turn me over —I asked—. Fuck me however you want.

He laid me facedown on the mattress, lifted my hips, and put me on all fours against the wall. He came in behind me and drove his cock into me in one shove to the balls. I bit the pillow. He fucked me like a dog, grabbing my hair with one hand and my waist with the other, thrusting with all the force he’d gone months without using. I could feel his cock slamming the back of me, his balls bouncing against my clit with every stroke.

—I’m going to come —I panted—. Inside, Tomás, come inside.

—Are you sure?

—Inside, I said. Empty it inside me.

He drove into me five, six more times, faster and faster, and exploded inside me with an animal growl that rose out of his chest. I felt the hot spurts of his cum filling me, one pulse after another, while I tightened around his cock in my second orgasm of the afternoon. He stayed inside for a long minute, his hands trembling on my hips, his forehead resting between my shoulder blades. Then he collapsed onto his side and dragged me with him. I pressed my forehead to his and breathed. I felt his semen running down my thighs, soaking the mattress.

—Don’t tell anyone —I asked him.

—Who would I tell?

***

I left the cell half an hour later with my hair tied back, my dress properly arranged, and my cunt still leaking Tomás’s load down my legs. I had wiped it off with toilet paper from the cell toilet, but it still kept coming out warm, marking my path to the exit. Anyone who had looked me in the eyes would have known me. But no one looked me in the eyes. Hugo Salinas gave me a gesture from the end of the corridor, almost a bow. His secretary Daniela smiled at me the way women who know smile, sniffing from ten meters away the smell of sex I was carrying on me.

Forty-eight hours later, Tomás was released to house arrest. Romina called me crying to thank me. I answered with the professional tone used when chapters need closing. I told her to take care of him, that what they’d been through had not been easy, that life owed them a long rest. I’m good at those closings. I’ve been practicing them for years.

I hung up and poured myself a whisky.

That same night prosecutor Gerardo called me. He had another case for me. A woman who had killed her boyfriend in self-defense. I laughed softly.

—Ger —I said—, send me the details by message. And call me less often.

But I knew I was going to accept. I always do.

***

It’s been three years since then. Tomás lives in another province, with Romina, and I never saw him again. I handed the case to a colleague when house arrest expired, with the excuse that my schedule was packed. Sometimes, when I enter a cell to interview a new client, I hear again the sound of the bars closing behind me. And for a second I feel a warmth at the nape of my neck that isn’t mine, and another lower down, between my legs, that isn’t mine either.

I’m writing this now because someone has to tell the truth about how my profession is practiced when no one is looking. I was not a victim. I was not guilty. I was Carolina, a forty-two-year-old lawyer, in a cell, with a client waiting for me on the other side of the bars and a hard cock waiting for me.

And I would do it again.