A Woman In Full: Sharon's Journey Continues; Part VI - Whispers And Shouts free porn video

Part VI - Whispers and Shouts Sharon was up early Monday, and so by the time Jocelyn came out, dressed and ready to go, there was a light, healthy breakfast waiting for her. Two places were set, each with half a cantaloupe, a glass of juice, a cup of coffee and whole wheat toast. The New York Times was at Jocelyn's place as well as the Wall Street Journal. "Nothing in the Times and nothing new in the Journal," Sharon said. "Too soon," Jocelyn said. "The Journal will await developments and then decide whether to label us as crooks or assail the SEC for overzealous prosecution. The latter is the default position." "Call me as soon as you know anything," Sharon said. Jocelyn wanted to know how Sharon was, and she said she felt much better. Inwardly she shuddered when she thought of that animal's hammy paw tearing at her panties. He'd just barely missed hitting... No, she would not dwell on it. Jocelyn had no room for anything else. Some mornings, they exchanged air kisses when Jocelyn left. Some mornings, Sharon wasn't even awake. This morning they held one another for several moments. "I love you so much," Jocelyn said. "I love you, too." "And I'm so glad about how your visit with Dr. Hadley went, yesterday." They held each other a little longer, and then Jocelyn was on her way. Sharon sat down for a cup of tea. Dr. Hadley had agreed immediately to see her on Sunday when Jocelyn had called and told her what happened. She first gave Sharon a complete physical exam, making sure that she had no after-effects from the head injury or the attempted strangling. "You say that he never entered you or had any sexual contact at all?" "Other than groping my breasts and my butt, no. He tore my skirt and my pantyhose, but that was all." Dr. Hadley checked Sharon's entire body for signs of cuts, scrapes or other wounds, but found none. "Okay," she said as Sharon got dressed again. "You were very, very lucky. I'm taking a little blood, just in case, but it seems highly unlikely that you were exposed to HIV or Hep C. "How did you manage to get away from him?" Sharon didn't answer. "Dear, anything you say to me is covered by doctor-patient privilege. It never leaves this office. I'm not just responsible for your physical well-being, but your emotional health as well. I need to know." Sharon told her about Bart, about what she thought he had done. "Wow," Dr. Hadley said when she'd finished. "I guess it really pays to give these guys a little something when you can." "Don't get me started," Sharon snapped. Dr. Hadley smiled at her. "I was just making a little joke. No offense intended. But this will leave you emotionally distraught, and you need to remember that you are living in a state of heightened emotional responses to begin with. "You've adjusted magnificently under the hormone therapy regime, and it's clear to me that you are very happy with your current status. You self-identify as female. "Now, you've been assaulted, nearly killed, because you are female. That has to have you asking questions." Sharon couldn't think of any. Dr. Hadley asked if perhaps she might be regretting her decision to change genders, and Sharon laughed for the first time since the attack. "Not in a million years." The doctor sat back at her desk and regarded her for a moment. "I'm glad. But you need to understand that your emotional response is still evolving. Different things will occur to you as time goes on and you will react to them, possibly feel overwhelmed. "When that happens, you need to talk to someone about it. Jocelyn would be best..." "No!" It was a door slamming shut. Dr. Hadley shifted in her seat. "Sharon, dear, you have been assaulted. You can't keep that bottled up inside you. If you don't talk about your feelings they will overwhelm you." Sharon nodded but said nothing. "As I said, Jocelyn would be best because you two are so close. But a good friend will do. And if you can't find anyone else to get comfortable with, you can always call me." I'm fine, Sharon thought as she recalled the conversation. Perfectly fine. By mid-morning, a steady rain was falling. Julie brought Bryan over, and militantly avoided the topic of the investigation. Amber stopped by. "What about Ty?" she asked. "He's doing fine. It's not strep, his fever broke yesterday, and he's his normal peeing self. Of course, that didn't prevent KC from cutting school to hover over him." Sharon and Julie exchanged glances. "And if she'd gone to school," Sharon said, "you'd have complained that she was leaving you with her sick kid." Amber heaved a large sigh. "I know you both approve of her, but you have to consider the whole picture." "Right," Sharon said. "And what I see now is a mother who is way too young but not hiding behind that. She's no longer the middle school slut prancing around in her VS finest. She's a concerned mom who can be surprisingly tough when she thinks she needs to be." "What she said," Julie added softly. "Well, neither of you see her moods. She can still be a sulky adolescent." "Well, yeah," Julie