For claire_simmsand all.
1. Jordan/Claire
Jordan/Lorraine
2. Letter: R
3. Whatever you'd like
4. Whatever you'd like
5. Doesn't matter
Happy Holidays! I couldn't decide who to use so I used both!
She was late. Not that it was entirely her fault. Street-corner Santa versus Snowplow. It wasn’t much of a contest. Still, the clean-up took a little longer than expected. Lorraine said cocktails at six. It was the first time she’d been invited to her high rise apartment and Jordan was ringing the doorbell at seven.
A handsome Latino in a silk T and tailored black pants answered the door with a smile he flashed her could tempt a nun out of her habit.
“Ah, I must have the wrong address. I‘m looking for Lorraine Weller….”
Lorraine appeared with a glass of white wine in her hand. “Jordan.”
Lorraine always elongated the O in Jordan‘s name making it sound like she was purring it. Add her accent to the rest of her boundless charms and it wasn’t surprising that the gorgeous lawyer had a record for swinging male (and female alike) jurors to her side that not many in her field could hope to match.
“Please take Dr. Cavanaugh’s coat, Rico.”
Jordan’s eyes widened as Rico brushed her hair back to remove her coat. He was so close she could smell his expensive cologne. When he stepped away she had a sudden craving for a cigarette.
“That‘ll be all,” Lorraine smirked knowingly.
“Yes, Ms. Weller.” Rico said with a slight bow. He disappeared down the hall. Jordan glanced back. Yep, he was just as gorgeous from the back as the front.
“Her butler. Or so she claims.”
The unasked question was answered as they entered the living room. Claire Simms seemed to be the only other guest at this party. She raised her wine glass to Jordan in a slightly drunk salute from her spot on the floor leaning against the sofa.
“I told Lorraine I was going to steal him from her,” Claire said inviting Jordan to take up a pillow next to her.
“He has a twin,” Lorraine said handing Jordan a glass of wine. She took a quick sip. “I could give you both his number.”
“I can barely afford my cleaning service, let alone a hot live-in,” Claire shrugged. “And I don’t know how long my income is going to support even that.”
“I heard….” Jordan murmured sympathetically. “The firm was bought out.”
“You know a day at Crane, Poole and Schmidt is always an adventure.”
“Chang, Poole and Schmidt…” Lorraine corrected.
“Whatever,” Claire said with a wave of the hand.
Jordan took a moment to take in Lorraine’ s stylish living room. The only consolation to the Holiday Season was a holly and ivy garland draped over the mantel. The roaring fire was as relaxing as the Chardonnay in her hand.
“I thought I was going to be fashionably late. Where is everyone?”
“It’s just us,” Lorraine said pulling up a pillow next to Claire, refilling their glasses with the bottle in her hand. “I trust you both.”
“This is Lorraine’s downsizing party.” Claire smiled.
“I heard they were getting rid of some staff with the merger,” Jordan said referring to the law firm’s buyout. “But I didn’t think that would affect non-partners.”
“Not that kind of business,” Claire said in a stage whisper. “The side business.”
Jordan couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t tell me this is an Amway meeting.”
Claire put her finger tip to her lips as if she were teenager divulging a secret. “Not exactly”
Lorraine pulled a wine red binder off the hearth. “In the wake of the situation I’m considering the fact that I may have to cut my ties with Boston someday.”
“I still don’t know why you have to burn it.” Claire said. “That thing is probably worth thousands.”
Lorraine stroked her hand over the fine leather cover. “More than that,” Lorraine murmured enigmatically. “Much more.”
“I know I’m late, but I don’t understand.”
“Lorraine Weller, Esquire, moonlights as a madam.”
“What?!”
“Moonlighting is so base,” Lorraine harrumphed at the same time. “I netted more…scheduling dates…than I ever did working for the firm.”
“Hence, Mr. Feel-Good in the kitchen,” Claire chuckled. “I still don’t know why you’re just walking away…”
Jordan tried to process it all and watched the exchange between the to women like she was watching a tennis match.
“New year, a new start.”
“Whatever,” Claire said in her glass. “I don’t see why you can’t just sell the damn thing to the highest bidder.”
“I could, but the names in this book paid me quite handsomely for my discretion.”
“Who’s in there?” Jordan asked pointing at the book. Curiosity was finally over taking her shock.
“A veritable Who’s Who in Beantown,” Claire said downing the last of her wine. “You name him. He’s probably in there.”
Lorraine shrugged smugly.
“And she’s got a dozen more…just like it…for other cities.”
Jordan choked on her wine.
“Where shall we begin?” Lorraine said, opening the cover.
“The R’s” Claire bounced. “I’m dying to know if Romney is in there.”
Lorraine flipped pages until she found the tab marked R. Jordan peered over. She recognized more than a few of the names highlighted in Lorraine’s immaculate script.
“What dose that mean?” she asked pointing to a series of symbols next the name a prominent federal judge.
“It’s code. All madam’s have one,” Lorraine explained. “At a casual glance this looks like a typical stats book. Power-at-be, spouse, children, personal handler, favorite restaurants, drinks, etc.”
“What about this one,” Claire pointed at one symbol.
“Preference in restraints.” Lorraine said matter-of-factly. “and let one denotes fondness for feel of wet rubber.”
It was Claire’s turn to choke on her wine. “You mean him?”
“The one thing I’ve learned during my years in your country,” Lorraine said ripping the sheet out of the book, balling it up, and tossing it in the fireplace. “Is that Republicans can be some of my more generous and creative customers.”
Jordan/Lorraine
2. Letter: R
3. Whatever you'd like
4. Whatever you'd like
5. Doesn't matter
Happy Holidays! I couldn't decide who to use so I used both!
She was late. Not that it was entirely her fault. Street-corner Santa versus Snowplow. It wasn’t much of a contest. Still, the clean-up took a little longer than expected. Lorraine said cocktails at six. It was the first time she’d been invited to her high rise apartment and Jordan was ringing the doorbell at seven.
A handsome Latino in a silk T and tailored black pants answered the door with a smile he flashed her could tempt a nun out of her habit.
“Ah, I must have the wrong address. I‘m looking for Lorraine Weller….”
Lorraine appeared with a glass of white wine in her hand. “Jordan.”
Lorraine always elongated the O in Jordan‘s name making it sound like she was purring it. Add her accent to the rest of her boundless charms and it wasn’t surprising that the gorgeous lawyer had a record for swinging male (and female alike) jurors to her side that not many in her field could hope to match.
“Please take Dr. Cavanaugh’s coat, Rico.”
Jordan’s eyes widened as Rico brushed her hair back to remove her coat. He was so close she could smell his expensive cologne. When he stepped away she had a sudden craving for a cigarette.
“That‘ll be all,” Lorraine smirked knowingly.
“Yes, Ms. Weller.” Rico said with a slight bow. He disappeared down the hall. Jordan glanced back. Yep, he was just as gorgeous from the back as the front.
“Her butler. Or so she claims.”
The unasked question was answered as they entered the living room. Claire Simms seemed to be the only other guest at this party. She raised her wine glass to Jordan in a slightly drunk salute from her spot on the floor leaning against the sofa.
“I told Lorraine I was going to steal him from her,” Claire said inviting Jordan to take up a pillow next to her.
“He has a twin,” Lorraine said handing Jordan a glass of wine. She took a quick sip. “I could give you both his number.”
“I can barely afford my cleaning service, let alone a hot live-in,” Claire shrugged. “And I don’t know how long my income is going to support even that.”
“I heard….” Jordan murmured sympathetically. “The firm was bought out.”
“You know a day at Crane, Poole and Schmidt is always an adventure.”
“Chang, Poole and Schmidt…” Lorraine corrected.
“Whatever,” Claire said with a wave of the hand.
Jordan took a moment to take in Lorraine’ s stylish living room. The only consolation to the Holiday Season was a holly and ivy garland draped over the mantel. The roaring fire was as relaxing as the Chardonnay in her hand.
“I thought I was going to be fashionably late. Where is everyone?”
“It’s just us,” Lorraine said pulling up a pillow next to Claire, refilling their glasses with the bottle in her hand. “I trust you both.”
“This is Lorraine’s downsizing party.” Claire smiled.
“I heard they were getting rid of some staff with the merger,” Jordan said referring to the law firm’s buyout. “But I didn’t think that would affect non-partners.”
“Not that kind of business,” Claire said in a stage whisper. “The side business.”
Jordan couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t tell me this is an Amway meeting.”
Claire put her finger tip to her lips as if she were teenager divulging a secret. “Not exactly”
Lorraine pulled a wine red binder off the hearth. “In the wake of the situation I’m considering the fact that I may have to cut my ties with Boston someday.”
“I still don’t know why you have to burn it.” Claire said. “That thing is probably worth thousands.”
Lorraine stroked her hand over the fine leather cover. “More than that,” Lorraine murmured enigmatically. “Much more.”
“I know I’m late, but I don’t understand.”
“Lorraine Weller, Esquire, moonlights as a madam.”
“What?!”
“Moonlighting is so base,” Lorraine harrumphed at the same time. “I netted more…scheduling dates…than I ever did working for the firm.”
“Hence, Mr. Feel-Good in the kitchen,” Claire chuckled. “I still don’t know why you’re just walking away…”
Jordan tried to process it all and watched the exchange between the to women like she was watching a tennis match.
“New year, a new start.”
“Whatever,” Claire said in her glass. “I don’t see why you can’t just sell the damn thing to the highest bidder.”
“I could, but the names in this book paid me quite handsomely for my discretion.”
“Who’s in there?” Jordan asked pointing at the book. Curiosity was finally over taking her shock.
“A veritable Who’s Who in Beantown,” Claire said downing the last of her wine. “You name him. He’s probably in there.”
Lorraine shrugged smugly.
“And she’s got a dozen more…just like it…for other cities.”
Jordan choked on her wine.
“Where shall we begin?” Lorraine said, opening the cover.
“The R’s” Claire bounced. “I’m dying to know if Romney is in there.”
Lorraine flipped pages until she found the tab marked R. Jordan peered over. She recognized more than a few of the names highlighted in Lorraine’s immaculate script.
“What dose that mean?” she asked pointing to a series of symbols next the name a prominent federal judge.
“It’s code. All madam’s have one,” Lorraine explained. “At a casual glance this looks like a typical stats book. Power-at-be, spouse, children, personal handler, favorite restaurants, drinks, etc.”
“What about this one,” Claire pointed at one symbol.
“Preference in restraints.” Lorraine said matter-of-factly. “and let one denotes fondness for feel of wet rubber.”
It was Claire’s turn to choke on her wine. “You mean him?”
“The one thing I’ve learned during my years in your country,” Lorraine said ripping the sheet out of the book, balling it up, and tossing it in the fireplace. “Is that Republicans can be some of my more generous and creative customers.”