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By Eve Adorer
Chapter 2 – Going to Court
A girl and a one-third Negress, although from a well financed family background, can be expected to hold liberal views I suppose. At university I had studied geography and politics as well as law, and had acquired a confident speaking knowledge of three foreign languages too.
Yet at twenty-five I was, I confess, a little naïf. I was wrong about many things. We all learn as we grow up. I was not fully-grown up when I was twenty-five. But I was not wrong about one thing. I knew I was being held back in my profession. I suspected I was being overlooked for further advancement because of my youth, my being a girl, and maybe, because of my light brown skin.
Obviously I talked to my senior in chambers. She assured me it was not so. But of course she would. She had done alright for herself. She (Sonia *****) had got herself a permanent judge's post in a middle-eastern country, one of the very last outposts of the British Empire, and was about to fly out there.
I had heard the talk that despite my youth my clear brilliance of mind must make me the leading candidate for her vacated place. Then they appointed Janine **** over me. I knew why they did it: Janine was a prosecutor in the same British colony our former senior was about to move out to. It was favouritism and nothing but. Janine was part time out there too. How could she hold down a job in London and keep flying out to *****?
Okay, so Janine and I had been together the once: just the once. She had been my leader in a London court case before I decided to switch from prosecution to defence. I knew that she just could not keep her eyes off me. She had let me lead in court for some of the time and told me afterwards I had been brilliant: and she meant it.
It was later in chambers when we were going over the case in readiness for the next day, when Janine had grasped me firmly around the waist, turned me gently but insistently to face her, and kissed me full long and hard on the mouth. I had just totally melted, my nipples peaked rock hard, my clit was dancing and throbbing and my girl-musk trickled uncontrollably into my semi-translucent tanga-panties, as I closed my eyes and surrendered.
And yet when her hand was gliding up my mini-skirt onto the firm soft girl-muscular bare thigh-flesh above my stockings, I was able to break away and hold my hand up to beg her to stop what we both knew I wanted and needed. It was pure mind over body. I wanted advancement and to get to the top senior's post.
I was hardly likely to get either if my present immediate senior and closest rival was known to be regularly stroking me. Janine stormed out on me hurling a frequent “bitch” as she stomped down the corridor whilst behind the slammed shut door I re-arranged by clothing, breathing deeply and literally watching the room go around and stars before my eyes, as my lust still had command over me.
All the way home that evening I noticed, or thought I noticed, men taking even more interest in me than usual. I was used to them ogling me of course. I knew I was a head-turner. I was pleased to be pleasing. I was happy to be their erotic heaven on earth. Usually I pleased breast-men as much or more than I pleased leg men.
My abundant heavy bosom was impossible to hide. I never indulged exposed cleavage. I always buttoned to the neck. Men adored my very evident hugeness. I smiled knowing they would be bowled over if they knew just how big and beautiful I really was. But that night on the subway was something different: could they smell the girl-musk saturating the gusset of the tiny white tanga-panties beneath my micro-miniskirt?
Yet over the next year, as I equalled Janine in court status and began to overtake her in the prospect of the top job in chambers, Janine seemed to have forgiven and forgotten. Even so, a lot of people have said what happened next she engineered. I don't agree. I went of my own free will.
Janine had already begun her visiting prosecutor role in this middle-eastern country. I had by then gone over to being a defence lawyer, still, at that stage, in England. Janine had regaled me with stories of the law in ***** where she now went from frequent time-to-time.
Perhaps it was to raise my liberal hackles that she told me particularly about what the cheap newspapers dubbed “the sex courts”. You know the kind of thing where such so-called newspapers, whilst sounding-off self-righteously about how disgusting it is, print every last detail of what happens, because it is titillating and what their readers, people with equally double-standard minds, buy such disgusting rags to read.
To someone trained as I was, in the western tradition of law, the practices in those courts did indeed seem almost wholly wrong. The fact that only girls could be tried for sex crimes angered me.
But the fact they were tried only by girls, seemed a definite liberal plus. The law of that country was a strange mix of the new western-like add-on to old tribal-like customs. For all crimes the prosecuting counsel was safe. Yet, from tribal custom of obscure origin, for one crime at least it was the long established practice that in a losing case the defence counsel must suffer the punishment that would have been the fate of the defendant.
No, it was more complicated than that. The girl found guilty was given the choice of taking the punishment herself or having her defence lawyer suffer it on her behalf. The reasoning behind this was that the crime in question was considered so heinous in tribal law that it was indefensible that anyone should try and defend a guilty girl.
In other words, the loss of a case of this crime in court made the defence lawyer as guilty in the eyes of the law of that land as the girl defendant who had been found guilty. And the law made this abundantly clear by laying down, even before a case began, that either losing lawyer or guilty girl could suffer punishment for this crime, just to show that they were both equally guilty in the eyes of the law. It was termed in legal circles out there, “jeopardy transference”.
The crime was lesbianism. The punishment to be suffered in a losing case by either guilty girl or girl-lawyer under the jeopardy transference law, was entirely at the choice of the judge in consultation with the prosecuting counsel and, if it were the defence lawyer that was to be punished, the losing defendant.
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