BSC09 the Fall and Rise of Jared ReznikChapter 14 Jared s Kind Offer
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Lawyers Are Hamsters Running On A Wheel free porn video
LAWYERS ARE HAMSTERS RUNNING ON A WHEEL
By Pirategrrl (c) 2000
1. YOU DON'T BELIEVE THAT MAGIC IS POSSIBLE IN LIVES LIVED WITHIN TRADITIONAL
BOUNDARIES.
"This is American Airlines flight 201 from New York's Kennedy Airport to Los
Angeles International Airport" the flight attendant said as the passengers
shuffled on to the 7:00 am flight.
Thirty years earlier, Robert Levy gave conscious thought to the meaning of every
movement. Every gesture was a carefully thought out method of conveying
particular impressions - his importance, his competence. Now, these things were
not second nature, they were his nature.
Settling down into his first class seat on the aisle, he was studiously avoided
studying the crew and other passengers. After all, he was Rob Levy, senior
partner at one of New York's oldest and most prestigious law firms. People would
come to him.
"Hello." It was the man the man next to Levy, in the window seat. He was in his
mid to late 40's. He was dressed in a Euro-contemporary style, lots of black,
shoes that looked like clunky deep-sea diver boots, and dramatically styled
small rectangular eyeglasses.
Though Levy had reams of paper to review, he enjoyed meeting new prospects. Some
of his best clients had been seated next to him on various flights.
"Hi," Levy replied.
"So, briefcase but no computer, dark suit, you must be a lawyer." The man's
lilting accent was northern European.
"Yes, as a matter of fact I am. May I ask what you do?"
"Oh, I am a producer. I guess you could say that I specialize in bringing
certain kinds of real life stories really to life."
Oh great, Levy thought, this is one of those Scandinavian TV producers flooding
this country with bizarre new shows. "Have I heard of anything that you have
ever done?" Levy said, expecting that this was the man who thought that locking
a dozen twenty-somethings on a bus for a month would be interesting.
"Oh probably," the man said. "I guess that you would call what I do myths and
fables; Medieval things that you don't see much in this country. But it would
arrogant of me to claim all credit on these."
Levy chuckled. "You know what never made sense to me about those sort of
stories? I mean, why these gods care enough to change human lives? If you have
that sort of power, you would think that they could find something better to do
with their time."
"Have you ever noticed people will step on an ant on a sidewalk just because it
is there?" The man said, his eyes gleaming.
"Only on episodes of 'America's Most Armed and Dangerous'," Levy said, wondering
if he could take another seat after the plane took off.
"Don't tell me that you haven't once just stepped on an ant just because it was
there. It doesn't mean you are a bad person, just that you had the power, and
you used it."
"I suppose," Levy replied, now engaged in the challenge of convincing this man
just how freaky he really was, at least until he could get another seat. "What
about the methods? It always seems like the magic that was done was done in some
goofy way."
"Goofy?" the man said, as though the word did not have a Swedish equivalent.
"Yeah, like some magical pot of gold, some golden fleece or some ring."
"You have described the challenge in all of my recent projects," the man said.
"It is so hard finding a modern relevance to my work. After all, most people are
just like you -- thinking that magic and fables are dead stories. The key is to
show modern things that have much older roots."
"Like what?"
"For example, all of 'goofy' things that you listed were gold. Maybe there is
something about gold that is magical. Think about it - why has gold always been
so valuable? It is pretty and hard to find, but why is it that every culture
around the world has chosen gold as the most valuable metal? Maybe they are all
on to something."
"Yeah right," Levy said. "The only thing special about gold is that it does not
turn your skin green when you wear it," he said, gesturing to his wedding and
class rings.
"And you don't think that your two rings are trying to cast some sort of spell?
For example, may I see your wedding ring?" Levy handed it to the fellow
passenger.
"Hmmm, look inside, at the inscription, 'For my love forever.' If that is not
someone casting a love spell, I don't know what is. Why is it so hard for you to
believe that someone may use the same ring to cast a different sort of spell?"
The man returned Levy's ring. Levy would later recall feeling perhaps a slight
tingling as he put the ring back on.
