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This is my first post; enjoy. If you don't enjoy, please don't leave overly harsh criticisms. Be gentle, I'm fragile. You might notice that the premise for this story is partially lifted from a recent Hollywood movie. It took me a while for that part to happen though, and once it does everything starts happening sort of fast. But I just wanted to get it done so I could post it. It's still pretty good, though, at least I think so. Judge it however you want. Nothing But the Truth By Mr. Duck Josh Fremont lay way back in his extremely expensive leather chair and pressed the intercom button. "Stephanie, could you come in here for a moment?" he asked the intercom. A moment later Josh's beautiful young secretary, Stephanie Kline, walked into the room. "What can I do for you, Mr. Fremont?" "I just remembered something," Josh said. "My son's birthday is tomorrow. I have to take him out to dinner tonight because the bitch won't let me come to his party tomorrow. Can you believe that?" "She's extremely harsh, Mr. Fremont," Stephanie agreed. "Yeah," Josh said, stroking his chin. "Anyway, I've going to have to go in about five or ten minutes. Got to get out to the toy store or something and get him a present, have them wrap it up, then go over to the bitch's house and pick the kid up and feed him." Josh groaned. "Who knew a kid was this much work?" "They certainly are a handful, Mr. Fremont," Stephanie interjected patiently. "But Henry is a very nice young boy and I think he deserves it." "Yeah," Josh said. "You're probably right, Steph. Anyway, I didn't call you in here just to rant at you. Cancel everything I've got for the rest of the day." Stephanie frowned. "But sir, all the clients on your schedule for the rest of the day are in the waiting room right now." "That should make it easy on you," Josh shrugged. "But Mr. Fremont, how can you expect me to?" "To what?" Josh snapped angrily. "Just tell them to go! I've got a kid to pick up, babe!" Stephanie nodded grimly, and turned for the door. "Hey!" Josh called. "Yes, Mr. Fremont?" Stephanie replied. "When you're done with that, why don't you wiggle your way over to the coffee machine and have a cup ready for me when I leave." "Yes, sir," Stephanie sighed. She then pushed the door open into the lobby to tell the assorted criminals that they would have to come back tomorrow. Josh watched Stephanie leave with a wide smile on his face. His firm had always hired a pool of secretaries to be distributed to the major players, and he had always gotten to handpick one himself. Not that it mattered, of course; nearly every girl in the pool had the same attributes that Stephanie possessed. An excellent typing speed, a respectful attitude, a penchant for making great coffee, and one hell of a fine ass. Josh sat back up in his chair and checked his schedule one last time. There hadn't been any particularly important cases waiting out in the lobby. There was one man accused of setting fire to his own home to collect on the insurance. There were also three guys accused of holding up a fancy French restaurant. The last one reportedly beat his kids one too many times, and his son died from the wounds. These things happen. Josh looked at the next day's schedule, and figured they could all probably be squeezed in somewhere. His next court date wasn't until Friday, and today was Tuesday. So, space could probably be found. If not, he'd make some space, because Josh Fremont, eminent defender of the wrongly accused, cared about his clients, damn it. He slapped the book closed and shoved it into his briefcase. Then he closed every drawer in his desk, bottom to top, just like every day. He glanced at his watch, and was about to go before he remembered that he had made a request of his secretary. Pressing the intercom button, Josh said, "Oh, Stephanie?" Back in the waiting room, Stephanie dashed over to the intercom and replied, "Yes, Mr. Fremont." "Where's that coffee, Stephanie?" "I'm making it as we speak, sir." Josh shook his head in annoyance. He wanted that coffee. "Oh, Mr. Fremont?" Stephanie added. "Yes?" "I cancelled your appointments, but someone else has come into the waiting room, and he's been begging me to let him come into your office." Josh rolled his eyes. "I'm closing up for the day, Stephanie. Tell him to go." "But Mr. Fremont, it's Warren Gross." Josh paused for a moment. "Pardon?" "Warren Gross, sir. He says it's urgent." "I see," Josh said. He paused again. "Listen," he asked, "are we talking about the same person?" "I think so, sir. The son of Walter Gross, the CEO of OmniCorp." "Tell you what. Send him in. I'd like to hear what the kid has to say." "Right away, sir." "And don't forget that coffee." "I won't, sir." Warren Gross barged into Josh Fremont's office looking extremely stressed out. His short red hair was matted down against his forehead. His glasses were fogged up, and his expensive clothing was all wrinkled and scrunched up. Clearly, something was amiss. Josh leaped up from his chair and walked briskly over to meet the troubled man. "Warren! It's nice to meet you. I'm Josh Fremont. How can I be of service to you this evening?" "I'm a horrible, horrible person!" Warren wailed. Josh's extended