The long, shapely legs emerged from the back seat of the limo followed by the long, slender body. Jim watched as she stood, slender through the hips, blond hair flowing over broad shoulders. The long sleeves encased long arms accented by lace gloves. He tried to see her face but it was hidden behind a wide-brimmed hat. His curiosity was piqued, filling in the blanks quickly with full lips, high cheekbones and blue eyes to go with the golden hair. As she walked toward the courthouse, he couldn't help but follow.

He told himself it was to cover the bail hearing of the wealthy young widow, charged with the murder of her elderly husband. Like there would be much surprise in the judge's decision. Jim figured it would be $1 million bail, surrender her passport and remain under house arrest. He'd seen it all before. Just another case, another story. But the blonde, now that held his interest. He followed at a discreet distance, watching the slim hips sway, the shapely calves perched above the stiletto heels. All she needed was the line of silk hose running up the back of her leg and disappearing under the swinging hem of her clingy blue dress. He'd bet her ass was every bit as firm as it looked from here.

To Jim's surprise, the tall blonde entered courtroom B, his own destination. He followed through the wide double doors, his eyes looking for the broad-brimmed hat. There she was, in the back row, last seat. She kept her chin tipped down, making any sight of her face impossible. He found himself seduced by the unknown, wanting to sit beside her and tip the hat back to see the blue eyes he knew he would find there.

Movement at the front of the courtroom caused the gathered crowd to stir as if by a gentle breeze. The deputy district attorney appeared at her appointed table. The defendant and her attorney entered from a tall oak door to the right of the judge's seat. Jim watched as the young woman was led in, hands cuffed but hair and makeup impeccable. This was his first live glimpse of Janet DeWitt, the accused killer. He looked her over carefully. She was an attractive woman, girlishly slender, short, curly brown hair that looked soft to the touch, and hauntingly large hazel eyes. She had been unoriginally dubbed "The Baby-Faced Killer" by some in the press, and now Jim could see why. There was an air of innocent charm to the angelic face that was hard to associate with a woman who was accused of suffocating her ridiculously wealthy, if feeble, husband with a pillow. There were accusations that she was having a torrid affair with her personal trainer, Joe Johanson, how cliché. But of one thing there was little doubt: If Mr. DeWitt had lived a few more months, the divorce proceedings would have been well underway. She continued to proclaim her innocence and Jim was half ready to believe her, all because of those eyes.

He saw the eyes dart around the courtroom, searching. Her glance landed on the enigmatic blonde and a small, brief smile curved her lips. She and her attorney settled in at their table to await the judge. The restless crowd sat, all eyes on Janet, waiting as well.

They didn't have long to wait. The bailiff entered through the same oak door that had admitted the defendant. "All rise," he said.

The proceedings were brief and a bit of a blur to Jim, who had attended so many of these damned things he could have written the script for any of them without having to set foot into a courtroom ever again. He sat quietly, his eyes moving from the mass of brunette curls to the brim of the blonde's hat and back again. He had to laugh at himself, he had been without a date for so long his mind was easily probing the possibilities of an encounter with either the tall blonde or the murdering brunette. He'd never seduced a murderer before, might be kind of a thrill. He almost laughed aloud. He'd been working too hard lately.

Finally, the bail was set -- $1 million bond, surrender passport, house arrest. Big fucking surprise. He watched, bored and apathetic, as Janet DeWitt was led from the courtroom. She'd be on the street in an hour. His gaze returned to the blonde.

To his surprise, she was gone. He got to his feet, telling himself his job here was done, but what he really wanted was to get a chance to glimpse the face. He tried to be nonchalant as he stepped out into the hallway, but the rapid pivoting of his head would have given him away. There. There she was, walking down the hall, turning the corner. Jim followed. Maybe he could get a phone number. He had the scent now, there was no going back.

Rounding the corner, he watched as she paused outside an office door. The hat turned from left to right as if she were scanning the area. Other than Jim, there was no one, and she didn't seem to notice him. She slipped inside the room. The curiosity and doggedness that had made him an award- winning reporter kicked in. She was acting a tad suspicious. His mind sorted through what little he had seen: the limo, the stiletto heels, clingy dress and surreptitious behavior. A high-class call girl? If so, visiting whom? Who, what, where and why, as his high school journalism teacher drilled into him. First, who? Who was she and who was she here for? That would be easy enough to find out. He took one step toward the room when he was surprised by the sudden appearance of Janet DeWitt and her attorney. The pair stopped outside the same office that had swallowed the blonde. Jim strained his ears to hear what was said.

