Message-ID: <7460eli$9801181716@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Morg105829 Subject: Kathy by Morgan (M/F) Chapter 11a Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Content-transfer-encoding: 7bit Content-type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: To: story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us From: morg105829@aol.com Subj: "Kathy" Book II, Chapter 11a (M/F) (280 lines) January 17, 1998 Thanks for the (mostly) friendly comments. This is the eleventh section of a book that runs 26 chapters. It is about half a chapter; it is divided purely in the interests of an upload. It should be attached to 11b and 11c as a single chapter. Readers are most strongly urged to read Kathy from the beginning. It will make no sense otherwise. I hope to have the balance of the book posted within a week or so. Comments (of any kind) will be appreciated. Contact me at morg105829@aol.com. Although this is substantially more tame than many postings on A.S.S.M., the usual disclaimers apply. Permission is granted to repost, but only on non- commercial sites. Please inform me if you do so. "Kathy" (c) 1991, 1998 by Morgan. Book II Chapter 11 It was a sunny June day in Norfolk. The temperature was in the mid-90's with humidity to match, and Kathy was lying on her bed staring out at the sky. She was lying nude, reflecting on recent events. She supposed that she should do something about studying for her bar exam, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She had just graduated from UVA law school and wanted to leave the books alone for a while. She thought about her decision to refuse the editorship of the Law Review. She had earned it, but she really didn't feel like working that hard. She accepted the position of Note Editor instead. As at Yale, she had graduated with highest honors. It was still unclear to her why her studies came so easily to her. She really didn't believe that her scores on the LSAT's were indicative of her ability. She had heard all the stories about the cultural bias on aptitude tests so she didn't believe the evidence of her own experience that, biased or not, they were certainly directionally accurate. Kathy's direction was the top. The law school recruiting season had been amusing. After her first year in law school she had interned with an appellate-court judge in Virginia. She spent the summer after her second year working for a Federal Appeals Court judge in Richmond. When the representatives from the nation's top law firms came to Charlottesville to interview, they all tried to interview Kathy Smith. Aside from it being good for their image to hire young women, Kathy had become a legend at Virginia. Her grades were distin guished as were the recommendations from both faculty and the judges for whom she had worked, so she was considered the top employment prospect in her class. When she absolutely could not refuse, she would attend a cocktail party or dinner sponsored by one major law firm or another. Young lawyers in the firm, brought to Charlottesville because they were thought to be able to "relate well" with students, were swarming like studs around a bitch in heat. Now, at age twenty-four, Kathy was a truly stunning woman. Her face, figure, skin and hair were all flawless. However, she treated them all with a subtle amusement that they didn't understand. Women were supposed to be flooding around and fawning all over them. In the meantime, the senior partners -- used to standing around, impressing the rabble, and sitting in judgment over whom they should deign to invite to visit their Firm's offices -- struggled to get close to Kathy without too-obviously elbowing their juniors aside. Kathy maintained her poise and appeared to be an ice goddess. Accidentally, she had discovered the most effective way of playing the recruiting game: Ignore them. The results were hilarious. At school she had a drawer-full of invitations to visit top law offices in cities around the country. In spite of never having taken an interview she received eight firm offers of employment. Most were from top firms offering top money. She wrote polite notes of refusal to both the invitations and the offers. Idly, she wondered if she had even bothered to save the letters. Her classmates never knew how she obtained her position. While representatives of the top firms were swarming all over her, she had written the District Attorney of Norfolk County applying for a position. The next day she received a call from him at her apartment. After convincing himself that it was not a prank, that she really was who she said she was, he offered her a job on the spot. She accepted his offer and then asked how much the position paid. She remembered the silence at the other end of the phone. "The position pays $17,500 per year to start," he said in an absolutely flat voice. "That's fine," Kathy replied brightly, "Could I start September first? I would like to rest this summer and get the bar exams out