hand slowly fell back down to his side. "I'm very sorry to hear that," he said. "Please, sit down." Warren grabbed a nearby chair and thrust himself into it. "I'm an awful person, Mr. Fremont, scum of the earth, I'm a shame to my father's name, and he's going to have me killed for this, I'm so terrible and stupid and dumb!" he cried. Just then Stephanie walked into the room with Josh's cup of coffee. Grabbing it from her, in an act of great generosity Josh handed the cup over to Warren and said, "Warren, before I can help you in any way I'm afraid you'll need to calm down. Have some coffee. Until you relax a bit, I can do nothing for you." Josh gave a hard look into Warren's eyes, and the twenty- four-year-old boy nodded. Stephanie turned to go, and Josh called after her, "Oh, Steph? Could you bring me another cup of coffee?" Without turning around, Stephanie grimaced and called back, "Right away, sir." "Thanks, hon," Josh said. "Now. Warren, are you ready to explain what happened to you?" "I, I guess so," Warren stuttered. "See, my friends took me to this strip club for my bachelor party?" he trailed off. "No, no, go on," Josh said. "It's intriguing me already." "Okay, well see, there was this one girl there who gave me a free table dance when she found out it was my bachelor party, see? And then after that she, like, invited me back stage, you know? She said that she was going to give me a tour of the facilities, you know, as like a wedding present. She showed me everything backstage, and she was being really nice, and then she showed me this private bathroom, and that's where?" he trailed off again. "That's where what, Warren?" "I forced myself on her," Warren whispered, tears coming to his eyes. "I didn't mean for it to happen, Mr. Fremont, but I did it. She was just being so nice to me and I thought this was what she meant when she said she was giving me a wedding present." "Did it seem like she wanted it when you did it?" Josh asked. "No," Warren said, sniffling. "She told me to get off of her, and she kept calling for help but?I don't know why?but I just couldn't stop." Warren paused again, and looked down at the floor. "So I ran out of the place and I could hear her telling the other girls what happened, right? I knew I had to go someplace. I didn't wanna go to the cops 'cause then I'd be in really big trouble, and then I remembered how you helped my dad in that anti-trust case he had. I just needed someplace to go to?" Warren said, bringing his head down into his hands. Josh patted Warren's head lightly. "I can see we need to work on your testimony," he said. He walked back over to his desk and pressed the intercom button. "Steph?" he asked. "Yes, Mr. Fremont?" "It looks like I'm going to be working a little later than I originally planned. I'll need you to call home and tell my son I'm not going to be able to make it." "But sir?" "Don't but sir me, girl," Josh said. "This is going to be a very important case for this firm. We've already reached the top. Now I want us to make a new top, all for ourselves! Tell that to my son, I'm sure he'll understand." Stephanie sighed. "Yes, sir, I'll get right on it." "Oh, and where's that damn coffee?" "Coming, sir." Stephanie delivered the coffee and walked back to her desk. She picked up the phone and called Josh's ex-wife's number. "Hello?" said a small voice at the other end. "Hello, Henry," said Stephanie. "It's Stephanie, your daddy's secretary. Do you remember me?" "Sure!" Henry said. "Hi, Stephanie! I'm having dinner with my dad tonight, did you know that?" Henry said excitedly. Stephanie winced. "Your daddy told me that, Henry," she said. "But?I'm sorry. He just can't make it tonight. He has a very big, important case to go over with a very important client." Silence. "Henry? Are you still there?" "Yes," Henry said. "Dad's not coming?" "I'm sorry, Henry," Stephanie said. Silence again; then a dial tone. Stephanie sighed deeply, hung up the phone, and left the office. Meanwhile, back in Josh's office? "So, Warren. What I'm hearing is that this stripper girl invited you backstage at the club as a wedding present, and you raped her because you thought she was offering it. However, when you discovered that she didn't want it, you kept going anyway, is that right?" Warren wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Yeah." Josh looked at Warren, blinking confusedly. "That's not how I remember it." Warren looked up. "Huh?" "No, not at all. See, the way I remember it, she recognized your picture from seeing it in the paper and volunteered herself for a table dance. Then, when she heard it was your bachelor party, she used that as an excuse to get you backstage away from the big crowds. Then, when she got you into the private bathroom, she threw herself upon you. It was impossible for you to resist, so you just went for it. There was nothing you could do. That's how I remember it, anyway." "But you weren't there," Warren said. "No, I wasn't," Josh agreed. "But based upon your vivid description of the incident, I feel like I was. You have a very detailed memory, Warren, it's quite impressive." "But that's not what I said happened." "Yes, it is," Josh countered. "No, it's not," Warren said. "Yes," Josh said firmly. "It is." "Oh," Warren