Sharons early training
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A Woman In Full: Sharon's Journey Continues; Part IX - Disclosures free porn video
Part IX - Disclosures
Michael Chung was not what Sharon had been expecting. The clean cut good
looks, the expensive dark blue suit, crisp white shirt and striped tie,
all of which looked liked they'd just been donned for the very first time
a few minutes ago even though it was 8:00 at night - that she'd expected.
The clean, clipped cadence with which he spoke likewise did not surprise
her.
"Very nice to meet you," he'd said to her upon being introduced. "I must
say, you don't look like a guy at all."
"That's because I'm not."
"Really?? How did you manage that?"
"Um, hormone therapy, mostly, and..."
"Right. But you haven't been able to change your DNA or anything. Didn't
suddenly grow ovaries and a uterus, did you?"
"What the..." Jocelyn started, but Sharon put a hand on her knee.
"No, Mr. Chung, I haven't. But the hormone therapy, as well as
electrolysis, some treatment of my lips, has allowed me..."
"To create an illusion," he said. "A lie, if you will. All you've really
done is alter some secondary sex characteristics, then dressed it up with
makeup and stockings and dresses. Any DNA testing will show the
continuing presence of a Y chromosome. Science - objective and
irrefutable - would show you to be a man masquerading as a woman.
Correct, Mr. Boyle?"
"What the hell is this?" Jocelyn demanded. "Insult The Client night?!
It's bad enough to have to read shit like this! We don't need to hear it
from you!"
But if Chung was upset by her outburst, he didn't show it. Instead, he
calmly placed his legal pad, which was still blank, on the end table next
to him. He waited, not so much to gather his thoughts as to give
Jocelyn's anger a chance to dissipate.
"Would you rather hear it for the first time in court?" he asked, not
unkindly. "Because if we go to court, Ms. Boyle, you will have to take
the stand, and that is probably what your cross will sound like. Libel
suits can be vile, because it isn't just one person's word against the
other's, it's one person's reputation against the other, winner-take-all
in a zero-sum game.
"Jack tells me that he's already laid out the major pitfalls for you. But
Jack isn't a defamation litigator, which means he's never sat and watched
while good clients, sensitive people whose feelings have already been
trashed, take the stand and have their lives trashed in front of them,
forcing them to be a party to the trashing. He's never sat there and
watched a lovely woman like yourself come completely unglued after some
sleazy lawyer has gotten her to admit to things about herself that she
never intended. And I'm glad he hasn't because he's a good friend."
"But you have," Sharon said.
"Yes. Not often. Because the first time it happens, you vow you'll never
let it happen again, you'll warn them off, you'll prep them, you'll
inoculate the proceedings so it doesn't matter. But, still, it does
happen from time to time, and on those occasions I drink too much and
don't get enough sleep."
"So, why do you still practice in this area of law?" Jocelyn asked. Chung
smiled.
"Because I'm good at it and too old to learn a whole new area of
expertise. And because I've managed to make a good living at it after all
these years. And also because, every once in a while, you get a case with
good facts and a plaintiff with guts, and you manage to stick it to some
publisher who thinks that people's lives are nothing more than his
personal plaything, meant to amuse and contribute to his bottom line.
After cases like that, I drink green tea and sleep like a baby."
"Would it really be like that for Sharon?" Jocelyn asked.
Chung indicated that it would, and it might be a good deal worse.
"Then we're not interested," Jocelyn said.
"But..." Sharon began to protest.
"No! I won't be a party to it! Absolutely not!"
"What about KC?" Amber asked. "Would she face anything like that?"
"Not like that, exactly. But I would expect there would be lots of
questions about her sexual experiences, how old she was the first time,
who she did it with, who might be the father of the baby, how sure is she
that she even knows who the father of the baby is..."
"What does any of that have to do with the fact that they didn't have
permission to use her picture?!"
Chung exhaled slowly.
"Lawyers are craftsmen at making the conversation about something else.
Criminal attorneys put the victim on trial, or, if that doesn't work, the
cops or the law itself. In KC's case, they'd change the conversation from
being about how her reputation was damaged to how she didn't have a
reputation left to damage. No harm, no foul."
Amber stared at the floor. Jocelyn fumed in silence.
It was Sharon who broke the silence.
"So, what do you really think about us? What do you think we should do?"
