[Story generated using NovelAI. Illustration by ImageFX]

Georgia hurried along the path, conscious that her office suit and high heels weren't really the best choice of clothes. But this was the only time Ian had been able to make, and the park was close enough to her chambers that she could easily nip across at lunchtime.
He was lounging on a bench overlooking the football pitch, looking infuriatingly relaxed as always. "Hi, Hot Mess," he said, as she joined him.
"I wish you wouldn't call me that." Georgia tried to ignore the effect his nickname for her always had: her heart beat a little faster, and she felt a flush rising on her neck.
"But it suits you so well. And we've known each other long enough for nicknames." He gave her a cheeky wink. "So what's my favourite attorney got for me today?"
Georgia sat down next to him, crossing her legs and smoothing her pencil skirt down over her thighs. The sweat was pooling beneath her breasts, but there was nothing she could do about that.
"Ian, I need a favour."
He leaned forward. "A favour?"
"Yes." She paused. "A big one."
He raised his eyebrows. "Thought I'd blown my chances of that after last time."
She could feel the colour deepening in her cheeks. "I know, you kinky bastard."
He laughed. "What can I say? You have an ass that begs to be spanked."
Georgia gritted her teeth. "Stop it."
"Sorry, sorry." He held up his hands. "So what's this big favour you need from me?"
"OK. It's an embezzlement case. You don't need to know all the details, but there's a connection to Stacey Bryant."
He whistled. "The activist?"
"That's her."
"What does she have to do with the case?"
"All that money she raises for her environmental charities. We don't think all of it goes where it should. Or maybe some of it, we don't know. That's your job. If you can get us proof that some of it is being stolen, I can use it in court to get her testimony thrown out."
"You know nothing I find is admissible. That's not how I work."
"I know, but I'm not looking for admissible evidence. I just need to know where to look. If we can show her we're onto her, it's likely she'll withdraw her testimony rather than risk cross-examination."
"OK, I get you." He took a swig from a bottle of water, and then looked at her. "But if I'm going to do this, you'll have to do something for me."
"Yeah." Georgia could feel the colour deepening in her cheeks. It was bad enough that they were all wrong for each other and couldn't keep their hands off each other when they were together, but after what had happened the last time she'd had a favour to ask of him, she wasn't sure she could handle him asking anything more of her.
"Oh, relax. It's nothing too hard. Not this time, anyway."
"What is it?"
"If this works out, you'll meet me here again after work. Dressed like that."
"Dressed like this? Why?"
He laughed. "I just think it's a good look on you."
"Oh, fuck."
"Did I say anything about fucking?"
She shook her head. "You're impossible."
"I am. So, is it a deal?"
"OK."
"Good." He stood up, holding out a hand to her. "In which case, it's time to seal the deal."
She stood, and took his hand.
He pulled her towards him and pressed his lips to hers. "See you later, Hot Mess," he said, when they broke apart.
She watched him walk away.
"Fuck," she whispered.
***
Georgia checked her watch. Ten to five. Time to go. She stood up, grabbing her coat and bag, and headed out the door.
Ian had come up with the goods, and as expected Bryant had withdrawn her evidence rather than risk a scandal. The client had been freed, and had given Georgia a glowing recommendation to his contacts. Another case won, and she could put her feet up for the evening.
Except that she couldn't.
She had a date.
Ian was waiting for her on the bench, dressed as casually as the last time she'd met him. He didn't look up as she approached, but a grin spread over his face. "There's my Hot Mess."
She stopped, feeling a surge of desire mixed with annoyance. "You're impossible."
"So you keep telling me." He stood up. "Ready?"
"Where are we going?"
"Not too far. Just into the woods."
"The woods?"
"Yeah. Don't worry, it's only a few minutes' walk."
"But what are we doing there?"
He shook his head. "Now, if I told you that, it would spoil the surprise."
She followed him down the path and into the trees. This is stupid, she thought. I've already slept with him, and the sex was amazing. He knows I want him. What's the point in playing this game?
Then Ian turned off the path, and walked down a steep, muddy slope. There was a stream at the bottom, and he casually waded across it and then climbed a low bank on the far side.
"You coming?" he called back to her.
Georgia was wearing high heels. "Do I have to?"