replied. "She IS an adolescent." "A lonely adolescent," Sharon added. "After all, how many kids are looking to hang out with a young mother?" "And she doesn't have any other outlet," Julie added. "Okay, okay," Amber said. "But neither of you is looking at what I think is obvious - even at her tender age, if she does find a guy to date, it's an express trip to the bedroom. There's no taboo left." "Is she acting like that?" Julie asked. "Well...no, I guess not." "Then maybe you can cut her just a little slack?" Amber gestured her surrender. Then Sharon asked about her mother, Paige, and Amber laughed out loud. "No sign of her, not a phone call, nothing. Completely MIA," she said with triumph. "Which reminds me, I have errands to run so I'd best be on my way. Later, girls." Sharon and Julie sat at the dining room table together while Bryan played on the floor. Sharon couldn't help but think about Bart. Where was he? Had police linked him with the dead body found on 20th Street? Why was he staying away? "Sharon?" She was jolted back to reality. Julie was looking at her with grave concern. "You look awful," she said, softly. "No," she said, forcing a laugh. "Just lost in thought." You have to let it out, Dr. Hadley had said. I must stay strong, her mind answered back. It was almost noon when the phone rang. Sharon looked at the display and saw it was Jocelyn's office number. She was immediately on alert. "Hi," she answered breezily. "Hi, darling! Sorry I haven't had a chance to call before now, but it's just been one thing after another." "When will you have time to talk?" "Try me at five. I'm going out for lunch." The line went dead. "Everything okay?" Julie asked. "I don't know. I have to call her back in five minutes on her cell," she said, having picked up on the code that she and Jocelyn had worked out. Jocelyn was still walking over to Bryant Park when her cell phone rang. "You okay?" Sharon asked. She was. Jack had prepped her well. He'd been right about Holloran not being pleased that she had her own counsel, and Randall Platt had gone to great lengths to try to convince her to allow HH&P to represent her. He had even made veiled threats that she could be implicated in any wrongdoing. "How is that?" she had asked. "For a transaction that was planned and executed before I even got here? Good luck with that." "I thought you were a team player," Holloran snapped. "Why, of course I am, Brad. You have always represented to me that there was nothing wrong with this transaction, that it was as pure as the driven snow, and I believed you. We're not changing at this late date, are we?" "I think we need to keep things in perspective, my dear," Randall said. "After all, we don't want anyone to get hurt. Now, the SEC, they don't care who they hurt." "Gentlemen, I have already retained Jack Mumford and his firm as my counsel. I did that yesterday. There is nothing to discuss. Unless, that is, there is something about this transaction that I haven't been told and should know." "No," Holloran said. "Nothing." "Maybe," Sharon was saying now, "you should have just resigned then and there." Jocelyn smiled, and was sorry that Sharon couldn't see it. "I thought about it. But it would only make me look like the guilty one. Besides, I would then be prevented from doing what I most need to do right now." "What's that?" "Find out what I can about what really went down." She was close; she came to that conclusion later that afternoon. She had given up for now on the review of e-mails and instead was looking over the reports to which the e-mails had referred, cost reports that allocated legal and other expenses to various lines of business. What she needed to do now was learn how the process worked at the nuts and bolts level without setting off any alarm bells. To that end, she had spent a couple of hours looking over the current cost reports and had found a minor issue that she could ask about. It was a little after four when she called in Tom Devon, the manager of the Cost Accounting unit, for a tutorial. "Sure," he said. "Glad to. Anything you need to know." He had proceeded to explain how cost adjustments were made to the expense ledgers, and how they were actually processed in the system. "When I look at the report," she said, "I can't tell if a particular expense for a line of business is the one that was actually booked, if it was allocated, or if there have been multiple allocations." "That's right, ma'am." "But the system knows." "The system knows everything." "So, if I wanted to see how many adjustments had been made to an account balance for a particular line of business, how would I do that?" "Transaction register. Here, I'll show you. Click on 'Report', then 'Journals', then 'Cost', then 'Quarterly'. Now click on the quarter you want. There you go." A list of adjusting entries for the first quarter expense allocations by line of business appeared. "So, if I clicked on 'Annual' instead of 'Quarterly', I'd only get the entries at year end?" "No, ma'am, you'd get the entries for the entire year, including any post-closing