To my faithful readers: This is the last part of New Job. Enjoy. But before you do, I have to tell you that you are my heroines and heroes, to stick with this story so long. As you know, this is only my second story and I can’t begin to tell you how much your continuing interest in this story validates my own hopes that I actually could write fiction. That you are still reading this, especially since it took me so long to finish it, touches my heart more than I can say. So I really can’t thank you enough for staying with me this far.

When I began posting this last March, I thought that I would be finished with it by the end of May at the latest. Clearly, I had no idea how long the story would run, and worse, how long it would actually take me to finish it, seventeen months in all! I can only applaud your patience and endurance and hope that I have in some way been able to meet your expectations.

I can tell you for sure that I have never had such a rewarding experience in writing as I’ve had working on New Job. I have come to adore Lilly (Yes, of course she is the me of my dreams, what did you think?), feel comforted by Cynthia’s strength, and brought to tears by Hannah’s story. Where did Hannah come from? I have no clue, but I sure am glad I discovered her. I must admit, however, that I’m not quite sure how I’ll live without Lilly and Cynthia in my life from here on out. I may have to write a sequel just so I can continue to spend time with them.

Thornton, on the other hand I know all about. He was my boss. Really. I saw him do virtually all of the nasty things he did to the people in this story. Of course I exaggerated some times, but you would be appalled to know how infrequently. I definitely needed to purge him from my system, and I hope you enjoy what happens to him as much as I did writing about it.

I would also like to take this opportunity to thank the people who helped me get here. First and foremost I must thank Dawn DeWinter for her continued help, insight, and guidance and for her friendship and encouragement. Cynetta Cynclair, Nora Cress, and Nancy Rose also read, edited, and commented, and really made a difference in how the last two parts turned out. Thank you all so much for your help.

 

New Job

by: Kelly Rogers

 

Chapter XXI in which the trap is set

I was actually glad to get to work on Monday morning. There were three weeks left before the meeting with Boston Federated, and I had a lot to do. North State and Boston Federated had agreed to work together on a deal that would have been too big for either of us alone, but we still had to negotiate the terms of our partnership. I figured we’d draw up a contract that split everything 50-50, but Thornton thought he was clever enough to create some small advantage that would give us a slightly larger percentage of the profits. Because the whole deal would be worth well over $500 million, that small percentage could turn into big bucks, especially for his bonus.

Thornton had partially laid out his plan to me more than a month ago. He had called me into his office, where he stood behind his desk, with a set of documents and analyses spread out in front of him. "Lilly, shut the door and come over here I want to show you something."

I knew that when I got to his desk, he would look down into my suit jacket. At his constant urging, I rarely wore tops under my jackets and he was always trying to look down into my cleavage. I probably shouldn’t admit this; it makes me feel stupid and sluttish, not to mention totally politically incorrect, but I enjoyed playing this game of hide and seek with him. I just loved my still new breasts and was unaccountably proud of them, as if I had anything to do with how they turned out. On this day I had even worn a lacy, low cut Wonderbra, anticipating just this scenario.

You see, I had figured out that he wasn’t very good at controlling himself and by letting him get a real good view occasionally in private, I was encouraging him to peer down my top in public as well. He never realized what was going on, so lots of people saw what he was doing. While he was working to make me look stupid, I was working to make him look like a pig, and, truth be told, to get my cheap little thrill by letting him ogle me.

So I approached his desk and bent over to see what he had there. This was part of the game, because as soon as I did, he took a peek down into my jacket. I took a big breath so my expanding chest would lift my breasts. Let him look. I loved it, even though Thornton was a total pig. Then it was time for work, although he would continue to try to check me out for the rest of the meeting. That was his problem, not mine. I never knew I was just an exhibitionist at heart.

He didn’t tell me exactly what he was working on, but he had the outline of a presentation that hid some of the analyses I had done. The result would be that Boston Federated wouldn’t know everything we knew. That of course, wouldn’t be kosher. When you team up with someone, you’re really supposed to work for the benefit of the team, aren’t you? Oh well, if nothing else, he was consistent. He tried to take advantage of everyone. He even cheated his new business partners to make a few more bucks. I didn’t understand the securities code well enough to know for sure, but I knew that if what he planned wasn’t illegal, it had to at least be unethical.

If he got caught, he risked not only embarrassment, but possibly a lawsuit as well. And I knew that he could get caught because he had not interpreted my analyses correctly. This led him to incorrect conclusions about eventual payoff dates and amounts. At first I simply hoped that the folks from Boston Federated would pick up on his mistake. They weren’t stupid, and I figured there was a good chance they would catch his bogus figures. Then, when they asked him how he did his calculations, he would be stuck. He wouldn’t be able to explain it. He just didn’t understand how the analysis worked, and didn’t think he had to. He had repeatedly brushed me off in the past when I tried to explain it to him.

It was a pretty nifty set of equations that used a multilevel, nested array of integral equations to estimate not only ultimate investment values with far more accuracy than the standard algebraic analyses could handle, but my approach estimated rates of change in value as well. No one else had that. We could take more factors into account, play with parameters and vary contingencies, and be a couple of steps ahead of our competitors in accuracy and confidence. We could determine whether it was better to take profits early or late or not at all while our competitors were just looking at the ultimate outcome. You could do all that, that is, if you understood the equations.

Thornton was okay as long as I interpreted the data for him, but he had done it himself this time and blown it. Not surprisingly, he had seen what he wanted to see. Once I understood this, it had been easy to imagine a way to bring him down. All I had told Holly that morning at breakfast was to be sure to understand the numbers year by year, and if they didn’t seem right, to ask about them.

It turned out that Boston Federal anticipated that Thornton might try to cheat them, and was double-checking everything already. That’s why Holly had been able to suggest some additional questions for Thornton. They were laying for him as well. Now, I didn’t have to hope they would catch him, I could be sure it would happen. It also lessened my burden of guilt. Boston Federated had gained nothing from my discussion with Holly because they already knew what to expect.

So I did the best I could to keep Thornton energized and focused on his approach as we prepared for the negotiation with Boston Federated. I agreed with everything he said and only embellished things he had already begun. It really was going to be an impressive presentation.

Still, he dumped on me repeatedly, renewing his effort to crush my ego, even as I tried to look like I was helping him. But I was immune to him now, although I did my best not to let on. In fact, I was the perfect administrative assistant and yes woman, working to convince him that he was going to run away with this contract before the folks from Boston Federated even knew what hit them.

But as those couple of weeks passed, things got more and more strange for me. Once it became clear to me that Thornton couldn’t really hurt me any more, and that he was in fact the one who was about to get clobbered, I started to get a little depressed and to feel guilty about what I was doing, just as Cynthia predicted might happen.

So as the date for the meeting drew near, I updated my own figures and even asked Thornton if he wanted to review them. Once he got caught cheating, he was sure to accuse me of setting him up, and I wanted to be sure I had the proper numbers in my computer and could say that I offered to review things with him. I wanted solid evidence that I hadn’t tried to cheat Boston Federated. Of course I had to be careful about how I offered him my help, and picked a moment after he had just tried to make me look stupid again at a staff meeting.

"Lilly, how many times do I have to tell you that your opinion is not worth the hot air that carries it out of your empty head." Well, I had certainly heard that one before, so had everyone else. Marcie groaned quietly.

I saw my opening. "Does that mean you don’t want me to review the presentation figures with you once more before we meet with Boston Federated?"

"What good would that do?" he snapped back. "When’s the last time you showed me anything I didn’t already know?"

To myself I murmured, when’s the last time you actually let yourself see anything you didn’t want to see. But I plastered a smile on my face and simply said, "Yes sir. It’s hard for me to imagine why you even keep me around, Mr. Thornton."

"Just watch your tongue, missy," he shot back, "We don’t need your sarcasm. You’re expendable, you know." Then he scowled down at me. I just hung my head submissively, but smiled inwardly. I wasn’t sure, but I thought that I had just used his own momentum to help send him where I wanted him to go.

I had a dinner date with Michael, that evening, so I hurried home to change out of my work clothes. I replaced them with a long, crinkled broomstick skirt that swirled nicely around my ankles when I walked, a soft, loosely fitted, long rayon top that hung to my hips, and a sleeveless, collarless jacket that wasn’t as long as the top. I had figured out that I was tall and thin enough to look good in long, layered clothes and I liked them because they were feminine without being overtly sexy. After my thankfully brief stint picking up guys in bars, I was kind of leery about looking too sexy.

Besides, every time I wore a long skirt it reminded me of the first weekend I had spent under Cynthia’s control. I adored those memories. Tallish clunky heels and a silk scarf hanging loosely around my neck completed the look. I was pretty enough to turn heads, but dressed like this, I wasn’t telling the world that I was ready to jump into bed with the first guy who said hello to me.

Of course, I thought to myself as I did a final check in the mirror, smoothing an eyebrow with a wetted pinky, I could always take off my bra and allow my breasts to bob free. Draped by such soft fabrics, they would give anyone clever enough to notice a real good show. But using my better judgment, I decided to leave my bra on even while wondering if I would ever get over the instinct to show off my wonderful breasts.

As soon as I saw Michael, I pressed him to tell me what his investigator had discovered, but he put me off. He was being very cryptic about it, saying it was better if I didn’t know and he would handle everything. "Besides," he said, "it’s taking longer than I expected. I’m not sure when we’ll get this done."

I was disappointed. Despite all my plotting, I had been hoping that perhaps Michael would be able to nail Thornton for me and get me off the hook. But since that wasn’t going to happen, I started to tell him about how things were going at work and how I had tricked Thornton into skipping the review I had prepared to salve my conscience.

"You did what?" he almost shouted. "You could have blown the whole thing. What is the matter with you?"

"I couldn’t help it," I mumbled, "I was feeling bad for him; he’s going to destroy himself. I just had to be sure I gave him the chance to get out of it… if he was smart enough to take it."

Michael was unconvinced. "You are absolutely nuts." He enunciated every word as clearly and slowly as he could, as if talking to a dimwit. Maybe he was. Then he went on in a rapid staccato. "I should’ve known. You should’ve known." His voice rose as he said it. "Cynthia predicted this. She said you were too nice to finish him off when you had him down and she was right. The first time you get an advantage over him, you offer him a way out. What were you thinking?"

I started to tear up under his attack, but then got angry instead. "Well, he didn’t take it, but I did the right thing. How dare you attack me for that."

Michael just sighed and I could see his whole body kind of sink into itself as he calmed down. Then he put both his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. "Look," he said softly, "This guy’s been trying to destroy you. And you’re not the first. Even if you’re willing to sacrifice your own revenge, there are others who were driven from their jobs by Thornton or have been hurt much more than you and who don’t feel as generous."

He stroked my cheek lightly. I grabbed his hand before he could move it away and pressed it into my cheek. I liked it there. He went on, "Thornton truly is a son of bitch. I will not allow you to let him escape. Don’t do anything like that again. OK?"

I closed my eyes and felt Michael’s hand against my cheek. I leaned my head into it and sighed, partly from the nice feeling and partly because I had reached a cross roads in my own mind. Why had I almost let Thornton off the hook? I knew the answer but didn’t want to admit it. I was scared. I had always been scared of bullies like Thornton. I had made a huge step forward in overcoming my fear when I dove from Charles’s car on 10^th Avenue before he could take me to New Jersey. But in that case I didn’t have to do anything but flee. Now I was preparing to strike out.

I let Michael’s hand drop and felt tears come to my eyes. A moment later I started to laugh. Going after Thornton took more courage than anything I had ever done in my entire life, and I was doing it as a woman, not a man. The irony was just too much for me.

I could see the confusion on Michael’s face. Here I was laughing and crying at the same time. I lowered my eyes and said to him, "Michael, I’m scared. I’m afraid to do this. He’s going to try to kill me when this deal blows up on him. I don’t know what to do."

Michael took hold of both my shoulders, but when I didn’t look up, he took one hand and put it under my chin, lifting my eyes to meet his. They weren’t full of compassion, as I had hoped. Instead, they were kind of hard, though not angry. "Lilly, you don’t have any choice," he said. "If you don’t do this, Thornton will destroy you for sure. This is your only opportunity. You’ve got to do it and it has to be now."

What could I say? Of course he was right. I had to do it. I’d known that all along. I sighed and nodded my head. He had let go of my chin and I had let my head drop again so that I didn’t have to look at him. But he wasn’t yet ready to let me off the hook. Do you remember Tammy, he asked, lifting my chin again. "Do you remember Melissa, and Helen Marks before her? You know what Thornton did to all of them don’t you? And you hated it didn’t you? And what’s he doing to you now? You hate that too don’t you?"

"Yes!" I hissed out. "I hate him for all those things. He’s despicable." I just about spit the word out.

"And you’re not going to back off on him are you? He still hadn’t let go of my chin, so I shook my head away from him. I had been hoping for moral support, instead I got a lecture. Oh well, what could I expect. After all, he was a man. He was aggressive, and thought in terms of winning and losing, something I had never been able to do.

But he was a rather sweet man, and for reasons I still don’t understand, I found him attractive. I decided it was time to end this conversation and start one that might lead to a little of the affection I needed. "Michael," I said forthrightly, "I’ll do it. Don’t worry. Just understand that I need a little support. This is not exactly my strong suit."

Once he had nodded his assent, I turned flirtatious. "You know what would really help?" He raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘what?’ At the same time, he tilted his head slightly to let me know he was teasingly suspicious as well. "A kiss," I said, "you have to kiss me." I don’t know why, but I said it kind of loud, so the people around us could hear. We seemed to have a habit of embarrassing each other in public by doing that.

With that his eyebrows shot up even further, and he looked at me for a second like I had grown another head. Then he broke out laughing. "You are too much." He said that as he stood up and leaned over me. He stood in front of me and grabbed the back of my chair for balance while leaning down to my face. I leaned into the back of the chair as his face closed in on mine. I fluttered my eyelashes to try to look innocent and naïve. But as he hesitated just for a moment to look into my eyes, I tilted my head slightly to the side inviting him to my lips.

He took the invitation with a sweet smile and kissed me squarely on the lips right in the middle of the restaurant. We held it for quite a while, seriously entangling our tongues and pressing our lips hard together. We didn’t stop when the people around us started to applaud, but drew apart with a little embarrassment when we also heard some laughter.

Then Michael stood straight up, grabbed my hand and lifted me to my feet, holding our hands above our heads. Then he bowed, and because he pulled my hand down with him, I had to follow his lead. Now, the whole restaurant cracked up. Everyone, including us, had a great meal, chattering to the people around us, like we were all old friends.

I took Michael home with me after dinner and we talked and drank wine until bedtime. For some reason I had no desire to make love to him, and he didn’t push the matter. I was content just to be in his strong arms. I felt so protected. So he agreed to stay the night, "just to keep my spirits up," and once we were spooned together in bed, he fondled my breasts for a little while, claming that he rarely got to fondle anyone’s breasts, and that was the least I could do for him. I gratefully accepted his attention, and purred contentedly while he gently caressed me from behind.

Then I spooned my butt into his groin, ignoring his modestly hard penis, and grabbed his hands, pressing them more tightly to my chest. I was too tired to think about much, but for a moment or two before I fell sleep, I knew what it meant to be a woman. Who wouldn’t, snuggled up with a guy like Michael, who was both so strong and so gentle. Why didn’t I do this every night?

 

 

Chapter XXII Just Desserts, or Just an Appetizer?

The meeting with Boston Federated was held on March 1, a Wednesday. Thornton had made it clear to me that I was to act as his assistant and should be prepared to be running around to make sure everything went off smoothly. "And listen, girly," he went on with scorn in his voice, "I want to see tits and ass tomorrow, and plenty of leg. If we can distract them even a little, it will be to our advantage."

