Harrys Ladies 3
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Harry’s Protégé Ch. 01 free porn video
Everyone has their good days and their bad days and on a sunny day in mid-May Harry O’Hern experienced both kinds of days big-time, making it an unforgettable day.
On that day Harry was promoted to the top editorial job at the newspaper The Sentinel, against all odds, really making Harry’s day. Later that afternoon Harry lay dazed and bruised in his company car, splattered with the blood of his fiancée beside him.
Some would say Harry killed Teresa, his golden haired darling as a result of his reckless driving.
An unforgettable day it truly was.
Harry couldn’t focus on himself properly at the newspaper next day because he had his own job to handle as well as the work of Sierra, his missing deputy.
Major decisions had to be made, reports compiled and presented and liaison maintained with senior staff as well as dealing with the police investigating Teresa’s road death.
Thus guilt and grief hung over him like a hovering shroud.
Then a big diversion occurred. A newspaper tip was received that four men had died underground in an unexplained accident at a local mine
The newspaper threw its resources at covering the tragedy and published some amazing pictures of the grieving widows surrounded by friends and family, their faces etched with emotion.
The city editor and his team were gloating over the coverage, believing it was superior to television and other newspaper reports including their upstart rival, The City Bugle.
Later in the day Harry posted a congratulatory memo on the work of those reporters but perhaps because of his own grief, he remained uneasy, sensing something wasn’t quite right.
That thought nagged at him for a couple of hours and then he reacted, calling a meeting with city editor Frank Ryan and the frontline team involved in reporting the disaster.
No one was able answer Harry’s question why mine officials had acted so defensively when questioned at the scene and failed to offer any explanation why the system supplying air to the miners apparently had failed.
‘They’re covering up something,’ Harry said, emphatically.
‘Oh yeah? You and I weren’t at the scene Harry,’ Frank the news editor reminded his editor-in-chief.
‘Well, just humor me Frank. I want a three-man team to investigate this – to scratch around the site as well as they can, talk to shift workers despite mine management banning all workers from speaking to the news media and then question retired miners, particularly supervisors, engineers and maintenance workers – and hunt down independent experts on mine air supply equipment.’
‘Are you sure Harry? From what you’ve said you’ve just given a couple of reporters a month’s solid work.’
Harry replied to his old buddy. ‘Make those three reporters, one a female to talk to wives including the widows. And Frank, give them up to two weeks to finish and you okay big ticket items such as travelling to anywhere in the country as necessary.’
‘Geez Harry that will blow editorial’s budget.’
‘Then I’ll find more money. And keep this hush-hush – we don’t want other media following our lead.’
Days of self-imposed mourning and the focus of monitoring the investigation curbed Harry from breaking out, ending up drunk.
He’d twice had a nightmare of indiscriminately crying his grief over the sweaty nude body of a former flame and then drowning his remorse next morning by strapping a heavy weight to his body and jumping into a river heavy to cruelly spread grief through his family by leaving them with his body to bury.
Not that he would ever do that to his family, come on!
Life sucks, as they say, he thought, muttering ‘God help you, Teresa’, determined after the burial of his late fiancée to try to resume life without Teresa being foremost in his mind.
He sighed deeply when thinking no more tomorrows were left for Teresa.
* * *
Harry Sebastian O’Hern was the older child of a financial markets analyst, Harry Owen O’Hern and wife Elaine. The oldies were in their late fifties. His stroppy sister Betsy was nineteen, in her first year at university where her mother was a lecturer.
Harry was almost old enough to be Betsy’s young uncle, being thirty-two and his career rocketing for one so young.
Betsy used to adore Harry because he’d won the battle for her four years ago to have her parents accept no longer was she Beatrice.
For almost two months it had been virtually warfare in their household – Beatrice the wannabe Betsy developed a rash and lost a couple of pounds of puppy fat during that stressful time. Several times the pressure almost overwhelmed her and she was ready to capitulate but Harry wouldn’t allow that.
Finally he won the day – it was their parents who folded and the name Betsy was accepted and the change registered to make the name change official.
But big brother heroes can lose their elevation, and so it was with Harry.
Betsy now disliked him enormously (although the venom was losing its sting) because Harry killed the adorable Teresa who was only three years older than Betsy and had treated her like the sister Betsy never had.
On the day of Teresa’s death, Harry was promoted to editor-in-chief of The Sentinel, the youngest controlling editor since the newspaper’s establishment by Franklin Q. Bycroft 164 years ago. The appointment was announced midway through a board meeting by company chairman Duncan Bycroft to the two contenders for the position.
Duncan hadn’t expected the news to be accepted without some display of emotion from the unsuccessful contender and that assumption was spot on. In announcing the decision to the pair Duncan almost had to run for cover, his beautiful daughter letting it rip.
