You Can't Do THAT In Court!

Pierce rolls up in his suit, head full of paperwork and thoughts about Vanessa Vega. She's the public-masturbator repeat offender, and today he gets to meet the woman behind the headlines. He knocks, nothing. Tries the knob—unlocked—so he strolls in like he owns the place. He freezes. Vanessa's legs are spread on the couch, fingers working deep between them. Slick noises, thighs trembling. She clocks him and jerks upright, yanking her skirt down, nipples still poking through her top. “Jesus—sorry,” she blurts. Pierce clears his throat, willing his dick to behave. “Pierce Paris. Your attorney.” They swap awkward hellos while she smooths her clothes and gestures at the chair. He sits, starts rattling off what’ll happen in front of the judge—apology might shave off a few hours of community service. Vanessa nods, eyes glassy, and within seconds her hand sneaks back under the hem. She catches herself, stops, talks about her priors like nothing’s happening. Ten seconds later those fingers wander again, rubbing slow circles over her panties. Pierce watches this dance three more rounds and finally snaps. “Look, we’re getting nowhere. You can’t finger-fuck yourself on the stand. The only way you’re gonna sit still is if you get properly fucked first.” Vanessa bites her lip and leans in. “Then fuck me.”