In other words, I was to do my best to look like a hot little secretary and flaunt my body to try to distract the negotiators from Boston Federated. Where DID this guy come from?

Well, I got dressed up, but not to his specs. I wore a black suit with a straight skirt that ended just above the knee. The fitted double-breasted jacket just covered my tush and came up high enough to completely hide my cleavage. It made me look tall and thin. Black patent heels, black hose and gold and emerald jewelry that matched the ring made me look a little more mature than I felt. Just for me, and because I knew it would make people wonder, I wore a pale gray silk camisole with a blush of charcoal gray lace at the top, instead of a bra. No one would see the camisole, but some would wonder whether I was wearing a bra or not.

The meeting was called for 9:30 and there was a good deal of palpable anxiety in the office as Heather, Kathleen and I buzzed around getting ready. Needless to say, Thornton had put me in charge of the secretaries who were going to be the major gofers and he sat with Carl Weathers, our CEO, and a couple of other VPs who had come just to watch the presentation.

By the time the nearly two dozen people had assembled in the conference room and said their hellos and gotten settled it was after 10:00. Thornton sat in the middle of our long conference table and his counterpart from Boston Federated, Bill Watson, sat opposite him.

"Bill," Thornton began, "we have a wonderful opportunity to make lots of money together. And if we can pull this off, I believe it will mark the beginning of a very lucrative partnership for our two firms. As we agreed, I’ve undertaken the financial analysis of the deal. I’ve prepared a presentation outlining the important parameters and the expected outcomes under several sets of contingencies. Each of you has a copy at your seat, so feel free to make notes on it as I go through this. Then, we’ll have plenty of time to discuss our analysis. Lilly, would you get the lights please?"

Why was he asking me? I was running the computer to free him to focus on his presentation. There were four secretaries spread around the room just to handle such things. But I got up demurely and walked over to the light switch being as careful as I could not to walk provocatively. Then as I approached the light switch, I saw Thornton’s face reflected in the smoked glass wall. He was frowning.

I understood immediately. I, of course, was supposed to wiggle my way over to the light switch, swaying like a stripper on the make to distract the team from Boston Federated. Too bad Bob, I thought to myself, if this is your biggest disappointment today, you’ll be a very lucky guy.

As I dimmed the lights, I turned towards Thornton and asked, "Is it dark enough for you Bob?"

I could see the flames dance in his eyes for just a moment before he said, "That’s perfect Ms. Miller. Thank you. You may sit down."

I was supposed to call him Mr. Thornton, and he knew that my use of Bob was an intentional snub. He was getting even by calling me Ms. Miller, with a big emphasis on the Miz, and then telling me to sit down. From that moment on, every North State employee in the room knew something was up. They just didn’t know what. But I intended to make Thornton as angry at me as possible. We’d see who I would distract on this day. By its end all the cards would be on the table and only one of us would still be working at North State.

The presentation went along without any hitches. I had prepared some very sophisticated material, making maximal use of the animation, fancy transitions, and other features of PowerPoint. This permitted Thornton to fly through the figures. He had planned to do that so no one would get a good look at them. Why he thought that would make a difference is beyond me because we had already supplied the entire package to Boston Federated so they could review it in detail.

After 15 minutes I started to worry because no one had yet raised a single question. Worse, I could see no concern on their faces. In fact, everyone seemed quite relaxed. I tried to catch Holly’s eye, but she wouldn’t look at me. Instead she followed Thornton’s presentation with rapt attention. My heart sank when she nodded her head in agreement as Thornton danced around one of the special conditions he had hidden to earn him some extra money. I could see him respond to her encouragement by puffing up a little.

When he was done, I was again asked to get the lights, and when they came on, Bill Watson said, "Bob that was very Informative. You gave us a very enlightening picture of what’s going to happen. Why don’t we take a break and then I think we can sit down and get this contract ironed out. It’s pretty clear to us where we need to go."

What? I thought to myself, they’re going to let him get away with it? They can’t. What happened? Does Thornton have a buddy inside Boston Federated? I sat glumly in my seat, turning off the computer as everyone else left the room. Then, Thornton called to me, "Lilly, can I see you in the office please?"

Sure asshole, whatever you want. My mind was in torment. How could everything go so wrong? Why had Holly led me to believe she would help, only to sit silently while Thornton presented plans to swindle them. I just didn’t get it.

When I got back to the office, he was euphoric. "Did you see that?" he said laughing, "They bought the whole thing. By this afternoon, we’ll have a signed contract, and then they’re stuck." He was strutting around again with his chest puffed so far out I thought it might burst. Charlie Watson, Tom White and a few others stopped in to offer congratulations. They, of course, had no idea what he was up to. And, not at all surprisingly, while they were in the room, Thornton completely forgot that I existed.

Once they left, Thornton turned back to me and said, "Alright, let’s get this wrapped up. Then we can come back and celebrate. I’ve got some really good champagne in the refrigerator. Get it ready in my office. I’m gonna love this."

So I went into his office and opened his bar. I started to lay out everything he wanted, but when I opened the refrigerator, I had to laugh. His really good Champagne was Korbel. Hell, every store in the city that sold wine had six or eight different varieties that were better than Korbel. What an asshole. I shook my head in wonder at his lack of taste.

But I couldn’t stay amused for long. My mind quickly snapped back to our meeting. I just had to turn this around somehow. I couldn’t let Thornton get away with it. But how? I had made sure that Boston Federated would know that Thornton was going to try to cheat them, and had assumed they would skewer him when he presented his "cooked" numbers. But they hadn’t. They seemed to have swallowed his whole presentation, hook, line, and sinker.

I would have to make an opportunity to say something, but unless someone addressed a question to me, I would have little opportunity to talk. Even worse, if I criticized Thornton now, it would be obvious to everyone that I was out to get him.

I was so distracted by this line of thought that I broke a glass. "Oh shit!" I didn’t have time to clean it up. I pressed Thornton’s intercom and buzzed Kathleen. "Kathy, would you come in here please, I need you."

"OK, I’ll be right in." And then, strangely, I could hear Kathy put something down on her desk and push her chair back to get up. The intercom was still on. I had pressed the hold button by mistake. As I was standing there staring at it, Kathy came in the door and asked, "What’s wrong?"

"Huh? Oh, I broke a glass, could you be a dear and clean it up so I can get back to the conference room? I think I got all the big pieces."

She gave me a half frown, the kind a mother uses on her misbehaving toddler, but then smiled and said, "Sure, you go ahead I’ll take care of this. By the way, I love your suit."

But I wasn’t paying attention to her, and didn’t move for a second. "Hey," Kathy whispered, "you okay?" I turned to her slowly.

"Kathy, I need a really big favor." She looked at me expectantly. "I’m going to leave Thornton’s intercom on. I want you to leave yours on as well. I may need someone to listen in on our conversation when we get back. I’m a little worried about what might happen. If you turn the volume down on your microphone, you’ll be able to hear us, but we won’t be able to hear you. Okay?"

She looked at me strangely. "Are you sure? We’re not supposed to do that, you know."

"Don’t worry, you won’t get in trouble, just make sure you have someone else in the office with you, Marcie or Heather or someone. I may need help."

Her look didn’t change, but I was already late. I turned to leave; I had to hurry.

I ran down the hallway to the sound of my heels clicking on the polished floor. I quickly became aware that I wasn’t wearing a bra and had to laugh at myself because I couldn’t figure out why I had decided not to wear it. I should have worn one that was well constructed and had full coverage. You don’t go into battle without your armor on. How did men ever fight in loincloths?

By the time I got back to the conference room, a little out of breath, everyone was seated, and Thornton said, "Oh there you are, Lilly would you fetch us the contracts please."

Fetch the contracts? What was I a dog? But after brushing imaginary hairs off my face, I responded in my sweetest secretary’s voice. "Oh, I’m sorry Bob, did you forget, they’re in the folder by your seat."

"Ah, here they are," he glared at me for accusing him of forgetting, even though he had. Without breaking eye contact, he said, "Would you pass them out please?"

"Sure Bob, I countered, "I sure do hope I’m up for such a difficult task."

I couldn’t believe I had said that and stood there paralyzed! And for a moment, there was an ominous silence, and then a giggle from somewhere behind me, and after another brief pause, laughter took over the room. Thornton stared at me for a second and started laughing himself. He had to, or else look small-minded. Score one for Lilly!

The Boston Federated folks were obviously enjoying our silly little game, but were ready to get down to business. So was Thornton. He had every intention of getting their signature on an agreement today.

"Bill," he began, "you’ve had our proposal and contract for two weeks and my presentation simply summarized things for everybody. What say we sign this thing and get on with it?"

Bill Watson began slowly. "Well Bob," he drawled out, "we want to do this deal as much as you do, and the figures you presented are very enticing. There are, however, a few things we need to straighten out first." He put on his reading glasses and looked down at his notes for a moment. Then, with his head still down, he looked back up over the glasses into Thornton’s face and smiled weakly. "Let me see if I got this straight."

He launched into a detailed summary of the numbers, but curiously left out the one area of the agreement from which Thornton had withheld data. I was really starting to panic now. I would have to bring it up myself, and I couldn’t figure out how to do that safely. I was so distracted by my own thoughts, that I didn’t even hear Watson finish, until he said, "…all that we could sign off on today."

"That’s great Bill," Thornton lunged into the opening. "Let’s do it."

"So this contract represents your best projections of the profit and loss potential? Thornton nodded his agreement, "And the time line?"

"You bet Bill, we’ve been over this thing nine different ways. I did the numbers myself and I’m as sure of them as I’ve ever been of anything. We’ll both profit equally and these numbers prove it."

Watson hesitated, looked down at his notes again and simply said, "Hmmmph." Then he looked at me and said, " Ms. Miller would you call in your lawyers. And give Carl a buzz; I think he should be here too."

I cast a questioning glance over at Thornton because this was not typically the way we did things. He shrugged and I leaned over to Kathleen and told her to make the calls.

"Bob," Watson said, I’m really glad we’ve come to this agreement. It’s now perfectly clear just how good this deal is going to be and I can’t wait to get our signatures down on paper."

My heart was leaden. Thornton had gotten away with it and his victory would be sealed in the presence of our CEO. I would either have to resign or submit to Thornton’s domination. But if I resigned, would I ever get a job like this again? I couldn’t imagine anyone who would hire a transsexual analyst, and certainly not for the kind of salary I was earning. What would I do? I felt like crying.

"Lilly." I was lost in my own thoughts again and even though he didn’t speak sharply, Thornton startled me. "Go get some champagne for everyone. This is going to call for a real celebration, the biggest deal ever for either company." I started to send one of the other secretaries, but Thornton wouldn’t have it. "No, Lilly, you go, I think that would be appropriate, wouldn’t it?"

Those last two words were like daggers. He was wasting no time, starting to humiliate me in public as soon as he felt his victory was at hand. He was making it clear I was going to be his gofer, and probably little more. I left the room without even looking up and had all I could do not to cry on my way back to our office. Fortunately, one of the other girls followed me, loaded everything onto the cart and wheeled it back to the conference room. I tried to take it from her at the door to push it into the room myself, but she wouldn’t let me. "I’m not letting that scum bag embarrass you. Besides, it’s my job."

I put my hand on her arm and said, "thank you," before smiling weakly. Then I held the door for her and let her push the cart into the room and unload it to the service area. By the time she had finished, Carl Weathers and Paul Altieri, our chief counsel were both in the room.

Watson started, "Carl, I wanted you here because I wanted to be sure you get to see just what kind of deal Bob here is trying to cut."

Something was wrong! That’s not how you start a celebration. I suddenly perked up.

"I happen to be just one of a very large number of people who hate Bob Thornton because he sullies the reputation of all of us with his underhanded way of doing business. I warned you about him, but you chose not to believe me. Now he’s tried to cheat us and we’re going to make you pay for it."

The room went berserk. Everyone was shouting at once. Out of the corner of my eye I spied Holly, who winked at me, and then sat back in her chair to watch the show with a big smile on her face.

Finally Weathers took control. "Those are mighty big words, Bill, you better be able to back ‘em up or there won’t be enough words of apology in the English language to save your position in this industry."

"Sit down Carl, I have a presentation of my own to make. Then our lawyers will describe the basis of our lawsuit to your lawyers.

Watson proceeded to gut Thornton’s analysis of the key section Bob had purposefully left out of his presentation. He showed very clearly how the timing of interim payouts had been scheduled in our favor, and how that would bleed profits from Boston Federated, despite Thornton’s repeated assertions that profits would be split evenly. Thornton just sat there and fumed. Carl Weathers got progressively more upset.

"The only thing I don’t understand is this," Watson went on, addressing Weathers directly, "the analysis we performed was derived from the paradigm that your own Ms. Miller here developed." He nodded at me. "In fact I happen to remember you bragging about it. You told me you had given him, er…her" he rolled his eyes as if to say why do I have to deal with this, "a bonus for it."

He looked down at his notes and shook his head. Yet you used it improperly. That’s how we know this is a case of attempted fraud. It’s not easy to spot, but anyone who understands the analysis at all would see right away that these numbers are not only wrong, but coming from the company that developed the analysis, they must be intentionally wrong."

He shook his head sadly. "I should also add that we have every intention of notifying the SEC of the fraudulent business practices North State employs."

"Lilly," Thornton pounced on me. I told you you’d never be able to hide that. I told you not to try it. You set me up!"

"What?" I was caught off guard. I never expected this. Of course I knew he would try to blame me somehow, but so blatantly?

"You fucking bitch, trying to get me in trouble. You set me up. I’ll see your ass in jail." He was shouting with the voice of moral indignation.

"That’s not true!" I shouted back, my voice rising in fury and frustration. "Ask anyone in the office. You prepared those numbers yourself. I offered to review…"

"That’s enough!" Weathers roared. He certainly didn’t want us arguing in public. "Both of you shut up and get out of here. I’ll see you in your office." He glared at both of us. "Tony, he motioned to his deputy, Anthony Morrell. "Escort these two back to their office and keep them out of trouble until I get there."

As we left, I could hear Weathers beginning to try to mollify Bill Watson. If we got sued or accused of fraud, his ass was on the line as much as anyone else’s.

In the hallway, Thornton lit into me again, accusing me of setting him up and lying to him and just generally trying to make it look like he was the injured party. I stayed silent. The whole office had seen Thornton turn down my offer to review the numbers with him and I had been keeping a daily journal of my conversations with him as well. Still I was scared. I had everything I could do to control my panic. Only the breathing exercises I learned in karate class kept me under control.

When we got back to our suite, Thornton turned on me again and motioning to his office said, "Get in here."

"I’m going with you," said Tony, "I’m not letting either of you out of my sight."

Thornton turned on him. "The hell you are. You get into my office when I say so." Then he turned on me. "Get in here you bitch." His glare was frightening.

I motioned silently to Tony that it would be OK and I preceded Thornton into his office. He slammed the door behind us. I just prayed that the intercom was still on.

Thornton went and poured himself a drink. I stayed as far away as possible, taking up a position near a big brown leather armchair that was next to the door to my office. He took a big hit of his drink and turned towards me scowling. Despite my breathing exercises, I was starting to get scared. But I knew I had to get him to admit that he had done this himself.

"Listen, you little bitch. You set me up."

"Oh, spare me Bob." I put as much venom into my voice as I could. "We’re alone in here and we both know you did this and that you spurned my help. You didn’t understand how the analysis worked or you wouldn’t have tried something so stupid in the first place."