entries. It's a great audit tool that I'm surprised doesn't get used more." "Why is that?" "Because a lot of times, we have multiple entries going in and out of different lines, I guess as people upstairs change their minds about how they want to book stuff. Well, maybe no one wants to publicize that something took nine entries before they got it right, but you can even adjust for that. Under 'Options', click on 'eliminate duplicates'. That tells the system not to show offsetting entries." Jocelyn allowed that she was more inclined to print them out and then cross them out manually on the report, just to understand how they all work. "You can definitely do that if you want, ma'am. Takes longer, but you can. Just leave the 'eliminate duplicates' toggled to 'off'." "What about closed years? Could I do this on a closed year if I had to?" "You can, yes. So can I. Anyone else has to get IT's permission, and that has to be approved by the head of the Audit Committee. Even the CEO can't get into that. Also, once a year closes, no one can change an allocation. It's not possible." "And when does a year close? On the system, that is?" "No later than September 15 of the following year." "Really! That seems pretty aggressive, Tom. We ever miss it?" "Not since the system has been in here, and that's five years, now." He was about to leave, but changed his mind and turned around. "One other thing. If you're going to analyze any output from the system, whether it's in the cost area or even a group of transactions that you want to balance, one against another, there's an Export function that creates a spreadsheet. On the menu, it's 'Actions' and then "Export'." Sharon wasn't surprised when Jocelyn was late for dinner that night, but she was surprised to see her lugging a shopping bag from a midtown computer store. She took time out to enjoy dinner, but then spent the rest of the evening setting up her new laptop and a router, so that she wouldn't interfere with Sharon's activities on the net. "I didn't know there was anything wrong with your old laptop," Sharon said as Jocelyn was accessing her company's network. "There isn't. I wanted a new machine for a specific purpose. I'm going to use this only for what I need to do with this SEC thing." Sharon watched as Jocelyn opened some reporting program and began tapping away in earnest. "You know the safe I have in the basement?" Jocelyn asked without looking up. "Uh huh." "Do you know the combination?" "Yes. You made me learn it before our wedding." "Good. When I'm not using this, it will be in the safe." Sharon felt a shiver. "Isn't that a little overly dramatic?" Jocelyn stopped typing and looked up at her. "I certainly hope so." Sharon nodded her understanding. She returned to the desktop and, for what seemed to her like the millionth time, began reading through the novel. "Isn't it about time you contacted that woman Rod introduced you to at the opera that night? The one who's a literary agent?" "I've been thinking about it," Sharon said. "Stop. You're not thinking; you're procrastinating. It's ready. You're ready. Go for it." Sharon didn't respond. Jocelyn put the laptop down on the coffee table and walked over to her, placing her hands on her wife's shoulders. "We are facing a difficult time," Jocelyn said, "but there is no reason to neglect your writing career. You've sharpened, polished and edited that until even you can't think of anything to change. So...go!" She never heard Jocelyn come to bed that night, but she got up with her the next morning and found her eager for the new day. "I think I'm on to something," she said. "I'll need to use the printer tonight." "Sure. Anything. Oh, I'm working at the restaurant tonight. I'll leave something for your dinner." "You don't have to..." Jocelyn started to protest, but Sharon held up her hand. "You will not eat garbage, and you will not neglect yourself. You want me to get on with my novel. Fine. But I won't do it at the cost of allowing you to neglect yourself." Jocelyn hugged her. "Car's here," she said. "The laptop is in the safe. 'Bye, darling. Oh, and don't you dare come home by any means other than a cab that leaves you right at the door." "Yes, ma'am." It was 7:30, and Sharon poured herself a cup of tea and sat down in front of the desktop. She picked up where she had left off the night before, reading through. Twice, she stopped, tempted to make a change, but both times she decided it was fine the way it was. Two hours later, she went to her purse and fished out the business card that Beverly Colby had given her. She picked up the phone, but couldn't make herself dial. When it rang, she jumped and nearly dropped the phone. "Hey, girlfriend!" called Julie's friendly voice when she answered. "Wanna come over for a cup of tea?" "Can't this morning, Jules. I'm calling an agent about my novel." "Great! Anything I can do to help?" Sharon promised that if there was, she'd ask. Then she dialed Beverly's number. "Hi," she said when she had her on the line. "This is Sharon Boyle. We met at the opera..." "Rod's friend. I remember." "You had suggested..." "Yes. I