"Your other ring, may I see it?" Levy handed him a class ring. "Harvard, 1968 -
very impressive. Isn't this really just another sort of spell, a spell to give
you power over others, to show your membership in a particular society. Couldn't
this just as easily convey a different message or a different spell?" Levy
shifted in his seat to face his traveling companion more directly.
"Anyway, that is a very long answer to a very short question," the man said.
"Yes, I'm in the business of telling fables." The man chuckled and turned his
head away. "You look busy, and it was rude of me to interrupt you."
Levy immediately thought about the presentation. He and his least favorite
associate, Traddler, were off to Los Angeles to make a pitch to some dot com
wunderkinds, thinking about going public. If the firm were retained, the
engagement would be worth perhaps a million dollars in fees, and would get the
firm's foot in the door of the internet boom, which had largely passed them by.
Levy pulled the presentation materials prepared by Traddler from his briefcase,
and started to read. Reviewing the materials made him wonder why he had been so
hard on Traddler. He took every opportunity to criticize him, and the more
public the venue the more biting the criticism. Every big New York firm had to
focus on client service of the highest quality, and if associate eggheads had to
be broken to make that omelet, so be it. But something was different about
Traddler. Levy went out of his way to criticize, and went for the jugular when
he did.
Flipping another page, he realized how tired he was. He picked up the
presentation, with his comments and walked back to the coach cabin where
Traddler was. Handing him the stack of papers, he saw Traddler almost trembling,
fearing another eruption of Mount Levy.
"Good job. Just make those changes, and we should be all set."
Exhaling visibly, Traddler pulled out his laptop and started to work as Levy
went back to first class.
Levy pulled out a stack of billing reports, and after a few pages, Levy's head
went forward as he dozed off.
2. I DON'T SLEEP I DREAM
"The Captain has turned on the seat belt sign indicating that we have begun our
final descent into Los Angeles. Please pass your remaining service items to a
flight attendant as we collect them."
Levy woke up, and realized that he had slept far longer than he had intended,
still had so much work to finish before the meeting. He reached down towards his
bag, and realized that everything felt different.
He was dizzy, and it sounded like head was in a bag. Then he felt the weight on
his chest, not tremendous, but noticeable. When he next felt the tightness
around his chest, his personal diagnosis of heart attack was confirmed.
Oh god, he thought, my wife was right! I have worked too hard, and I am having a
heart attack. He struggled to get up, and realized that his seat belt was
fastened. Unbuckling it, he stumbled as if on stilts to the bathroom, thinking
that he did not want to die so publicly.
He closed the bathroom door, and saw that a woman was already in there. Great,
he thought, first I have a heart attack, and then I walk into a restroom because
some woman was too stupid to lock the door. He started to apologize, but was
shocked that his voice came out as a squeak, just as collapsed toward the
toilet.
I can just see the headlines now, he thought, kneeling on the floor. Bob Levy
has a heart attack in an airplane bathroom with a some woman, making it sound
like he was joining the "mile high club" when his heart gave out; this is going
to get as much publicity as the Cravath guy who was strangled by the gay
prostitute. It wouldn't matter that he had the heart attack before he walked
into the bathroom. No, the legal press would still love this story.
Ok just sit down, he thought. I'll catch my breath, and think this out. People
have heart attacks all the time, and everyone saw that I just walked in
accidentally. Just apologize to the woman, catch my breath, and everything will
be fine.
"I'm sorry for..." His voice sounded so distant, so high.
He opened his eyes and looked in the mirror. He was alone with the woman. No, he
was alone and he was the woman.
He blinked and the reflection blinked. He smiled, and the broad white teeth
shined. He put his fingers in his mouth, and pulled his cheeks out in a way that
used to make his kids smile when they were babies. So did the reflection.
Oh God, he panicked. This is even worse. Now the headline is going to be Bob
Levy has a schizophrenic breakdown on a plane. All right, now I just need to
remain calm, and call Dr. Rosenzweig when we land. Sure he was just our marriage
counselor, but maybe he help. The key is to not let anyone else know that I am
hallucinating that I am a woman.
He walked slowly back to his seat, almost surprised that the only hallucination
seemed to be his belief that he was now a young woman. The luggage in the
overhead compartment didn't talk to him, and the man in seat 2b would have
tentacles and fangs. No, everything was still the same.
