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Once inside, she pointed to comfortable leather chairs and a small paisley print covered sofa. “Sit!” she directed.Cavanaugh and his shyster took the two chairs closest to the judge, leaving Chastity and me on the sofa and Sam in the remaining easy chair.Judge Reynolds sat behind her huge mahogany desk and glared. “I could hold you both in contempt of court for your actions, but we’re going to settle this here and now, in chambers, and off the record. Then we’ll finish in court and on the record.”“First. I will tolerate no violence or threats in my courtroom. Is that clear?!”She looked at me, and I answered, “Clear, Your Honor, and I apologize.”She looked at Cavanaugh, and he glared at her. His attorney reached over and prodded him. “Clear!” he snarled.The judge looked at Chastity, forced a smile on her face, and asked softly, “Chastity, right? What do you want from this proceeding?”“Judge, Your Honor,” Chastity stood and stated in a firm, clear voice, “my name is Chastity Anne Caen,. She held him tautly there with her legs, and pierced his eyes with her unflinching gaze. Locked together like this, his searing heat and throbbing pulse transferred to her like the merciless beatings of a percussionist, his felt-covered timpani mallet beating the stretched, taught skin of the drum, sending shock waves reverberating unhindered through her body. They traveled through her womanhood, involuntarily clenching her already-tight abs, and played her rib cage like a xylophone before gripping her thundering heart, which bludgeoned her in glorious synchronicity with his searing, swollen pulse. Without separation of their bodies, their sex, or their eyes, his hands grabbed her ass and lifted her from the vanity, her hands moving from the countertop to wrap themselves securely around his neck. She felt now like she was floating in a sea of swirling mist, the heat lamp in the room barely penetrating the thick hot vapor, like a sun lost in a thick fog. She was suspended.
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