Chung smiled and shook his head.
"That's not what I do, Ms. Boyle..."
"Please call me Sharon. And this is Jocelyn and this is Amber."
"All right, Sharon; Jocelyn; Amber. As I started to say..."
"May we call you Michael?" she asked.
"Of course. Now, if I may, I don't make recommendations to clients,
because it unduly influences them. What I try to do is lay out all the
choices and the consequences of those choices, then let the client make
his or her own decision."
Jocelyn seemed to calm down a little. Amber was looking on with interest.
"Make my own decision without any influence one way or the other," Sharon
said. Chung nodded. "But you didn't do that just now, did you?"
Chung asked what she meant.
"Your Rush Limbaugh imitation," Amber said.
"Actually," Sharon replied, "I did not mean that. I meant right after
that, when you asked me if would rather hear it for the first time in
court. They would never wait until a trial to spring that line of
thinking. It would come out during a deposition, or in counsel's
motions."
He stared at her. She gave him a little smile in return.
"And, I'll be glad to answer your original question, Michael. You are
correct that I only changed my secondary characteristics, and that my DNA
still does and will always contain a Y chromosome. But your conclusion
that my DNA scientifically defines me, without any chance to change, is a
flimsy intellectual trap.
"Do you like baseball, Michael?"
He nodded.
"Me, too. It's probably the only thing I still carry with me from
my...boyhood. I thought I'd left it behind, but lately I find myself drawn
to it."
"Really!" Jocelyn said. "Since when?"
"Since your hours have grown so long, and I've finished my novel and am
trying to decide what to write next.
"The thing about baseball," she continued, turning back to Chung, "is
that there are certain widely accepted principles of play. A left-handed
pitcher has an inherent advantage over a left-handed hitter; avoid having
the runner steal when your best hitter is up because it takes away his
ability to choose his best pitch to hit; never give an intentional walk
when it means putting the winning run on base.
"We take these as givens, but in reality, they are percentage plays. Yes,
the left-handed pitcher has the advantage over a left-handed hitter, but
if he makes a poor pitch, it could wind up a home run. The runner trying
to steal could pull the second baseman out of position and allow the
hitter to get one through the gap."
Chung chuckled and congratulated her on her grasp of the finer points of
the game. But he couldn't understand where she was going with it.
"It's the same with DNA. It doesn't define who we are, only what we look
like. It does establish some characteristics, but we do not have to be
prisoners of those characteristics. Some people have addictive
personalities and yet escape the horrors of addiction. Others are born
with learning disabilities, and yet manage to learn.
"Nor should our bodies necessarily define us. Sometimes, we must adapt to
the challenges our bodies present us, like the soldier who comes back
from war missing a leg, and yet lives the rest of his life fully and
productively. Well, that's how it was with me, Michael - my body
presented a challenge and I adapted to it. I couldn't live as a man
because that was not the kind of person I needed to be, and so I did what
I had to do in order to be able to live as I needed to live.
"Those who try to enforce their notions that our DNA defines who we are
really are trying to confine everyone to boxes of existence in order to
conform to their own preconceived notions - gender, race, ethnicity,
class. Well, I refuse to be categorized. Does that answer your question,
Michael?"
He nodded. He then explained that they could file the suit, go through
the preliminaries, and if they didn't like the way it was going, they
could always drop it.
"No," Jocelyn said. Sharon looked at her and smiled.
"Thank you," she said. "I love how you are always looking to protect me.
But I think we should. Not KC; there's no reason to subject her to all
this. But I'm going to, and I think you should, too."
"But if we lose?"
"There are millions of people who need us to try, who need us to refuse
to let them be the butt of locker room and cocktail party jokes. Let's at
least take the first step."
Jocelyn considered it, then nodded.
"And if you don't mind my saying so," Chung said, "you're a damned plucky
woman."
Sharon laughed loudly at that.
"What's so funny?" he wanted to know.
"I'm sorry. It's just that someone else said much the same thing to me
recently. I didn't realize it showed."
"Who?" Jocelyn asked.
"Justine Platt."
"You know Justine Platt?" he asked, leaning forward.
"I don't know her all that well. I met her at a tea not long ago, and
that's what she said when we met."
"Astonishing!"
Sharon and Jocelyn both stared at Chung, wanting to know why.