"Well, you little faggot, you may be right, but I’m bringing you down anyway. No one will believe a pansy like you. It’s your word against mine, and I can’t wait to visit you in prison. Your ass’ll be stuffed so full of cock that you’ll never get to sit down!"

"Fuck you Bob!" I was livid. You’ve spent your entire life beating up on people who didn’t have the strength or resources to stand up to you. Well buddy, game’s over. You just let your own stupidity and arrogance bring you down. The only one going to prison here is you!"

All of sudden, the door burst open and Tony and Carl Weathers exploded into the room. Heather and Kathleen were right behind them. "Thornton, you fucking moron," shouted Weathers, "you just hung yourself. The intercom was on!"

"What?" He turned on me like a laser.

Weathers was in his face, "Shut up Bob! I put my neck on the line for you, and there’s no way I’m going to let you do anything that it’ll get it cut off. So don’t say another goddamn word. This office goes under lock and key until we get a chance to investigate. Then we’ll see who set up who."

Weathers turned to his deputy and barked, "Tony, get security. I could see that Thornton could barely contain his rage. He turned on me again, shouting at me over Weather’s shoulder. "I knew you would betray me, you bitch. Just like every other God damned fucking cunt in my life. You were always out to get me."

He was so angry his face was turning red. He slammed his glass onto his desk and the ice and scotch went flying all over it. He started to stalk towards the office door, but had only gone two steps when he turned on me yet again. "All cunts try to screw guys, I should have known that a faggot half-cunt like you would do a particularly good job."

I couldn’t let him get away with that. "Betray you? Betray you? You son-of a bitch! First there was Helen Marks, then Melissa, and then Tammy. You abused them and drove them away and they were defenseless against you. I wish I had set you up. But I didn’t have to, did I? You did it yourself, you arrogant ass!"

"You fucking faggot, I’ll kill you," and he spun away from the door towards where I was standing. I have no doubt that he would have attacked me, but I got lucky. Carl Weathers was standing directly in his path and simply because he was there, he cut Thornton off.

"Come with me Bob," he said. And then turning to me, added, "You go home. You’re on paid leave until we sort this out. I don’t want to see you around here unless I call you in." He stalked out of the office with Thorton and Tony Morrell on his heels.

 

 

Chapter XXIII Ashes to Ashes

My heart was still thudding in my chest when I reached my apartment at just after 1:00. I called Michael immediately, but he was busy until 7:30, so we agreed to meet for dinner. I was so agitated I couldn’t sit still. My blood was so full of adrenaline that I was afraid it wouldn’t wear off for days. It was too early in the day to start drinking and since I couldn’t sit still I decided to clean the apartment, which I had pretty much neglected after Cynthia left for Colorado.

So I went into the big closet in my girly bedroom to find some old clothes to wear. As I reached to the back of the closet for some jeans, my hand brushed the petticoats of my first maid’s uniform. All of a sudden I got an idea. I pulled the uniform out and laid it on the bed. I was going to wear it to clean the apartment!

First, I donned the appropriate lingerie, including a lacy black garter belt, sheer black stockings, and a wonderfully lacy black Wonderbra that created amazing cleavage. Then I pulled the petticoats up to my waist and slipped the dress over my head, first straightening it over the petticoats and then zipping it up. It wasn’t in the least bit tight, and I let go a big, involuntary sigh of relief. Cynthia said she would put me in corsets again if I gained any weight while she was gone, but if this dress still fit, I was as slim as I had ever been. Thank goodness I had been going to the gym almost every day. I fixed my make up, adding a bright red lipstick, put my hair up quickly, and finally pinned the lacy cap on my head.

I looked at myself in the mirror, admiring my reflection. The short skirt and high black heels made my legs look long and sexy, and the low cut neckline literally overflowed with the lushness of my breasts. I curtsied slightly to the mirror and a feeling of familiarity and comfort rose up within me.

I was transported back to the time Cynthia had first taken over my life. Back then I was scared of her, and she dominated me thoroughly. As intense as those times had been, however, they really hadn’t lasted very long, and Cynthia and I had already begun to drift into a more normal and wonderfully loving relationship before the mugging, which had cemented that relationship into place. I sighed contentedly thinking about it.

This brief interlude of reminiscing had really helped me calm down, but I knew I had a lot of work ahead of me if I was going to get the apartment clean. So I spent the next four hours thoroughly cleaning each room, all the while walking in the sexiest mince I could manage, bending from the waist with my knees straight, and talking to myself as if I was Cynthia giving me orders. I even curtsied to myself in response. This was all so silly, that my afternoon was spent among many giggles, and by the time I had to stop to get ready to meet Michael, my spirits were pretty buoyant.

Michael and I had dinner at a small café on Columbus Avenue. We reviewed the events of my day, but couldn’t come to any conclusions about how things were going to work out. Even so, Michael was surprisingly upbeat about things and kept reassuring me that things would be just fine.

By the time we were having coffee, I had pretty much used up his patience with my anxious worrying. As I was prattling on, describing yet another imaginary disaster that might befall me, he finally interrupted, grabbing my hands.

"Look," he said emphatically, "you saved my life, I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay? Things will be fine." He paused for a moment and sat there musing. Then he smiled slightly to himself and went on, "better than fine actually."

I had heard his words, but it was like they were in another language. I just couldn’t understand. But I shut up, even though I couldn’t really relax. How could he be so confident?

After dinner, we took a walk, eventually wandering down into Riverside Park to stand by the water. We didn’t talk; we just ambled along with his arm around my shoulder and mine around his waist. It all felt so nice and comforting and it really helped to calm my anxiety. This reinforced the growing feeling within me that playing a woman’s role was really good for me and that the only question that mattered any more was whether or not I should get SRS and complete my transition.

Before long we were leaning against the old iron railing watching a rather large, brightly lit yacht quietly make its way down the pitch-black Hudson River. I was feeling quite relaxed when all of a sudden a terrible chill knifed through my body. I had never felt so suddenly cold in my entire life, and since I was wearing my fur coat, it wasn’t the wind that had done it. No, the chill had begun as apprehension in my soul and I had gotten cold from the inside out. The coldness subsided as suddenly as it had appeared, and before I could even wonder about it, Michael shouted, "look," pointing up over the George Washington Bridge, whose crown of two parallel arcs of sparkling lights stood out clearly against the dark sky. I looked up just in time to see a shooting star blink out.

That was the longest shooting star I’ve ever seen," said Michael, wonder in his voice, "and the brightest too."

In that instant, I knew, and shivered again. "Michael, we have to go," I urged, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the river.

He pulled back stopping me. "Why? What’s wrong? We were having such a nice time. I thought I had finally calmed you down." Then he looked at me. "You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Are you okay?"

"Hannah’s dead," I said, as sure of it as I would have been had I been standing in her room when she died. "Cynthia needs me."

He looked at me like I was crazy, but only for a second. I guess he figured there was no point arguing with a crazy woman. "Okay, let’s grab a cab," he agreed.

When we on our way back downtown to my apartment, Michael finally got up the nerve to ask what he had been polite enough to avoid by the river. "How do you know?"

"She told me that when she died she would become a shooting star, and…"

"You’re kidding, right?" he interrupted. "Surely just because we saw a shooting star, you can’t know she’s dead."

I don’t know why I felt compelled to explain it to him, but I did. "I felt a terrible chill just before you pointed. It was the worst chill I had ever felt, and it came from inside me. I know I’m right."

For a second he looked at me like I was nuts, but that look was replaced by a much warmer, more compassionate one almost immediately. "Okay, we’ll see. Come here, let me hold you." He put his arm around me, pulling me close, and I rested my head on his shoulder for the rest of the ride.

Once we got back to my apartment, I raced upstairs to the phone. The light on the answering machine was blinking, but I ignored it, punching in Hannah’s number as quickly as I could and cursing myself for never having entered it into the speed dial.

The phone only rang twice before someone answered. "Cynthia," I almost shouted, "is…"

"No, this is the Darlene, who’s calling please?"

"This is Lilly, is Hannah…."

She cut me off, "Lilly, let me get Cynthia for you. She knew you’d call. She wants to talk to you."

"Lilly," I could hear the tears in Cynthia’s voice as soon as she said my name. "Hannah’s dead." and she began to sob.

"I know Cyn." I had never called her that, before, it was Hannah’s pet name for her not mine, and I wasn’t quite sure how it had popped out. "I saw the shooting star," I said through the beginnings of my own tears. I looked up at Michael and just nodded. He knew just what I meant, and I could see his body sag at the news.

But before I could say anything else, Cynthia was pleading with me, "Oh, Lilly, will you come out here? I need you."

"Of course I will Cyn, of course I will. Right away. I’ll make reservations as soon as I hang up."

We talked for a while longer, but I wanted to get off the phone because Cynthia sounded so tired and because I wanted to make reservations. By the time we said goodbye, and I had hung up the phone, Michael was sitting next to me on the couch, and I threw myself into his arms, tears running down my cheeks and sobs heaving out of my lungs. He held me until I had calmed down, and then asked, "Do you want me to make reservations for you?"

I just nodded my head, and looked at him through red-rimmed eyes. We had all known Hannah would die, so I didn’t expect the actual event to hit me so hard. I was very grateful that Michael was here with me, and squeezed his hand in thanks. Then totally losing it, I threw my arms around him and cried into his chest for several minutes more.

"I’ll get you a drink," I said, sitting up finally, "then I’m going to wash and change." You can’t go home tonight. I need you here."

"Thanks for asking," he replied, his voice tinged with playful sarcasm. And he added an endearing grin to show he was happy to do it. "You couldn’t throw me out after the day you’ve had. Go get cleaned up. I’ll get my own drink and find you a flight." He kissed me on the cheek and went to the kitchen for a glass with ice.

I arrived in Colorado Springs late the next afternoon. I knew Cynthia wouldn’t be able to meet me at the airport, but I was still disappointed that she wasn’t there. I didn’t even know the person who picked me up, and we had little to say to each other on the ride to Hannah’s house. I was nearly bursting with my need to be with Cynthia when the plane landed, and my anticipation only increased on the ride from the airport.

So when we got to the house I ran from the car in that funny stiff legged gait that high heels impose on you. I was so eager to throw myself into Cynthia’s arms I just couldn’t stop myself. And then, and then…,I didn’t know what. I just knew that I needed to be with her and that her embrace would make everything better.

But she was cold and stiff when she met me just outside the door. Before I could do anything she hugged me and whispered into my ear, "take the ring off before anyone sees it. It’s important."

I was stunned. What kind of greeting was that? But I took off my glove and then the ring just as she wanted. Once I had the ring safely tucked into my purse, she relaxed visibly but her demeanor stayed business-like. She bundled me into the house and to the closet by the front door, where she carefully lifted my fur coat off my shoulders and hung it in the closet. Then she turned me back into the room, guiding me by the elbow.

There were about a dozen people spread around the room, but Cynthia led me to the couch where two older people were sitting stiffly, obviously ill at ease. "Mom, dad, this is Lillian Miller, my coworker and good friend."

Her parents? I never expected to see them, although I don’t know why. They had, after all, just lost a daughter, even if they hadn’t come to see her while she was sick. I was so surprised I was speechless. But before I could say anything stupid, Cynthia went on with the introductions. "Lillian, these are my parents, Jacob and Katherine."

We shook hands guardedly. I could only think the worst of them because that’s all Cynthia had ever told me about them. Who knows what they were thinking about me. Did they know Cynthia was a lesbian? Did they know I was a...?

God what was I thinking? They had just lost their daughter. They were here were here to bury a second child. I couldn’t believe how shallow I was, thinking about myself. Guilt bubbled up inside me like a bad heartburn, burning the edge of my consciousness and causing me to blush with shame. When would I ever grow up?

"I’m so sorry for your loss," I blurted out, immediately wishing I hadn’t said it because it sounded so impersonal. I tried to recover, "Hannah was such a warm perso…,"

I stopped because Cynthia had pinched my arm, and although I wasn’t quite sure what was going on, I knew a warning when I felt one. When she didn’t let go of the little flap of skin she had grabbed, I understood that I was on dangerous territory. I back-peddled as fast as I could. " Cynthia always described her with such warmth."

Cynthia broke in before I could do any more damage. As I listened to her I understood that she was doing her best to make sure they didn’t have a clue we were lovers, telling them what a great person I was to work with and how supportive I’d been during Hannah’s illness, taking care of her apartment and all.

Then, she dragged me away and introduced me to her two brothers. Carlton, the oldest of all the children, and Billy, the second youngest, were seated side by side at the dining room table. Billy seemed reticent and withdrawn, and although he stared at my chest when he said hello, his eyes dropped to his feet as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Carlton, by contrast, looked me up and down as if I was a side of beef at an auction. I had dressed in black, because that seemed appropriate, but I immediately regretted choosing my favorite black cashmere sweater. Even though it had a wonderfully soft cowl neck, it clung to me tightly, showing my breasts to great advantage. Maybe one day I would learn that being proud of my breasts and wanting to show them off was not necessarily the way to go for every social situation. I looked at Cynthia and she just rolled her eyes at me. I couldn’t tell whether that was because of what I was wearing or the way her brothers were appraising me. I decided to believe it was because of the latter.

Finally, after several more introductions, Cynthia dragged me out to the deck so we could talk privately. I tried to throw my arms around her but she stopped me. "Lilly, I thank God that you’re here, but we have to be careful. My family can’t know, at least not now. You’re a friend and colleague, but nothing more. You’ll be staying with Darlene Martin." She was one of Hannah’s friends who had welcomed me warmly.

"At least you have to stay there until my parents leave," Cynthia went on. "This has to be for my family. You’re an outsider, please help me and don’t ask anything of me. Be strong for me. That’s what I need."

I thought I might cry, I know that my lips trembled for a few moments and that tears started to form in my eyes, but I managed to contain myself. On the flight out I had built up such hopes of connecting again with Cynthia and now they were all being dashed. In my mind there had only been me and Cynthia, but now I was discovering that I didn’t even count. I swallowed hard, several times, the tears still clinging to the corners of my eyes. I couldn’t even talk. I just nodded my head up and down and waved my hand at Cynthia, indicating she should go back to her family.

Once she had, after carefully wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes and giving me a wistful look, I sagged back against the railing. In the last day, both Cynthia and I had lost something big, but here, only Cynthia would be able to mourn, and there wouldn’t be anyone at all to comfort me. I didn’t know how I would deal with it all. I didn’t know how to be "the strong one."

I stood there thinking about that for a few minutes, feeling more and more sorry for myself as the time passed. Then, the sliding door to the deck opened and Carlton came out. "Aren’t you cold out here?" he asked, wrapping his own arms around himself to show he was.

"Yeah, I guess I am," I said, becoming aware of the winter chill for the first time. By the time he had come out, I had my hands behind me on the top bar of the deck railing and one of my over-the-calf boots hooked onto the lower rail. This threw my stockinged leg out through the front slit of my calf length skirt, turning what had been a modest cover for my legs into a sexy show of thigh. With my chest thrown forward by my stance at the railing, I had to look provocative. I quickly put both feet down and together and crossed my own arms under my breasts, trying to minimize them. I shook my hair back and looked up.

My adjustments were obviously too late. Carlton wasn’t looking back at my face; he was fixated instead on my breasts. I glanced down to see my nipples poking blatantly through my sweater. Now, I was embarrassed. "I think I better get back inside," I said, trying to sound urgent, "I didn’t realize how cold I was. I’m really getting chilled."

"I could help you with that, little lady," he replied, finally looking into my eyes. And he shifted so that he was right in front of me, cutting me off from the door to the house.

