The Signatures

By Molly Haven

“A STRONG RECOMMEND FOR LOVERS OF EROTIC HUMOR” — Ereaderotica.com/Sylvia Storm
“MADCAP COMIC EROTICA AT ITS BEST” — Blue Spectrum, The Erotic Writers Group

Stacee Pockett is a young, beautiful, innocent, always-smiling and ever-optimistic young attorney who loves her work. In fact, she’s recently landed her dream job working for one of the country’s top litigators — and her idol — the imposing and formidable Greta Gable. Stacee’s best friend, fellow attorney and inveterate party person Evie, is concerned that Stacee is wasting her prime sexual years buried in her law books and legal pads. While grateful for the concern, Stacee assures Evie that she’s doing just fine. Sex, she tells her friend, is a distraction she’d just as soon avoid as she launches her promising legal career.

That day, Stacee receives an important assignment from Greta Gable herself: Obtain eight signatures from prominent local figures important to The Big Case. The signatures have so far proven difficult to obtain and without them The Big Case could be delayed for months. Eager to please her idol, Stacee accepts the daunting assignment, but not before receiving a stern lecture from Greta, who reminds Stacee, "I expect nothing but the most proper decorum from the lawyers who work for me.”

With legal documents in hand and “Decorum” as her mantra, Stacee sets out on her quest for the signatures, but soon discovers, on what turns out to be the wildest, sexiest and most memorable day of her life, that avoiding distraction in favor of decorum is not an easy task, especially when your clothes keep coming off. “Oh, my goodness!”

The first novel by author Molly Haven, “The Signatures” is a fun, funny romp in which a sweet young woman is determined to always do the right thing ... and to find out where the magician dropped her undies.

NOTE: This is a swinging, sexy adult comedy and is for mature readers only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Molly Haven
• Release date: May 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311419897

Molly Haven

Molly Haven is a devoted Floridian, mostly because it is basically one big beach. She spent a long time as a journalist and now just wants to tell stories.

Book preview

THE SIGNATURES

Molly Haven

THE SIGNATURES

Published by Molly Haven at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright © 2016 Molly Haven

All rights reserved.

Cover design and illustration by Mike Sooch

(http://mikesooch.com)

To the encouraging voices who make the journey both possible and exciting.

One - Decorum and Distraction

Two - The Amazing Potterfield

Three - Jamie Nealle

Four - Rico Purity

Five - Taylor Sweetin

Six - S. Jonni Kharam

Seven - Professor Chamberlain

Eight - Oscar Tussel

Nine - Ian Ionni

Ten - Greta Gable

About the Author

One

DECORUM AND DISTRACTION

STACEE POCKETT SMILED.

That is, Stacee Pockett always smiled. She maintained a perpetual state of cheerfulness and positivity that, depending on who you asked, was considered either a much-needed ray of sunshine in an otherwise gloomy world or dreadfully annoying.

On this particular Tuesday morning Stacee did what she did at the start of every workday: She stopped in the middle of the plaza on her way into the Cantermeyer Building and smiled up at its blue-green facade. As it did each morning, that Sound of Music urge to spin and sing songs of joy welled in her heart, but she once again resisted it. Stacee Pockett loved this building and her job and the people she worked with and worked for and the direction of her life and she wanted to sing out every morning and tell all of that to the world, but instead she simply smiled. And got goosebumps.

Hey, watch it! said a male executive type who had been walking only a step or two behind Stacee and noticed almost too late that she had stopped. Swerving suddenly to avoid a collision, he flailed his arms and danced a silly pirouette to avoid spilling his coffee and dropping his briefcase and a small paper bag holding a breakfast burrito. The bundle of newspapers under his arm started to tumble onto the plaza.

Stacee spun, caught the newspapers and held his coffee hand steady. She tucked the newspapers back under his arm and helped him get a better grip on his burrito and briefcase.

I am so sorry, she said, beaming up at the tall man with her bright, toothy smile. But there you go, you’re all set!

He grumbled something that might have been a thank you, then pushed brusquely aside and headed toward the Cantermeyer.

So, you work in the building too?

Startled, the exec looked to his left and realized that the young woman was at his side, marching in pace. He grunted an affirmation, then made a quick evaluation of her, in case she might be someone important.

Stacee Pockett was a beautiful young woman with auburn hair pulled up and back in a cute bun almost right atop her head. Her five-foot-four slender frame was expertly styled in a crisp, maroon, pinstripe suit. Her dimples, ever-present because of her constant gleefulness, were perfect and adorable and balanced on either side of her bright, white smile and just under the large, red frames of her glasses. Her blue-green eyes were wide and expressive.

The executive, however, wrote her off as merely an intern. A cute, busty intern.

He was, however, impressed with with how she managed to fit her hourglass body, neat and modest and without undue bulge, fabric strain or cleavage, into her crisp, white blouse and tailored suit jacket. He was thisclose to asking the name of her tailor, but he never spoke to interns.

