Copyright © 1993, 2005, 2013 by Morgan. All Rights Reserved
Sex Story: Chapter 12 - Kathy is married to a hero, but now she learns how truly heroic he was. Part of the Ali Clifford saga, parallel in time with Allison. The later chapters -- those recently posted -- are, in effect, a book within a book with its own characters. The reasons for not making it a freestanding book are two. First, it uses many of the same characters. Second, and more importantly, it will clean up some loose ends regarding Kathy Carlson.
Driving in to work the next morning, Kathy felt wonderful. Reflecting on her life with Ken it seemed that each night was better than the one before. Last night had been the very best. Gently, she ran her fingers up her sore crotch and softly moaned, remembering. Ginger had certainly been right: The more she worked to increase Ken's enjoyment, the greater was her own pleasure. Going up in the elevator she realized she was a little late: It was already eight-fifteen. Entering the office, she saw Judy looking grim. She was told that Mrs. Clifford wanted to see her immediately.
Filled with foreboding — Judy never referred to Ali as Mrs. Clifford — she went to Ali's office and found the door closed. After knocking, she went in and found Ginger sitting there along with Sandy. Ali was behind her desk, glaring at her. Her first words were, "Mrs. Carlson, what in hell have you been doing?"
"Ma'am?" she replied with a question in her voice. "I ... I met with Mike and Jim Duffy at their club. We finished up at five and I went home ... I don't understand."
"Young lady, do you know what your clients did last night? Do you?" Ali demanded. Kathy just stood there in front of the desk and realized her knees were shaking. She just shook her head. "Those two idiots left the club after dinner and went to the most expensive whorehouse in Los Angeles. After inspecting every girl there, they selected the closest two and spent the whole night fucking them — at fifteen-hundred dollars each. That's what they did!
"You may have heard the quotes around 'the closest two, ' and wondered, closest to what? The answer, of course? The closest to Kathy Carlson! And you know what else? None were close. Woman, what did you do to them last night to drive them into the arms of whores?"
Kathy just shook her head. Although she wanted to sit down because her knees were feeling so weak, she realized that would be the worst thing she could possibly do. Now, although she was truly frightened, she straightened her back and stood up straight.
While she was talking, Ali's eyes had been flashing blue fire. Now she continued, "You may have noticed I said clients — plural. If you can believe it, those two idiots called me while they're still naked in bed with the girls — they claimed both girls were knocked out, anyway.
"We have been retained as counsel by Pacific Construction on a special basis: We represent them on all contract matters except those involving Higgins Construction. It is mutually agreed — both of those idiots were on the phone together — that if Higgins is involved, it is our client. Our fee is $200,000 per month..."
Just then there was a quiet knock on the door. Judy almost tiptoed in and gave Ali an envelope murmuring, "This was just delivered by special messenger, ma'am." Leaving just as quietly as she entered, she silently closed the door while Ali opened the envelope, peered inside, shook her head sadly and just placed it on her desk. She had not removed whatever was inside.
"Do you know what this is?" she asked caustically. Again Kathy merely shook her head. "It's a fucking cashier's check on Bank of America for two-hundred grand." She checked her watch and shook her head again. "How Duffy ever got a cashier's check at eight-thirty in the morning is beyond me."
Now she was really glaring. As she was about to speak, her phone buzzed. Kathy knew that Judy would not disturb the meeting for anything but the most important matters. Ali punched the intercom button, listened for a moment and then punched a flashing line button.
"This is Ali Clifford. How may I help you?" As she spoke she punched another button turning on the phone's speaker.
Everyone heard a furious male voice say, "Clifford, you have one hell of a nerve!"
"I beg your pardon," Ali interrupted politely. "To whom am I speaking?"
The voice identified himself as Homer Biggs, managing partner of one of the largest law firms in town. He had just gotten off the phone with Jim Duffy, the firm's largest client, having been told that the firm was dismissed forthwith and all Pacific Construction files were to be immediately transferred to Clifford & Jamison. With her voice very calm, Ali merely thanked him and said they would make appropriate arrangements to handle the files when they were delivered. Then Biggs blew his stack completely, accusing Ali of pirating clients and grossly unethical conduct.
"In what way was our firm's conduct unethical?" she innocently inquired.
"Why ... why ... why in taking advantage of our client. Getting him to sign a contract without even giving us a chance to review it. I'll seek your disbarment!"
"Mr. Duffy tells me that Mrs. Carlson's 'getting him to sign it' consisted of giving him a copy of a first draft to read. As a matter of fact, Jim was teasing me earlier that it wasn't even on contract bond paper, so he wants a reduction, at least in our expense billing. He claims that he was sitting beside Mr. Higgins. Mrs. Carlson gave copies to each of them to read. Earlier, they had discussions on the Pacific Center project — the first discussions they had ever had, as a matter of fact.
