Mistress of Justice

room?”
    Oh, honey, don’t fail me now.… Taylor wanted Carrie to keep Clayton busy, giving her a chance to take a look in the office.
    But he said, “We’ve been having problems with the one up here. Why don’t you go downstairs. We’ll meet you there in a bit.”
    Carrie trotted off, and it was then that Taylor realized they had ended the tour at Clayton’s bedroom. The room was dramatic, filled with Ralph Lauren rust and red florals, English-hunt green, brass. This was the room of a nobleman.
    Beware the Jabberwock, my son.…
    Clayton closed the door. “You’re very attractive.”
    Taylor sighed. Doesn’t go much for subtlety, does he? She said, “I should be getting downstairs.”
    He took her hand. To her astonishment she let him and the next thing she knew some undefinable pressure overwhelmed her. She found herself sitting on the bed next to him.
    “Wendall …”
    “Look at me.”
    Taylor did, feeling a growing power from the partner, a magnet tugging at her soul—and at everything around her. It seemed to Taylor that her hair actually stirred in this invisible wind.
    She thought of the playing-card soldiers swirling around Alice.
Beware the …
    “Wendall—”
    “I want to tell you one thing,” he said calmly. “This has to be completely clear. Whatever happens—or doesn’t happen—has no affect on your career at Hubbard, White. Is that understood?”
    She pulled her arm away. “I don’t even know you. I’ve never even spoken to you before.” But she was shocked to hear that her words seemed weak, as if she were wavering.
    He shrugged. “Spoken to me? I don’t want to have a discussion. I want to make love to you.”
    There was no physical impediment to her leaving. He wasn’t even standing in her way. One foot, then the other, and she could troop right out the door. Yet she didn’t.
    Clayton crossed his legs. He brushed the tassel of his hair off his forehead.
    “I have commitments,” she explained.
    No, no, no … Don’t say that. You’re meeting his argument. It’s like making excuses to your father. Tell him to fuck off. Forget who he is. Forget the case. Just say it now: Fuck off. Fuck. Off.
    Say it!
    “Well, Taylor, we all have commitments. That’s not really the issue.”
    She felt her throat thicken.
    Don’t swallow. It’s a weakness.
    She swallowed. “We don’t even know each other.”
    Clayton smiled, shaking his head. “Hey, look, I don’t want to marry you. I want to make love to you. That’s all. Two adults. I’m telling you that you’re an attractive woman.”
    “I have to go.”
    “It’s not a compliment,” he continued. “It’s an observation. I know how to make love to women. I’m good at it. Don’t you find me attractive?”
    “That’s not the point—”
    “So you do?” he said quickly. He stroked the bed and repeated, “I want to make love with you. Harmless and simple.”
    Taylor smiled. “You don’t want to make love at all. You want to fuck me.”
    “No!” he whispered harshly. Then he smiled. “I want us to fuck
together.”
    Mistake, girl. He likes dirty talk.
    “Look.” He waved his hand in front of his crotch like a magician. He was erect. “You did this. Not everybody does.”
    She found herself leaning back, first her palms on the rich bedspread, then her elbows.
    “Do you know the first thing I noticed about you?” Clayton whispered, touching a renegade strand of her hair. “Your eyes. Even from across the room.”
    She rolled onto her side. She glanced down between his legs and said, “You’re a pretty gifted man, Wendall. I would have thought that with all the excitement at the firm you’d be more distracted.”
    He hesitated then asked, “ ‘Excitement’?”
    “The merger.”
    He didn’t move for a moment. She’d thrown him off stride. He laughed seductively. “I’ve got a pretty big appetite.”
    Taylor scanned his face, which was no more than twelve inches from hers. “I read somewhere that hunters make love before the hunt,” she said. “Sex is supposed to steady the hand.” She shook her head. “Me, I think it’s dissipating.”
    “Ah, dissipate me, dissipate me.…” But the words fell short of their intended playfulness and he sounded like a college boy making an inappropriate joke. And suddenly the balance of this contest shifted—barely—to her.
    He whispered, “Lie down, put your head on the pillow.” He spoke in a mesmerizing voice and Taylor was suddenly aware of his