I closed my eyes for a moment and then looked up into his. He was a good head taller than me and probably outweighed my by fifty pounds. Physically, he was in control. I wondered if real women even thought that way. Do they evaluate the possible physical conflict the way men always do? Or do they jump instantly to other strategies, knowing instinctively that force is not an option.

But It didn’t take me long to figure out a strategy that might work. "Would you get the door for me please?" I started to step around him, hoping he would follow my lead. But he didn’t budge. As a result, I bumped into him trying to get away from the railing and fell back slightly. He instantly reached around me, as if to keep me from falling over the rail, and pulled me into a close hug.

"It looks like it’s gonna be a long couple a days, maybe you and I could keep each other company."

"I don’t think so," I said tartly, "now please let me go. I don’t like being manhandled."

"Aw, come on, honey, what else you got to do?"

"Well one thing’s, for sure, I’m not doing it with you! Now let go of me." This, I thought, is just the kind of situation where women stamp their feet for emphasis.. Hey, I realized, that might work. When he hadn’t let go of me a second later, I did stamp my foot. I stamped the narrow heel of my boot right onto the toe of his shoe. That got his attention.

"Hey!" he shouted, now almost forcing me over the railing as he pushed away from me. "Whadid you do that for?"

"You know damn well why I did it." I kept my voice cold, but even. Now are you going to get the door for me or not?"

"Get it yourself, bitch, and don’t expect any more favors from me."

"I looked him in the eye and said, "I intend to hold you to that, so see that you remember it too. I don’t know what kind of…man," I said the word with as much disdain as I could muster, "tries to force himself on a woman at a time like this," I hesitated for emphasis, "but he’s not the kind I want to spend any time at all with." And I stepped past him and into the house, closing the sliding door way too hard.

Hearing the door rock shut, everyone looked up. Of course, I felt terribly embarrassed, but there was nothing I could do at that point but say, "excuse me, I didn’t realize it moved so easily," to try to cover myself.

Cynthia gave me a look of concern, but didn’t move from her spot next to her mother. Our looks lingered longingly on each other for too long, I guess, because Darlene Martin cut in, "you look cold, how ‘bout some coffee?"

I gratefully accepted, so she linked her arm in mine and led me to the kitchen. Darlene was a friend of Hannah’s and must have been almost fifty, although you couldn’t tell because her hair was thick, dark, and shiny, her skin translucent, and her body trim. Right now she had a slight blush on her cheeks, which made her look almost like a little girl. "Are you alright Lilly?" she asked as soon as we got there, you look a little shook up."

"I can’t believe it," I tried to whisper to her, but failing because I was still upset. "Carlton, came on to me on the deck. No, that’s not true. He tried to force himself on me. He trapped me by the railing." My voice had started to rise so Darlene put her finger to my lips to quiet me down, flicking her eyes towards the other room at the same time to be sure I got the message.

I went back to a stage whisper. "I had to stamp my heel on his toe just to get away from him!" She giggled lightly, now putting her hand to her own mouth to keep herself quiet. Her dark eyes sparkled and the laugh lines that radiated from their corners looked more like rays from a friendly sun than any sign of her age.

"Isn’t he just an asshole?" Her hands fluttered and the dark, curly hair that framed her face bounced around on her shoulders as she talked. She was just a bundle of energy. "He’s tried that with just about every woman here, including me, and I’m old enough to be, …well, I’m not quite that old!" Her eyes sparkled.

Then she leaned close as if we were planning something illegal, and said, "if he tries it one more time, I’m going to get a tranquilizer gun from the zoo and use it on him." Then she started giggling again. Caught up in her mood, I giggled along with her.

I was already feeling better and leaned down to give Darlene a thank you kiss on the cheek. This was something that I really enjoyed about being a woman. As a man I hardly ever touched anyone. I was afraid of what people might think of me if I did. As a woman, however, I kissed, and hugged, and touched hands at the least excuse. I really enjoyed the intimacy that touching created. "I think I’m going to like staying with you," I said.

"Oh, you will," she replied, "I’ve got a treat for you later. Cynthia set it up because she felt so bad that you couldn’t stay with her. But c’mon, I’ll introduce you the people you haven’t met yet.

I passed the rest of the afternoon and evening talking with people about Hannah and wishing I were sitting next to Cynthia. We did get to share a few moments together, once holding hands surreptitiously for a few minutes. She let me know what she had told her parents about me, just to be sure we were on the same page with that. It was a good thing too, because at one point Cynthia’s mom did come over to interrogate me. She was a very suspicious woman, although I don’t know what she had to be suspicious of, so I only talked about Cynthia at work.

I started to fade by 8:30 and was glad Darlene noticed and hustled me to her apartment, which was about twenty minutes away. Cynthia gave me an open and heartfelt hug on the way out the door, and while we were close, she whispered to me, "you be a good girl with Darlene, now, she knows just how to take care of you." I left feeling better than I had all day.

Darlene did know how to take care of me. She got my bags settled into her small guest room, and then hustled me into her tub. "I put some bath oils in for you. Use this scented gel," she insisted, forcing a flowery tube into my hand, "and the shampoo and conditioner."

When I came out of the bathroom, I had one towel wrapped around my chest and another around my hair and I smelled of lavender and peaches. Darlene turned to face me from the ornately carved white bench in front of her vanity. Black lace graced the hem and scalloped neckline of the gorgeous gray silk chemise that flowed over her body. She had belted a matching robe on top of that, and was barefoot, her dark red toenails standing out clearly against the pale carpeting of the bedroom floor.

She smiled at me and got up, grabbing the long gown and I had laid on her bed on the way into the bathroom. At only about five feet tall she looked to me at that moment, like a beautiful fairy godmother.

"C’mere, Lilly. Cynthia told me to take good care of you, and that’s just what I intend to do. Let’s get you dressed and then I’ll blow out your hair. Did you know I own a spa?"

I stood there passively as she walked over and undid the towel on my head and gently dried my hair with it for a moment. Then she turned me away from her so she was facing my back and carefully opened the towel that hid my body. I knew she knew about me, but I was feeling very shy anyway and appreciated her sensitivity. "Oh, don’t you feel just lovely," she purred with delight as ran her hand along the side of my naked back, "and you smell just delicious."

What could I do? I blushed.

She went on. "Here, let me slip your gown on you before you catch a chill."

So I let her slide my gown over my wet hair and quickly slip it down onto my body. She held my robe as I dropped first one shoulder and then the other to allow her to ease it on to my arms. Her hands lingered on my shoulders, adjusting the seams far more carefully than necessary. Then, her hand came up to caress my cheek. It lingered only for a moment before she said, "C’mon’, I’ll dry your hair."

There were two glasses of a deep red wine at her vanity and Darlene grabbed them, handing one to me. She raised hers and said, "to a sweet visit." I raised an eyebrow, wondering what that meant, but couldn’t help but feel charmed by her warmth. So we clinked glasses and I took a mouthful, closing my eyes to savor the bouquet and swirl the smooth dry wine in my mouth for a few moments before swallowing. Mmmm, I could taste plums in the aftertaste.

When I opened my eyes again, Darlene was looking at my feet. "Oh, your nails are a mess. Let me fix them while you finish your wine. Then they can dry while I blow out your hair.

I objected, but she was having none of it, turning me around on my seat and pulling up an ottoman to sit on herself. "Cynthia told me to pamper you and that’s just what I intend to do. So just sit back and enjoy it."

She flashed her big smile at me again and after staring at her for a moment to be sure she meant what she said, I gave in, gratefully. Sitting and sipping wine was all I was good for at that point. So she gave me a perfect pedicure and regaled me with stories about Hannah and their friends.

Then, she turned me around and scooted behind me so she could dry my hair. I caught her eyes in the mirror as I resettled myself, being careful not to smudge my now jewel-like toenails, and she tilted her head a little, sort of raised her shoulders and gave me an adoring look that utterly captivated me.

I had always thought that having your hair dried was just a chore. I had never realized just how luxurious it could be in the hands of the right person. I now knew for sure that my hairdresser was rather harsh in her approach, pulling too hard, combing too roughly and burning my head with the drier. But not Darlene, she handled my hair as if it were made of spun gold, using her comb, brush and fingers to manipulate it carefully, tenderly, and sensuously. It almost felt as if she was worshipping my hair rather than simply drying it. By the time she was done, my hair looked perfect, as sleek and shiny as it could be, and I was purring with contentment.

"Such beautiful hair," she said, running her fingers through it and shaping it gently, "I bet it reflects the rest of you."

Again I blushed. "Darlene, my hair looks just gorgeous, I can’t go to bed, I’ll ruin it."

"Silly girl," she whispered gently over my right shoulder as she ran her fingers up the back of my neck, pulling the hair away from my head and letting it go in a smooth cascade, "if you muss it up, I’ll just fix it for you in the morning." Her dark eyes flashed and a smile lit up her face, crinkling the skin at the corners of her eyes, making them look warm and welcoming. She gave me another warm smile, and then said, "ready for bed?"

"Oh God yes, Darlene, "I replied, I’m tired and relaxed and feel just wonderful. Thank you."

She reached out her hand and when I put mine in it, she pulled me gently to my feet and led me to my room. Once there, she turned down my bed, helped me off with my robe and settled me under the covers.

She was treating me like a princess. She had bathed me and, done my hair, and toenails. Now she was putting me to bed. After I had gotten comfortable, she turned out the little bedside lamp and sat on the side of the bed for a few moments, stroking my hair and whispering comforting sounds. I felt totally relaxed and delicious under her ministrations. Maybe this is what heaven is like.

I was a little surprised that I couldn’t feel Darlene at all a moment later, and even more surprised to realize that the room wasn’t dark "Huh?" I wondered, sitting up quickly. It was morning and I could hear Darlene moving about. I must have fallen asleep even before she left the room.

So I got up, put on my robe and brushed my teeth and hair, and wandered out to the kitchen.

"Hi sweetie, sleep well?" Darlene was sitting at the counter, fully dressed and holding a cup of coffee.

"What happened?" I asked, still a little confused.

"You fell asleep." She had gotten up and walked over to me to brush the hair off the side of my face. "I guess I was a little too tender."

"Oh, Darlene, I’m so embarrassed." I can’t believe I fell asleep. That’s so rude." I was starting to get a little hyper in my anxiety.

"No, no sweetie. I was trying to help you fall asleep." And she kissed me on the cheek. "But now that you’re up, we need to get on over to Hannah’s house. She turned back to the counter and reached for a cup by the coffee machine. "The funeral’s tomorrow and there’s lots to do. You’ll help. Ever been a hostess before?"

Had I ever been a hostess? Not quite, although I had certainly done some serving. A laugh sputtered from my lips at the thought of me at a funeral in my maid’s uniform.

"What?" she asked, handing me a cup of coffee. "Was that a funny question?"

"Darlene," I said, tearing open a packet of equal to dump into my coffee, "exactly what has Cynthia told you about me?"

"Well, a lot about some things, like how much she loves you..." That made my heart swell, and my left hand came up involuntarily to rest between my breasts, as I took a sharp breath. "…but not so much about others."

"Did she ever tell you that I was her maid?" For some reason it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to tell her this, but when I actually heard myself say the words, I got embarrassed and looked away, pouring some cream into my coffee so I didn’t have to look into her eyes.

When I looked up, I saw that her face had lit up in a huge grin and that she was starting to giggle. "No, but I can just see it. Maybe I can get you to do that for me some day."

"Wellllll," I said, drawing it out as long as I could, before throwing my hair off my face and tilting my head to flirt with her, "maybe you can…Mistress." And I gave her a full curtsey, holding the hem of my gown in an exaggeratedly dainty way and dipping as deeply as I dared, my eyes cast down.

"Yesss," she hissed, "maybe I can." And she rolled her eyes lasciviously before she burst out laughing. "But whether I do or not, I expect to put your serving skills to work today. The house will be mobbed and a professional touch will help, I’m sure." And we both laughed. "Now lets get you dressed."

"Yes mistress." I curtseyed again and floated off to the bathroom with my coffee. This was a fun game!

 

By dinner time I wasn’t feeling quite so cheerful, having spent a long day, mostly on my feet, running in and out of the kitchen, bringing food out and dirty dishes in. I had to admit, however, that having a purpose made the day pass as easily as it could have. Most of all, it saved me from having to engage in forced conversations with people I didn’t know. I was never very good at small talk and knew almost nothing about Hannah. Even though I knew it was immature, I was content to run around like a good little maid to avoid talking to people.

When we were in private, I flirted harmlessly with Darlene. At one point I even went so far as to stick my tongue in her ear as I stood behind her, my arm wrapped around the front of her shoulders as we took a break, me leaning back against the counter and Darlene leaning back into me.

"Oh, you!" she squealed. "You’ll pay for that!" I let her go and stood quietly as she spun around to stare at me in mock anger. I was surprised to find myself hoping that she was right. All she could do right then, however, was reach up and stroke my cheek with the back of her hand. I pressed my cheek into her caress and stared deeply into her eyes.

"Thank you for taking care of me Darlene. I don’t know, how I would have gotten through the day otherwise."

"But you would have," she replied softly, "you’ve dealt with worse." I nodded my head in acknowledgement. Did she know about Thornton?

The worst part of the day came at dinnertime. Because I had worked so hard up until then, the others forced me to sit while they served. That meant I actually had to talk to people. Worse, I ended up sitting next to Katherine. Her demeanor was so severe and she was so lacking in warmth, that she was almost like an emotional black hole, sucking all the good feelings near her into her own vortex of gloom.

I tried to draw her out about Hannah, figuring that she must have some wonderful memories of such a lustrous, joyful woman. But I discovered that she was bitter that Hannah had left home when she had, had never married, and worst of all, had never had children, as if this was some kind of intentional slight designed just to make her mother feel bad.

"But Hannah was a wonderful person," I argued. "Look at how many friends she has, and they all have such wonderful memories of the great things that she did for other people."

"They’re all lesbians," she spat acidly, "their very presence here is an insult to Jacob and me."

I was aghast! How could she? I looked at her, my mouth agape. I was ready to pounce on her and put her in her place. But all of a sudden a fork clanked loudly on a nearby plate. I looked up and saw that it had been Cynthia and she was looking at me so hard I was afraid she would melt my forehead.

But I got the message and just smiled at her blandly before turning back to her mother. "Are you sure," I whispered, leaning in close, " how can you tell?"

She looked at me piercingly for a moment, trying to figure out if I was making fun of her or not. But I managed to keep a sincere look on my face, and essentially stared her down. Thornton had taught me a few things. When I had to, I could lie with the best of them, and I was certainly not about to let this fundamentalist harpy from the sticks read me. God, they would never let me back into Manhattan if I did.

"Well," she said, swallowing my bait whole, "I can just tell." She was obviously sure of herself. "A good looking young girl like you had better be careful, they might get you too."

"Get me?" I asked, trying to sound puzzled.

"Yes," she said, "you know, have sex with you, although for the life of me I can’t figure out just what it is they actually do."

This had gone on far enough. I had to get back to Hannah. "But Mrs. Morrison," I protested gently, Hannah has done more to help other people than anyone I ever met…errr, heard of. She’s a hero in this community. She was even taking care of two older couples and cheering up young people at the hospital a month before she died. You must be so proud of her." I think I might have said ‘must’ a little to emphatically.

"No. We told Hannah years ago we would have nothing to do with her if she continued to consort with these Godless perverts, but she was too foolish and too proud to behave like a Christian woman. She just didn’t care about what she was doing to us."

I almost choked. What kind of mother was this? She was here to bury her rather young daughter and all she could think of was herself and how Hannah’s lesbianism had affected her? My God, no wonder all her children left home as soon as they could.

"So that’s why you didn’t visit her while she was sick," I asked, stunned at where her logic was taking us.