"Mrs. Carlson asked a few questions and left them alone for twenty-five minutes. Frankly, they thought she had gone to the ladies' room. When she returned, she handed them the copies and asked if the words were consistent with their earlier discussion. Each man read his copy. Then each man took out his pen, signed, and exchanged copies with the other.
"Now, Mr. Biggs, both Mr. Higgins and Mr. Duffy will swear to the accuracy of what I have just told you. In fact, they are the ones who told me. I have not even spoken to Mrs. Carlson about the matter.
"Furthermore, as you may know, we have Sandra Harris on our staff. I suspect you know her, or at least know of her. She is conceded by experts to be the finest trial lawyer in the State of California. It seems Mr. Duffy anticipated your call. I have been instructed to file for slander and defamation of character against both your firm and you personally if one word of this discussion leaks out. Furthermore, we will be representing ourselves as well as Higgins Construction and Pacific Construction in any such action."
There was steel in Ali's voice as she concluded, "Am I making myself clear, sir?"
It was obvious to everyone that Biggs was defeated. In a dead tone of voice he said, "Please forget everything I just said, Mrs. Clifford. I apologize. We will make arrangements to have all files delivered to your office no later than the close of business next Monday. Will that be satisfactory, ma'am?"
Apparently he thought it wasn't fully, so he added, "I will also send you by special messenger a letter from me stating that the new relationship between Clifford & Jamison and Pacific Construction was entered into following the highest ethical standards of the legal profession."
"Thank you, Mr. Biggs," Ali replied sweetly. "That's very kind of you and it is a very nice thing for you to say. I will pass on your comments to Mrs. Carlson. I'm sure she will be pleased." She hung up the phone and glared at Kathy. The steel was back in her voice as she said, "Consider it passed on."
Then she shook her head more in sorrow than in anger and asked, "What in the name of God is wrong with you, woman? Do you know what you did? Do you?" Ali demanded.
Kathy just shook her head.
"You closed a fifty-million dollar deal, starting from scratch, in less than one hour! Mike Higgins even said that the entire idea was yours. He was just interested in trying to get a contract on the job you've been working on. He didn't even know you knew anything about it, but then he remembered mentioning Pacific Center in passing as illustrative of the kind of contract that Higgins didn't have a chance of getting. And you get it — signed, sealed and delivered — in less than one hour!"
Ali looked down at her desk top in what appeared to be a visible effort to regain control. When she looked up, she spoke in a more reasonable tone of voice. "Mrs. Carlson, did any professional in Clifford & Jamison review your proposed contract? Anyone at all?"
For the first time Kathy spoke. "No, ma'am. You had already left for the day and Miss Harris was in Seattle. Mrs. Conrad was in her office, but she was sleeping ... dreaming, I guess. I saw the most beautiful little smile on her face and she was unconsciously running her finger up and down her slit. So I didn't awaken her." Standing up even straighter than before, she concluded, "No, ma'am. No one reviewed it."
"Carlson, law firms would be out of business by the thousands if we all did what you did last night. Of course, you're not a lawyer, but you have certainly worked in law offices. Woman, we bill for time! Where in hell would we be if every lawyer handled a fifty-million-dollar project in less than an hour? My God! I shudder to think."
Then she shook her head and said, "There's nothing else to do. You're out of here for three weeks — minimum!" As she said it, she turned her chair slightly and pointed her finger toward the west.
Suddenly Kathy heard a gasp from Ginger, and her friend exclaimed, "Oh, God, Ali! No! Please no! Oh please!..." Her friends words died off in a flood of uncontrolled sobbing. Turning her body on the sofa, she put her head on her arm and just cried with her back to the room.
Now Kathy was genuinely frightened. She asked tremulously what Ali meant. Sandy, although visibly pale beneath her tan, asked, "Ali, do you mean... Kapalua?" Her voiced was hushed as she spoke the last word. When Ali just nodded, the girl really turned pale.
Looking at Kathy she said, "You've heard of France's Devil's Island?" Kathy nodded once. "The Soviet's Siberian Gulag?" Again a nod. Sandy was so upset she could scarcely talk. Even as she spoke, her voice kept breaking and her words were intermixed with sobs. She said, "Kathy, Kapalua is at the northwest corner of one of the most out-of-the-way islands in the Hawaiian chain. I guess you could call it the northwest corner of nowhere. It's well-guarded, and is surrounded by countless miles of trackless pineapple plantations."
Then she shook her head and asked, "Kathy, do you remember hearing of a leper colony years ago in Hawaii?" The girl vaguely remembered hearing of one and said so. Sandy just nodded and said, "The island's in sight of Kapalua. Does that give you a hint about the kind of place it is?"
Then she turned to Ali and pleaded, "But does it have to be three weeks? Ali, I know a number of people have survived one week, and some have even survived two ... But three? Have you no mercy in your heart? My God, the things this girl went through on Saturday ... Don't they count for anything? Three weeks!? Please, Ali, no!"