I work for Gable Strauss Jurnoy, she said. Been there just over a month now. It’s my dream job! I still can’t believe it!

Realizing he was trapped in a conversation, the man said, You intern there?

Stacee giggled. Oh, no, I’m an associate.

His eyebrow raised. You’re a lawyer?

Oh, yes! And I managed to get my dream position at GSJ my first time out! I still can’t believe it! Did I say that already? She giggled. It still hasn’t sunk in yet! And she giggled some more. And I’m already on a great case!

They reached the front door, which the man held open for her.

Why, thank you! Stacee said. Well, it was great meeting you! Sorry again for almost causing a collision. See you soon! She darted off to the alcove of dedicated elevators beneath the large, metallic Gable Strauss Jurnoy sign.

Hold it, please! Stacee called, dashing for a closing set of elevator doors. A hand poked through the gap and the doors bounced open again. Stacee entered and took a spot in front of the only other occupants, two tall, chiseled young men in tailored suits and holding pricey briefcases, one of leather and one of suede. Her back was to them as the elevator doors closed.

The men evaluated Stacee and cast each other glances and nods of approval over her head. The man on Stacee’s right raised his free hand and made a cupping motion at his breast, widening his fingers in the international male code signifying impressive breast size. The other man nodded in agreement.

Stacee glanced quickly behind her on either side. Gee, you guys could be male models! she said.

And who might you be? the young man to her left asked in his best suave, velvety tone.

She turned and held out her hand to him. Hi! I’m Stacee Pockett! Two Es and two Ts.

Two Ts indeed, the young man said as he shook her hand. I’m Gregory.

The other young man rolled his eyes. And I’m Dylan, he said, extending his hand. What floor? He poised a finger in front of the buttons.

Being young and naive and brand new to the company, Stacee didn’t realize that Dylan wasn’t just being polite. He was fishing for information. Status at GSJ was based upon the floor on which you worked.

Seventy-eight, please!

Dylan and Gregory glanced at each other with raised eyebrows. Wait, Gregory said. You’re an associate?

Not an intern? asked Dylan.

Stacee giggled. I get that a lot. No, I’m in the Pit with all the others. She looked them over quickly and said, Don’t tell me. You’re both on seventy-nine. International accounts. That would explain why I haven’t seen you before.

Both men blushed. Uh, no, we’re on seventy-five. Clearances.

In case it hasn’t been clear to this point, Stacee Pockett was Sweetness and Innocence Personified. She had no idea that GSJ had an unfortunate caste tradition. In truth, no other GSJ associate — in fact, no other employee of floor 77 or above — would even give Dylan or Gregory, denizens of the lowly 75th floor, the time of day. Stacee, on the other hand, maintained her customary chipperness. That’s wonderful! That must be so exciting, working on … whatever it is you guys do in Clearances! And it looks like it pays well, too! If you don’t mind me saying, that is. You two dress very nicely.

They blushed.

Stacee said, I’m trying to dress better than I did in my school days. My friend Evie is helping me pick out clothes. She’s been doing that since law school. That’s where we met. We were roommates, although she was a year ahead of me. We weren’t supposed to be put together, but there was a mixup in the room assignments.

When Stacee got going on a topic, it was difficult to get a word in. Or to even keep up with what she was saying, for that matter.

Anyway, Evie was always more of the outgoing type. She always used to nag me about being such a bookworm and a shut-in. She was always trying to get my head out of the books, and she even got me in trouble a couple of times and close to got me expelled once. She graduated first, of course, and was able to get into GSJ right away, and she was the one who got me into the firm! My first job! Working for Greta Gable herself! Her whole body quaked with enthusiasm when she said the name. "Greta Gable! I can’t believe it! I’ve only seen her a couple of times in the hallway, but she is so amazing! The best litigator in the country! I would give anything to be working on the big case she has right now! Now, I don’t mind the case I’m on, working with Carrie Tarrone, it’s very challenging, but to be on Greta’s team would be spectacular!"

Stacee paused to take a breath, which gave Gregory an opportunity to make his play. But just as his mouth opened, so did the elevator doors.

Here’s your floor, Stacee said. Seventy-five! It was so nice to meet you guys!

Dylan and Gregory hesitated, each wondering if they dared ask for her number, but they kept their mouths shut and hurried out of the elevator.

Have a wonderful day, said Stacee, waving.

Eager to begin another day of work, Stacee practically sprinted off the elevator on 78 and hurried down the corridor toward the Pit, the cubicle maze for the junior associates. She greeted everyone she encountered along the way with a bright smile, and despite their best efforts to wear their pre-coffee morning misery on their sleeves, just about everyone smiled back. Even at the bleary dawn of another workday, Stacee Pockett’s enthusiasm could be contagious.