of the way, if that's all right with you." "Miss Smith," the District Attorney said, "I don't get it. Top graduates from top schools are getting up to $75,000 a year to start. Clearly, you're a top graduate and UVA is a top school." "You're right, sir. As a matter of fact, I just turned down an offer at $80,000. I didn't mean to upset you about the money; I was just curious. May I call for an appointment to meet you the next time I'm in town?" "Kathy, I'll be available to see you any time you can make it, and I will leave standing instructions with my secretary to that effect. You may be one of the great nuts of the Western World, but I am looking forward to meeting you." Kathy had an appointment to see the District Attorney that afternoon. Idly, she glanced around her apartment. The decorating wasn't quite finished but it was pretty close. The apartment was on the top floor of an apartment complex. Through a hidden door it connected to an exercise room and through that to her personal law office. The office and the exercise facility were actually in an adjacent building. The office building fronted on a commercial avenue in Virginia Beach while her apartment opened on a residential street to its rear. No one knew of the connection except the architect, the builder and Kathy. Of course, it helped to own both buildings. She was pleased. Both buildings were almost completely rented out. It was going to be quite a moneymaker, even if she paid no rent herself. She was particularly pleased with her pool and deck. Walking through her bathroom, she slid open the door and stepped outside. The terrace was surrounded by a ten-foot palisade-type fence for privacy. The pool was a narrow rectangle 25 meters long. Diving in, she swam in long, powerful strokes to the far end, did a racing turn and came back. Although she hadn't intended to swim, she was enjoying it so she kept on going back and forth. She thought about the problems with the architects and engineers. They had insisted that a pool of the size she wanted couldn't possibly be suspended. She pointed out that the Payne-Whitney Gym at Yale had a 50-meter pool a lot wider than hers up in the tower. The architect said there was no way such a large area could be provided with the privacy she insisted upon. She told them to consider it a challenge. The engineer finally allowed that it could be done but it would be too expensive. She archly reminded him that cost was her problem, not his. In the end, the architect was proud of his design, and the engineer of his accomplishment. Now both were miffed because she refused to allow it to be photographed for the shelter magazines or the engineering trade books. She pulled herself out of the pool and picked up a huge bath towel. Why did she derive such a sensuous pleasure from something as mundane as a large, fluffy towel? Glancing at a clock she saw it was time to get ready to meet Peter Mahoney, the District Attorney of Norfolk County. She wondered if she would have to live in Norfolk. Both Norfolk and Virginia Beach were city/counties. The borders of the cities and their respective counties were co-terminus. She dressed in a cotton seersucker suit she thought would be appropriate for the weather. Then she got in her car, drove to the Expressway and headed for Norfolk. Peter Mahoney came out of his office to greet her as soon as she was announced. Kathy was pleased. She hated officious people who kept visitors waiting just to show they were very busy. Peter shook hands and ushered her into his office and into a chair. Going behind his desk, he sat down and studied Kathy intently. Kathy sat upright in her chair and waited. "My God, everything I've heard about you is true! After you wrote and we talked, I checked at the law school. At first some of my friends thought I was joking when I said I had hired you. They confirmed the $80,000 offer, by the way. In fact, the guy I talked to said that firm was willing to go to $100,000 to get you. You are a graduate of Yale University and University of Virginia Law School, both summa cum laude. You are a beautiful girl. What, in the name of God, are you doing here?" "Mr. Mahoney..." "Everyone calls me Pete or Peter. I don't answer quickly to 'Mr. Mahoney.'" "Peter, I want to be involved in criminal law. I grew up in Norfolk. I heard that you have trouble hiring staff attorneys. I thought I could help." Kathy looked down at her hands which were folded in her lap. Mahoney stared at her. "You scare me, Kathy. May I call you 'Kathy'? You are the most beautiful girl to come into this office since I've been here, at least, and probably forever. Kathy, the DA's office deals with the scum of the earth: the rapists, the robbers, the muggers, the drug dealers. You name it. If it's a felony, we get them. And Kathy, they aren't nice people. A cheap hoodlum kills two people knocking over their grocery store and I hear these bleeding hearts bleating, 'How did society fail this poor boy?' I could vomit! Society didn't