"Justine Platt just filed for divorce."
Market day. Sharon wore her sunglasses and straw hat as she made her way
down to Union Square. No photographers were around, but she decided it
would be a good idea, anyway.
As she walked, she had her eye out for someone else. She had not seen
Bart since the night of the attack, and she was worried about him. There
had been nothing in the newspapers about the killing after the initial
report, but it bothered her that she hadn't seen him.
"No, I haven't, now that you mention it," said the vendor who sold her
fresh fruit. "Not for a couple of weeks, now. Maybe he moved on, like
they all do."
She nodded and started to walk away. The vendor called her back.
"You got a really good heart, Ms. Boyle," she said.
"Why, thank you. But how did..." she stopped there. She knew, and the
vendor blushed a little. But then her face hardened.
"Just don't take any shit from newspapers," she said.
"I won't."
Jocelyn left the office early, saying she had "an appointment". And she
did. Having given her driver the rest of the day off, she went down to
the lobby and out the door and hailed a cab.
She told the driver to take her to Fifth Avenue and Central Park South.
"Ah, the old Plaza Hotel!" he said. "Picked up a lot of fares there in
the old days."
"Lovely place," she agreed.
He let her out at the corner. She crossed over to the south side and
walked west, watching the cab continue toward Columbus Circle. She turned
down Sixth and walked to the 57th Street subway station, went downstairs
and caught the F train to Queens.
She emerged in Forest Hills and walked a few blocks to a stately pre-war
apartment building. It had a doorman.
"Sheila Levinson in apartment 2-B," she said. The doorman buzzed the
apartment, and a couple of minutes later, she was face to face with her
"appointment".
She was an attractive woman - dark eyes, dark hair worn in a short shag
cut, with little frosted highlights. She was on the tall side, about
Sharon's height, tan and well-toned. She wore shorts that fit snugly and
showed her shapely hips and legs to good effect. Nails, both fingers and
toes, were polished a cherry red, eyes were highlighted, lipstick and
blush were underdone but there.
"Hi," she said. Friendly. But a little wary, too.
"Hello, Sheila. Thanks for seeing me."
The apartment was lovely - spacious, nicely decorated, with little
touches like full bookshelves, nice paintings on the wall, vases full of
flowers, and the New York Times on the coffee table.
"Sure. Would you like some coffee?"
"Yes, please. Milk, no sugar."
Sheila came in with two mugs.
"I need to know about a group of transactions from three years ago..."
"I signed a confidentiality agreement."
"Yes, a confidentiality agreement between you and the company. I am a
senior officer of the company, so you are allowed to talk to me."
"That's not what Mr. Holloran said. He said that I was never to discuss
any of this with you. He told me that the day I signed the agreement."
Jocelyn informed her that while he may have said it, it wasn't legally
enforceable. The agreement was all that mattered.
"Besides," she added, "if this goes to the SEC, the agreement will be
unenforceable anyway. If you tell me what happened and where any
documentation is, I won't have to ask them to talk to you."
Sheila got up and walked to the window, which looked down on the quiet
street below.
"You know," she said, softly, "the thing that really pisses me off is
that these high-priced assholes with their Ivy League educations come
barging in like Rambo, bursting with testosterone, and they shove the
rest of us around to get their way. If we try to stop them, they just
crush us and bump us aside. So, we give in, and then when it goes bad,
we're the ones who get hung out to dry."
Jocelyn laughed a little.
"You sound like my spouse," she said. Sheila turned back.
"Sharon. I've been reading about you two. She seems really nice, very
sweet. I can't believe you were willing to risk that for Kate DeVries."
"How did you know about..."
"She bragged about it. She was a whore. She figured after she bedded you
and Holloran, she had it made. She was so totally pissed when you fired
her, she went to Holloran to try and get her job back. Only he was just
as glad to see her gone."
"Why?"
"Probably scared that wifey would find out. Plus, Katie was at the center
of the whole thing. She figured that if she made sure the deal got done
the way he wanted it, things would be golden for her. The only thing that
shut her up was a trust fund he set up in her name. Bet he doesn't want
wifey to find out about that, either."
Jocelyn walked over to the window next to Sheila, who was standing with
her arms tightly folded across her breasts.
"Will you help me?"