said. "Okay," Josh said. "I'm glad we've got that all straightened out." Warren nodded hesitantly. "Now, just in case some asshole jury doesn't go for that?" Josh began. "We're going to need something a bit more detailed. Consider this, Warren. What is the function of a strip club?" Warren shrugged, obviously slightly embarrassed. "Oh, come on Warren, it's not that difficult. But if I must answer it myself, it's designed to cause arousal amongst the patrons, isn't that correct?" Warren nodded, looking at the floor. "So, did this girl?" Josh waved his hand around a bit, waiting for a name. "Lucy," Warren said. "So, did Lucy achieve her purpose?" "Yeah," Warren admitted. "That's nice," Josh said. "So, we've got a customer who's been successfully aroused by a dancer at a strip club. No big deal, right? I mean, this sort of thing happens every day at gentleman's clubs all around this great nation. But this was a special case, wasn't it? Because it was your bachelor party. And as a special gift, this girl Lucy invites you backstage. Clearly, she's planning something, am I right? She understands that she has just done something to incite an aroused state in you. And now she takes you to a private area, where patrons are normally not allowed, is that correct?" "That's right," Warren said. "She shows you everything. She shows you the dressing room, where presumably, several other beautiful women are standing around in various states of undress, no?" "That's true." Warren said. "She shows you all their special costumes, I presume, and all their special 'toys' or whatever they use at that place, right?" Blushing profusely, Warren nodded. "So, essentially, she's shown you every single thing in the building that she and her colleagues use to perform their jobs, namely causing arousal in the male form. Then, Lucy shows you the private bathroom. A fairly small room, I presume. She's just made you about as excited as any male can ever expect to be, and now you're in this tiny room by yourselves-" "Well, we weren't actually in it at the moment. I sort of made her go in there with me," Warren stammered briefly. "No you didn't, she asked you to come in and take a look. Because when she first invited you backstage, she said she was going to give you the 'full tour', remember? With a big accent on the 'full'. So anyway, you're in this tiny room by yourselves. You're an aroused man, she's a gorgeous and presumably naked woman, now what the FUCK does she expect that you're going to do?" "What?" "Any reasonable man would come to the conclusion that she's looking, nay, begging you to walk over to her and take her!" "Really?" "Of course! Haven't you been listening? This woman got you as hot for her as she possibly could and then seduced you. It wasn't your fault, not in the least! You're just a poor sap ? sorry ? who got forced into this." "But Mr. Fremont, it really wasn't like that at all!" Josh looked back over to where Warren was sitting. He shook his head in dismay at the na?ve young man and said, "We've been over this already. It happened the way I say it happened, remember?" "But?" "It sounds like it's going to be a long night," Josh said to no one in particular. It was all over the news, of course. The poor girl just trying to work her way through college was brutally raped by the wealthy has-everything-but-wants-more rich kid. The newspaper columnists screamed in outrage. Women's groups screamed in outrage. Lucy Walden and her friends and family and acquaintances screamed in outrage. This all happened by the next day. Josh Fremont, Warren Gross's newly found attorney, was driving to work reading all about this in the newspaper, smiling broadly. "Community Unites in Walden Rape Case," he read. "That didn't take very long." It was Josh's view that many events, rape cases, auto accidents, sheep falling from helicopters, etc were apt to make the community come together. As he read the article, Josh's smug grin got larger and larger: "And after committing this horrendous act, who did Warren Gross turn to? Joshua Fremont, one of the sleaziest, fast-talking young lawyers in the city?" Of course, the article went on to detail many of the other unscrupulous acts Josh had carried out in his illustrious career. But any publicity is good publicity; that was Josh's favorite motto. Josh folded the paper up and stuck it in his briefcase right next to his cellular phone. When he did that it occurred to him that he should probably call his son and apologize for not picking him up for dinner last night. But his son had probably heard about the Gross case, and he should understand, Josh thought. He might have been only five years old (or was it six?), but he had a good understanding of how the world works. "Hello?" "Hey hey, Henry, buddy! It's your dad!" "Dad?" "Yeah! How you doing, huh?" A short pause. "Why are you being such an conscienceless bastard, dad?" Josh couldn't believe his ears. "What was that?" "Mommy told me to ask you that." Josh rolled his eyes. "Oh. Well, would you tell your mommy that when I win this case I'm going to become one of the most renowned lawyers in the state and will probably become even richer than I am already and probably get a trophy wife and live a long, wealthy, happy life, nanny