He sat down and exhaled.
"Ma'am, you need to put your seat back up," said the flight attendant. "Ma'am,"
she repeated more forcefully until Levy realized that she meant him.
"Sorry," Levy mumbled, moving the seat up "I don't usually..." his voice trailed
off.
"No, I should apologize, you look too young to be ma'am" said the flight
attendant smiling. "I was just being polite."
That shoots down the crazy theory, he thought. It seems that everyone sees me as
a woman.
Then it hit him: that weird son of a bitch who had talked about magic, and
touched his rings.
He turned to the man sitting next to him, an elderly African American, who was
staring at Levy's legs. Levy realized that he had not smoothed his skirt when he
sat down, and it was bunched at mid thigh. He smoothed it, and reached for his
bag as the old man smiled at him.
"I hope you don't mind" the old man said. "I was back in coach, but my leg
started acting up on account of being so cramped, so the stewardess was good
enough to sit me here in this empty seat while you was sleeping."
Levy looked around the rest of the cabin, but his former neighbor was gone.
He pulled out a purse that was on top of his briefcase, and started to examine
it. There was a New Jersey driver's license for Robin Levy, age 25. The picture
was the same as the reflection in the bathroom. Robin was cute, in a way that
men would like, and women would not find threatening: medium brown hair, tapered
at the ends, and a few inches below her chin, pulled back with a single barrette
at the back of her head.
Years later, Levy would laugh remembering that he was more struck that he lived
in Jersey than that his name was Robin and he was female.
Levy continued combing through the purse and briefcase, soaking in the details
of her life. Robin was an associate at his firm, and had the same presentation
materials for Doggiewoofwoof.com that he had. It seemed that Robin was exactly
the same as he was, except that she was a young female associate.
As Levy reached that conclusion, the plane touched down hard, and started
braking.
She gathered her materials, and started off the plane, putting the strap of her
purse across her shoulder.
At the top of the jet ramp, she heard Traddler.
"Levy." There was a new tone in his voice, more forceful, more assured as she
saw Traddler walking up the jet ramp. "I still can't believe that you wormed
your way into first class. Give up that flirty 'I'm just a helpless girl' crap
that you used on the gate agent. It cheapens you, and the firm. Let's go, we
only have an hour to get there."
3. YOU ARE PARALYZED BY THE FACT THAT CRUELTY IS OFTEN AMUSING.
In the car, Levy started to think of this as a game. The challenge would be to
walk into that meeting, take control of the room, and bag the client. Levy knew
how to read people, and this would be a fresh challenge, like the time he closed
the Digexel deal with the 103-degree fever. Frankly, the grind of meetings
presentations and negotiations was getting old, and with two handicaps, being
young and being a woman, this would be a challenge again.
They arrived at the office, and Traddler and Levy walked in.
After the ritual handshaking, Levy was stunned. All of the old tricks to take
control of a meeting did not work. Holding the handshake just a touch longer
than usual just made three men think that Levy was interested in them. Levy
stuck close to Traddler, who was talking to the CEO, and tried to break in with
a few points. Each time, Traddler or the CEO would act as though Levy was not
even there, and continued in their conversation about securities law and sports.
"Why don't you go in an start getting ready for the presentation Robin?"
Traddler finally said.
With that, the Vice President of Business Development, whose hand Robin had held
a touch too long, offered to help.
Her cheeks were bright red as she lifted her briefcase and walked down the hall,
Traddler's laughter mixing with the CEO's.
"Here we are Robin," the VP said, holding the door. As she walked past, she
could just feel him assessing her from behind, like a 47th Street jeweler
looking at new merchandise. "You can set up right here," he said motioning
toward one end of the table.
"I know what its like Robin," he said, smiling at her.
"Oh really?"
"Absolutely, coming to a presentation that you probably wrote, and watching as
someone else swoops in, shakes the CEO's hand, and gets all the credit."
"Hmm, I thought that you were going somewhere else with that." She said, noting
the long lines of his suit, which was well made and flattering to a man who
worked out.
"Frankly, you guys have the inside track, we just have a few issues about cost
and experience."