thought I'd hear from you the next day or so." Sharon hesitated a moment. "I just wanted to be sure I was ready." "That's fine. Here's what I want you to do: write a one page synopsis. One page. Not single spaced, either. Start it with a single sentence that tells me what the novel is about. Send that to me with the first three chapters. Got it?" "One page synopsis, summarizing opening sentence, first three chapters. Got it." "Good girl. Ship that to me at the address on the card and then give me a few weeks, at least. I've got a shitload of work to do!" "Sure! Whatever you need." "If I take more than a month, you can call to check up on me. Normally, I don't allow that, but that's what being a friend of Rod's gets you." "Thank you very much." "Don't thank me, yet. I haven't done anything." At the restaurant that night, Maurice asked Sharon if she'd gotten home all right on Saturday. "Sure. No problem." It was a busy night, and Sharon was glad for it. Between work and the books, she was beginning to feel like things might be getting back to normal. She was nervous when she first got into the cab to come home, but by the time it pulled up in front of the house, she had relaxed again. When she came inside, Jocelyn was still at the dining room table working on the new laptop. There was a stack of fresh printouts, and she alternated between examining the screen and marking up the printed sheets. An empty dinner plate stood off to the side, and Sharon picked it up and took it into the kitchen. "Don't yell at me," Jocelyn said, not looking up from her worksheet. "I only just finished that twenty minutes ago." "That's what I should yell at you for." There was nothing further, and Sharon washed the dish and a few other things by hand. "How's it going?" she asked when she came back in. "This? I don't know. I kind of know what I'm looking for, but I'm not sure exactly what it will be when I find it." Sharon went to the bedroom and undressed. After she showered, she put on a nightgown and came out to read until her hair dried. Jocelyn was still at it. "Do you have to go at it like this? You're up now until one or two every night." "Yes. I don't know how much time I've got, but the SEC has already started requesting documents. The lawyers are fighting them every step of the way, and I don't know if that's the smartest move. Maybe for them it is." "How's Holloran?" "He called me this afternoon, all friendly. Of course, I was friendly right back. Didn't mention the SEC at all, just talked about the schedule for next year's budget." Sharon nodded. "Good. I'd rather he not be in attack mode." Jocelyn worked a little longer, then shut the laptop down. "When the eyes start burning, it's time to quit." "No, when the eyes start burning, it means you should have quit an hour earlier," Sharon said. "You working again tomorrow night?" "No, not until Friday." She saw Julie in the park with Bryan, and had a sudden, inexplicable urge to avoid her. Something felt very badly wrong, and she was certain it was going to get worse. Jocelyn was brave; why couldn't she be as well? "Hey, girlfriend!" Julie's happy voice immediately cheered her. It always did. She smiled and waved back, turning toward the park gate as she did so. Bryan was toddling about, as was another little boy about the same age. Sitting with Julie was another young mom, a tall, slim girl with skin like cinnamon. "Sharon, this is Tamara," Julie said. "She, her husband and son just moved in to our building." "Nice to meet you," Sharon said. "Very nice to meet you! Julie's told me so much about you! That's my little guy, there, with Bryan. His name is Benjamin, after my husband." The details flooded out - Ben worked for a Big Four accounting firm, expected to make partner any day. She had met him there when she first started working, they had dated for six months, then she'd gotten pregnant and they'd married. "We were living in a nice place in TriBeCa, but then he got a really great bonus and we decided we had enough to get a better place. I was amazed when we were able to find something around here. I love it here!" Sharon kept up the smile as Tamara kept talking. But the nagging feeling of something going wrong took a stronger hold on her. When Tamara's cell went off and she excused herself and left, Sharon was relieved. "Nice girl," she said to Julie, trying to smile. In her mind, she was back on 20th Street, walking alone, her footsteps echoing loudly, as if she'd been at the bottom of a metal canyon. He was going to rape her. He was going to kill her. Then she saw Julie staring at her. Julie was holding her. Because she was crying. The realization pulled her up short and she forced herself to stop. "What is it?" Julie asked, on the verge of tears herself. Oh, Julie, honey, if only you were a little stronger I could tell you. "You have to tell me," she said, her voice growing firm. Yes, I do. And she did. She decided on a tailored look for work Friday night. Grey pencil skirt, pink chiffon blouse, cream blazer, dress flats. She was just finishing her makeup when she stopped and stared at herself in the mirror. The red and puffiness around the eyes had gone, and the normal Sharon had returned. Normal? What was that? She'd stopped crying the minute she started telling Julie about the attack. She'd left no detail out. She'd paused now and then, giving Julie time to cry, to gasp, to curse, to offer an opinion. She'd done none of that. Instead she'd held her hands with hers, the pressure constant. Just like the support. And at the end, Julie had held her, stroked her hair, kissed her on the cheek. She'd told her it was all right to cry. But there'd been no tears left. Or at least none that she could spare now. "You're not worried about that thing with Jocelyn, are you?" The honesty button had been pressed. It couldn't be taken back. "Yes, I am. I," she went on, holding up a hand to forestall her friend's protests, "am very well aware that your husband will do his best. And I think he may succeed in protecting her. But she won't come out of it unscathed and neither will I. You and I both know that." Julie had nodded and held her hands more tightly. The dinner rush was more frenetic than usual, with no table remaining vacant for more than a couple of minutes between parties. The rush died shortly after ten, and Sharon was glad for the break. She went to the bar and got a bottle of cold water from Janelle. "Don't get comfortable," Janelle said. "Looks like you're not done, yet." She looked toward the entrance and saw a familiar face, an attractive middle aged woman with pale blonde hair impeccably coiffed and tastefully dressed. "Good evening, Mrs. Platt," Sharon said as she met her at the hostess station. "What can I do for you?" "Hello, Sharon. If you have a nice, quiet table in an out-of-the-way corner that would be delightful." "I think I can manage that, although it might be somewhat close to the bar." "Well, your bar doesn't seem to be teeming with drunken louts watching a hockey game, so that should be fine." "Just you?" "Just me. I adore Northern Italian cuisine." Sharon let her to a small table in the corner. "Can I get you something from the bar?" "A very dry martini would be divine." Sharon brought the cocktail from the bar. "Can you join me?" Justine asked. Four people were just coming in. "Not this second. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?" She seated the group, waited to see if there were any others coming in, and then sat down with Justine. "I can't sit for too long," she said. "I'm the only hostess here tonight." "Must be an exhausting job. Surely, you don't need it." Sharon looked her in the eye. "You already know I don't." She was surprised when the older woman smiled. "I was right about you, Sharon. I make up my mind very quickly about people." "And whatever else you've learned since hasn't changed your mind?" "Rather the opposite." The smile seemed genuine. "I admire you," she went on. "You are very courageous, and loyal, and a truly good person. Frankly, I don't see you and Darla Holloran in the same room. She is loyal, but only to her husband. And not at all courageous, as you've seen." "So, did you tell her about my past or did she tell you?" Justine shook her head and smiled. "Anything Darla tells me, I take with a grain of salt until I see it in print. And anything sensitive that I learn, I make a point to never share with her." "Sharon," Janelle called. There were two people waiting at the entrance. "Be right back." She greeted the couple and seated them near the front. She made sure they had menus and asked Maurice to wait on them. She returned to her station, saw no one else coming in, and returned to the little table in the back. "So, I take it you've come to deliver some kind of warning?" Lola brought the salad. "You want anything?" she asked Sharon, who shook her head. "Before I answer that," Justine said when Lola had gone, "may I explain something? In this world, there are some people I like, some I admire, and some I lust for. Rarely, someone is all three. "I sleep with all sorts of people. Most, I want something from them - information, usually, but sometimes a specific favor. But once in a while, all I want is the pleasure of exceptionally good sex - giving it and getting it." She stopped and smiled at Sharon. "You're coming on to me?" she asked in disbelief. "No, dear. I would love to sleep with you, because exotic tastes always fire my imagination. But I am well aware of your intense loyalty to your spouse, and I admire that greatly." She allowed herself a small chuckle. "Ah, I see. You think that I'm looking for a playful sex romp with you, in exchange for which I would sell either influence or information. I would never insult you with such an offer." She went on to explain that she usually knew more about her husband's work than her husband did. Much of the information she'd acquired in her activities over the years had been used by her husband, but much had been for her own purposes. "I've done very nicely relying on stock tips that came from pillow talk," she said. "A whole new approach to insider trading," Sharon said with a smile. "No, a very old one. But