nanny poo poo?" "I can't remember all that," Henry said, giggling at the "nanny nanny poo poo" part. "Don't worry about it, kid. Listen, I'm sorry I couldn't make it to dinner last night." Henry paused again. "It's okay, dad. If you have to defend that twisted freak, you don't have enough time for me, I guess." "Did your mommy tell you that Warren Gross is a twisted freak, Henry? Because he's really not. He's a very nice man who's being framed for something he didn't do. Why don't you tell that to your mommy, okay? I'll hold on." Henry put the phone down for a moment and talked to his mother. A few seconds later Henry said: "Mommy doesn't want me to talk to you anymore." "Aw, come on, buddy. Tell you what. I'm gonna try and make it up to you. Since your mommy won't let me come over tonight, how about tomorrow afternoon? I'll pick you up at your house, and we'll go have some McDonald's, huh sport? Ask your mommy if it's okay," Josh said, cringing at the last few words. "McDonald's? Really? That would be cool!" Henry cried. After a quiet moment he added: "Mommy says if you show your face in McDonald's you'll probably get lynched." "That's just mommy trying to be funny, Henry. I'll pick you up tomorrow, okay?" "Okay!" Henry said, suddenly excited all over again. "Sounds great. I'll see you tomorrow, buddy!" "Bye, dad!" "Bye, Henry." Josh pushed the END button on his cell phone, congratulating himself on a job well done. Josh walked out of the elevator and marched over to his office. He had a lot of work to take care of. Throwing open the front door, he declared, "Stephanie, I have many things to work on today, so I'm gonna need a lot of coffee. Make sure to keep a fresh pot ready all day." He walked over to the coat rack and hung up his hat and coat. "Tell any client except Warren Gross or possibly Lewis Trumbull that they'll have to reschedule," he added. "I'm sure they'll understand that I'm going to be very busy with the Gross case today and won't have any time to work on anything else." As he walked over to his main office door, he added, "Put in a call to Walter Gross, too. Once you get him on the line, put him through to me. We're going to need to have a long chat on my pricing structure," Josh continued, grinning to himself. He whirled around to look at his secretary. "Did you get all that, Stephanie?" he asked. He paused for a moment. "You're not Stephanie," he observed. "No, I'm not," said the young man sitting at Stephanie's desk. "She quit yesterday evening. Apparently I was the only replacement that could be found on such short notice. Seth Glanville," said the young man, sticking out his hand. Josh didn't return the introduction. "Where's Stephanie?" he asked. Seth frowned. "Like I said, Mr. Fremont, she resigned last night. She left you a note if you'd like to read it. I can still do everything you just requested, in fact I have a pot of coffee dripping right now," he said smartly. "Uh, yes," Josh said, flustered. "Did you say there was a note?" "Yes, Mr. Fremont. Here it is," Seth said, handing over Stephanie's letter of resignation. "I'll get to work on Walter Gross," he added, heading back to his chair and picking up the phone. "Good," Josh said quietly, entering his office. He began to read Stephanie's letter: "Mr. Fremont: "I am writing to inform you that I no longer intend to work for your firm. My daily routine has consisted of your constant abuse, whether it be your insistent requests that I do whatever you determine is my duty, or the patronizing tone in which you address me. Mr. Fremont, I refuse to continue working at any job where I am addressed to as "babe". Feel fortunate that I am not bringing forth a sexual harassment lawsuit. Of course, I suppose I could only expect to lose that lawsuit anyway. You would probably twist the situation in some way that made it look like it was my fault. I heard your conversation with the Gross boy; while I don't like what he did it seems clear to me that he is remorseful. But you almost won't allow him to plead guilty and help him get it off his conscience. You have to win. You put that above everything else, making you possibly the most amoral person I have ever met. I can't stand to work for that kind of person any longer. Disrespectfully resigning my post, Stephanie Kline P.S. Mr. Fremont, might I advise you not to ogle your next secretary as obviously as you ogled me. I don't know if you cared about being discreet or not, but you most certainly weren't. Be careful about that, because your next assistant may not be as tolerant as I have tried to be." At least I won't have to worry about that, Josh thought. Well, this day was certainly getting off to a rotten start. My gorgeous secretary quits and leaves me with this nincompoop, he silently added. Plopping down in his chair, Josh was just getting ready to sulk mightily when the intercom announced: "Mr. Fremont, I have Walter Gross on line two." "That was pretty quick, kid." "Thank you, sir. It's Seth." "Yeah," Josh said, not registering the name. He put on his headset and said, "Walt? How's my favorite CEO been?" "How do you think?" snapped the voice on the other end. "My pride and joy has been accused of rape by some whore. How the hell do you think I feel?" "Well, however you