"Is that so?" she noticed that he had come around the table, and opened his
jacket. He really does work out Robin thought.
"With a name like Doggiewoofwoof.com we really need to get respectability
however we can, and New York lawyers just scream respectability."
"That's funny, I thought that we just screamed," she said.
"I'll bet that you do," he said, looking at her like a doggie.
She could not have been more repulsed if she were at an autopsy. First, Levy was
disgusted that he noticed that the VP was attractive. But now here he was, using
awful double entendres. Why did this otherwise attractive man have to be so
blunt, and, well, male?
The rest of the officers came in, with Traddler in the middle of a story. "So
then my client bet me that if I could get the other side to give in on the
tariff issue, he would run around the conference room screaming 'goooooaal' like
a South American soccer player."
"So did you win?" the CEO asked.
"He even pulled his shirt over his head when he yelled it - and he had bigger
boobs than the women's world cup girl who scored that goal."
They all laughed for a moment, then looked over at Robin, busy setting up the
presentation and handouts. She knew enough about being a woman to blush.
Traddler delivered the presentation according to the familiar script, with the
potential clients nodding at appropriate moments, and asking a few questions.
Robin sat there burning - this was her potential client, her presentation, and
she was forced to watch like dinner theater. With each new point that Traddler
made, the potential clients leaned in further, demonstrating their level of
interest. As Traddler fielded questions, he would occasionally motion to her,
with a comment like "Isn't that right Robin," pausing for effect, but not long
enough to allow her to jump in. She became more and more frustrated, until she
realized that he was doing exactly what she would have done. Actually, he was
doing exactly what Rob Levy would have done, and Traddler was doing it well.
After it was over, the CEO spoke first. "Well Traddler, I think four things.
First, you understand Doggiewoofwoof.com. Second, your rates are outrageous.
Third, you have our business, and fourth, your rates are outrageous."
"If you have flipped three and four, I may have been able to do something about
the rates," Traddler laughed.
After a few more minutes of small talk, they all shook hands, and left.
4. YOU WORRY THAT IF YOU LOWER YOUR GUARD FOR EVEN ONE SECOND YOUR WHOLE
WORLD WILL DISINTEGRATE INTO CHAOS.
In the rental car, Traddler was talking continuously about how this client would
mean partnership for sure, and how this would finally make his name.
"Do you really think that just having a client will make you?" Robin said,
spiteful that Traddler had run the presentation and gotten the client. "I mean
aren't you more than the sum total of your billings last month?"
"I guess when you don't have any clients you say dumb things like that."
"I mean think about it, it is just a client, there will be others. Haven't you
really just bought yourself a ticket to some dance that just keeps speeding up
until you can't take it?"
"You are such a buzzkill Levy. Why did they have to send someone who would not
be fun at al1?"
"Ask yourself, is fun really satisfying?"
"Oh come on, now you sound like some conversation in a dorm hallway at three
am."
"Why is that so bad, I mean can you just not imagine getting away from what you
are doing?"
"I love what I do, I have worked unbelievably hard just to get here, and you are
pissing me off because you are just some weepy first year associate disguising
her laziness as philosophy."
They pulled into the car return aisle, and got out.
"Look, let's just call a truce. You let me enjoy this new client, and I won't
tell anyone that you are some herb tea sipping earth mother who talks like
regurgitated self-help books, ok? After all, that class ring means that you
graduated, and your days of 3:00am dorm hall conversations are over. See where
it says 1996," he said, taking her hand, and holding her finger. "Right there."
The instant that he touched her ring, they felt it. The best sort of leg falling
asleep tingling that started in their souls and spread outward.
She looked up into his blue eyes and thought that a lifetime of sunrises would
never be as beautiful as Traddler was in that moment. His arms went around her,
as she leaned into him, and turned her face upward to receive his kiss, gentle
yet fully confident. As he tasted her, his hand moved into her hair, cradling
her head. She learned the contours of her new body, pressing itself into him. In
the timeless moment of that kiss she imagined all of the possibilities of loving
this man, taking him inside her and pleasuring him.
They broke the kiss, and he started to speak, his mouth moving before he could
find words to fill it.
"Shhhh," she said, "don't ruin this moment by trying to talk about it."
Jerri
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