"Yes," she said with asperity. "She chose her own path against our wishes and against her lord, so she had to face the consequences on her own. We wouldn’t be here now if Cynthia hadn’t begged us to come and paid our way. We are not in the habit of attending the funerals of Godless perverts."

I sat there, my thoughts totally scattered. I knew I had to keep total control or I might lose control totally and tell her how sick she was. And as I sat there clenching my fists under the table to dig my nails into my hands, my heart pounded so hard, I began to fear it would explode. I could tell I was going to have a panic attack. I had never heard anything like this. I looked for Cynthia, but she was talking to someone else. I felt lost and adrift. Then without saying another word, I got up from the table and left the room.

Before I knew it, I was outside on the trail Hannah and I had walked into the woods. It was already dark out, but the path was easy to follow because the snow had been compacted by many pairs of feet. I had no goal or destination, but I just knew I had to get out of that house. I walked on.

Within a minute, I started to cry. Was I feeling Hannah’s death again, or mourning for something else? What had I lost? Well, my job, almost certainly. I had fully expected to see Thornton fired after the big blowout over the Boston Federated deal, but that hadn’t happened. Instead I was locked out of my office and placed on leave. Was I mourning the loss of my job?

I should have been, I guess, but I didn’t think that was what had caused me to get so upset by what Katherine had said. So I looked more deeply. My parents were of no more good to me than Hannah’s were to her. They were both self-centered and viewed me as more of a hassle than anything else. I hated myself for believing it, but I was sure that I had been lucky that my father died when I was so young. If he hadn’t, he certainly would have made my life hell once I started crossdressing.

My mother? Well, what could I say about my mother? She did her best to crush me. I suppose I should thank her for "forcing" me to dress up - that was the best thing she ever did for me, although she did it to hurt me. But she didn’t deserve any more thanks from me than my abusive father. First she had accused me of killing him and then she forced me to go out with Kyle, who used me repeatedly for sex.

I guess, to be fair, I had to admit that I quickly became Kyle’s sexual coconspirator, and for some strange reason I didn’t hate him. He had kind of grown in our relationship and by the time I left for college, we had become rather fond of each other. He had learned how to give a little and actually treated me like I was valuable. I could forgive Kyle. My mother, on the other hand, was another story.

No, at that moment, I felt nothing for my parents. Maybe that’s what I was mourning. Like Hannah, and Cynthia for that matter, my parents were a toxic burden on my life, and it improved immeasurably once they were out of it. And maybe that’s why Katherine’s little tirade had affected me so. Had I seen my mother in her? My mother telling someone how much she hated me, and what a curse I was on her because I was a crossdresser, as if that said everything anyone would ever need to know about me.

Yes, that had to be it. I could see it clearly now. I had been sitting next to my own mother and she was telling me what she thought of me. But you know what? She was wrong, the bitch. My gender shift didn’t label me as a bad person anymore than Hannah’s lesbianism labeled her as one. How could people be so narrow-minded? How could your own mother be that way?

This train of thought had actually calmed me down and cheered me up some. I knew that I wasn’t by any means a Hannah, who gave so much to other people, but I could be. I would start with Cynthia, who in her generosity of spirit, was a lot like her sister, and see where we could go from there. Maybe we could even have children…

"Lilly, Lilllllly."

I looked up. I couldn’t see anyone, so I started back down the path. "I’m coming," I shouted back.

It was Darlene. I had been gone for almost a half an hour and Cynthia had started to get worried. "You’ll freeze to death out here," she said as soon as she saw me. "Let’s get back to the house." I let her lead me, but I didn’t say anything. I was wondering how I was going to fall asleep tonight.

"Would you take me home?" I said just before we got to the house. "I’ve had enough of Cynthia’s family for today." She nodded in agreement.

I actually fell asleep without too much trouble that night. I guess there are some advantages to jet lag.

 

Darlene and I left her apartment on the way to the funeral home at 9:30 the next morning, which broke sunny, but cold. I had only been to three funerals in my life, and none as a woman, so I wasn’t quite sure what to wear. I figured it was half way between going to work and out to dinner. I wore a long black wool dress. It was plain, with a small round collar and very form fitting on top. The skirt was quite full, however, so I could walk easily without need for a slit, which somehow seemed inappropriate. I set the dress off with a broad black leather belt that had a big silver buckle. I again wore my boots, so the only parts of my body you could see were my face and hands. I carried a big black bag, with plenty of tissues and much of my make up because I knew I was going to need both. There was no way I would get through this day without lots of tears.

Even though we arrived at the funeral home early, the parking lot was already quite full and it took quite a while to get to our seats because Darlene had to stop and say hello about every two steps. I was introduced to everyone as Cynthia’s friend from work, and I would have chafed at being described that way except that a lot of the women, and the crowd was almost all women, said something like, "Oh, you’re Lilly, I’ve heard such wonderful things about you."

After the first couple of comments like that I whispered to Darlene, "what did they hear about me?"

"Lilly, don’t be silly," she whispered back, leaning in close to me so she could keep her voice down, "Cynthia adores you, she’s told everyone who would listen how wonderful she thinks you are."

"Oh," I squeaked, my heart filling with joy. "Do they know all about me?"

"Some do, but not many. Only a few, the ones who spent enough time at Hannah’s for Cynthia to learn to really trust them."

Inexplicably, I started to feel a little paranoid, like I was some kind of freak on display for the amusement of the locals, who had all turned out to laugh at me. "Like you?" I asked, archly, quickly giving away my unease.

"Yes, hon, like me," she said warmly, putting her still-gloved hand on my arm and patting it gently to comfort me. She wasn’t going to rise to my bait, instead kissing me quickly on the cheek. "Just relax. You’re among friends here."

I looked at her for a second as if to gauge her trustworthiness, and then felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me, followed by warmth rising into my cheeks. Once again I had made myself ashamed by putting me in the center of something that wasn’t about me at all. Hell, I was no one as far as most of these people were concerned, why did I keep making things about me? I pursed my lips in a small frown and pressed forward, finally sitting right behind Cynthia and her family.

This was not an emotionally expressive group, and with the exception of the warm interaction between Cynthia and her younger sister Janice, who had arrived last night, there was none of the touching or intimate gestures one might expect to see among family members. Her parents sat next to the middle aisle, as stiff as boards, as though each was there alone. The two brothers, who had offended virtually every woman who had visited the house, were fidgeting uncomfortably next to them, with Cynthia and Janet next to them. How sad, I thought, forgetting about my own, equally unhappy family.

I leaned forward and put my hand on Cynthia’s shoulder. "Hi Cyn," I whispered, trying to be unobtrusive.

"Oh, Lilly, you’re here, thank goodness." She turned to face me and gave me a quick peck on the cheek, causing me to blush, although I had no idea why.

"Are you okay," I asked, praying she would say no and ask me to come sit with her to keep her company.

Instead, she took a deep breath and said, "sure," her eyes telling a different story than her mouth. "At least I have Janice here."

I caressed her cheek with my hand and looked into her eyes, concerned by what I was seeing. I guess Cynthia could read my concern, because she turned fully around and pulled my head close to hers. "Lilly, I really wish I could have you here next to me, but I just can’t." I nodded my head in understanding. "When this is over, we’re going to spend a month alone together. I’ll make it up to you."

"You have nothing to make up to me," I whispered back, slightly appalled that she might think she did. "I’m just worried about you."

We looked at each other for a few seconds, but then someone came up to offer condolences to the family and Cynthia had to turn back around. I gave a quiet sigh, and started to shrug my fur coat from my shoulders. I knew we would all get through it.

 

The funeral home sanctuary was large and it was full, a couple of hundred people filled it to overflowing. And the room was drenched in estrogen; there couldn’t have been more than 15 men among the throng of women, and most of them looked lost, clinging uneasily to their wives or girlfriends. I began to wonder if the women could smell that I didn’t have a pussy. At least I knew I smelled like estrogen, whatever it smelled like.

The whole thing was kind of strange because the women who were Hannah’s friends didn’t know her family and visa versa. But at least the service started on time and the chaplain who led it, a middle aged woman, gave a very moving memorial speech before three more women gave their own eulogies. It was obvious that the little bit I had observed of Hannah was a real reflection of her. She gave to many parts of the community, and her visits to the hospital that Cynthia had written me about were only the latest manifestations of her warm and giving nature. Indeed the service was more of a celebration of her too-brief life than it was a heart-wrenching expression of loss.

Not that people didn’t express their feelings of loss, because they did, and we all cried repeatedly as they told stories of the wonderful things that Hannah had done and then mourned aloud that her passing had taken those things from us. I guess it wasn’t as bad as I feared, however, because I still had a few tissues left when the service ended.

We followed solemnly as the casket was wheeled from the room and then congregated in the large foyer of the funeral home. There would be no trip to the cemetery because Hannah wanted to be cremated. So people were just milling around, not knowing quite what to do.

Then everything exploded. A woman came up to the family to express her condolences, and for some reason Katherine just lost it. The woman, who was beautifully made up and dressed like a very successful business executive, simply said, "you must be very proud of your daughter, look at all she did, even while she was sick."

"She was a Godless lesbian," Katherine spit back at her, her eyes on fire.

"Excuse me?" said the obviously very startled woman. .

"Her immoral life was a waste, a shame on her family, and an abomination to God!" Watching Katherine, I finally understood where the phrase "fire and brimstone" came from.

"You’re her mother?" the other woman said, her voice getting louder and rising in pitch with every syllable. She was doing all she could to contain herself. Finally she couldn’t hold back any longer. "Do you think all these people are here because Hannah wasted her life? She gave more of herself to others than almost any other person I’ve ever known. My God, she was wonderful. She’s left a huge hole in this community and I’m not sure how we’ll ever fill it! Any other mother in the world would be bursting with pride to have such a daughter. What is the matter with you?" She was almost shouting before Cynthia stepped between her and her mother to defuse things.

"Alexis," she said, "please, don’t. "You’ll never change her mind."

Alexis was breathing hard and Cynthia clasped her arm, keeping her close. Then Alexis just burst into tears and Cynthia pulled her into a close hug and held her while Alexis cried for a few moments. Once she had managed to get herself under a bit of control, Alexis went to sit down, so I went over and offered her my tissue reserve while six other women crowded round to comfort her.

"Why don’t you just go home," Cynthia said to her mother. "There are people here who love Hannah and your venom isn’t welcome. You were right, I shouldn’t have forced you to come." Now Cynthia’s voice was rising, her anger and frustration getting the better of her.

Shit, I thought, watching Cynthia become increasingly upset. I’ve had enough pretending. I’m going to take care of her. Who cares what her family thinks. So I walked up behind her and put my right arm around her shoulder. I took her upper arm in my other hand. "Shhh, baby," I said, quietly, "let yourself relax."

Cynthia was breathing hard and her shoulders heaved and her nostrils flared with each breath. A tear had formed at the corner of one eye and she was opening and closing her mouth, first starting to say something and then managing to stop herself. It would have been funny if it weren’t so sad. The room had gotten quiet and almost everyone was watching. And as we both watched, her mother looked at me, then at Cynthia and her eyes widened.

"You’re one too, aren’t you?" her mother suddenly spat at her. Then she turned to me. "And you too, aren’t you? You’re both lesbians. Everyone here is a lesbian." She was almost screaming she was so frantic.

Before Cynthia could say anything in return, I jumped in. "I am not a lesbian," I said proudly, pausing a moment for emphasis. "I’m a man, so that makes Cynthia heterosexual, doesn’t it? Don’t you just feel better already?" And I smiled at Katherine stupidly as her eyes got even wider while she tried to understand what I had just said.

A moment later, I heard a laugh sputter out behind me, then a giggle from somewhere else, and then another. A few seconds later, a number of people were laughing and before too long it seemed that the room was filled with laughter.

As she looked around like a ‘coon surrounded by hounds, Katherine started to get a look of sheer panic on her face. She turned red, and for a moment, I thought she was going to explode. But she just grabbed Jacob and said, let’s get out of here. Carlton, Tommy, Janice, let’s go. This is a Godless place."

"No mom, I’m staying," said Janice. "I like Hannah’s friends. They’re real people, they know how to love and care for each other. You’re the one who’s Godless, and your soul is barren. You couldn’t even love your own children. You drove Lilly away and got her killed."

"She was a whore!" Katherine shouted.

"She was not!" Janice shouted back. "She was raped and murdered! You want to believe she was a whore to relieve your own guilt. Well live with it. You drove her away and killed her..."

Now Cynthia turned to Janice and wrapped her up in a big hug.

"C’mon Katherine, we have to leave." Jacob grabbed her arm and led her to the door. The two boys looked around, obviously as panicked as their parents. A second later, they fled as well.

Now, everyone was talking. That had been quite a scene. I was looking around when Janice turned to me and said, "you’re not really a man, are you," things got real quiet, real quick.

I felt a little stupid. Why in the world had I said that? Would all these women hate me? I smiled weakly at Janice, but then I could see Cynthia smiling at me. She had a big warm grin and it lit up her face. I found it hugely encouraging, although I wasn’t quite sure what she was smiling at. So I said, "God I hope not! Everybody started laughing again, but I pressed on. "Well, I guess not, but I used to be. I still partly am."

By the time I had finished, I felt pretty deflated. Janice still looked confused, which wasn’t that surprising since I hadn’t given her a very clear answer. But before I could think of anything else to say, someone I didn’t know jumped in, "well, whatever you are honey, you certainly shut that old bitch up." There was an immediate murmur of agreement, but the woman started to flush and said to Cynthia, "I’m sorry Cynthia, I should never have said that about your mother."

"No, it’s okay, Ellie. She is an old bitch, and a cold hearted one to boot. She drove all her children away from her and her performance today was entirely predictable. In my heart, I didn’t want them to come, but how could I keep them away?"

"Well it’s a good thing you brought some New York muscle with you, then." She winked at me. I felt my cheeks flush warmly. Your cute little hatchet man…, aaah…, I mean woman…, your hatchet woman here took care of her good." And the murmurs of agreement started up again.

I didn’t know whether to feel proud of myself or embarrassed by what I had done, but at least they weren’t turning on me. I knew that lots of lesbians were not real fond of T-girls, and the last thing I wanted was to be an outcast among Hannah’s friends.

"Yes," Cynthia broke in, "Hannah told Lilly that she had to take care of me and I guess Lilly took her seriously." As she was saying that Cynthia had moved towards me and then gave me a big hug. I hugged her back just as hard as I could for several seconds and then pulled my head back to kiss her. We looked at each other for about a microsecond before diving into each other’s mouths. I had waited two days for this, and I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. I didn’t care how many people were watching.

So we hugged and kissed for a minute or two, I guess, I don’t really know how long it was, I was concentrating on the feel of Cynthia’s lips and tongue, and of the taste of her lipstick and the inside of her mouth. It was wonderful to kiss her again. Somehow, we both decided to stop at about the same time. So after a few failed attempts at separating, we finally managed to pull apart, but remained holding hands as we looked back up at all the people surrounding us. And when we did, they were all smiling like proud aunts. We both blushed.

Well, that changed the mood of the day entirely and we went back to Hannah’s house and greeted her friends and reminisced about her until dinner. We weren’t at all surprised that neither Cynthia’s parents nor her brothers showed up, and Cynthia made no attempt to contact them. Nobody wanted them around.

That night I slept with Cynthia. I was just thrilled to be back in her arms. I spent a good deal of time getting myself ready for bed, making sure my makeup was perfectly understated and my perfume was lightly applied in all the right places. I had plans for Cynthia.

Unfortunately, the best-laid plans don’t always work out and at some point, perhaps it was when I was stroking her hair, or maybe while I was kissing her shoulders, she fell asleep. What could I do?

