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THE CASE OF THE SUPERLATIVE SECRETARY

Perry Mason paced the length of the hotel room, hands clasped behind his back, brow furrowed in thought. The rest of the world might as well not have existed for him, for his attention was entirely turned inwards. "Don't burn yourself out, Chief," said Della Street, lying on top of the covers of the big double bed. "You need to relax, recharge yourself somewhat." "What? Hang it, Della, I need to figure out what Ambrose is up to! I need that more than I need relaxation. Ambrose and Jerome think they have us in a trap. Well, I have to figure out how to spring the trap, grab the bait, and be off whistling while they're still scratching their heads," Perry said. "Otherwise, our client is in a hell of a jam." Della sighed and lay back, putting a pillow under her head. "I know how you love your work, Chief. And don't get me wrong, I feel bad for our client, too. She's a good scout, and if anyone can get her off the spot, it's you." Mason stopped in the middle of his pacing, and looked at Della. "Thanks, Della. I need that vote of confidence. Hamilton Burger always thinks I have something up my sleeve, and even Lieutenant Tragg isn't too sure that I'm not cutting corners on this one." "But Perry," Della said, taking his hand, "right now you can't do anything. We can't leave the room without tipping off Ambrose, not until the morning. You can't even call Paul Drake. I wish you would let me do more to help. I can't keep up with the plans you're thinking of, but I can relax you so that you can think more efficiently." Mason grinned. "Hang it, Della! You know me too well. I suppose I do need some relaxation. And you knew the exact way to convince me: it's to the ultimate good of the client." He climbed onto the bed. "Well, now, Della, what do you have in mind for this relaxation?" Della smiled coyly and put a finger tipped with a pink nail to her mouth. "Why don't you start by taking off that suit jacket? And that vest. And that shirt?" Perry did as she suggested, smiling all the time. "Mmmmm," said Della, running her hands through the thick curls that covered the lawyer's chest. She placed her thumb on his nipple and made a circular motion. "Lie down, Chief. No, face down. That's it." Hiking up her skirt above her hose, she straddled Mason's legs, and placed her delicate hands on his back. She began kneading and massaging Perry's back, squeezing and releasing folds of muscle. "Does that feel good, Chief?" "Hm-mm!" Mason replied, sounding almost drowsy with pleasure. "You're a life-saver, Della." Della unbuttoned her blouse, and shrugged it off. Underneath the blouse, she wore a black lace bra. Taking both hands away from her employer's back, she took a moment to unsnap the back closure of the bra, and slip it off. She let her pert, soft breasts brush against the areas she was massaging as she continued her back-rub. "Hmm!" Mason said. "What are you doing, Della? I can't quite figure it out." "You may find out," Della said. She leaned down over Perry's back, letting her nipples rub against his skin, and gave him a demure little kiss on the back of his neck. Enraptured by the fact that she at last had him between her legs, even if it went no further than a backrub, she reached down, lifted her skirt and stroked her swelling clitoris. "Della," Mason said abruptly, "something is up." "What do you mean, Chief?" Della asked, surprised at his apparent reading of her mind. Then she wondered if perhaps he was referring to his own condition. "I mean," Mason said, "something more than just a backrub is afoot. I can smell it in the air." "Gosh, I'm sorry, Chief, I --" Mason abruptly rolled over, using his arms to lift himself up and turn in place, still straddled by the fork of Della's thighs. "Don't be sorry, Della! There's no need to be sorry." His grey eyes roved over her form, taking in her shapely bared breasts, and the demure knee-length skirt that she had hiked up to just an inch below her pubic triangle. As she looked into his grey eyes, she swore that she saw them soften and smolder, and he spoke in a voice husky with emotion. "You know, Della, you're the best damn secretary any man ever had. But you know that you're more than a secretary to me, don't you?"