The Lucky Intern  True Story
By Solestruck December 6, 2004 



Some years ago, when I was a third year law student in a major city, I had an
internship with a branch of the state government. My direct supervisor was a
woman named Ann who was a Havard Law Grad. She was new to the position as a
Judge's Clerk. For those who are not familiar with the legal profession,
judicial clerkships are highly coveted, very competitive and usually go to
those who are politically connected, valedictorians or chief editors of their
respective law reviews. The Clerks research and write the opinions for the
judges. Ann was from a very wealthy, well-connected family. Her father was a
CEO of a major Fortune 100 company that I need not identify. She had gone to
law school right from college and landed the clerkship. She had never
supervised anyone before and had agreed to take an intern on reluctantly since
she was very busy, and looked at it more as having an anchor around her neck
rather than an extra pair of hands. She did not have great people skills. I
guess she never really had to since with money, connections and two Harvard
degrees she did not need them. The thing I disliked most was that she was
short-tempered and curt. If I did something wrong, or did not receive enough
direction, I would get chewed out, then she would angrily tell me she would
just do it herself and I could find something else to do. I think her exact
words were to make myself "useful." I had to eat this crow though because the
way it was set up, the internship supervisor gave a grade at the end and
because part of the reason for doing internships was to compile a list of
professional references. Ann had very short brown hair, brown eyes, and was
about 5'3". She was not a hard body, but liked to run, and did so frequently
at lunch. She was lean and in shape. She was very pretty in a clean, business
way. She looked a lot like the short haired brunette district attorney on the
TV Show Law & Order. She always dressed nice and did the shoe change at the
office thing, wearing sneakers or boots, then peeling off the white socks to
reveal hosiery, then putting on pumps. Normally she had a collection of two or
three pairs of pumps or boots in on a given occasion near or under her desk.
On a few occasions, I arranged to work late in order to inspect and "clean"
them when no one was around. I was always careful to try to put them back, but
one time I did forget to tuck a sock back into a sneaker that was on the
floor. On another occasion, the saliva left a pair of suede pumps in a matted
condition that could have been a giveaway, but there were never any comments
made. We worked in a century old building that had been renovated but had a
lot of character like high ceilings, beautiful wood beams and a lot of small
rooms, closets, cloisters, passages, illogically placed staircases, etc. Our
office was on the fourth floor, and had big old metal desks and wood desks
that you could not see under. It was crowded with too much furniture and boxes
of files everywhere. The only nice things in the room were a brand new green
rug and crisp new law books lining the wall to wall shelves. Ann's desk was at
the very far end of the rectangle facing the door, so her back was to the
window looking right out the door. My desk and some other female attorney's
desk were further toward the door and were set up to look right across at each
other with our backs near opposite walls. It was typical government set up
with a real patchwork network wiring job on the computers, which frequently
broke down, and for which there was no way to get any kind of support. Anyway,
every week I had to submit a feedback report on what I was doing, what I
learned, any suggestions for improvement, etc. A theme I had repeated several
weeks in a row, but in a gentle way, was that I was just being given scut
work, and that I did not get any real meaningful responsibilities. I used to
confide in the other attorney who clerked for some other judge and was coming
to the end of her 2 year term. I don't really remember her name or what she
looked like but she was nice. She kept encouraging me to ask for more work,
and whenever she could she would gently offer Ann suggestions about giving me
more substantive work. We could not talk much though because anytime Ann was
in the room she would rudely tell us to shut up or stop talking because she
needed to concentrate on her work. Ann would then suggest we go the library or
the caf�or just outside. She needed to concentrate. She was one of those
stressed out types. I did enjoy the show on those days when I got in early and
enjoyed watching her while working on filing projects but I hated the
internship otherwise. Most times, she would have me file papers in the boxes
beside her desk or in her desk side file drawer. I viewed this as a little
degrading but did not put up a stink because it meant going around behind her
desk and kneeling or sitting on the floor to do the task which left me with a
great view. She was constantly dipping her heels in and out of her pumps,
kicking them off and would do this thing where she made a fist with her toes
in the shoe or kicked off the shoe and rolled her toes under the foot. Great