feel, you're going to get a whole lot better, I assure you. Warren and I spent a lot of time last night working on a great angle for this case, and I don't think we can lose." "You'd better hope so," Walter Gross said. "Anyway, Walt, the reason I contacted you is because I wanted to have a discussion on my billing rates." "Oh no, you don't," Walter interrupted. "I just recently talked to Lewis Trumbull, Joshua, and he told me how much he paid when you defended him two months ago. If your rate is significantly higher than that, I'm going to find myself another attorney." Josh cursed under his breath. "I see. Well, can we agree on, say, $750 an hour? Does that sound fair to you?" Walter grunted. "As fair as can be expected, I suppose. Now let me tell you something. Have you taken a look at the financial channel today?" "Sorry, Walt, I'm not really into that kind of stuff. Not unless I have a case that involves it." "Well, let me sum up for you. They're selling OmniCorp stock like crazy on Wall Street." "Are they now." "They are indeed. And the stock price is plummeting like a rock thrown off a cliff. Do you want to know why?" "Why is that, Walt?" "Because these accusations reflect back on me, Joshua. It is not good for the son of the CEO of a major corporation to be accused of a felony. It is a poor indicator of our family morality. But as you know I have made it no secret that Warren was my choice to succeed me as CEO when I retire. If he's jailed, that decision looks less brilliant than before. There are many other factors involved, I'm sure you understand." "So basically you're saying that unless your son is cleared, the stock price is going to keep going down." "That's right. And I want you to stop the fall before anything really serious happens, damn it. We've already lost four points in the first few hours of trading. If we keep falling like this for weeks and weeks, I'm completely screwed. As your most important client, I demand that Warren's court date be scheduled as soon as humanly possible." "I understand your concern, Walt, and I'll get your case in as fast as possible. But there probably won't be openings for at least a week." "That's too long!" Walter shouted. "Okay! Okay! Calm down, Walt! I'll see what I can do!" "You'd better," Walter advised, and hung up. Josh inhaled deeply, and pressed his intercom button. "Steph?" he asked. His new assistant must have misheard, because he responded, "Yes?" "I need you to make a few calls," Josh said. "We're trying to get Warren's trial scheduled as soon as possible, so talk to a few judges. Get something in this week if at all possible. If they won't listen to you, put them in to me, you understand?" "Yes, Mr. Fremont," Seth replied. For an hour or so, because he had cancelled all his other appointments, Josh had nothing to do but wait. When the wait was over Seth came into his office and announced proudly: "Mr. Fremont, I was able to convince Judge Rhonda Eckersley to begin the trial at one o'clock tomorrow afternoon." "One o'clock!" Josh cried. "Tomorrow? Kid, you're a god damn genius, you know that? A god damn genius!" "Thank you, Mr. Fremont. I appreciate it. Not bad for my first day, huh?" "Now there are a few more calls to make. Get that Lucy girl's attorney on the phone. See if she's willing to show up in court tomorrow afternoon. I'm sure she'd kill to go into trial while the public's still all hot and bothered about the case. Public support sure is overwhelming for this girl, isn't it, kid?" "Seth, sir. But yes, most people do seem to be behind her." "Yeah, just like Warren," Josh cracked. "Get to the phone, kid. This is important stuff." "Yes, sir." Seth turned around and left the office. Josh headed back to his chair, thinking that there had been something important he was supposed to do tomorrow afternoon, but having no clue what it was. Oh well. How could it be more important than the Gross trial anyway? An hour and a half later Seth returned to his new boss's office. "Everything seems to be in order, Mr. Fremont. Lucy Walden's attorney was quite pleased to be going to trial so quickly. Oh, and Alison Harkey from the Times is on line one." "Hang up on her," Josh said. "I've had enough for today. I think I'm gonna grab some lunch and head on home. You stick around here, huh? If I come here tomorrow and the machine is full of messages I can assure you your employment will go from temporary to non-existent, do you understand?" "Yes, sir." Seth retreated back to the front room. Josh packed up his things, locked his door, and left the office. As he drove back to his luxurious apartment, Josh kept thinking that there was something really important he should be remembering but couldn't think of what it was. As he stopped at a traffic light, he looked to the side and saw an attractive woman leaving a McDonald's. He smiled at her pleasantly, and suddenly it hit him. McDonald's. Tomorrow afternoon. Henry! He dug into his briefcase and dragged out his phone again. Dialing hurriedly, he hoped that Henry would be home so he could at least warn him that he wouldn't be showing. The phone rang. Henry picked it up. "Hello?" Henry said. "Hey, it's your dad, Henry," Josh said uneasily. "Hi, dad," Henry said. "Listen, buddy, you know that case with