fail him. There are exceptions, of course, but there is an English word that isn't used much any more, but which fits: The word is 'evil.' Kathy, there's a lot of evil that ends up in this office. I'm not sure you can take it." Kathy showed concern. "Are you withdrawing your offer, then, sir?" Peter smiled. "Kathy, I'm not completely crazy. Of course not. You are the most highly qualified lawyer to join our staff, probably in this century. I take that back. There have been some good ones just passing through on their way to a career in politics. Are you headed for politics? I think you would get every male eligible to vote. Of course, I'm not sure of the women's vote," he added with a grin. "Are you a libber?" "By that do you mean do I burn bras and kick a man in the groin if he opens a door or holds a chair? No, I don't. I believe God made man and woman equal, but he sure didn't make them the same!" "Kathy, I think you may do," he said with a grin. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of bourbon and two not-very-clean glasses. "Will you join me in a drink to our association?" "I certainly will! With pleasure," she replied. Peter reached across the desk extending his hand. Kathy took it in a firm grip and they shook on it. Peter poured two stiff drinks, and lifted his glass in a toast, "To the newest assistant district attorney of Norfolk County. Effective September first, of course." He drained his glass in a gulp. Kathy lifted her cup, "Thank you, sir. I'm looking forward to it." She raised her cup and drained it without a sound. Peter's mouth formed a silent, "Wow." He continued to study her. "You'll need to get a weapon. We'll take care of the carry permit." He expected to get a strong reaction. What he got was the same reaction she would have given if he said she needed a new dress. "Would a .38 with a 4-inch barrel be okay? Hammerless, so it won't hang up in my purse?" "Kathy, do you know what you're talking about? I don't think you've ever fired a weapon in your life!" "May I use your telephone for a credit-card call, please?" Mahoney just nodded. Kathy punched 'O' followed by a ten-digit number; following a pause, she punched in her credit card number. A few moments later the telephone was answered. "Hello, this is Kathy Smith calling. By any chance is Dean Mansfield free? Thank you very much." A few moments later she said, "Dean Mansfield, it's good to talk to you. I'm calling because I have a favor to ask. I'm in the office of the Norfolk, Virginia, District Attorney. I will be starting in September as one of his assistants. However, I'm afraid he thinks I'm breakable. Could you take a few moments and tell him about the contest? Thanks so much, sir. He's right here." Kathy handed the receiver to Peter, sat back in her chair, and listened to the one-sided conversation. First there was a period of silence after the opening hellos as the dean told about the contest. She smiled to herself as expressions of incredulity passed over Peter's face. Then there were a series of questions: her times in the races, her score on the range: "Twenty-three bulls-eyes in twenty-five shots! Unbelievable!" and the encounter with Sophie: "How big did you say she was? In two blows and fewer seconds." He thanked the Dean for his time and for the information and hung up. "I give up. The Dean says you are the most remarkable person he has ever met. Incidentally, I think he loves you like a daughter. As far as the weapon is concerned, I was just teasing you, but now I think it is a good idea. I'll check with the plainclothes force and see what's good in women's weapons these days. I gather, you're not interested in a bra or a garter holster?" Kathy laughed and relaxed again. "Peter, I'm single. What do you think a guy would do if he was groping at my bra and came up with a .38? I really don't want to find out. The purse will do just fine." She got up to leave. "I hope to pass the bar before I report for work. In the meantime, let me know what type of weapon you want me to have and where to get it." She stuck out her hand, "I'm looking forward to working for you. And thank you for giving me the opportunity." Peter shook her hand and opened the door. He realized that he usually made a point of *not* opening doors for women. 'What is there about Kathy that makes it seem to be the most natural thing in the world?' he wondered. He scratched his head in puzzlement while he watched her ass subtly swing as she walked away down the hall. As long as she was downtown, Kathy decided to drop by Bob Ferguson's office. It was in a bank building overlooking the Omni and Harborside with Portsmouth across the bay. After parking near the bank she walked past the monument to the last encampment of the Confederate War Veterans in the square behind the bank. She paused and looked up at the statues of the Confederate soldiers on the monument and the names of some of the battles in which they fought. She thought of that time long ago when so many young men lost their lives each fighting for what he thought was right: preservation of the Union for the North, and States Rights for the South. She reflected on the war. She had studied it in school, of course, but later her interest had deepened. She used her spare time while at Charlottesville to visit many of the battlefields spread all over northern Virginia. 