toe flexing show. This filing always took a long time. Maybe that's why she
thought I was not competent to handle more complex tasks. One Thursday, during
a week that the computers were acting up a lot, Ann was under another tight
deadline to get a huge memorandum done for the judge. All week, she had to
keep going under her desk and pressing the network jack back into the port and
slowly releasing it in a delicate manner hoping it would stay there, because
it was sort of loose. It was a shitty makeshift plastic junction box,
jerry-rigged together with other such boxes all across the floor with the
cables left in the walkways. The cheap CAT5 cable had one of those
perma-twists in it and was a little too taut anyway. It regularly got kicked
any time anyone came near Ann's desk and that would make her lose her network
connection. Ann had already asked us to refrain from talking when I first came
in and exchanged greetings with the other woman at about 1:30 pm. She said she
needed to concentrate. She had already had to manually press the network thing
in four or five times in the fifteen minutes I was there. I was not sure if
she was just her normal no-manners self or if she was upset because I had
presumptuously wasted 5 minutes of her needed time the previous afternoon
having a sit down about getting more "substantive duties with an important
purpose" and "mission critical tasks." In that meeting, she had told me,
"You'll have to talk quickly, while I change my shoes since I am in a rush and
need to meet someone." She did not even look up once during my airing of
thoughts. Her response to my points was that "the profession requires a team
player, and that filing and the few other tasks you have been given consist of
work that I did myself before you got here, and that I will continue to do
after your internship is over. I do not consider the work beneath me, so you
should not consider it beneath you." I had no response at the time since this
had blindsided me. She just loved to beat people down. Once I got settled in
on that Thursday, about 10 minutes after arriving, I said in a very
apprehensive and cautious tone that I knew it was a bad time but that had
nothing to work on, and needed something to do. She stopped typing, quickly
looked up, abruptly rolled back her chair and with exasperation said, "I do
have something 'mission critical' today. You can hold my network jack into the
port while I finish this thing up. I was supposed to have it done by noon and
the judge is leaving at four." The other attorney said, "You can't ask him to
do that." Ann replied, "Well yes I can, I am his supervisor, I will be giving
him his grade, I will supplying a professional reference to him, and it is
something that I have had to do myself all week and don't consider to be
beneath me. And besides, this today IS 'mission critical.' You can go get your
own intern. I will manage mine the way I see fit." Realizing that I would have
to be under her desk, which had a heavy solid wood structure in front of it,
with two low book cases full of books in front of that, I just acquiesced by
body language and started for her desk, saying, "I'll help you out. I want to
be a team player." As I got there, she motioned down under the desk and said,
"It's off to the left toward the back." I laid down on my back under the desk,
and on the way, noticed that off to my left (her right) were a pair of those
black, flat, pull-on knee high riding boots with the brown collar at the top,
as well as one navy blue pump with the Enzo Angiolini logo showing. She must
have had already off for a flexing session when she exploded in response to my
question. Since the pump was in the middle and I figured she would need room
to roll forward to finish working on the memo, I laid down, and squished my
body as far to her left as I could so my stomach and hips were under her file
drawers. Since that particular drawer was open, I also had the benefit of even
more cover, should anything arise. I pushed the loose jack in and held it
there, and she rolled back in. Her right foot, with pump still on wound up
just a few inches from my head. The other foot without the shoe was still
tucked back, probably with her toes curled under. This was actually pretty
sweet. Noone could see me, not even Ann. She then rocked her right foot up on
the heel of the shoe and was twisting the heel into the floor, unconsciously
rotating the top slowly from side to side and pausing for a minute or two at
each end point. On each swing toward her left, it was going right near my face
and pausing there. Being creative, I moved my head over when it went to the
far side so there would be no clearance when it eventually came back to her
left. To my delight, the sole rubbed right over my nose, and paused on my
lips. I was waiting for her to flinch or say "ooh sorry." But nothing. She
must have been "concentrating." I snuck my tongue out and pressed in carefully
to the sole, stealing a few gentle, careful licks. I paused. No reaction. So I
kept going. Just typing and murmuring legal mumbo jumbo. What a thrill, her
knowing I was there, sole of shoe on face, not paying any attention to me,
typing away, murmuring her words back to herself, and not knowing I had my
tongue out licking her shoe and having no idea of the pleasure I was getting
out of it. This continued for a while and then, unfortunately, she replanted
her foot off to the side of my head again. A few minutes later, the other
attorney said, "How's it going back there?" I said I was "holding up OK,
keeping the place afloat." We both started laughing. Ann then shooshed us. We
continued though, the other attorney telling her to lighten up, and me chiming
in, "If you want me to go to the library or the cafe, you will have to hold
this thing in yourself." The other attorney and I began laughing. Just then,
to my shock and delight, Ann shooshed again more angrily but this time brought
her left shoeless foot forward and put the ball of it right over my mouth, and
continued typing. Her toes were right over my nose. I did not say anything. I
immediately felt myself getting hard. I did not want to protest since I wanted
her to keep it there and I certainly did not want the other attorney to know
that Ann's foot was on my face. Worse yet, or better yet, every so often she
did one of her patented toe flexes and her toes were over my nose. She must
have been totally absorbed in what she was doing. We stayed like this for a
long while. Her "concentrating" and subconsciously flexing her toes, and me in
heaven. Had to be an hour. Incredible, I was actually forced to inhale every
molecule of air through the filter of her nylons right under her toes. They
smelled only a little and it was a delicate smell mixed with leather smell. A
few times while I was sniffing I had to catch myself so I did not become too
loud. My brain started to race wondering whether I had moaned or something
during the passing time.. A little later, someone came in the office and said,
"the judge needs the XXXX memo by four." Ann angrily replied, "I am well aware
of my own deadlines." The person then said, "Sorry, just telling you," and
left. This gave me a little thrill knowing there was another third party there
who had no idea what was going on. About ten minutes later, our other office
mate said, "I gotta run early today, see you guys later." Ann, in character,
did not return the greeting, and I could not speak since Ann's foot was on my
mouth and nose. The departing woman waited and said, "Did you kill him under
there." Without missing a beat, Ann lifted her foot momentarily by rocking it
back using my chin as the fulcrum of a seesaw on her arch. Taking my cue, I
said "Bye," and Ann immediately, to my surprise, rocked the foot right back
down where it was on my face with the ball on my lips and the toes over my
nose, and continued flexing, gripping my nose. As I heard the clacking of our
office mate walking away on the tiles of the hall, my mind started to race
again. Why if we are now alone does she still have the foot on my face? Why is
it in the exact spot? Why is she grabbing my nose. Did she hear me sniffing
and suspect that I got off on it? Had I moaned or something." Maybe I should
have protested? Did she reason that the only way her shoe would make contact
with my face earlier is if I moved to be in its path? Did she feel me licking
the shoe earlier? Maybe I got into it a little too much? Did she notice her
shoes moved or licked clean a few times only on nights I worked late? The
white sock? I did not make a peep. She was still flexing the toes. I was hard
as a rock. Maybe she was secretly enjoying the power of this position. Maybe
she was not onto me at all and was doing it to spite me for complaining about
the internship and characterizing work that she herself did as scut work. The
longer it went on with just us two in the room, the more I worried. I heard
the printer start, which was right on her overcrowded desk. I heard her
gathering up pages. No movement. She was proof reading. Proof reading with her
foot on my face. She had kicked off the other shoe and was flexing that one on
the floor. After I heard all 15 or 18 pages flipped during the proof reading
process. Eventually, she lifted her foot off my face, pushed back her chair,
pushed in the drawer, and looked under the desk, not directly at me but just
to find her shoes. She slipped them on, said "Right under the wire," and
walked out. I wondered if she had seen my erection when she shut the drawer. I
heard her clack away down the corridor. Given this once in a life time, I
needed a release. I knew I had time because the judge's office was in the next
building over, several floors up and the elevators were slow as molasses.
After her footsteps were out of ear shot, I popped my erect dick right out of
my pants and lost it right there under her desk, right into the riding boot.
The internship went along the next week and for the duration of the semester
just as it had before with no weirdness, but it sure made the internship a lot
more bearable since I relived and relished that day over and over again,
always wondering if she knew or suspected foul play, or if it was just a power
trip or an angry message. We actually got along better after that too, since I
did not complain about anything after that. It had made my semester. End