"Settle back in here for now, I'll go take care of your bail. Shouldn't take longer than an hour. So make yourself comfortable in here, you know where the fridge and mini-bar are."

"Thanks Lee. I could use something besides the high-carb diet they've been serving me. I feel bloated."

They parted company, the attorney to attend to his attorney shit and the widow, to what? She glanced around before entering the room. The door shut silently behind her. It was too much for Jim. Without another thought he went to the door and tried the handle. It rolled easily and silently in his hand. The door opened inward a few inches without so much as a hiss. He put his eye to the crack. There was nothing to see. The door opened into what looked like a small foyer. Emboldened, he pushed the door open further and stepped onto the plush burgundy carpet. The room held the cloying odor of expensive cigars; he could hear the murmur of voices. Silently closing the door behind him, he moved further into this inner sanctum. He peered slowly around the edge of the oak paneled wall. He had to bite back an exclamation.

The two women stood oblivious to all but each other. The blonde had lost the hat, but her back was to him. Even if she had been facing him he wouldn't have seen much of her face since she was engaged in passionately kissing the widow. He watched as fumblingly eager hands caressed from shoulder down to tight ass. He could see the brunette's hips pulsing ever so slightly against the taller blond. The blonde's hand was cupping one full, round breast, her thumb circling gently over the nipple that showed rigidly through the white shirt. Small moans of pleasure were audible to Jim. He was enthralled with the spectacle before him, both as a reporter and a man who hadn't been laid in far too long.

The two moved to the leather couch, the blonde pressing her partner down onto the softly worn seat. Long fingers unbuttoned the conservative top, revealing an equally conservative white bra. The blond buried her face in the deep cleavage. Jim could hear the kisses from where he stood, and he swallowed against the lump that was growing in his throat. He should leave, but he knew he wouldn't. The white shirt was slipped from slender shoulders, the bra unhooked and discarded, revealing delicate pink nipples that stood firmly at attention as the blonde carefully kissed each one, caressing the ivory skin. The long fingers found the side zipper of the brown tweed skirt, and it followed the bra and shirt. The innocent widow was wearing a garter belt and no panties. The lump in Jim's throat was impeding his breathing.

The blonde kissed her way down to the brown curls that matched exactly the other brown curls. Janet was moaning softly as the other woman began kissing and licking the inviting pussy, her fingers entwined in the long hair. He saw her tug and almost choked as the long blond tresses came off in her hands. She tossed them to the side, giggling. The blond looked up, smiling widely, and Jim saw the profile for the first time. Aquiline nose, thin lips, strong jaw, thick dark brow.

He stared slack jawed at the tall, slender man so nicely attired in a clingy, sky blue dress and happily eating his fill of hot pussy. Now he knew he had to leave. Before he could move, the blue dress was hiked up and the large erection was all too visible as it headed for and penetrated the waiting widow. Both revelers gasped and moaned as he plunged into her vigorously, fucking with a fury Jim had never witnessed before. He stood, too stunned to move and perversely too enthralled to try too hard. He watched the enraptured face of the pretty brunette; her large eyes were closed in ecstasy, her full red lips were wet and open as she panted with each thrust. He could see the orgasm coming as the woman bit down hard on her lip to prevent a tell-tale cry. But despite her efforts, her whimpering was loud to Jim's acute hearing. The well-dressed gentleman had no such compunction and let out a short yell as he plunged deeper into the widow's willing body. Jim could see the spasms wrack his long, lean body.

The two collapsed against each other, sweat visible on both. Jim swallowed one more time and suddenly snapped back to himself.

"Shit," he breathed. The sound was enough to catch the attention of the two exhausted lovers and their heads swiveled toward him. Without thinking, he raised his camera. "Say cheese."

The shocked faces made for a priceless shot. Jim won yet another award.

Janet and Joe were convicted of first-degree murder.