The funeral home brought Hannah’s ashes over the next afternoon and just before the sunset, I accompanied Cynthia, Janice, Darlene and a few other friends out to the lake in the woods. The lake was surrounded by Redwood trees, which Hannah had planted herself many years ago. We scattered Hannah’s ashes among them just like she had asked us to do.

I’ll never forget the orange tinge of the frozen lake surface as it reflected the very last of the day’s sunlight, and then the big stark shadows of the Redwoods as they stood like sentinels, solemnly observing our little ritual. Who knows, maybe next summer, some of those trees might be sporting leaves that contained molecules that had once been part of Hannah. Certainly in a few years, Hannah would be part of them, and with any luck, they would be her living monuments for centuries to come.

 

 

Chapter XXIV in which the chickens come home to roost

I hadn’t decided how long I was going to stay in Colorado, but Cynthia was going to stay long enough to clean up the house. Hannah had left it to her, Janice, and their youngest sister, Bethann, who hadn’t been able to get to the funeral. It had been Hannah’s hope that her three sisters would spend time together there and strengthen their bonds with each other. None of them had any intention of moving to Colorado, so Cynthia would rent it out for now. Maybe we would turn it into a vacation home at some point. It was in a really beautiful location, completely surrounded by old trees and it had that little lake only fifteen minutes from the house. The house itself was built of wood, unfinished on the outside to blend into the landscape, and spare but beautifully crafted on the inside, very reminiscent of something Frank Lloyd Wright might have designed. It made me feel comfortable.

So I figured I would stay there with Cynthia and help her do the work. It would give us a good opportunity to spend some time alone together and allow her to mourn in her own way. I had no idea how I might help her do that, but at least I could be nearby.

Monday morning dawned gray, overcast, and windy, like some minor god was in a foul mood and wanted to let everyone see how he felt. Dark clouds hung low in the sky, being whisked along by a swirling wind that told us a cold front was coming through. The weather seemed to press in on both Cynthia and me, and we were so spooked by it that we headed back to the house after a very short morning walk.

We were both happy to get back inside and talked happily about lighting a fire in the fireplace later that afternoon. Then we started in on the cleaning. Not ten minutes later, Cynthia broke down in tears.

"Cyn, what’s wrong?" I asked, as gently as possible.

She looked up at me with real pain in her eyes and said, "I’m not sure I can do this. I don’t think I can clean up all of Hannah’s things just like that. It’s too soon. It’s too final."

So I brought her over to the window seat and we sat cuddled under one of the western style blankets. "It’s okay, Cyn, I’ll be here with you; we’ll get through this." So we sipped tea and watched the wind blow the leaves around outside. It was as if the weather was punctuating the bleakness of Cynthia’s mood.

Then, at about 10:00 the phone rang. It was the office "asking" me to come back for a meeting late Wednesday morning.

"Cynthia, they told me to come back. Will you be okay?"

"Oh! What does that mean?" she asked, suddenly concerned for me.

"I don’t know," I sighed, all of a sudden weary, "but I don’t think I’ll be working at North State on Thursday. I’d better call Michael."

But before I did that, I called Darlene. She was at work, so I told her quickly what was going on, and she promised to take care of things. There were any number of people who could help Cynthia with the house and even stay with her if needed. "Would you mind if I kept her company?" Darlene asked with a little teasing in her voice.

"Oh, that’s wonderful, Darlene. But you have to treat her as well as you treated me. She’s needs some pampering. And do her hair, will you. She’s really let it go since she’s been here. I’ll bet looking better will help her feel better too."

So Cynthia and I decided to put work on the house on hold, and just hang out together until I had to get back on a plane early Tuesday afternoon. It was a strange time, with very unsettled weather reflecting the combination of sadness and anxiety we both faced. She had lost Hannah, and I just knew I was about to lose my job. Thornton would win again. How stupid of me to think I could beat him.

We both now faced new chapters in our lives. Neither of us knew what was to come, but we swore our love and allegiance to each other, promising we would see each other through. As we sat in front of the fireplace, the wind making a real fuss outside, I started to get really scared. I don’t know why, but I felt like I was a soldier about to go off to war and that I wasn’t coming back.

"Hey, Cynthia said suddenly, "where’s your ring?"

"Oh!" I jumped up to get my purse, which is where I had stashed the ring when I first arrived. I fumbled through it as I walked back to our couch, and was only pulling open the little zippered compartment where I had put the ring when I sat down again. I pulled it out and held it up for Cynthia to see.

"Let me," she said taking the ring from my fingers. "Give me your hand." So I held out my right hand and Cynthia took it in her left, looking at it with her head cocked for a moment while she traced the pale band of skin on my ring finger with her nail.

"No," she said, "that’s the wrong one. I want to put this in its proper place."

I looked up into her face as she took my left hand and raised it between us. Her eyes were brimming over with tears but she was smiling. "I knew I made a good decision when I first gave this to you," she whispered, obviously working to keep her tears in check. "Nothing has happened since then to make me believe otherwise. I love you Lilly. I want to spend my life with you. Will you marry me?" As she slid the ring onto the fourth finger of my left hand, we both broke down in tears.

"Oh, Cynthia, are you sure?" I spluttered a few seconds later. Are you sure you want to do this now, when you are so distraught?"

"Yes, Lilly," she said, wiping the tears from my cheeks even as they streamed down her own. I’m quite sure. Besides, Hannah would never forgive me if I let you get away." And she smiled a small, crooked smile at me.

"That’s what she said to me too," I spluttered, tears now dripping down into my mouth. "I guess we’re doomed by her wishes." At that we both started to giggle, and then to laugh. Then, we fell into a hug we both desperately needed. We spent the rest of the day hugging each other and kissing and caressing tenderly. We didn’t feel any lust and we didn’t have sex, but we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We had been apart too long.

By bedtime, Cynthia had promised to find someone else to take care of the house and to follow me back to New York as soon as she could. She really did miss it and was eager to get back.

***

 

Michael and I had spent a good deal of time on the phone Tuesday morning, and he simply told me he was coming to the meeting with me. "It’ll be fun," he said. "I’ve got a neat surprise. You’ll love it."

"Sure," I replied, "this should be just about as much fun as root canal." But he was not to be daunted and we planned to meet for breakfast Wednesday morning and go together to my building.

So, there we were, riding up the elevator to the corporate offices of North State Financing. I felt almost like I was entering the building for the first time. It seemed strange and foreign to me. We weren’t headed to my old office, but rather to the administrative floor where senior management was located.

I had dressed in a very modest business suit, wore minimal makeup, but couldn’t resist four-inch heels. I wanted to be tall and to be able to look down at everyone, or at least look them in the eye.

When we got to the receptionist’s desk, we were sent to one of the small, but very luxurious conference rooms that looked out over the East Side. As I waited for the others to show up, wondering idly who they would be, I watched the planes taking off from LaGuardia airport. All those people headed all over the place. Really, what was the point? I didn’t know why I was feeling so down, but I was.

Then, after I had turned from the window and poured coffee for Michael and myself out of the lovely silver service at the back of the room, the door flew open and Carl Weathers, our CEO, Tina Brockworth, the VP for human resources and two lawyers charged in. The older one with short, dark curly hair and a bit of a paunch was our senior counsel, Paul Alteri. The younger, who had always struck me as a real hunk, was named Jason Riddle. I thought I saw Riddle glance strangely at Michael for a moment, but the look vanished from his face before I could figure out what it meant.

Maybe he knew Michael. No, he would have just said hello. Wait! Maybe he’s gay and he just read Michael. I looked again, deciding he was definitely the kind of guy Michael always said he liked. I tired to figure out if I should be jealous or not, but didn’t really have time to get into it.

After introductions we sat, Michael and I on one side of the table, the other four on the other. We got right down to business. Brockworth did the talking. "Well, Ms. Miller, you have caused us a world of trouble." I started to protest immediately, but Michael put his hand on my arm and I settled down. "But I am pleased to tell you that our investigation tends to support your story."

"Tends?…" I squeaked. I was nervous as hell. I had said only one word and my voice cracked.

Weathers and Brockworth frowned at me for interrupting yet another time, and Michael again patted my arm. "Please let them finish Lilly, we’ll have plenty of time to respond."

"Thank you Mr. Butler," said Brockworth, apparently trying to put me down with her tone of voice. I gave her a sour look, which she simply ignored. She went on. "Your computer showed no evidence that you had helped to prepare the…aaah…, aaah, questionable portion of Mr. Thornton’s presentation. Moreover, interviews with the staff confirm that you did offer to go over the presentation with Mr. Thornton and that he respectfully declined your offer."

I laughed; I couldn’t help it. "If you interviewed the staff," I shot back, "you damn well know he wasn’t respectful to me. He was abusive and insulting."

Brockworth ignored me again and kept on. "We also found some strange things on Thornton’s computer, including a listing of bonus accounts for all the staff that he seemed to have a hard time explaining, and certainly never distributed. "

I almost laughed out loud, but bit my lip. I wish I could have seen that conversation.

"You wouldn’t know anything about them, would you?"

"Me?" I yelped, coughing to get back control over my voice, "how would I? Bob certainly never gave me any indication he was planning to give out bonuses. Frankly, it doesn’t sound like something he’d do."

"Exactly Ms. Miller, that’s why we’re asking if you know anything about them." It was Alteri."

"I think I gave you my answer already," I said tartly. "Anything else?"

Brockworth shuffled her papers again, pretending to look at them for something, and then looked back at me. "Despite all that, Mr. Thornton made a compelling case that he did not try to intentionally mislead anyone and that any errors were unintentional, due to his unfamiliarity with the analysis."

"Well, he was certainly unfamiliar with it," I cut in, "anyone could have told you that."

"Be that as it may, Ms. Miller," now Weathers was taking over, "Bob Thornton has made very important contributions to this company, and we see no reason not to believe him."

I just sat there staring at him. I clutched at Michael’s hand under the table. You didn’t have to be clairvoyant to figure out where this was going.

"And you and he don’t seem to be able to work together," Brockworth had picked up the thread again. "So, we’re going to have to let you go."

Bam! That was it! I had lost.

I was crushed. I wanted to cry and squeezed Michael’s hand as hard as I could to help control myself. "But…but… I’m the best analyst in the company. Everyone knows that."

"That’s not the point," Weathers cut in. "Either you failed entirely to give Bob the support you were hired to give, which is what we believe, or you knew he was about to do something that might harm the company and you failed to alert me. In either case, you demonstrated gross dereliction of your responsibilities and those are grounds for terminating you. You are not the kind of employee we want around here." He was snarling at me as he finished.

"What are you talking about?" I shot back, deeply insulted by Weathers accusations. Bob Thornton demeaned and insulted me when I offered him my help and he would have fired me himself if I had gone over his head to you. You wouldn’t even have let me into your office to complain about him, and you know it."

"Why you little…"

"Easy Carl," Paul Alteri put his hand on Weathers to calm him down. "There’s no need to fight. Let’s just finish our business."

I turned to Michael, panic growing in my heart, but he just sat there calmly, as if he was looking at statues in a wax museum. What the hell was going on with him?

"But," Brockworth broke in again, trying to assure that the obviously pissed off Weathers didn’t say anything inappropriate, "we do recognize that you have made significant contributions to our success over the past few years, so we’d like to offer you a settlement that we think is quite generous."

She slid two copies of a thin document across the table and asked Michael and I to examine them. We both read through them and at first it looked like a good deal. I was being given a one-year salary buyout and a bonus based on my division’s profits over the past three years that would add up to another year’s salary! They were offering me the bonuses Thornton had always held back for himself.

Brockworth broke in, "You will note the bonuses that are included in this offer. Mr. Thornton himself requested that we include those."

I couldn’t help but snigger, "Sure he did. How big was the gun you held to his head?" It was her turn to give me a sour look.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked a few minutes later. "It’s the nicest buyout package we’ve ever offered."

"And do you always include non compete clauses in your buyout packages?" Michael had finally said something. "I’m more used to seeing them in initial contracts."

I could see Alteri and Riddle eye each other.

Michael went on, "This would be a nice money offer if it didn’t prevent my client from working in her chosen profession for five years."

My eyes flew back to the contract, I hadn’t finished reading it so hadn’t spotted that little poison pill. "No way," I muttered.

"Well it’s a take it or leave it deal," said Brockworth, "you want the money, you accept the no compete clause.

"Looks like blackmail to me," replied Michael calmly. No one would do this to an analyst - a V.P. maybe - but never an analyst. It’s punitive and unacceptable."

"Well, how about three years?" asked Alteri.

"I don’t think so," said Michael, "we’re not about to sign anything that would prevent my client from earning a living. In fact, I have a counter offer."

Their heads all shot up and their eyes all widened as Michael handed them two copies of some kind of legal document. He gave one to Weathers and one to Alteri. Riddle leaned over Alteri’s shoulder to read it.

"What the hell is this?" Weathers thundered a few minutes later. This isn’t a counter offer."

"Well, not exactly," said Michael, but it’s the basis for one. You’re being sued for sexual harassment, and since we have compelling evidence that you conspired to cover it up, we believe we will win treble damages when this goes to court. Frankly, I can’t wait to hang you out to dry."

Weathers turned on me. "You conniving little freak…" Alteri put a hand on his arm to stop him, but Weathers shook it off. "After all we did for you you’re suing us for sexual discrimination?"

"No, she’s not," said Michael, still utterly calm. "She’s not party to this suit, nor did she know about it, although I’m sure we can include her if you like."

"What?" Weathers was really losing it. He could barely sit still in his seat and his face was getting redder and redder. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so scary.

"Carl," said Paul Alteri, "just don’t say anything."

"Listen carefully," Michael said. "I want to work with you on this because you have a long history of progressive hiring and promotion practices and I would like to see those continue." With that, Michael looked directly at Jason Riddle and everyone understood that Michael knew Jason was gay, but that he was employed at North State anyway, and that Michael wanted to keep it that way.

"But if I have to take you to court and destroy your reputation I will. What do you think your board of directors will say to that, Carl?" Michael had been very calm until he got to the "Carl," which he said harshly and with real anger.

"We’ll listen," said Alteri, "won’t we, Carl?" Weathers just took a big breath and settled back down. His face started to fade back to its normal pinkish cast.

Michael went on. "Bob Thornton harassed and drove away three women who used to work for you. Not only that, but he advertised both his goals and tactics widely. Everybody seemed to know what was going on, and as CEO, you should have too. There is no way we will lose this case. It’s a slam dunk."

You could see Weathers’ face fall. He must have known.

"But it gets better," Michael said with a cruel smile, one I had never seen before. "Bob Thornton has been accused of sexual harassment in three other firms in three different cities. That’s why he’s traveled so much. In each case, he was hustled out of town by the company before the employees could do anything."

"I discovered all this in two days of work. It will be easy to convince a jury that you should have been able to learn the same information as well if you had only done your due diligence in checking his background, which I happen to know you did. So, because you knowingly hired someone who had been accused of prior harassment, and because you allowed him to harass your own employees, you are guilty of conspiracy and hence, treble damages."

"And as you know, Thornton also owed his ex-wife, who he assaulted, a lot of alimony and child support."

"What?" I almost shouted. "Now I understand. He’s a wife-beater. It makes perfect sense. The pattern of his behavior and what he said fits that mold perfectly. When can I join that lawsuit? I want to nail his ass."

"We’ll talk about that later Lilly, but right now we have other business." He turned back to look across the table. "Let’s see, where was I. Right. You of course, knew about this because you were garnishing his salary. You had to after her lawyer found out he was working here."

