Mr Tongue by JK Honeycutt

perature had gotten cooler, they hurried to finish their sho wer . Matthew had just sat down on the toilet lid to catch his breath when a fully clothed Monica leaned over him and kissed him with such fire that he felt his cock st irring again .
    Unfortunately she broke off from the kiss, flashed a smile and said,
    “Keep up the good work, Mr. Tongue.”
    Before he could respond, she left the bathroom, shutting the door behind herself. By the time he found his clothes, got dressed and walked down the hallway, she had already left . Wondering through the house, he didn’t come across anyone else but saw an envelope with “Mr. Tongue” written on it, on the foyer table. After a quick glance showed him a thick wad of cash, he shoved it in h is pocket and pulled out his keys and whistled all the way to his car.
    Not wanting to have no thing to show for his hard earned cash, he stopped at a billiards store just as they opened.  In spite of his huge pile of bills waiting to be paid, he did not feel bad for investing in a brand new pool table, paying extra to have it delivered within the hour. The salesman went out of his way to kiss ass by having the delivery truck follow him home. By the time the table had been set up, Matt’s energy level had dropped to zero.
    It didn’t take him long to fall asleep after crawling into bed , sleeping the rest of the day even though he had several appointments with clients. By the time he woke up, the sun had started to set. Seeing that he had eight missed calls from the office, he let out a sigh and shut his cell phone off, having no desire to do any work.
    Dumping the envelope of cash on the coffee table, he went to the wall safe in his bedroom closet and got the rest of the money he had made as a gigolo. Counting it all twice, he realized he had made more money in the past few nights then he had in m onths. Stashing all the cash in the safe, he went over his finances, comparing his earnings as a struggling attorney to those of a fun loving gigolo.
    As his home phone rang, he let out a sigh, picking it up, already knowing it would be his legal assistant,
    “Yeah.”
    “Uh, hi boss. You okay?”
    “I guess. What’s up?”
    “You missed several appointments today, including one with Judge McDowell , who…I hear, has been talking about hanging you by the nuts from a flagpole for not showing up . I rescheduled it for tomorrow afternoon.”
    Rubbing his forehead Matthew said, “ Tough luck . Cancel it. I’m not going to that appointment or any others. Tell them all that I’m closing the office. I’m done practicing law. I will pay you for the rest of this month though, that should give you ample time to come up with another job. Meet me at the office tomorrow morning so we can wrap things up.”
    “Are you sure about this?”
    “Yes! Don’t questio n my decisions ,” he snapped and hung up.
    Making himself a martini , Matthew sipped it while waiting for his laptop to power up. While going over his finances and investments, he tried to talk himself out of the decision he had made. Knowing it wouldn’t take word long to spread, he snorted as the doorbell rang; dragging his feet as he walked to the door, sighing loudly as he looked th rough the peephole.
    “Open up . I hear you breathing,” his visitor said through the door.
    Turning the deadbolt, he stepped back and pulled the door open, “Well, well. Judge McDowell is making a house call,” he grumbled.
    Glaring at him, she said, “I think the need to be formal vanished several years ago when you started coming to my office regularly to fuck my brain outs , Matt.”
    Rolling his eyes, he said, “Please, come in, Carrie .”
    Stepping into his foyer she pushed him up against the wall , kicking the do or shut behind her as her hand slid down his body to grope him.
    “Wh at the hell is going on? You stood me up twice this week.”
    As he opened his mouth to explain, her grip on him tightened, bringing a whimper from his throat