"Oh yes."
"Damn." She hesitated, looking back the way they had come. Nobody was watching. Nobody would see. She lifted her skirt a little, and stepped carefully into the water. It was cold, but not unbearably so. She waded across, stepping on stones when she could and cursing the occasional times her shoes slipped into the mud. This walk in the park was certainly not turning out to be a walk in the park for her.
She reached the other side, and climbed up after him. She was expecting to find herself on a footpath, but there was none. Instead, the undergrowth seemed very thick and the ground was rough and uneven.
"How far?"
"Nearly there."
"Fuck. These heels are not made for this."
"That's why I wanted you to wear them."
"Oh, thanks. What a gentleman."
He darted ahead, and she followed him through the undergrowth. Then the wood opened out into a small clearing. Ian was on the far side, looking back at her.
"We're here," he said.
"We are? Why are we here?"
"You'll see." He turned to look around him.
Georgia stepped forward, her heels sinking into the soft ground. "This had better be worth it."
He laughed. "Trust me, it will."
"OK, what?"
"Come over here."
She stepped forward, and her foot slipped, sending her crashing onto the ground. Her hand sank into something wet and slippery.
"Fuck," she cried, hauling herself upright and wiping her hand on her jacket. Her palm was coated in mud, and there were dark brown streaks down the side of her skirt. She was up to her knees in thick, viscous muck. "Ian, you bastard."
He laughed. "Looks like you found the surprise."
"This is the surprise?" She looked down. It was some kind of mud or clay, and it was oozing slowly up her legs, clinging to her calves. She struggled to pull herself clear, but the mud sucked at her legs. It was almost like quicksand. She felt a rush of panic. "Ian, help me!"
He laughed again. "Not yet."
"What do you mean, not yet?" She tried to stand up, but the mud sucked at her legs, pulling her deeper. "Ian!"
"You wanted the favour, and I'm giving it to you."
"How is this helping me?"
"It's helping me."
"Ian, you fucker, pull me out!"
"Not yet." He was smiling, his eyes sparkling. "I'm having a lot of fun right now."
"Ian!" She struggled against the mud, but it pulled at her, sucking her deeper. It was oozing over her thighs, her pencil skirt pushing up. "Ian, help me!"
"All in good time."
"You can't do this!"
"I can."
"Ian!"
"You could call for help, I suppose. But then you'd have to explain what you were doing in the woods with me. Your colleagues would hear all about how you slept with me. That wouldn't look very professional."
"No, no, no..." She was sinking deeper, and her skirt had ridden up over her thighs, exposing her panties. The mud clung to her, sliding between her thighs and caressing her ass.
"You look hot like that."
"Ian, please..."
"I told you, all in good time." He sat down on a tree stump, watching her. "I'm enjoying the show."
"Oh, fuck." She twisted her body, trying to pull free, and managed to turn herself a little, her skirt riding up higher. Now it was halfway up her buttocks, and the mud was oozing around the thin strap of her thong, sliding down the crevice of her ass. She struggled again, and felt the mud squeezing between her thighs, oozing along the inside of her legs.
"Mmm, that's nice." Ian's eyes were locked on her, his hand moving slowly on the growing bulge in his jeans.
"Fuck," Georgia gasped. The mud was oozing beneath her blouse now, and she felt a cool, slippery touch against her belly. She was waist-deep in the mire, her skirt bunched up around her hips. She looked down at the mud clinging to her body, and felt another wave of desire wash over her. This was so wrong, but it was turning her on. She was twenty-eight, for fuck's sake, a successful lawyer, not a teenager. How could she be doing this?
But there was nobody to see, and the mud was slippery and warm, sliding between her legs and caressing her ass, oozing up beneath her clothes and slithering around her body.
She sank a little deeper, the muck sliding up over her belly, and she realised she wanted more. She reached down and unbuttoned her blouse, feeling the ooze sliding against her bare skin, and then pulled it open, exposing her bra.
"You really are enjoying this," Ian said.
"Mmm," Georgia groaned. She scooped up two handfuls of mud and pushed them down the front of her bra, feeling them ooze over her breasts.
"Nice tits."
"Thank you," she said, feeling the ooze sliding around her nipples.
"You look hot, covered in mud."
"Yeah, yeah, I do." She scooped up another handful, and smeared it into her blonde hair, flattening the curls.
"Oh, you're a dirty girl."
"Oh, I am. Yes, I am." She was breathing hard, the mud sliding between her thighs. "Ian, get over here."
"Are you giving me orders?"
"There's a reward in it for you."
"And what would that be?"
She ran her tongue across her lips. "I can think of something."
"Mmm. Sounds tempting."
"Yes, it does. So why don't you get your ass over here and let me suck that dick?"
"Ooh, dirty girl."
"You haven't seen the half of it. Come here and I'll show you."
He walked slowly over to her, his sneakers sinking into the mud, and stood over her, the bulge in his pants inches from her face.
"Mmm." She looked up at him, and reached for his zipper.
"Oh, no," he said. "Hands in the mud."
"You kinky bastard."
"Told you. Now get those hands in the mud, and let me enjoy the view."
She dug her fingers into the ooze, feeling it squeeze around her palms.
"Good girl." He unzipped his pants and pushed his jeans and underwear down. His cock sprang free, rock-hard.
"Mmm," Georgia moaned.
"Get those lips around my dick."
"Fuck, yeah." She opened her mouth, and took him inside, feeling him slide across her tongue and nudge against the back of her throat. He tasted salty, and she sucked on him, running her tongue along the underside of his shaft.
"Oh, fuck." He placed his hands on the back of her head, holding her tight.
"Mmm," she murmured. She could feel the ooze sliding between her thighs, and her arousal was mounting, the pressure building deep inside her.
"Suck it," he ordered, his voice a low growl. "Take that cock."
"Mmm." She slid her lips up and down his shaft, feeling his cock pressing hard against her tongue. The ooze was squeezing her ass, the mire reaching her waist. Her skirt was bunched around her hips, and her bra was soaked with mud.
"Oh, fuck," Ian groaned, his grip tightening on her head. "Take that dick, bitch."
She felt his cock jerk, and then his cum was flooding into her mouth, hot and salty. She swallowed, feeling his juices trickling down her throat, and sucked harder on him, her mouth full of his throbbing flesh.
"Fuck," he cried, his hands pulling at her hair. "Take it."
She felt his cock pulse again in her mouth, and her own arousal surged, the muck squeezing her ass, and then her orgasm exploded inside her. She gasped, and her mouth flooded with his cum. It ran over her tongue and down her chin, dribbling onto her muddy breasts. She moaned, and took him deep into her throat again, her own climax washing over her.
Finally, her orgasm faded, and she felt the ooze squeezing her ass, her pleasure mingling with the sensation of the mire sliding around her body.
Ian's cock softened, and slipped out of her mouth.
"Fuck," she murmured, and slumped forward, her forehead resting against his leg.
"Dirty girl," he whispered.
"Mmm. You know I am."
"You liked it."
"I loved it."
"Kinky."
"Oh, yes."
He looked down at her, and grinned. "Let's get you out of the mud."
"Oh, thank you. I thought you'd never ask."
He laughed. "Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it."
"I did. Now, can we get me out of the mud?"
"Yeah. Give me your hand."
She raised her hand, the ooze dripping off her fingers, and he pulled her free. She felt the mud slide away from her body, and then she was standing, her clothes soaked with ooze, her hair dripping mud.
"So are we even?" she asked.
"Not quite yet." Ian looked her up and down. "You walk to my flat like that."
"Like this?" Georgia felt her heart beating a little faster. "You're a pervert."
"And you love it."
"Oh, fuck, I do."
"So get walking, Hot Mess."
"I can't... People will see..."
"If you're worried they'll recognise you, get some mud on that face now."
"Oh, God." Georgia scooped up a handful of ooze and smeared it over her cheeks and forehead, leaving streaks across her pale skin. "Am I disguised enough now?"
"Oh, yes."
"OK. Let's go."
She walked up the bank and through the woods, following the path, Ian at her heels. As they reached the edge of the park, a young couple appeared on the path ahead, walking towards them. They both turned to stare at Georgia as they passed. The woman said something she didn't catch, but their laughter made her face burn.
"Oh, God," she muttered, as they hurried away. "I'm covered in mud. And my tits are hanging out."
"OK, you can do your blouse up now."
"Thank you." She fumbled at the buttons, her fingers still slippery with mud. Her jacket was caked in ooze, and the fabric was sticking to her arms, but her top was at least covering her again. The weight of the wet mud was making it sag, and she felt the bra sliding down over her breasts. "Can't we get a cab?"
"No. Get moving."
"Oh, you sadist."
"Oh, Hot Mess, you haven't seen the half of it."
Georgia walked down the street, the ooze cold against her skin, her bra clinging to her breasts. Cars passed, and the people they drove past stared. Some pointed. She felt a flush spreading over her neck and cheeks. Her skirt was sliding down her legs, and she had to keep yanking it up. Her shoes kept slipping out from under her, and she stumbled, and nearly fell.
"Oh, God." She stopped, and leaned against a wall, feeling the ooze sliding down her body.
"Hold it like that." Ian held up his phone.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting a photo. To remember this by."
"Ian!"
"Got it. Let's go."
She pushed herself away from the wall, and wobbled along the street, feeling the muck sliding out beneath her skirt and dribbling down her thighs. She was a mess, and she was getting stares and pointing fingers. "Ian, this is humiliating."
"Exactly. I love it."
"You bastard."
"Yes, you've already told me that."
She glared at him. "You've got a weird thing about me."
"And you've got a weird thing about mud."
"No, I don't."
"You're a shitty liar."
"Fuck, Ian, this is humiliating."
"Yes. But you're loving every second of it."
Georgia gritted her teeth. Was she? Yes, her face was flushed and her pulse was racing. And the feeling of the mud sliding against her body, and her breasts swinging beneath her top, was sending tingles through her. Her thong was rubbing against her pussy, and she felt a dampness spreading across her crotch. "Oh, fuck," she muttered, as a man pointed and laughed.
"That's right," Ian said. "Get humiliated. It suits you."
"Shut up."
"No. I want to hear you admit it."
"Admit what?"
"That you're loving being humiliated."
"Ye-es," Georgia whispered, her face burning. "I am. OK? I'm loving it."
"And that you're soaking wet."
"Fuck, yes."
"Good girl. Now get walking."
She tottered along the pavement, her skirt slipping down her legs. Cars were stopping now, and the men driving them were staring at her. She saw phones coming out, and knew that her humiliation was being photographed, and the idea of being on camera, being exposed, made her feel another rush of arousal.
Finally, they reached Ian's apartment block, and he buzzed them through the door. Georgia tottered along the corridor to his door, her heels sinking into the carpet. He unlocked the door, and followed her inside. She stared at her reflection in the hall mirror. Her shoes were covered in mud, her smart skirt had been reduced to a dirty rag, her blouse was completely brown except for a few white patches that only served to highlight how dirty the rest of her was, and her jacket was hanging from her shoulders, its expensive cut ruined. Mud was caked in her hair, and streaks were all over her face, making her look like some kind of mud zombie.
"So," she said. "Are we even now?"
"Yes, Hot Mess. We're even."
"Good." She turned to face him, her breasts swaying. "In that case, this can be a bonus." She put her arms round his neck, and kissed him, her mouth pressing hard against his. She felt his tongue flick out, and then their tongues were entwined, and he was squeezing her ass through her ruined skirt.
"You are a messy bitch," he muttered.
"You fucking love it," she breathed, grinding her crotch against his.
"And so do you." He squeezed her ass harder, his fingers digging into her flesh.
"Mmm." Georgia reached down and felt his hardness. "Ian, I need that inside me."
"Do you?"
"Yes. Fuck me. Fuck the living shit out of me."
"Like this? Like the filthy mess you are?"
"Yes. Do it."
He grabbed her ruined jacket and pulled it from her shoulders. Then he yanked her blouse open, the last few buttons popping off. She gasped as the wet material clung to her breasts, her nipples hard beneath her bra.
/I'm a mess,/ she thought. /I'm a filthy fucking mess. I've got to stop doing this. I'm a lawyer, for fuck's sake. And look at me. I'm a fucking mud monster./
But as Ian tore her skirt open and yanked her thong aside, she decided that she wasn't going to stop doing it just yet.