'There is scarcely a square foot of land here over which men's blood has not been shed,' she thought. She turned away thinking that about the only thing the war had established was that Lee's Army of Northern Virginia was the best damned light infantry the world had ever seen. 'These men were the crackers, the rednecks, the poor white trash. But God, could they fight!' Coming back to the present, she realized that the descendants of those men still made the most loyal friends and most implacable enemies. 'Anyone who unnecessarily gets crosswise with one of these people is fourteen kinds of fool!' Entering the building, she went up to Ferguson's office. She knew Bob was out of town on vacation but she was sure Mrs. Wilson would be there. Ferguson maintained an office for Kathy's use which she used mainly as a place to keep her files and records. She walked in, smiled at the receptionist and walked back to Bob's office. His was in the corner while Kathy had the adjacent office with a view of the harbor. Mrs. Wilson took care of any secretarial services Kathy needed. As she walked down the hall, Mrs. Wilson rose from behind her desk. She greeted Kathy warmly and followed her into her office, carrying her ever- present steno pad. Kathy went behind her desk, sat down and started to thumb through the mail waiting for her while Mrs. Wilson sat in a chair opposite. Kathy heard a sniffling noise and looked up. Mrs. Wilson was holding a tissue to her face and was obviously crying. Kathy rushed around the desk, knelt in front of her and asked, "What's wrong, Mrs. Wilson? What's happened?" At that, the woman broke down completely. She was crying as if her heart would break. Kathy helped her up and took her over to the couch. They sat down and she held the older woman as she cried. Finally she cried herself out and stopped, but Kathy continued to hold her until she could feel the heaving stop and her breathing return to normal. "What is this all about? Please tell me what's wrong." Kathy found a box of tissues and passed one to Mrs. Wilson along with the rest of the box. "It's Mr. Ferguson, Miss. I'm scared." "Before we go any further, my name is Kathy. What's your first name? I'm ashamed to say I don't even know." "It's Jane, Kathy." "Now, Jane," continued Kathy, "What about Bob? What's he done, or what is he about to do?" "He's getting involved with a woman. She's the wrong type. She'll ruin him. I don't know what to do," Jane wailed. "Come on, Jane. Don't turn on the waterworks again, or you'll get me started." Kathy suddenly understood. "You love him, don't you?" Jane nodded, miserably. "Well, what are you doing to trap him, for God's sake!" Jane's head jerked. "I don't understand. What do you mean?" Kathy replied, "If I loved a man the way you obviously love Bob Ferguson, I wouldn't be sitting here at a desk while he's on vacation. I would be chasing him. Where is he, anyway?" "At the Greenbrier," Jane replied softly. "Is this other woman with him?" Kathy asked. "She's not staying in his room, but I think she's at the hotel," she replied. "You still haven't answered my question. What are you doing to catch Bob Ferguson and marry him? I want an answer," Kathy demanded. Jane looked up in alarm. The poor woman didn't know what to say. Kathy asked her about her background. All she only knew was that Jane Wilson was a widow. She learned that Jane's husband had been a navy fighter pilot who had been killed in a training crash. She had started to work for Bob Ferguson shortly before Sam Jenkins died and had worked for him ever since. Kathy remembered that Jane had been wearing black the first time she met her, but had not previously made the connection. Kathy said, "Jane, those fighter jocks are supposed to be hot tickets. They fly and they fuck. I hear that every minute they're ashore, they're either in a bar or in a girl's body." At that comment, Jane shyly smiled and nodded, keeping her head down. Kathy continued, "So you were married to a fighter jock and kept him happy in bed. What happened to you?" Jane looked up, startled. "What do you mean, what happened? He was killed." Kathy could see Jane's eyes showing signs of new tears. "I know that," Kathy said brutally. "I mean what happened to you? Just look at yourself. I can't believe that you caught a Navy fighter pilot looking and acting like you do now. Stand up and take off your clothes!" Jane's head jerked up as if she had been slapped. She looked at Kathy as if she could not believe what she had just heard. Kathy repeated, "Stand up and take off your clothes! All of them!" -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |