My name is Baylee Crush, a pen name developed so that my family can continue believing I'm the virginal, wholesome girl-next-door that I personified growing up. As a newly turned 30-year-old (gosh, I feel old), I feel it is my responsibility to share my innermost dirty thoughts with the world. Why? I don't know. Maybe I'm just twisted like that. Anywho, feel free to check out my Meat Market Series as well as my two-part series, Test Drive: Part One and Two.
Judge's Chambers: Due Process Short Story
Ugh. Will this witness ever shut up? Damn, he's been droning on and on for over an hour now. Jeez, it's a divorce, not a capital murder case, asshole!
Alright, so some might say my attitude could use a little adjustment.
Okay, maybe a lot of adjustment. I firmly contend that it's not my fault,
though. Seriously, I've been a court reporter for the Honorable James C. Wilson for a little over three months now and all he ever does is ride my ass. I can't seem to do anything right.
I can almost hear his honey-laced voice scolding me now. "Miss Davis, there are too many discrepancies in this transcription …You didn't format this like I like …Are you even paying attention?"
Sheesh. This shit is harder than it looks. Honestly, I don't even know
why he hired me. When I interviewed, he was so cold and distant, grunting an occasional 'hmm' or 'huh' while I discussed my credentials. I had to knock the ice chips off of my black pencil skirt just to peel myself from his chambers.
So why did I take the job? Well, that's simple. I needed the money, bad. As a new graduate, I didn't exactly have swarms of potential employers knocking down my door to hire me, so when the county's human resources manager called me up and offered it, I figured they were desperate.
I had been seeking independence since I'd turned twenty-two last fall and this job was just the ticket. I had finally saved enough money so that I could move out of my dad's house, start pulling my own weight, and get my own apartment. My mom left when I was six-years-old and when he found a new wife last summer, I'd felt like such a burden. I wanted to move out of his house and let him live his own life. He deserved to be happy without me tagging along and mooching off of him.