Sierra had assumed that the vacancy for the top job, formerly called executive editor, was hers as she held the deputy’s position. On learning of the decision Sierra berated Harry for not withdrawing and foul-mouthed her father and advanced on him, hissing and eyes flashing before turning and fleeing from the chairman’s office in tears.
‘Sorry for that exhibition,’ Duncan said, shaking Harry’s hand and congratulating him. ‘I guess it confirms why she didn’t get the post.’
Sierra has not communicated at all to Harry her boss since that drama, and neither had she spoken to her father since the day he announced his decision.
When Harry emerged from his ‘cave’ he was aware Sierra was due back any day from ‘sick leave’ that she’d spent touring the ski fields of Austria and shops and elegant cafes of Paris, taking a tiny chunk of her parent’s fortune to buy clothes and accessories to pacify the suffering experienced in being leapfrogged by Harry.
He anticipated a fiery reunion.
* * *
On the day Teresa died, senior staff had gone with Harry to celebrate his elevation and from the bar he called Teresa to join them.
She was a paralegal at a law practice in which her father was a partner. She asked Harry to collect her from the office.
As they drove to the bar to party with Harry’s workmates, a truck ploughed into the side of the car, killing Teresa instantly, the impact breaking her neck and inflicting other severe injuries.
Harry escaped with cuts and bruises and shock.
It had been assumed by many people that Harry had been drinking and was racing back to join his boozy friends. The Sentinel carried a front page story quoting the CEO of the trucking firm that their employee driving that vehicle loaded with steel bars was an exemplary driver, accident free and had been the victim of a vehicle approaching the intersection so fast he’d no chance of avoiding the collusion.
Duncan Bycroft refused to accept that ‘garbage’ claim. He engaged a top defense team for Harry that included a highly-regard vehicle accident investigation specialist.
The specialist proved to the Jud
ge’s satisfaction at the preliminary hearing that the speeding vehicle was the truck, and not Harry’s car. Police confirmed in evidence that Harry had a blood-alcohol level within the permissible maximum to drive whereas the truck driver was significantly over the legal limit and also, contrary to a newspaper report, had a poor driving record.
Evidence produced by the police investigating team also established that the brakes of the truck were faulty, due to poor maintenance.
Charges against Harry were dismissed and the truck driver was remanded on bail on a minor charge of driving a vehicle without due care and attention. The truck driver was ordered to return to court on a date when the police expected to be ready to lay further charges including dangerous driving with excess blood-alcohol, cause death.
That hearing was weeks away.
Harry, of course, was distraught after the accident, knowing if he’d waited to collect Teresa an hour later when she normally finished work she’d still be alive.
Both his mother and sister had screamed at him that he’d irresponsibly driven Teresa to her death, adding to his despair.
In his heart he was sorry but accepted what was done was done. Teresa had been excited about his promotion and had urged Harry to take her to drinks with his workmates.
‘Under those circumstances, she wouldn’t have blamed you had she survived her terrible injuries,’ Duncan Bycroft had told Harry.
However, Teresa McGill’s parents were unable to accept that their daughter should have been taken from her workplace for such a frivolous reason, but they accepted the evidence filed with the Court that the truck driver and his employer were at fault.
Despite the evidence against the truck driver, the McGill’s made no move to tell Harry their daughter’s death wasn’t his fault and that added to his grief.
While all this was happening, Harry had to struggle to cope with his new job.
When finding his deputy had been granted a month’s leave by her father without reference to him, Harry had set off to the chairman’s office for a showdown until he halted, the thought hitting him like a brick thrown at his head: having the rebellious Sierra out of his hair for a few weeks was a blessing for him.
Smiling, he returned to his office, his respect for Duncan Bycroft lifting a notch.
The chairman was sly, arrogant, untrustworthy, a boozer and possibly a womanizer if rumors were to be believed. He was also ruthless but now Harry was aware Duncan could also be thoughtful. By handing over a big check and booting his daughter off to Europe, Duncan had removed a major obstacle confronting his chosen one in settling into his elevated high-pressure position.
Harry, who in pecking order was placed above all other company executives including divisional CEO’s, emailed the chairman:
Duncan: Again, thanks for your ongoing support during my darkest hours. I now realize why Sierra is not here. Harry.
The chairman would have smiled wryly at that message because it was his wife who’d inventively came up with the idea and pushed the distraught Sierra on to an aircraft to stay with relatives in Austria.
On the fourth Saturday after the fatal accident, Harry slept in till after 9:00, stretched, showered and emerged re-energized, thinking he should be enjoying a few hours of family time.
Harry’s parents lived in the country on a plot of land they grandly called an estate. The 18-mile journey to ‘Twin Oaks Estate’ meant Harry could take his pride and joy for a spin – a bright red completely reconditioned as distinct from ‘faithfully restored’1- ton 1939 Ford pickup also known as ‘The Express Delivery.’