effective. "But about the warning, yes, I've come with one. It's not from my husband, or Holloran, or anyone else. It is my warning to you, offered as someone who wants to be your friend even more than your lover. "In one of the more gutter crawling tabloids tomorrow, there will be an article about the investigation. It will raise questions about the company's chief financial officer and her transsexual husband." Sharon put all her effort into showing no reaction. Justine looked pained. "That is not my characterization," she added, softly. "I'm quoting." Sharon stood up. "I have to get back to work. Enjoy the rest of your dinner." She tried to force the conversation from her mind, but couldn't. She wanted time to hurry, to get the odious woman out of her restaurant. But Justine took her time with her dinner. When Lola brought the check, she came back with the payment in cash and a thirty percent tip. "I know you don't believe me," she said to Sharon on her way out. "I hope you will, some day. I promise you, though, that I will do whatever I can to sabotage what my husband is trying to do. I can't promise that I will succeed, but I will try." She turned to go, but then turned back. "By the way, this is a lovely restaurant, and I shall recommend it highly to my friends and acquaintances. Good night, Ms. Boyle." "No," Jocelyn said sternly into the phone, "I have no intention of commenting on the story at all...no, that is none of your business." Jack Mumford looked pained. Rod and George both looked enraged. Julie looked close to tears. All had rushed over once they saw or heard about the story, which had appeared in the paper and then had been picked up by the city's local cable news channel. "I can't believe you can't sue them!" George said at last. "They'd love that," Jocelyn said. "Yes, they would," Jack agreed. "Just more free publicity for them. Besides, the paper didn't say anything that wasn't true. Even their characterization could be defended as technically accurate." "Jack," Julie said, her voice cracking, "just for once, stop talking like a lawyer." It was the comment that brought Sharon back in from the kitchen. "Jules," she said softly. "We need Jack to do exactly that. I for one am very grateful for him, and for all of you. I don't know how many friends we'll have when this is over, but Jocelyn and I love you all. Please don't quarrel." Julie came over and hugged her. "Fucking pigs," she said as Sharon held her. She broke the embrace and walked over to her husband and hugged him. The phone rang again. Sharon looked at the caller ID. "It's the Times," she said to Jocelyn. "Good Lord," George gasped. "Not them, too!" Jocelyn took the call. "Yes, I've seen it...no, I am not going to comment on it...I have no idea who could have planted the story...I could make guesses, but I'm not going to do that, and certainly not for the record...no," she said, her expression softening for the first time, "I realize you have a job to do. I will, thank you." "Will what?" Rod asked when she hung up. "Try to enjoy the rest of the day," she said. "He actually apologized." Jack said what they were all thinking - that it looked like Holloran was panicking, and the story had been planted to try to discredit Jocelyn. "I haven't said anything, yet," Jocelyn said. "No, but you insisted on retaining your own counsel. That was an open declaration that you don't see your interests as aligned with theirs." Sharon protested that Jack had suggested it precisely because Jocelyn's interests weren't the same. He chuckled. "I know. We all knew they wouldn't like it. Now we see what they decided to do about it. Frankly, I'm surprised. Seems rather puerile to me." Sharon asked if it was possible that they knew what Jocelyn was trying to do. Rod and George were taken aback by the idea; Jack looked thoughtful. "I suppose anything is possible," Jocelyn said. "Any system has some way to monitor what it's being used to do." "Look," Sharon said. "Can you all stay for dinner? Frankly, I'd love having the extra work to do, and it helps being among friends." "Only if you let me help," Julie said. "Okay. I just have to run to the store for a minute." She took her purse and dashed out. The day was warmer, and she felt comfortable walking in her white capris and sleeveless pink top. As she walked, she glanced down to make sure her toenails were still nicely polished, and saw that they were, and nicely shown off in her white sandals. Maybe it wouldn't matter. Most of her friends didn't read a paper like that. But if they did, what would they think? It had never mattered to her before, because it had never seemed likely that anyone would find out. She had told Julie, as she had told Rod and George, when she was at a low point in her life and felt she needed to share. But aside from them, and the one woman with whom she had had a brief affair when she and Jocelyn were apart, she had never been anything but a woman to anyone who knew her. She went into the butcher shop on Third. Frank was working behind the counter. That was good; he seemed like an easy-going guy and they always