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After the latest episode of courtroom battle - and the final one of this trial, thankfully - Manfred and I were chauffeured back to the prosecutors’ office with his toughest case in recent memory behind us. It was a hard-won victory, perhaps too hard-won. I knew that doubting my husband’s prosecutorial skill would always be a foolish idea, but there were moments in the past few days that I had seriously worried about his chances of winning a guilty verdict, beyond what my background anxiety already nagged at me with.
But that was all over. No more reasons to worry, and no more nerve-wracking shouts of objection to this and hold it over that. I was back in familiar, comfortable territory, just my husband and myself.
I sank into my office chair with a sigh.
“My thoughts exactly, dear,” Manfred remarked quietly from his own desk. “I thought that fool of a judge might never declare a verdict. Or worse, that it would be…”
He trailed off, but I nodded at his unspoken words. “Me too. I wasn't gonna say anything, but…I'm just glad it's done now.”
“I’m not losing my touch, am I?”
“Huh? Of course not.” I frowned at him. “Manfred, you did better than anyone else could in that situation. I mean, I don't know the law very well, but you barely had any evidence to work with. I'm not sure I'd have given a guilty verdict, if I were the judge.” I paused, my lips pursed. “...Well, no, I probably would have. But only because you're my husband and I trust you.”
Manfred smirked at me, his mood seemingly restored at least in part. “Unfortunate that you're not working as a judge, then. The justice system would run quite smoothly with you sentencing every criminal I bring before you.”
“Manny!” I stifled a giggle. “Even I know that's not how it works. That's gotta be a conflict of interest, or something.”
“Perhaps. But it would make my job much easier.”
“You're already doing great at your job- no, the best. And you'll always be the best.”
“Oh?” My husband looked at me with a far more relaxed expression, his eyes half-lidded as he sank down slightly in his chair, his head reclined comfortably against the top cushion of it.
It was the same exact look he had when we were at home and I got the urge to dote on him a bit, dragging him from whatever he was busy with to his large bathtub so I could massage even the thought of stress out of him with every spa product imaginable. He would melt under my hands then, and the grumpy half-scowl that served as his neutral expression would transform into a sleepy smile. It was the look of someone who was ready to be loved and savored every second of it.
I got up from my chair and moved behind Manfred's, placing my hands on his shoulders and starting to rub them, the right more gently than the left. “Nobody’s going to escape justice when you're in the courtroom, Mr. Number One Prosecutor.” I leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “Number One Chief Prosecutor, I mean.”
I felt his shoulders shake slightly with a chuckle, and his hair tickled one of my arms as he leaned his head onto it. “You’re too much, dear,” he murmured.
“Only as much as you deserve, Manny.” I squeezed his shoulder with a smile. “And after wrapping up that trial, you really should get some kind of reward, shouldn't you? More than just the satisfaction of another victory in court.”
“What would my loving wife grant me?”
“Well…” my voice lowered along with a hand that slipped from Manfred's shoulder down to his chest, “are you busy now? I could do something for you here, in the office, if you don't mind a little distraction.”
“I was planning on getting right to my next case, but I can postpone that for you, my dear.” His hand reached up to cover my own and rubbed it gently. “Go on then.”
With a grin, I pulled away from him and circled around to the front of his chair, kneeling down and making myself comfortable in the space under his desk. Surrounded by wood panels on three sides, it was normally where Manfred's legs would rest, and it had just enough room for me to fit. I beckoned for him to bring his chair a little closer.
“Ahh, so this is the reward I deserve after such a taxing trial.” He smirked at me as he began to undo his pants. “Naughty girl. I accept it graciously.”
Manfred rolled up to the desk and shut out the light, my view of the window behind him blocked almost entirely by his body and his seat. All I could see, dimly lit, was his cock waiting for me between his spread suit legs - ready to be worshiped.
With one hand on his thigh, the other worked next to my mouth as I kissed and licked and rubbed him, playing with his softness to a quiet hum from my husband. None of what I did made his body react otherwise, for at his age there wasn't much chance of such a thing. It didn't matter. He had pills to help with that, but they were never needed and seldom used. Our intimacy didn't require it. We had learned our ways around each other, to bring pleasure and love and an incredible closeness however our bodies could manage.
And, I reflected with some satisfaction as I parted my lips, I could fit his cock in my mouth fully without an erection. It seemed like cheating somehow, but that didn't lessen the odd feeling of pride I got when the tip of my nose was tickled by curly hairs and pressed against him. I let myself rest there for a second and felt Manfred begin to stroke the top of my head. My eyelids drifted down as a familiar foggy bliss settled over me, my mind pleasantly muddled by thoughts of love.
Then I heard the door open and froze. My muscles were stiff, my eyes wide. Even Manfred's hand tangled in my hair didn't dare move an inch.
“When will you learn to knock?” he growled, his voice only slightly shaky - and that could easily be excused as anger. I hoped.
“We've only worked together for- oh, what's it been, forty years? Just give me another decade, Manny, I'm sure I'll have the hang of it by then.”
I recognized the voice coming from behind me: it was the ever cheerful chief of police, Damon Gant. Though I should've expected that the moment he barged into the office. Unfortunately, I knew this unexpected visitor would be difficult to remove.
“Now where's your little assistant gone to?”
I swallowed thickly, praying that the noise which came out of my throat wouldn't be heard even by Manfred.
“You didn't pass her by in the hall?” my husband asked, in a more casual tone than I could've ever managed.
“No, I don't think so.”
“Hmm. I'm sure she'll be back soon, regardless. I doubt she'll want to talk to you then, and neither do I, so if you'll-”
“I won't be long,” Gant interrupted, and I felt Manfred's fingers twitch angrily against my scalp. “I just wanted to congratulate you on the recent trial. Yesterday I was expecting you to drop by my office at any moment, you know, asking for me to help you find,” I could hear the air quotes, “some more evidence.”
“I didn't need any additional evidence,” Manfred replied coldly.
“Turns out you didn't- which is wonderful, of course! But that's not the Manny I know, is it? That's a risk.” Gant was met with only silence, a silence in which I heard his footsteps drawing nearer. “Come to think of it, I haven't had any visits like that from you in quite a while. Not since your promotion.”
As the chief of police spoke, my husband's hand moved, getting a tighter grip on my hair. Near the end of Gant's words, my head was pulled back and my mouth became considerably less full.
“If you've come here just to annoy me as usual, then keep going,” Manfred's fingers slipped from my hair and he pat my head in time with his last two words: keep going. “I'll sit here and ignore you until you finally leave me.”
I was never particularly skilled at interpreting nonverbal communication, but that was a definite signal if I'd ever seen or felt one. I moved my head forward again, as quietly as I could, and was rewarded with my hair being gently stroked. I understood exactly what to do: if Manfred wanted me to distract him from his coworker, I was perfectly willing to oblige him.
“That's fine by me,” Gant went on as I slowly bobbed my head under the desk. “You see, I've wanted to talk to you about that promotion. Forty years as a regular prosecutor - an excellent regular prosecutor, mind - and all of a sudden you decide to go for the top? And by taking ol’ Blaisie’s spot, no less. It's a wonder you managed to pull that off.”
Part of me wondered what the expression on my husband's face looked like as I did my work. Was he trying his best to look bored? Scrunching his face up into something vaguely angry and hoping it wasn't too obvious what was actually happening? All I got from him was the feel of his hand on my head, stroking and petting me.
“But I believe I know exactly how you did it, Manny. That assistant of yours- your wife now, she really does love you, doesn't she?”
I heard Manfred let out a snort of laughter. “You have no idea.”
“Oh, I have some idea. She's the one who helped you get where you're at now, isn't she? I never would've expected it, not from Miss Innocent Assistant. But that's nothing compared to what you did for her.”
The noise Manfred made in response was either a non-committal grunt meant for Gant, or a warning sign for me. But the hand on my head wasn't telling me to slow down.
“Your perfect record, sacrificed. And it wasn't to become chief prosecutor, was it? It was for her. She didn't approve of your methods, and you had to give them up.”
“Hmm…hmph.”
“That's why you haven't been by my office, isn't it? No more forging evidence- all because of your new wife. Or is it that you're actually less concerned with your record now that perfection is out of the question? I suppose after one loss, it doesn't really matter if there's a second, or a third, or-”
“Get…get out! Out of here, now, fool!” Manfred's body stiffened under me and he clutched a handful of my hair tightly. “Ngh…g-get…OUT!”
I heard hurried footsteps and the slam of a door just as my mouth began to fill. My husband's shouting - which I could've easily mistaken for rage, if the taste on my tongue wasn't decisively proving otherwise - had faded to heavy breaths, and his hand returned to petting my head slowly.
No longer concerned with noise, I let him out of my mouth with a quiet pop, swallowed, and gave him one last kiss between his legs before wiping at my mouth. As he rolled his chair back, I squinted at the sudden light and crawled out from under his desk, settling beside his chair with my head resting on his knee.
I grinned up at his sleepy smile. “Did you like that?”
He chuckled softly. “That was the best I've ever felt after finishing a trial. And the best conversation I've had with Damon, for that matter.”
“Y'know, if you're ever on the phone with him at the office…”
“A wonderful idea. I'll just have to come up with a way to suddenly end every conversation by shouting. Knowing him, that actually wouldn't be much of a challenge.”
I laughed and got to my feet, returning to my position behind Manfred's chair as he fixed his pants. My hands were on his shoulders again, massaging him gently. His muscles were already loose and relaxed.
“I know I ought to get started on the next case, but I'm really quite exhausted,” he said softly. “I'd go home with you and take a nap if I could.”
“You can. Can't you? I mean, you're the chief prosecutor, who's gonna tell you not to?”
“My assistant, ideally.” Manfred moved out from under my hands to grab his cane, and looked back to me with a smirk. “Although it seems my wife would rather cuddle in bed than push me to work harder. Some kind of conflict of interest, I believe.”
I smiled back at him. “You already work hard enough, Manny. A good assistant would make sure you get enough rest.”
“Touché. Good sense like that is exactly why I hired you.”
“It definitely was not!” I giggled as I watched my husband stand from his chair and kissed him on the cheek the moment he was up. “C'mon, let's get you to bed.”
We both gathered our things and walked together into the hall to catch the elevator. After getting in and pressing the button for the ground floor, Manfred wrapped an arm around my side and leaned his head against mine.
“I've had tough cases in the past,” he said in a low voice, “hard trial days, even when I had…other means of dealing with that. They never quite tired me like this. Perhaps…perhaps I am just getting old.”
I put my own arm around him. “Maybe. Maybe I just tired you out. I'm pretty sure I didn't help with that, but- whatever it is, you're still the best. The number one prosecutor, to me at least. Always.”
We looked at each other, and I saw his drowsy eyes and sleepy smile and couldn't help but grin back at him, leaning in for a quick kiss as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open.