Stacee set her briefcase, which doubled as her purse, on her cubicle desk, activated her workstation monitor and hurried off to the break room.

She filled her favorite mug with fresh coffee, grabbed some cream and a couple of sugars and sat at one of the room’s small tables.

Stacee had almost finished her first cup by the time Evie straggled in. The tall, stick-thin blonde with her hair in a ponytail rushed almost frantically to the coffee pot and poured herself a mug, no cream, no sugar. She plopped into the chair opposite Stacee.

I was beginning to worry about you, Stacee said.

Evie said, How do you always get here ahead of me? I set my alarm and everything.

How many times do you hit the snooze button?

Listen, you’re the one who’s doing it wrong, always getting up on the first ring. If you were supposed to get up when the alarm rings, there wouldn’t be a snooze thingie on it.

Erin Vanderburtt — Evie — was Stacee’s best friend since law school. A former model and the wild-and-adventurous princess of a wealthy New England family, she had been determined to hate her diminutive, agonizingly perky, annoyingly talented and frustratingly busty (It’s just not fair, she said at the time) accidental roommate, but her hatred had lasted less than a half hour. Eventually Stacee became her closest friend, even if she was unable to cure her tiny friend of her intrinsic sweetness and innocence.

So, tell me about him, Stacee said.

Him? You always assume that I’ve been with some guy. Shame on you for your prejudice and your scorn.

Stacee just sipped her coffee and looked calmly at Evie.

Oh, OK, Evie said. It was a doctor.

Is this the same doctor as last week or a new one?

Now, don’t freak out, but it was his roommate.

Evie!

Evie held up her hand in a calming gesture. It’s good, it’s good. I’m sure they’ll work things out. Conflict is good for a friendship. But how about you? I bet you spent another long, passionate night with your laptop and legal pads.

I did, in fact, stay up late doing research on the Kreuger case, thank you. Oh, let me tell you what I found in the ‘82 contract! I can’t wait to tell Carrie! There’s a provision in the appeasement clause ...

Oh, please tell me you’re not going to use words like ‘provision’ and ‘appeasement’ this early in the morning. You know I really don’t get legal until about 10:30.

Stacee grinned. Sorry, forgot.

Evie leaned forward. Sweetie, I am so worried about you.

Why? I’m the happiest I’ve ever been ...

Yeah, yeah, I know. Dream job, dream boss, blah, blah, yadda yadda. I’m worried about you because you’re not getting enough good, old-fashioned fucking in your life.

Stacee sat up straight in her chair, gasped and looked around nervously. Evie! Shhhh!

Look, I understand all this dedication-to-the-job stuff and grand ambition and all that, but you’re wasting your sexual prime years.

I thought a woman’s sexual prime was in her 40s.

Oh, that’s some magazine nonsense. Now is the time you should be out there fucking some guy’s brains out.

Evie!

I guarantee you that every person on this floor has heard the word ‘fuck.’ I’m not corrupting anyone if they overhear me.

You know, it’s not like I’m a virgin. I ... have sex.

Something tells me you shouldn’t be using the present tense. When was the last time?

You remember when I was dating Freddy?

In the middle of a sip, Evie almost spit out her coffee. Freddy was the last time? That was months ago.

Well, I’ve been busy. I was put on the Kreuger case.

And Freddy shouldn’t even count. I remember when you told me about your one and only night with Freddy. You kept saying it was ‘so nice’ and ‘very sweet’ and other stuff that made me gag.

"So? It was nice."

But sweetie, here’s the thing: You didn’t fuck Freddy. You made love to him.

Is there a difference?

Of course there’s a difference. Making love is sweet and romantic and all that silly stuff you like, but it’s … perfunctory. Making love is almost not even sex, it’s intercourse according to some sort of bland instruction manual. It’s the thing … She had to force herself to say the words. "... married people do, and you’ve said many times that you’re nowhere near wanting to get married. You want your career. Well, that’s excellent, but just having occasional love-making with the occasional boyfriend will drive you insane. That is no way to live a life. You need to start having primal, aggressive, no-holds-barred sex. Stop making love and start fucking."

Thank you, Stacee said calmly. She pointed to a woman who was walking out of the break room. Mr. Chau’s assistant just gave your speech a thumbs-up, for the record.

Evie chuckled and leaned in even closer. The only way you’ll understand is to get laid by someone who knows what they’re doing. Now, I know this dance instructor. I haven’t been with him myself, but word gets around. Anyway, I’ll give him a call ...

No! Evie! Don’t call! Don’t set me up with anyone!

Believe me, once you meet Boris you will thank me.

Evie, I said no set-ups! Why are you so concerned about my sex life anyway?

"Because I’m worried about you. I’ve been worried about you ever since law school. You’re the sweetest, kindest person I know, and you’re the smartest lawyer I know, but I worry that your work-oriented tunnel vision is going to prevent you from having any fun in life. I hate that you’re never going to know the real passion