Sharon was a block from the restaurant when she saw him. He looked
dirtier and more disheveled than usual, and she made a conscious effort
not to sniff when she got close to him.
"Hey, princess," he said.
"Hello, Bart. Looks like you put the money to ill use."
"Nope," he said, his smile growing warmer. "Still have four Jacksons. My
admittedly seedy appearance is due to the fact that I've been avoiding my
usual way stations. So, no chance to get cleaned up.
"By the way, what did you do with your shoe? I mean the one you still had
when you got home that night."
She told him she had thrown it out. He nodded his satisfaction.
"I saw the thing in the Sun-Trib," he said. "Sucks. But you're still the
nicest and most gracious lady I ever met."
He turned and was quickly gone. She walked into the restaurant alone.
"Hey, there, sweets!" Greta called out to her. Sharon smiled at her.
Greta had never hidden the fact that she found Sharon attractive. The
revelations in the Sun-Tribune had put a damper on that, but Sharon was
glad to see that they could still be friends.
"I do hope you're going to sue the bastards," Carol Anne said to her.
"Yes, ma'am."
During the course of the evening, she spoke with Jocelyn twice just to
check in, but it was obvious that she was very busy. She decided to bring
home something from the kitchen for her for a late supper.
"What do you have for my honey?" she asked Greta when she went in to the
kitchen for a break.
Greta turned to Christina, who often had a better idea of how things were
moving.
"Busy night," she noted. "Steaks are almost gone. The veal is moving
well. I'd say either the cod or the chicken dish."
"Cod," Greta said.
"No, that's something she'd want to relax and enjoy with a glass of wine.
But she's working tonight, so make it the chicken dish."
"With the mushroom risotto?" Christina asked.
"She'll scream about the carbs," Sharon replied. "But, yes, please."
By the time she got back from her break, it was almost eleven, and they
wouldn't be serving dinner too much longer. Justine Platt came in,
accompanied by a lovely Asian girl with lovely dark eyes, long, lustrous
black hair and delicate features.
"Are we too late for dinner?"
"No," Sharon said with a laugh. "We're still serving until midnight."
"Then Joy and I will be happy to take any table where you'll have us."
The Asian girl gave her a brilliant smile and extended her hand.
"You're Sharon, yes?"
"That's me. Nice to meet you, Joy."
"Very nice to meet you, too. You're as lovely as Justine said."
"Thank you. You're quite lovely."
There was something odd about the way Joy was looking at her. Sharon
showed them to one of Lola's tables, and throughout the course of their
dinner, she stopped back twice to ask if everything was all right. Joy
was still looking at her as if sizing her up.
"Everything is wonderful," Justine said. "As it always is, here."
"Think she's gonna leave as big a tip as last time?" Lola asked as she
swung by Sharon's station.
"I doubt that. But it will probably still be pretty good."
"Well, one thing I know for sure. They both want a piece of you."
Sharon blushed and waved her away. Lola came back a short while later
with the bill and the credit card. Sharon ran it through and gave the
slip to Lola, and when she came back, Sharon saw a 40% tip.
"She must know you get some," Lola said, teasing her with her eyes.
On the way out, Justine and Joy stopped by.
"We'd both like to invite you back to my place for a nightcap. Joy is
very anxious to get to know you...better...and, well, I've wanted that for
some time, now. I assure you that you will be greatly amused. You and Joy
have more in common than you might realize."
Joy was grinning broadly, and the meaning hit home.
"Wow," Sharon said. "I'm rather jealous."
"Don't be. She started much younger than you did and was raised to it.
Girls like her become much more experienced much earlier at other things,
too, back in Bangkok. I'm sure she could teach you a few things."
Sharon blushed deeply.
"I owe you a great deal," Justine added.
"I think I may owe you more than you owe me. But I could never cheat on
Jocelyn. I did once, but only when I thought it was over between us."
Justine gazed into her eyes.
"You owe me nothing at all, my dear. I hope our paths cross again some
time, and that we can still be friends. I suspect the tide could turn for
you and your spouse. I wish you both the very best."
She turned to go. Joy gave a playful little wave and a teasing smile, and
they were gone. It was then that Sharon realized that Lola had overheard
the entire exchange.
"I know she's one strange bird," Lola whispered, "but I think I woulda
taken her up on it. Mighta been a night for the books."
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