It was now powered by a compact 1960s V8 engine, and updated with disk brakes, power windows, air-conditioning and a modern dashboard – the lot. His nostalgic focus was confined to the original body shape and whenever taking anyone for a ride in Jessie he experienced that romantic feeling portrayed beautifully in that film ‘Driving Miss Daisy’.
Driving up the long metal driveway, Harry spotted a small blue Ford parked in front of the house and winced. Betsy was home.
His parents greeted him with hugs and his mother asked was he dating anyone special yet. He made the mistake of hesitating – thinking about the audacity of that question – and that sent his mother going but he fended well. Finally she had to be satisfied with his comment, ‘Watch this space.’
Betsy didn’t even bother coming out to greet him but called out ‘Hi’ and didn’t hand him a beer when entering the room although she was carrying one for herself. Harry poured a gin and tonic for his mother and fetched two beers for himself and his father.
Lunch was a work of culinary art, and he said so, earning a charming smile from his mother and a supporting grunt from his dad.
As usual these days, Betsy the sour-faced bitch, answered him when he questioned her but didn’t ask him a single thing, she virtually cold-shouldered her father as well.
Right, it was showdown time, Harry decided. He waited until his parents went for their after-lunch walk, for once declining to go with them.
Betsy was sitting in the sunroom reading. He sat opposite and asked, ‘How’s you love life going?’
‘Fine.’
‘Male or female?’ he goaded.
She looked over the magazine, mouth slack. ‘Male of course if it’s any business of yours.’
‘Betsy, I want us to resume normal relations, the brother-sister relationship that until recently made us siblings who were fond of each other.’
‘No.’
‘May I ask why not?’
‘It’s because you callously destroyed the life of my dearest friend.’
‘Why deny she was doing something she wanted to do?’
‘Because if you hadn’t enticed her Teresa wouldn’t have been killed.’
‘Aren’t you being selfish about this, acting like a spoilt brat?’
‘Go fuck yourself, I’m leaving.’
‘Sit where you are!’
‘No, I said I’m going.’
‘All right but just answer me this: have you ever done anything to destroy a relationship?’
‘No of course not.’
‘Then what about Mrs Juliet Redmond and her two young children?’
Betsy gasped and turned grey.
‘H-how do you know? You’ve been s-spying on me.’
‘Initially it was a chance sighting, we were in the same restaurant on Marine Parade, but I ensured you didn’t see me.’
‘When?’
‘Almost a month ago.’
‘Yes we may have been there. How did you know it was Walt Redmond?’
‘Three years ago a photographer and I stayed the night with his wife and family. We were doing a pre-election profile on him. You should have seen him relating to his family Betsy. They looked picture perfect, but then along came Betsy after his election, and after his erection.’
Ignoring that inflammatory comment, Betsy spat: ‘You spied on me!’
‘We are members of the same veteran vehicles club, Betsy – he has a 1934 Nash-8 Coupe. I occasionally play golf with him in drawn partners and we are members of the Civil Emergency Communications Corps. I’ve seen him leaving meetings and social events and entering a car driven by you – his personal car provided by City Administration.’
‘Oh God, we both said it must stop but we can’t, such is our infatuation.’
‘You stop it, Betsy. Think of his lovely wife and those two sweet kiddies. Claw down and find your fortitude, that attribute runs deep within our family.’
Betsy looked as if she were about to be sick.
‘When?’
‘Now.’
‘What, now?’
Harry didn’t attempt to answer.
Betsy reached for the phone.
‘All right, what do I say to him, he’s difficult to refuse?’
‘Cry and say it’s over. Tell him I know if it doesn’t stop right now I’m blowing the whistle through The Sentinel.’
‘But I can’t cry. That emotion has never come to me easily, except when Teresa di
ed. I’m feeling as if I’m about to vomit.’
Harry ordered her to make the call – she was able to direct dial Mayor Redman. She looked at the phone and then rebelled, saying no.
Harry slapped Betsy hard, over the ear so the mark wouldn’t show.
She dropped the phone and clasped her ear, crying in pain. Harry picked up the phone and pressed the preset number and handed Betsy her phone. He left the room.
Two minutes later Betsy came to him crying and fell into his arms.
‘I’m so glad it’s over. I’ve been such a bitch to his wife and children and also to you. Please forgive me, please. I’ll try to be a better person, I really will.’
‘Of course, I’ve really missed having you close to me sis. We must get back to that status – if one can’t love their sibling, how can they love?’
Two hours later Harry left, his parents waving goodbye from the front terrace but Betsy walked with him to the car, clinging to his arm. She then kissed him full on the mouth, a kiss lasting several seconds, and as they parted Harry whacked her on the ass, watched by their astounded parents.
‘We’re brother and sister again,’ Harry shouted. ‘That’s all you need to know.’
‘Thank God for that,’ shouted their mother.
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