Chapter 3

The night air was noticeably cooler after the sun was gone. The whine of the commercial compressors on the hotel roof made them lean in close to each other’s ears to make their words understood.

Ralph found that when Gloria brought her lips up close to his ear lobes, she always paused to either lick or kiss them. It was a ticklish sensation, but one that he enjoyed thoroughly, if the truth be known. He returned the favor by nibbling on her bare ear lobes, with his playful teeth, pulling on them like a fish on a hook, hoping to land her tingles submissively under his control.

He could feel, more than hear, her whimpers of protest, as he pulled her back into his groin building his pleasure like a house of cards ready to collapse at any second.

Ralph knew it would be courteous to warn her when he was on the verge of flooding her tender female parts with the emission of his bodily fluids but he was on the “getting off” express and had no time for such sensitive considerations under the flickering light of the neon sights that proclaimed,

“You’re in Good Hands!” He knew it was for some God-awful car insurance company that refused to listen to the most logical of claims.

They wandered back to the elevators but used the stairs instead because they didn’t want to be too proximate in case one of the bailiffs was looking. All of the female jurors were in the even numbered rooms on one side and the male jurors were in the odd numbered rooms on the other side. At least they had been given private rooms and didn’t have to share them like he had seen on a television movie that had all the jurors being stalked by an assassin right on the jury as well.

It didn’t seem possible that there would be a killer on this jury pool because everybody seemed so lacking in deviousness that Ralph was bored to death just listening to their chatter.

He was thankful for Gloria because she gave him the level of comfort he needed to get through the entire dreary affair. He stripped down to his jockey briefs and slid in under the clean sheets focusing the female prosecutor’s pretty hindquarters in his mind as a prompt for a “happy ending” dream to make his sleep hours more entertaining. He absent-mindedly studied on the possibility of bending the glorious-assed, female officer of the court over a wooden bench to test the depth of her legal knowledge. Her haughty looks and determined attitude made him anxious to show her the benefit of taking in new experiences and learning new techniques. He hoped she would make the sort of plea that he would accept with grateful joy.

There was no doubt in Ralph’s mind about the sexual tension between Tom, Dick and Larry on one hand and the pretty nubile darlings, Fay, Ann, and Sam on the other. The girls were literally “cumming” with the anticipation of several nights in a discreet hotel with one of the good-looking blue-collar workers free from any unnecessary entanglements.

The bailiffs had seen it all before and they were probably taking bets on what went on behind closed doors once the lights went off.

Just as his thoughts went into overdrive on the frantic humping of the prosecutor’s delectable behind, he replaced the tight-skirted officer of the law in his mind with Sam, the mannish twenty-something girl, that looked a suspiciously like Audrey Hepburn. He wasn’t old enough to have seen the original impish Audrey in an actual movie theater, but she was on the late night television in many of the old black and white films. For some reason, he was aroused by her slender smallness and non-existent tits that commanded his complete attention. He was certain it was not an age thing because he hardly ever looked at the silly schoolgirls in their short school uniforms. They were all the rage lately; due to several films featuring them chattering and skipping so fast, that their teenaged panties caught the eye before anything else.

This “Sam” or Samantha creature was the spitting image of Audrey’s sparkling nymph-like persona. Suddenly, he tossed and turned, almost falling out of the bed, imaging that he could actually feel the slender backside rubbing and squirming to escape his determined exploration of her prime grade posterior.

Sam’s genderless face looked up at him and he was confused because in the dim light she looked more like a boy than a girl and he was not the type to harbor any thoughts in that direction. His manhood started to shrivel up like he had just opened the refrigerator door on it.

His jockey shorts were drenched and he was fairly certain it wasn’t all from sweat. He had left the air conditioning up higher than normal because it blew right on him when it first came on and chilled him right to the bone.

There was no evidence of anyone else in the room.

That was certainly a relief because he didn’t want to be thought a pervert or a “cradle robber” for slipping it to the diminutive and much younger Sam. It would have been better if he was caught in a compromising position with the more suitable Gloria. It was a safe bet, if that was the case almost everyone except the fervent holy-rollers would look the other way and give them both a pass considering the circumstances.

After all, Gloria was a reputable widow lady and he didn’t have any wife or kids waiting for him to come home from jury duty. His grandfather used to tell him, no harm, and no foul.

They all sat at a large table in the lobby breakfast room early the next morning. There were almost as many bailiffs as there were jurors. All eighteen jurors were there because the replacements had to see and experience everything the core twelve went through to have the same perspective. He was seated directly across from Gloria and she did her best to avoid locking eyes with him in order to deflect suspicions about their frequent solitary conversations away from the others. Once or twice, a bailiff would come over to the jurors and remind them that they were not to discuss the case. At that point, it was almost unnecessary to do so because the trial was in the initial stages. In fact, they had barely gotten a glimpse of the defendant hidden behind a phalanx of lawyers. They all had their own brand of objections to various elements of the charges, but it looked like the judge was skeptical of each and every one.