enjoyed some good-natured banter. "Hi, Frank," she said. "I've got an impromptu dinner party, so I need to..." She stopped. He was staring at her, curiosity bordering on hostility. "Frank?" "What can I do for you?" he asked, coolly. Her heart sank. "I'm looking for some nice veal cutlets," she said. He pulled out a tray from the display case. She nodded. "I'll take a dozen." He wrapped them up. "Anything else?" "No, thank you." He rang up the sale. She reached into her purse and pulled out a few bills. As she handed them over to him, her hand brushed against his. He pulled away quickly. "What am I, Frank? Unclean or something?" "Not for me to say," he replied as he placed her change on the counter, not looking at her. Usually, he placed it in her hand. She turned to go, leaving it on the counter. "Hey! You forgot your change!" She came back into the shop. "You keep it. Maybe someday you'll save enough to buy yourself a heart." She was numb as she went to the vegetable stand. The Chinese woman who waited on her seemed not to react, and she was glad that at least she didn't read the New York tabloids. By the time she was walking back along 20th Street toward home, she was starting to calm down. She saw Tamara in the park and waved. Recognition dawned on the young mother's face and she quickly turned away, making a great show of rushing off after little Ben. She was crossing Gramercy Park West and Alicia was coming out of the house. As soon as Alicia saw her, she stopped, considered turning back into the house, but then came on and met her just as Sharon reached the curb. There was no missing the anger in her eyes. "How could you?!" Alicia snarled. "How could I what?" Alicia spluttered. "Have I offended you in some way?" Sharon asked. "It's vile. Disgusting. Not only passing yourself off as a woman but then presuming to give me advice about my son when you suffer from the same disease he does!" Disease?! "Well, what would you call it? Disorder? Sickness? Malady? You're both the same, you and he. Not man enough to actually be a man, so you run around in dresses and pretend you're a woman! But that wasn't enough for you, you had to go and tell an impressionable teenager that it's okay for him to do the same thing!" Sharon turned to walk away. "How do you think he feels?!" Alicia yelled after her. Sharon turned back. "That probably depends on what his mother said to him when she first learned about it. If she was smart, she might have said, 'Well, now you know why she seems to understand your needs and feelings so well, and you can see one way you can go with your life if you so choose.' She could have added, 'Do you ever think about how you want to spend the rest of your life? Why don't we talk about it? Because no matter what you choose, you are my child and I love you desperately.'" "How dare you lecture me?!" "Someone has to, apparently." Sharon walked away. She tried to maintain good humor throughout the dinner, but it was hard for her. And by the time everyone left, it was impossible to pretend it was anything but a relief. She tried not to talk about it to Jocelyn once they were alone, but Jocelyn was persistent and eventually got the story out of her. Finally, Sharon went in and took a long bath, the familiar lilac scent reviving her spirits a little. When she got out of the tub and dried off, she came out to find the familiar ivory peignoir laid out on the bed for her. Jocelyn was sitting on the bed next to it. "I'm sorry," Sharon said. "I'm just not up for sex tonight." "I know. I just love to see you in it. And I know it makes you feel so pretty." Sharon smiled and relented. Then it was Jocelyn's turn to be sad. "I'll never be able to make this up to you," she said at last. "This is not your fault. None of it. You know that." Jocelyn nodded. She started to say something, but was interrupted by the phone ringing. "I don't recognize the name," Jocelyn said as Sharon took the phone from her. She smiled, recognizing the name at once. "Kind of late for a business call, isn't it, Beverly?" she said. "Genius does not punch a time clock," she replied. "I finished your chapters tonight. Love them. Love them, love them, love them. Get me the rest of the book on Monday." Sharon chuckled. "This doesn't happen to have anything to do with an article today in a certain rag tabloid, would it?" Beverly didn't answer right away. "No article, however titillating, can make a bad novel good," she said. "But even an old cow like me knows a good marketing opportunity when she sees one. It made me want to read it sooner." "So, you're saying what? That my novel might sell to the TG market?" She was not prepared for Beverly's uproarious laugh on the other end. "I am so glad to see you still have a sense of humor," she said. "Lord knows you need one in this business. All I'm saying is that if you publish a novel now, it might very well sell a few copies just because of who you are or even might be." "Oh." "Right. So get me those chapters, pronto. Capice?" "Yes, ma'am." "That's my line," Beverly said, assuring that Sharon enjoyed at least one genuine smile.