Warren Gross that I'm working really hard on?" "Uh-huh," Henry said, sensing something. "Well, it turns out I'm going to have to take that into court tomorrow afternoon. There's nothing I can do, buddy. I don't think I can make it to McDonald's with you." "We're not going to McDonald's?" "Sorry, little buddy. It's just?" "No, I get it, dad," Henry said. "You have other things to do." "It's not that," Josh protested. "It's okay," Henry said. "I'll just stay here with mommy. I don't mind." That hurt. "I'll see you soon, I promise," Josh said. "Whatever," Henry said, and hung up the phone. Josh closed his cell phone, fretted about it for a moment, and finally gave in to planning for the Gross case. "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Henry, happy birthday to you!" "Come on, Henry, make a wish!" called out the five-year-old's friends. "Wish for a billion gazillion mega-bucks!" encouraged one. "Wish for a doggie!" added another. Henry looked at the five candles on the cake, looked up at his mom briefly, and thought to himself: "I wish that for just one day Dad couldn't tell a lie." He took a deep breath, let it go and blew out every one of the candles. The smoke rose off the cake and dramatically floated by a nearby clock that indicated the time was 8:45. At that same time in his luxurious apartment, Josh Fremont was brushing his teeth. He wanted to be absolutely sure that he didn't oversleep the next day, so he was going to bed extremely early. He didn't like having to do it, but the way he saw it he didn't have a choice. As he got ready for bed, he looked around to make sure everything was in its proper place. "Okay, I've got my belt where it should be. My suit's hung up in the closet properly, my shoes are under the bed?where the hell is my wallet?" Josh looked around, checking out his pants pocket. "Damn, I can't find my wallet!" he cried. Suddenly he became extremely nervous. "Shit, if I can't find my wallet I won't be able to drive! I won't be able to drive to work tomorrow without it!" he said to himself. "Shit! I've got to find it!" Frantically, Josh searched everywhere in the apartment but couldn't find it anywhere. "Where's my wallet, god damn it?" Josh howled. Wearing just his fancy pajamas, he ran out into the hallway, bumping right into his elderly neighbor, Lance. "Lance!" Josh screamed. "Somebody's stolen my wallet!" Lance looked at Josh, fearful that he might become violent. "Please?don't hurt me!" he cried. "Do you know who took my wallet? You know, don't you! You know who took it!" Josh accused Lance mindlessly. Lance's heart suddenly went very cold. How could Josh possibly know about that? How could he know that I know about the thug on Jackson Street who took his wallet? "What do you mean?" Lance said, hiding his guilt poorly. "You do know! Who was it? Was it you? It was you, wasn't it! You took my wallet, old man!" "All right! Fine! I admit it! Take your damn wallet! I don't want it anymore!" "You'd better give it back!" Josh cried, snatching his wallet away from the old man. "You're a lucky son of a bitch!" he added. "Be glad I don't press charges." Suddenly Lance's owner marched out of her apartment and stormed over to where Josh was scolding him. "Just what do you think you're doing, Mr. Fremont?" "What am I doing? What are you doing?" Josh asked. "Your stupid dog stole my wallet, do you realize that?" "What?" the woman asked. "Don't be ridiculous. How could an old dog steal your wallet?" "I don't know how he did it, but he did," Josh said. "And I hold you personally responsible. I'm not going to press charges this time, but I will in the future. Do you get me?" "I understand, Mr. Fremont," said the woman. "I hope so," Josh snapped. He stormed back into his apartment, put his wallet in its proper place, and fell asleep. The next morning at six A.M. Josh awoke and prepared for work. "All right, let's go," he told himself, trying to get encouraged. "This is the most important day of your life, so you've got to make a big impression." What have I got that will make a big impression, he wondered. Josh searched through his closet for the proper suit. As he did so he came across a bright-blue suit that he had purchased once as a joke. "This would certainly make a big impression," he joked to himself. But then he stopped and thought. It would make an impression, that was for sure. And wasn't that what he was looking for anyway? "They might think I was kind of goofy," he considered. "But it would also probably turn the tide in my favor, wouldn't it? It would loosen up the judge. It would give everyone a pretty good laugh!" he went on, convincing himself more and more. "That does it!" he declared. "I'm going to wear this suit!" Pleased with himself, Josh donned the bright blue suit and headed out the door. Seth looked up at his boss as he entered and chuckled heartily at the amusing suit. "Like this suit, kid? I thought it would be good to loosen up the judge, huh?" "It's a very good idea, sir, and my name is Seth." "Right," Josh said. "Anyone call while I was gone yesterday afternoon?" "Yes," Seth said. "Twelve of your clients called to demand that a hearing be scheduled for them in the immediate future. You got angry phone calls from dozens of women's rights