At this point both lawyers looked at Weathers with some disdain. It looked like they hadn’t known this little detail. Michael had been right; this was fun. I was really starting to enjoy it.

"I also have seven women from Thornton’s three previous companies who are going to sue him personally. He’s about to become a huge liability for you, although you should have figured that out long ago. This little charade with Lilly," he gestured at their buyout offer, "and your pitiful attempt to convince us that Thornton didn’t purposefully mislead Boston Federated, puts you in a pretty indefensible position. Paul, Jason, don’t you agree?

He caught them both off guard and they both started to nod their heads before retreating back into the impassive lawyer mask. But Michael had made his point to Weathers, who now looked ill. Tina Brockworth seemed angry about something, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t me.

Michael still held the floor "You know guys, if I were you right now, I’d be working real hard to convince Lilly that you’re her best friend and want to do everything you can to assure her well being. So far, you’ve backed the wrong horse in this little race, but you still have a chance to place some smart bets. You can start by assuring her that she will remain on paid administrative leave until we work out her buyout package. No way you get to keep her."

He turned and gave me a warm smile. "Is that alright with you Lilly?" I just rolled my eyes and lifted my shoulders in a shrug. Why the hell not, I thought.

We looked across the table at four unhappy people. Michael had pretty much wiped them out and was clearly in control of the situation. I was bursting with pride that he was my friend and absolutely delighted that Thornton would finally get his just desserts. What a great day this was turning out to be. It may have still been winter outside, but it was spring in my heart.

"I know you have a lot to talk about," so we’ll leave you to yourselves. You know where to reach me. If I don’t hear from you by Friday, you’ll hear from me. It won’t be good news. So don’t be late.

Then Michael stood, up, offered me his hand and said, "C’mon, Lilly, you can buy me lunch. I think I earned it."

I managed to control myself until we got out on the street. But as soon as we hit the sidewalk I threw myself at Michael and hugged him and kissed him all over his face and told him how great and wonderful he was. He just stood there calmly with a big grin on his face, taking it like a man.

As soon as I had calmed down, he said, "I did do a pretty good job, didn’t I? I’m gonna nail Thornton’s hide to the wall, I’m going to assure that North State stays gay friendly, and I’m gonna get a lot of money for you and your friends on this."

"Just you watch," he went on, "we won’t even go to trial. They’ll lay an obscenely big settlement on us just to make us go away. Weathers knows, or at least his lawyers do, that if this goes to trial, it’ll cost a major fortune and the board of directors will throw Weathers and all his buddies out. Yes, they will make us very happy."

I could see that Michael was feeling very proud of himself, and I was feeling almost as good for him. I didn’t understand it, but it was almost like I was his mother or his wife (why do I keep thinking that?), and his success somehow reflected well on me.

"There’s just one thing, Michael," I said, trying to keep the euphoria growing within me out of my voice.

He looked at me with a touch of suspicion in eyes, like what does this crazy bitch want now? I had on my best pout.

"Oh?" he said archly, cocking one eyebrow at me, "I’m gonna just about make you rich and there’s just one little thing? Now just what could that be?" He was obviously challenging me with his tone of voice to come up with something really good.

"Michael, I half whined, putting as much fake anguish into my voice as I could. "Now I have to find a new job!"

 

 

Chapter XXV Epilog

"Darlene! Darlene!" I was jumping up and down like a teenager because I had just spotted Darlene walking down the concourse. She had flown in from Colorado Springs to visit Cynthia and me, and I was picking her up at LaGuardia. Finally, when she had at last gotten past security and emerged into the terminal, we ran together, throwing our arms around each other’s shoulders. She was just as bubbly as ever, and in jeans and a sleeveless top, she was as trim as any 25 year old.

Darlene had come to our wedding four months after Hannah had died, but Cynthia and I had not seen her in the ten months since then. She was here now for a hair stylist’s convention and to visit Cynthia, who was now officially pregnant.

Even before she said hello, Darlene asked, "So, how is she?"

"Oh, she’s just great," I replied, "She has that glow pregnant women get. She’s just bursting with joy. Everyone who sees her comments on it."

"So I guess that little penis of yours wasn’t so useless after all, was it," she joked as we walked through the half empty terminal towards the escalator that would take us down to the baggage claim area. The couple in front of us obviously heard and turned around to gape. I gave them my best wide-eyed, "who me?" look, and Darlene laughed. They looked downward in confusion.

"Well," I replied after our audience had made a couple of quick moves to get through the sparse crowd and out of earshot. "I’ve been lucky to have a good doctor from the start, and my implants," I pulled my shoulders back and raised my chest to display my breasts, "allowed me to keep my estrogen and progesterone doses relatively low. But the fact is, I can’t really get hard anymore and my sperm count is close to zero."

"So," I went on as we got on the escalator, we timed everything to the minute. "Cynthia used every technological trick available, so she knew exactly when she ovulated, and she wouldn’t let me come for a week before that… and …my God, it was like launching the space shuttle, nothing was left to chance! The only thing we didn’t have was a countdown," I said shaking my head with mock exasperation.

At that Darlene broke out into giggles and grabbed my arm. "You must be kidding," she said.

"No," I went on, "She even lay on her back with her feet splayed up against the wall for a half hour afterwards to make sure all my sperm wriggled their way in the right direction!"

"And it worked," she exclaimed. "You did it!"

I blushed and started to giggle, but said nothing. So we were both giggling as we walked up to the baggage carousel, and settled in for the inevitable endless wait for her bags. After I moment, I finally told her the truth. "No, nothing happened. My sperm, if there were actually any left, were just a bunch of lazy onlookers. They might as well have been sunning themselves at the beach for all the good they did." I gave Darlene a nice pout. "We fertilized Cynthia’s next egg a month later with sperm I had banked before I went on hormones. Thank God my doctor made me save some."

"Well, it doesn’t matter, does it?" Darlene responded with one of her big smiles. "You’re going to have a baby and you’re both her parents."

"Yes," I said, my heart full of joy at the idea of it, I’m so excited I’m almost giddy."

Darlene reached up and ran her fingers through my hair. "Ummm," I purred, "if you keep that up, I may have to jump you right here, and I’m a married now, so that wouldn’t be right."

After smoothing it back in place, Darlene said. "You let it grow; it’s almost down to your shoulders. And you have a very nice cut." I now wore my hair in a long pageboy.

"It better be a nice cut," I said huffily, "Do you have any idea how much they charge to do hair in Manhattan? Besides, I don’t think I’ll ever cut it again. I’m letting it grow down to my ankles!"

Darlene laughed at my exaggeration, but she knew how much I adored long hair that swung and flowed around my head when I moved. She also knew how I really overdid the flirty head flips that threw it off my face. Cynthia said I practiced them like I was studying for a test. Hey, it was like learning a new language, and I was still too new a girl to not love it.

"Oh, this is great," I said once her bags had arrived, "You’ve got wheels. That means we can go right to the car. That’ll save us some time." Like every other New Yorker, I was nuts about time. We had no schedule and no deadline, but I was feeling the instinctive need to get back into the city and its frantic rhythm as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, it was not to be. Our first obstacle was a long line to pay to get out of the multistoried garage. I could tell we would be there for at least fifteen minutes. After a few minutes with no visible progress, Darlene asked, "So how’s the business? You two are big-shot consultants now, aren’t you?"

"Well, I don’t know about being big shots," I said dubiously, "but we do have clients - more than we can handle in fact." Of course, I thought to myself, it hadn’t hurt that Michael had forced North State to take a three-year contract with us to retain access to my analytical techniques. I still couldn’t believe how well Michael had done for us. In addition to that contract, he negotiated a huge cash payment for me, a smaller one for Cynthia, and now we were doing almost the same thing we did when we worked there, but they pay us more, including percentages of their deals. "And best of all," I went on, "that asshole Thornton is gone for good."

Ummm, I loved the sound of that. It was definitely worth repeating. So I said it again, shaking my head to make it emphatic, "Yes, that asshole Thornton is gone for good."

"Oh," Darlene asked, "is it true, what I heard? He attacked you?"

We crept slowly towards the cashier, but having someone to talk to made it so much more pleasant. "Yeah, isn’t that unbelievable? He just went completely nuts. I guess all the pressure from Michael’s lawsuits and then from the shark his ex-wife hired to bleed him white just blew him away. He really lost it. In the end he behaved true to form, using physical violence against a woman."

"So, what happened? Details, girl, I want details. Is it true you were standing over him dripping blood onto his face?"

"You mean you didn’t see the picture? I thought everyone in the country had seen it by now?" She shook her head no. "Well, it’s true, I’m a little embarrassed about that part."

"He hit you. What do you have to be embarrassed about?"

"I don’t know," I said glumly, "I’m still trying to figure it out. It was a strange scene."

"I’ll bet, I wish I could have been there," Darlene chirped, "to see you standing over that asshole. What woman wouldn’t want to see that? You are a hero to every woman who was ever abused by a man."

"Oh stop, Darlene, it wasn’t like that. I was scared to death. My heart was going a mile a minute and I was breathing so hard, I thought my lungs would burst."

"Yeah, but you did what you had to do, and he was the one who got arrested."

"Mmmm, and I got to go to the emergency room, and I ruined my suit."

"Your suit? Your suit?" Her voice pitched up until it almost cracked. "Was that all you could think about?" I thought Darlene would explode up out of her seat she was so agitated. "Lillian Miller, You tell me the truth, or so help me, I’ll spank you."

"Will you really?" I replied, letting my eyes go wide and opening my face up to my best exaggerated questioning look. I looked at the cars around me while Darlene laughed. We weren’t doing as badly as I had feared, the line was actually moving, and wait, were they going to open another lane?

Yes! I turned my wheel as hard as I could and just managed to clear the rear bumper of the brand new Suburban in front of me so I could pull into the new lane. Of course, the people who had the best shot at it were the ones at the very back of the line and two of them had gotten in front of me. Why does it always work like that?

But what the hell, we saved a good six or seven minutes and before too long we were cruising over the Triborough Bridge to Manhattan. I always get a kick out of going over the big bridges that surround the city. They are just so amazing.

Traffic flowed smoothly on the bridge and down onto the FDR drive, but, like always, it came almost to a complete stop before we even got to the 96^th street exit. So as soon as I could, I got off and we were soon driving through the Upper East Side.

Darlene wanted to hear more. "So come on girl. Let’s hear it," Darlene said, "I want to hear all the details of the attack. Don’t think you’re getting out of it just because traffic is heavy. Surely a New Yorker can drive and talk at the same time."

Since we were stopped waiting for a light to change, I turned to face her and stuck my tongue out. "How dare you insult the residents of my city," I said as if truly offended. Then we both burst out laughing.

After a moment, Darlene looked at me with an arched eyebrow, "I’m still waiting?"

"You know Darlene, I don’t really like to talk about it. I still get freaked out just thinking about it." She kept staring at me and it was clear there was no way I was getting out of this. So I took a deep breath and remembered back to that day.

"Cynthia and I were at and outdoor café on Columbus Avenue." I began, visualizing the scene in my mind. It wasn’t difficult, that day was etched in my memory with photographic clarity. "It was a beautiful, sunny October day. A light breeze was blowing the leaves around in a very gentle, almost lazy way. We were both floating on a cloud of joy because we had just left her obstetrician, the one who confirmed the pregnancy. We were celebrating with lattes. Hers was decaf." Darlene nodded her head knowingly.

"I guess it was just bad luck, but Thornton walked by not five minutes after we sat down. As soon as he saw us he stopped and said, ‘Well, what do we have here? The dyke bitch and her pansy boyfriend planning to screw some other poor shmuck, I bet.’"

"Cynthia looked at him calmly and said, ‘Go away, Bob. You’ll just get in trouble if you stay here.’"

"Oh, look!" Darlene squealed, pointing frantically to the far corner of the street and breaking me out of my partial trance. "Isn’t that Woody Allen?"

"Huh?" Yeah, it sure looks like him." I had decided to cross the park at 86^th street, and Woody did live on the Upper East Side.

"Well you don’t seem very excited about it," said Darlene, as if I had somehow insulted her.

"Darlene," I replied, trying to sound exasperated, "lots of celebrities live in New York. If you live here, you see ‘em."

"Well, excuse me, Miss Blasé," she went on in a sing-song voice, "not everyone is as sophisticated as you are, you know." Darlene giggled and I again stuck my tongue out at her, making her giggle even more.

"So, do you want to hear my story or not?" I asked. She just rolled her eyes at me, and I took that for a yes.

"So he was standing there insulting us and people started to gather around. I don’t know why I did it, but I stood up to face him and said, ‘Bob, just get out of here before I call the cops.’"

"A woman from the crowd said, ‘I’ll do it,’ and Thornton got even more agitated. ‘You goddamn women,’ he shouted at the people crowding around us, ‘always ganging up on men.’"

"I again politely asked him to leave, telling him he already had enough problems. I was starting to feel sorry for him."

"Well, as I said it, I reached out to touch his forearm -- you know, the way women do?" I touched Darlene’s arm with my hand to illustrate. "But as soon as I did, he exploded. "Don’t you dare touch me, bitch," he shouted and then he just backhanded me right across the face. It was a full swing and he caught me flush on the side of mouth, splitting both my upper and lower lips." I pointed to the scars, which still had a long way to go before they began to disappear. "I went toppling backwards over my chair landing on my left side on the sidewalk." I guess that was good ‘cause I landed on my shoulder instead of my head."

"As I was lying there, stunned, I heard Cynthia scream, and I heard Thornton yelling at her, and it was the strangest thing. There I was with blood in my mouth, and I was scared, and angry, and I felt so helpless. After all, he had knocked me flying with just one swing. I had experienced that combination -- the blood and the mixture of intense feelings -- before."

I stopped to catch my breath. Unbidden memories were suddenly rising up to choke me. They caught me completely by surprise and before I knew what was happening, tears welled up in my eyes.

Darlene put her hand on my arm to comfort me and I took a couple of deep breaths, blowing them out slowly to compose myself so I could continue, but now I was telling more than I had intended. "The first time I tasted blood was the day my father died. It was…" I choked back a sob, "his blood." I started to cry helplessly, blubbering and momentarily losing sight of the road. Darlene grabbed hold of the steering wheel, and with her help we pulled safely over to the curb, stopping by a fire hydrant, which was the only open spot on the block.

Once we had stopped, I just let go. I was sobbing openly. My body shook and I suddenly realized that I was crying over the loss of my father. I had never mourned for him before. I had hated him so much that I never realized that I had lost something when he died. Now, finally, at long last, I was truly mourning his death. Sure, he was a drunken shit at times. But he was my father! The only one I’d ever have, and I hardly had him for very long at all. And now, as Darlene wrapped me in her arms, I was at last able to weep for him. A strange sense of relief washed through me as I did.

"There, there, sweetie, are you sure you want to talk about this," Darlene asked.

"I think I have to talk about it. I finally can talk about it. My father was an alcoholic. He abused me, calling me a sissy or a pansy. But I convinced him to take me for an ice cream cone on my eleventh birthday. He was drunk. He crashed the car and killed himself. He bled to death all over me. As I lay trapped in the car, he kept asking me to help him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move at all. He accused me of purposely not helping him. I experienced the same feelings lying on the ground after Thornton hit me as I had in that car."

Darlene was looking at me with big, sad eyes. I could tell that my pain was hurting her as well. I looked at her ruefully. "Having blood in my mouth is a strong trigger for me."

"Oh you poor dear," Darlene was almost crying herself by now. "That’s just horrible. Let me hold you."

