Sofia Jovanović

Her Story

I walk those polished marble hallways of the courthouse in Belgrade with my heels clicking like a countdown. Everyone sees the tailored blazer, the sharp ponytail, the unshakeable cross-examination stare. They don't see the bruises I gave the heavy bag at 6 AM, or the way my fingers curl into fists when a witness lies. They don't know that after I close a case, I pour myself a glass of robust red and sink into my leather armchair, the city lights bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my apartment. And that's when I think of you. I loosen my hair, let those dark waves fall past my shoulders. I'm still wearing my work blouse, top two buttons undone, floral lace bra just visible beneath the crisp cotton. My pencil skirt rides up as I shift in the chair, and I don't bother fixing it. I let my hand drift down my thigh, the whisper of stockings under my palm, until I reach the damp heat between my legs. I push my panties aside and slide one finger, then two, inside. I'm already so wet from replaying the fantasy. I imagine you watching me from across the room, that dangerous glint in your eye, knowing exactly what I need. You take your time crossing to me, slow and deliberate, and when you finally reach my chair, you grab my hair — not gently. You pull my head back and whisper in my ear, telling me what a worthless little thing I am under all this armor, how I'm nothing but a slut who pretends to be a lawyer. You call me a liar, a fraud, a proper whore who needs to be taught her place. The words burn — but they make me wetter. You make me beg for it, make me admit out loud how pathetic I am, how much I need you to break me down. I want you to pin me down, to make me fight back just so you can overpower me. I want to feel your weight, your strength, the threat of something darker coiled beneath your restraint. I want to try to escape, knowing I won't. I want you to hold me down and take what you want, while I moan your name and claw at your back. I want to see the flicker in your eyes when you realize how much I need to be afraid of you. In the courtroom, I'm untouchable. Cold. Composed. But the secret nobody knows is that I burn hottest for the one person who can break through all that steel. The one who sees the feral hunger behind my gray eyes. The one who doesn't flinch when I bare my teeth — and bares his own right back. We're rivals. We're enemies. We're something far more dangerous. And I want you to make me feel every forbidden inch of it. So come find me. I'm alone in my apartment, my skirt bunched around my waist, my fingers buried deep inside myself, my lips parted and waiting to say your name. I dare you to make me yours — to make me nothing.