supporters. Also Walter Gross called and said he would be here at 7:15 this morning." "Walter Gross is coming?" Josh said. "You told him that the trial is scheduled for one o'clock?" "I did. He was very pleased," Seth replied. "Good," Josh said. "When he comes, sent him right in." "I will, sir," Seth said. Josh walked into his office and sat down. This trial was going to be a breeze, he thought to himself. There's no way I can lose, he added silently. "Fremont?" said a familiar voice. "Walt!" Josh cried, jumping up from his seat, smiling. "I'm so happy to see you!" he cried, his smile growing even wider. "Really, I am! It's great to see you again, Walt! I feel like I haven't seen you in a really long time! I mean, wow! We've got to get together and have lunch sometime! Call me, okay?" "Sure," Walter said. "I like the suit," he added, laughing heartily. "Yeah," Josh said. "I presume you're here to discuss your son's trial?" Josh asked brightly. "Yes, I am," Walter said. "I understand the trial will be held this afternoon?" "It will," Josh said. "And I am extremely confident that we will win." Suddenly, Josh stood up from his chair and jumped, pumping his fist high into the air. "I am so FUCKING confident! I just feel like I can't lose! It's a great feeling!" Josh cried. "Joshua, are you all right?" Walter asked, in alarm. "I'm great!" he cried, spinning around in joy. "I've never felt so good! This is the best feeling I've had in a long time! I just don't think we can possibly lose and that has me feeling fantastic!" he shouted. Josh continued to spin around mightily in his office until he collapsed into a happy heap on the floor. "Are you okay?" Walter asked. "Couldn't be better," Josh grinned, looking up at him. "You want anything? Coffee?" "Coffee would be nice," Walter said. "Okay, I'll have Steph bring you some," Josh said, getting up and walking over to his desk. "Who?" Walter asked quizzically. "Stephanie," Josh articulated. "She's my secretary." He pushed down on the intercom button and said "Stephanie, hon, could you bring Walter a cup of coffee?" Josh plopped back down into his chair and waited. In a few seconds, the door opened, and he and Walter were treated to quite a sight. An astoundingly beautiful young woman stepped gracefully into the room. She was no taller than maybe five two, but there was a hell of a lot packed into that small area. She had a face reminiscent of Jennifer Aniston framed by lovely blonde curls that fell down well past her large, firm breasts. Curves in all the right places, too. She had a very tight blouse on that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and a skirt that stopped several inches north of the knee. Josh's ideal secretary. "Here you are, Mr. Gross," the woman chirped in a happy soprano. "I hope your son is cleared." "Thank you, miss," Walter said. "I hope so, too." The girl smiled pleasantly at Walter and Josh, and turned around to go back into the front room. Walter and Josh's heads turned accordingly until she was out of his office. "She's a very lovely lady," Walter said, understating greatly. "You said it," Josh said. "My other secretary quit two days ago. I don't know if you knew her. Her name was Stephanie, too. And she was also pretty hot. She wasn't as hot as this Stephanie, though. This one is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I just lucked out." "You certainly did," Walter said. "She's got the hots for me, too," Josh said matter-of-factly. "Do you really think so?" Walter asked. "Oh, yeah," Josh said. "But that doesn't matter right now. We need to discuss your son's case." "Could we go get some breakfast?" Walter asked. "I skipped it so I could get here on time." "Whatever you want is OK with me," Josh said. "How about at the Gilded Truffle?" "That sounds great!" Josh replied. "Let's go!" Josh hurried to the door, Walter struggling to keep up. "Slow down, Joshua!" Walter cried. "You got it," Josh answered. He paused to allow Walter to catch up, and opened the door. "Stephanie," he announced. "We're going to go grab some breakfast at the Gilded Truffle. We'll be back in about an hour." "Sounds good, Mr. Fremont," Stephanie beamed. Even her smile now glowed with perfection. "Is there anything I can do for you while you're gone?" "Nothing special," Josh said. "Just keep doing what you're doing. You seem to be doing fine." "Thanks," Stephanie replied, giggling. The phone rang and she nodded happily towards Josh, and kept on doing what she'd been doing. "Joshua Fremont's office, this is Stephanie Glanville speaking. How can I help you today?" "The prosecution calls Lucy Walden to the stand." Lucy stood up and walked over to the stand and took her oath. Then her lawyer walked over and began the questioning. "Please state your name for the record." "My name is Lucy Walden." "Lucy, please explain to the court what happened on the afternoon of June 17, 1999." "Okay. Several men about the age of the defendant entered my place of employment at approximately 2:30 P.M. It turned out that this group was holding a bachelor party for the defendant. So, as a wedding present, I volunteered to give him a tour backstage at the club." "Was there anything sexual about the way you offered it to him?" "It was no more sexual than