I did, for a few moments, and that really helped to calm me down. Then I sat back up. "But that’s not all," I started. She looked at me, horrified, shaking her head, as by doing that she could prevent the past from happening. But I continued on, "When I was in college, I was out on a date with a girl and we got robbed by three muggers. They beat me and stole my wallet and her purse. As I was lying on the ground, my head exploding with pain and my mouth full of blood, she began to accuse me of not protecting her."

"What do you mean?" Darlene broke in, "How could you have protected her from three muggers?"

"Well," I replied, still sniffling, "I did the best I could. I shoved her behind me and they didn’t touch her. But it didn’t matter. She was accusing me of failing her just as my father had. I started to think that she was right, that I hadn’t protected her. There was blood in my mouth again and I felt that same combination of feelings, the guilt, the helplessness, and the impotent anger that I had felt lying in my father’s wrecked car. These feelings haunt me. They invade my dreams."

"Oh, Lilly, that’s horrible," Darlene exclaimed. You didn’t do anything! There’s no reason to feel guilt or shame." She used a tissue to dab tears from my cheeks as she spoke.

"Well, logically you’re right of course, but people accused me of failing them, and I felt like I had. I don’t know, emotions aren’t logical, are they?"

Darlene just shook her head from side to side sadly. "No," she said, almost too softly to hear, "emotions aren’t logical, and the most inappropriate ones just stick to you sometimes with mindless intensity."

"Well, that’s not all," I went on, staring out of the window in front of me, "a couple of years ago, I was mugged again. I was with Michael. We were almost killed fighting them off. I was knocked unconscious, and when I awoke, my face in a pool of my own blood, the first thing I felt was that same loathsome combination of emotions. I was lying there in pain and feeling sorry for myself when I heard Michael moaning. He had been shot. But this time I was able to fight my fear and crawl over to Michael and apparently save his life."

"I know. Cynthia told us. You were wonderful." Darlene just lit up as she said that. She was bursting with pride for me.

"Yeah, I might have been," I replied morosely, but I killed one of the muggers. "I’m a decent person, a good person, aren’t I? Why did I have to kill someone, a real live person? Why did someone have to die for me to finally become a man?"

I was almost crying again, and I could again see the pain on Darlene’s face as she tried to figure out how to help me. I didn’t give her the chance, plunging ahead with my story. "Well, that’s not exactly right is it? I had to become a woman to act with the courage I never seemed to have as a man."

"Lillian Miller!" Darlene almost leapt at me she was so agitated. "You just stop that! That is the stupidest…, most self-destructive thing I have ever heard?" Her voice rose in both pitch and intensity, driving me back for a moment. She went on like a machine gun, drilling me with her words. "Cynthia told us that story one night about a month before Hannah died. You were a hero. You saved Michael’s life; you didn’t take one. That guy’s death was an accident, although every woman in the room, and there were a bunch of ‘em, thought he deserved to die. How can you beat yourself up over that?"

"I don’t know Darlene. I just didn’t know how to stop." I started sobbing again. "It’s just like after my father died. I eventually understood it wasn’t my fault, but the guilt didn’t go away, although this wasn’t nearly as bad as when my father killed himself. I still didn’t know how to get rid of it, but Cynthia’s and Michael’s love made it so much easier to deal with."

"But the story does get better," I said smiling slightly. "After Thornton decked me, I could have just lain there on the ground and no one would have faulted me. I wanted to. I was scared, really scared, but I knew I had to get up. He was threatening Cynthia and our baby. That changed everything. Despite my feelings, I knew I had to do something, anything really, to protect them, and I scrambled to my feet as fast as I could. At least I was wearing a loose skirt and my heels were chunky." I smiled a slightly crooked smile at her. I was starting to feel better.

"What about all those people?" Darlene asked, so appalled she reflexively put one hand up to cover her mouth while the other reached out for my arm. "Why didn’t they do anything? I mean the son of a bitch was attacking two women…you said there was crowd."

"Well, this was New York," I said, suddenly feeling embarrassed that I had to apologize for my city. I looked down to hide the silly sense of shame I was starting to feel. "At least it was New York before those bastards hit the World Trade Center, Darlene. People would back away when something like that happened. You never knew what kind of lunatic you might be facing or whether he had a knife or a gun. Everyone had the same instinct - just protect yourself - and that’s what everyone did. I think things are different now. But this all happened a million years ago – before we learned how thousands of people were willing to risk their lives for their fellow New Yorkers, people they didn’t know. It was just a different time."

I shook my head sadly and Darlene nodded to me in understanding, letting her hand slip from my arm to enclose my hand. Her touch was warm and comforting. I put my other hand over hers and we just sat there for a few moments as I lost myself in my own thoughts and Darlene waited for me to continue.

Then, I took another deep breath before going on. "Anyway, as I looked up, Thornton’s back was to me and he had grabbed our table and was trying to throw it aside, apparently to get at Cynthia, who was scrambling backwards trying to turn in her chair so she could get away. I still don’t know why he was mad at her."

‘Leave her alone, she’s pregnant,’ I shouted, as I got my feet under me. I grabbed a glass from the table next to me and threw it at his back. It hit him on the shoulder; he turned on me. We stood facing each other as I got my balance by resting one hand on the table. I was dripping blood all over the bright white linen tablecloth. He was so furious he looked like a steaming volcano ready to explode."

"When I tried to wipe the blood away from my mouth with my sleeve, he laughed at me. ‘You really are stupid, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘You should have stayed down.’ He was only a couple of steps away and he started to cock his right arm to punch me as he lunged forward."

"I can’t believe it," Darlene gasped. This is 2001, I can’t believe a man would hit a woman – especially in front of people. I know there are lots of bastards who batter their wives in private. But in front of a crowd?"

"It was the most miraculous thing," I said as the scene coalesced again in my mind. "At that moment everything just slowed down. I could hear my heart pounding, but it sounded really slow and very distant. I could see the rage in his face, some spittle flying from the corner of his mouth, and most amazingly, flecks of black in his eyes. It was like my senses were sharpened and entirely focused. Nothing else in the world existed except for Thornton. I could tell exactly what he was going to do, and I instinctively knew exactly what I was going to do. I had practiced this so often in karate class."

"Ah karate! The great equalizer for us girls!"

"Yes, Michael signed me up right after we were mugged. He had his instructor visit the apartment as soon as I was strong enough. I’ve been taking classes ever since."

"Anyway, when he lurched towards me and swung his fist," I could see Darlene draw back and raise her hand, as if a punch was coming her way, "I simply stepped to the side, grabbed his wrist, and flipped him over my hip. It was as easy as putting a tray of food down on table. He had planned to really clobber me, so his weight was way forward and I used his momentum to throw him over hard. His side crashed against the side of a table, and then he hit the wrought iron leg of another table with the back of his head as he went down."

"His head hit an iron leg? That must have hurt!"

"I wish," I said, giving her an evil grin, "but it knocked him out, so I’m afraid he didn’t get to feel anything, except maybe when he woke up. Anyway, there I was, standing partly bent at the waist with my arm across my body like I was following through on a punch. I was directly over him and my face looked like an angry mask, although I don’t remember how I was feeling. And I was bleeding like crazy right down onto his face. As I stood there, watching my blood run into his mouth through his slackened lips, it was like magic. All those scenes in which I had been the one injured and helpless on the ground ran through my mind and the fear that they carried just seemed to run out of my mouth with my blood. I knew that I would never have those terrible dreams again. My demons were carried from my body with that blood."

"That’s when someone snapped that picture, although I wasn’t aware of it at the time. He was just one of those people who always carry a camera around and he ended up selling it to the Daily News for some ridiculous amount of money. The Daily News made me famous by publishing my picture right next to one of Muhammad Ali, who was in almost the same position, following through on a punch as he knocked out Sonny Liston in their second fight."

"Well, once the press figured out I was the same person who had killed a mugger, they went berserk. I became the high-heeled avenger. When they printed my picture in the Daily News, the caption was. "Make my Day. Dirty Harriet Defends New York." We couldn’t have bought that much media coverage for our new business with ten million bucks."

"Yeah, but what happened when they found out you were a transsexual?"

"They already knew and had covered that part of the story when Michael and I came out at that big party last Christmas. So it wasn’t such a big deal this time. I got hate letters and spiteful comments on radio talk shows, but at the same time just about every woman’s organization, gay and lesbian group and TG support group rallied on my behalf."

"Lilly you are just amazing. You have been involved in more violence than anyone I ever met, but you’re such a sweetheart. How do you do it?"

"Well I sure as hell don’t go looking for it," I said, rather appalled at the whole idea, "it scares me." After a brief pause as I considered what I had just said, I went on, "Well, it doesn’t scare me as much as it used to, and I know one thing for sure, no one’s going to bully me around any more." I said it emphatically, as if I meant it.

Darlene looked at me like I had just gone off the deep end.

"No, I’m serious," I said. For my entire life, I’ve been scared of anyone who would challenge me or even act the least bit dominant. All this shit with Thornton has taught me I don’t have to be scared any more. I’m more of a man now than I ever was when I was one. Isn’t that silly, I had to become a woman to become a man, but I’ll never be a man again. Maybe I’ll just become a tough old broad."

Darlene laughed out loud at that. When she recovered, she said, "you’ve got a long way to go before you’re an old anything, and I rather like the sweet, slightly shy Lilly. I’m not sure how tough I want you to get." And she laughed again. And as we pulled back out into traffic, I was laughing too.

When we got to the West Side, Darlene spoke up again. "So c’mon, you still haven’t told me anything about your business." All I know is that you’re a famous crime fighter and got ten million dollars in free publicity.

"I don’t know," I said, "what’s to tell." She just frowned at me, letting me know she wasn’t going to let me get away with not telling all.

"Okay, okay, let’s see. Basically, Michael negotiated great deals for Cynthia and me. We got an obscene amount of money not to go to court, and we invested it in our own financial consulting firm. We brought almost all the girls from the office with us, which worked out great for them since North State was going to purge Thornton’s division and start over. So we’ve got this great, experienced staff and we’re all friends."

"Right now were doing work for three large investment houses and a couple of mutual funds. We always thought that big companies would be our only source of income. But then, after the thing with Thornton hit the papers, we were inundated with requests from women to handle their finances."

"We had to hire three other analysts and accountants just to handle the load. And you know what, they’re all women. You should have seen the resumes we got! There are so many great women out there. So far we’re almost all female and that seems to have given us an edge with all the corporate women who are in a position to give us business."

"Almost, what do you mean almost?" Darlene asked.

"Oh, we have one guy working for us. He was a lawyer at North State, Jason Riddle. Michael insisted we hire him. They’re lovers now."

Darlene just rolled her eyes at me and got agitated again. You have Michael’s lover working for you? Aren’t you jealous? Isn’t Michael jealous? I thought you two were lovers?"

"Well," I said thoughtfully, "we never really made it that far. Oh we did make love a few times and we are crazy about each other, but we’re more like brother and sister now. In the end it became clear to both of us that we weren’t really sexually attracted to each other. He likes big buff guys, and I like gorgeous curvy women, one in particular."

"Jason isn’t the least bit femme, but he is a sweetheart and I’m just so happy that Michael has a steady boyfriend. You saw him at our wedding. You know how happy he is for me and Cyn."

We were just pulling into the garage under my building, and Darlene and I fell silent as we grabbed her bags and trundled them to the elevator. As we waited for it to come, Darlene grabbed my arms with both her hands and turned me towards her. "Lilly, you just told me most amazing story. I am so proud of you. You sound like a real grownup now and I’m so happy for you."

With that she grabbed my face in both her hands and gave me the sweetest kiss on the lips. Then she hugged me to her tightly and said, "Say you’ll always be my friend?"

I just nodded at her dumbly. I didn’t know exactly what was going on, but I was very moved by her generous show of affection. I almost started to tear up again, but the elevator arrived and saved me from embarrassing myself.

Cynthia grabbed Darlene into a big hug as soon as we were through the front door and they started chattering away while I stashed Darlene’s bags in the girly bedroom and went to wash the tears off my face. I decided to lay down for a few moments, and before I knew it, I heard Cynthia calling me from the other room. I had been asleep for almost two hours.

When I got back to the living room, Darlene had her hand on Cynthia’s belly, even though there was nothing to feel yet, and was just beaming at her. "Do you think she would do that for me?" I heard Cynthia say to Darlene.

"Do what?" I asked.

They both just turned to look at me, grinning like a pair of Cheshire cats. Then Darlene patted Cynthia on the arm, as if to say, don’t worry I’ll take care of this and turned to me. "How are you two going to care for the baby?"

"Well, I don’t know," I said, "We hadn’t talked about it. I suppose we’ll get a nanny." They both smiled at each other. "Wait a minute, what are you two up to?" I asked suspiciously, not really knowing yet where this was going.

"Well," Cynthia replied, trying to sound all sweet and innocent, "Darlene just pointed out to me that it would be easier for you to work from home than for me."

I nodded my head. That was true. She had to run the business and recruit clients, I mostly sat in a back room (albeit a very nice back room) and worked mathematical wonders. "Yeeeaah," I said slowly, trying to figure out how they were going to trap me, "but I still have to work. After all, I am the brains of this outfit." I flashed them a big grin to let them know I was kidding, even though I really wasn’t, altogether, that is.

"Well I think it would just be great if you took primary responsibility for the care of the baby," said Cynthia, suddenly.

"Me," I squeaked, not quit recovered from the sharp intake of breath I had taken in response to her suggestion, "but you’re the mother. I always thought the mother…."

Darlene broke in. "And what are you? From what I can see, this baby’ll have two mothers." She glanced first at Cynthia and then at me, "Right?"

Then she looked straight at me. "Lillian, don’t tell us you want to be the daddy? Don’t you think that your little baby will grow up rather confused if a hot babe like you claims to be her daddy? Lillian, you’re this baby’s mother every bit as much as Cynthia."

As I stood there, transfixed by their stares and my mouth gaping open in understanding, I realized that I would love to take care of the baby.

If we got a nanny, like we had planned anyway, I would still have time to work and even go to the office or outside meetings whenever necessary. Yes! I wanted to be the one who stayed home. In fact, I started to feel sorry for Cynthia. She’d have to go off to the office everyday while I got to experience the joy of hearing our baby say her first words and walk her first steps. What would her first words be? I wanted it to be Cyn. Babies can say "dada" and "mama". Can they say "Cyn-Cyn"? When she said mama, she would be saying it to me. I don’t know what Cynthia and Darlene were thinking as they watched me, but I tried to keep a straight face just to force their hands.

And as I stood there, waiting for one of them to make the next move, you know what else I finally allowed myself to accept, although I’d really known it for quite a while? In this relationship Cynthia was the "husband" and I was the "wife," if such words made any sense in our relationship. It was Cynthia, after all, who had first given me the ring (although I did later give her a fabulous diamond) and then asked me to marry her. And it was Cynthia who had dressed in the sexiest black satin tuxedo cut pants suit for the wedding, while I wore the gorgeous white gown. And she was certainly the one who was in charge of the relationship, while I nearly worshipped her and would do anything for her. Yes, I was the adoring wife. I liked that thought.

So I knew just what I was going to do, and I was delighted with my decision, but I kept that straight face plastered on to see if I could make them sweat for a while by not saying anything. It worked for just a few moments, but then I’m afraid I gave myself away by starting to smile. Then I started to giggle. Cynthia knew what that meant instantly and jumped up to hug me around the neck while she shouted, "you’ll do it, won’t you? You’ll do it!"

I just stood still and let her calm down. When she was done, I said, "Yes, I’d love to do it. I was beginning to worry you’d never ask. You can be the big time consultant. But I think being a stay-at-home mom for a while will be just fine for me. That’s the New Job I always wanted."

The End

 

 

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© 2001 by Kelly Ann Rogers. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.