anything else I had done. I just thought it would be a nice little gift for him, something he would enjoy, that would make him feel like he had had a special experience at our club." "Did he appreciate the gift?" "He seemed pretty nervous the whole time. He really seemed to be expecting something to happen." "What do you think he expected?" "I think he really expected me to jump on him. I may be a stripper, but I'm no whore," Lucy said. "Did you do that?" "No. I'm not that kind of girl." "So what happened?" "Well, I just showed him the private bathroom?" "What do you mean, 'just showed'?" "I didn't actually take him inside there because I thought that would imply something. It's a very small room." "So what happened next?" "He grabbed me and forced me to enter the bathroom. Then he came in after me and raped me." "Did you do anything to tell him to stop?" "Yes!" Lucy cried. "I never stopped yelling it, but the bathroom is soundproofed so nobody could hear me. There was nothing I could do. He's a lot stronger than I am?" Lucy said, her eyes tearing. Warren looked down at the ground in dismay. "There, there," Lucy's attorney comforted her. "It's going to be okay. "No further questions, your honor," she added, heading back to her seat. "Your witness, Mr. Fremont," said the judge. "Just a moment, your honor," Josh said. He leaned over to Warren and whispered, "I don't think they're going to go for your fabrication of the story now. I'll just go for the other thing I came up with. I don't think it can lose." Warren nodded. Josh straightened his bright blue sleeves and approached Lucy. "Ms. Walden, how would you define your occupation?" Lucy reddened, but recovered her composure quickly. "I'm an exotic dancer." "Yes," Josh said, "we've established that, but what exactly is it that you do?" "I dance," Lucy said. "I don't understand what you want me to say." "For what purpose do you dance?" Josh insisted. "Well?when I dance well I get lots of tips and stuff." "Okay, then how do you define dancing well?" "Uh, dancing exotic. Sexy. That's what the men like." "I see. So the purpose of your job is to do something sexy that men like, is that correct?" "Yes, I suppose it is." "Do you think you perform your job well?" "Well, yes, I guess so." "You guess so?" "Yes. I do. I'm good at it. Okay?" Lucy said. "So, at the time you invited the defendant backstage you had already performed for him, is that correct?" "Yes." "So, Ms. Walden, do you think it would be logical to conclude that the defendant was in an aroused state when you took him backstage?" "I suppose so." "Okay. Now we're getting someplace. Do you normally invite patrons backstage, Ms. Walden?" "No." "Why not?" "That's just not club policy. We only do it on special occasions." "Is being attracted to one of your patrons a special occasion?" "Objection!" shouted Lucy's attorney. "Your honor, I'm simply trying to establish the facts," Josh said smoothly. "Overruled," said the judge. "Answer the question, Ms. Walden." "No, it's not. If I were attracted to one of my customers I wouldn't invite him backstage." "Why not? You've got a private, soundproof bathroom back there!" "Because that's poor taste. I would only invite a customer back there for an occasion such as a bachelor party, and I wouldn't mean anything by it!" Lucy cried. "Are you saying there's absolutely no chance in the world, that if you were completely infatuated with one of your patrons, that you would never ever in a million years use your feminine wiles to get him in that soundproof bathroom?" "Yes!" Lucy screamed. "Well, frankly, Ms. Walden, I don't believe that for a second," Josh said. "Consider this, Ms. Walden. Imagine for a moment that I'm in your position and you're in my client's position. Imagine that I've got a gorgeous female body and you've got an ordinary male form. Imagine I've gotten you as incredibly turned on as any male can ever reasonably expect to be. Imagine I've given you a gift that I, as a sexy woman, only give on 'special' occasions. Imagine that I've shown you everything being kept in this club to sexually arouse men. Imagine that I've led you to the back of the club and a tiny, soundproof bathroom that's perfect for sexual relations. Are you imagining this, Ms. Walden?" "Yes," Lucy whispered weakly. "What conclusion can you come to?" Josh said quietly. "I don't know," Lucy whispered again. "Well, I don't know about you," Josh began. "But the conclusion I reach?are you ready? It's this. I'm nothing more than a common whore," Josh snapped. Jackson Street late at night was a scary place. At least half of the streetlights were conked out, and had been for some time. None of this bothered Julia Fremont too much; she was used to walking the streets late at night and this time was generally the best for picking up business anyway. She stood under one of the few working streetlights smoking a cigarette calmly, knowing that somebody would come along eventually. In a matter of minutes, a beat-up old Chevy drove up and rolled up the front side window. "How much for a b.j.?" asked a deep voice from inside. "Twenty," Julia replied. "Get in," said the voice. Julia Fremont opened the side door and got into the car. And there was a little more justice in the world. THE END