Ali just glared at Sandy and said, "Look lady, you aren't a partner here, yet. Or are you asking to go, too?"
Sandy just collapsed, weeping. Like Ginger, she turned her back to the room, buried her face in her arms and just bawled. Now Kathy was so frightened she could scarcely talk. Nevertheless, she asked with her voice cracking, "Mrs. Clifford, could ... could Ken come with me? I will accept the punishment if you will allow that."
Instead of answering, Ali picked up her phone, buzzed Judy and said, "Miss Jeffries, make it two tickets. Mr. Carlson will be going, too." Then turning to Kathy she just pointed to a phone and said, "Call him. If he's willing, he will be picked up in..." Glancing at her watch, she estimated the driving time and said, " ... thirty minutes. He need bring nothing with him except the clothes on his back. They will be returned to him when the time is up ... Assuming you're still alive."
Glaring at Kathy, who was wearing the lovely dress from the night before, Ali demanded, "Do you have a pair of jeans and a work shirt here at the office?" Kathy nodded. "A pair of moccasins?" Again a nod. "Okay. You have five minutes to change. A car will be downstairs to meet you then. Don't talk to the driver, He knows nothing."
Just then there was another soft knock on the door. Judy came in looking terribly frightened. She said, "Mrs. Clifford, as you instructed, I tried to get the cheapest seats they had, but it's very late and ... and you said today's flight to Maui was a must, so ... so all they had was first class." Kathy saw terror visible in Judy's eyes as the badly frightened girl was waiting for the roof to fall in.
All Ali said was, "Oh, shit! Well, nothing else has gone right this morning so how could I expect that this would?" Then with a sardonic grin she flipped the ticket folders to Kathy and said, "I guess you might as well have some fun. And eat well. You'll need the energy."
Kathy quickly changed, carefully hung up her beautiful clothes, and then put on her Levi's and work shirt. She picked up her lovely jewelry — she had found out the night before that it was all 18-carat gold — and softly knocked on Ali's door.
This time Ali was alone. Putting the jewelry on Ali's desk, she started to unfasten her watch bracelet but Ali stopped her. "Keep it. Because it's engraved it can't be returned anyway." In a gesture of dismissal, Ali spun her chair around so its back was to Kathy. The girl left the office and went down in the elevator.
Going out the door, she looked around and only then realized that she had no idea what sort of transportation she should be looking for. Just then a uniformed chauffeur saluted and asked, "Mrs. Carlson?" She smiled and said she was and he opened the door of a black limousine at the curb. When she was seated, the driver ran around to his door, got in, and smoothly pulled away.
No words were exchanged. Clearly, the driver knew where he was to take her. Kathy was surprised when he stopped at the VIP drop-off at United Airlines. When he opened the door and she stepped out, she was greeted by a senior passenger services representative. "Mrs. Carlson?" Again she nodded, and the girl said, "Welcome to United Airlines. Mr. Carlson has already arrived and is waiting for you in our VIP lounge. Will you please come with me?"
Kathy was then exposed to a facet of airline service she never knew even existed. Of course, she knew of first-class travel, although she had never done any herself. As a matter of fact, she thought, this is the very first flight of my life. Then she added a silent prayer that it wouldn't be the last. Moreover, Kathy knew of the existence of passenger clubs such as United's Red Carpet Club. But she was taken to a special suite of rooms adjacent to the Red Carpet Club, but not a part of it. The representative introduced Kathy to a woman who was a special hostess who, in turn, took her to a private room. It was like a small sitting room with a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the flight line.
Ken had his back to the door watching the aircraft operations when Kathy entered. Replying to the hostess that she wanted nothing while they waited, she ran to his arms, explained what was happening to them and then broke down in uncontrollable weeping. Ken scooped her up in his strong arms, carried her to the sofa and sat down with Kathy sitting across his lap. He just held her tightly and listened to her cry with her face buried in his shoulder.
As he held her, she quickly quieted down. She remembered her words of weeks earlier: She really didn't care where she was, as long as Ken could be with her. Now she realized it was true. It really didn't matter where she was or what they might do to her as long as Ken could be there. Finally regaining control, she quickly told Ken what had happened that morning.
Then she just looked at him and he could see the pleading in her eyes. He lowered his mouth to hers and melted her with a kiss. Again she felt the wonderful electricity flowing between them. Everything was fine again. She was in her husband's arms.
When they boarded the plane, a trans-Pacific Boeing 747, they were shown to seats far forward in the first-class section. The seats were spacious with foldout leg rests and seat-backs that reclined almost to the horizontal to become like beds. With the need for all the between-rows space to accommodate the reclining backs, Kathy found she could not even reach the back of the seat in front of her. She was in the window seat and enjoyed watching all the ground activity. While she did, she sipped on champagne that the airline provided while they were waiting to push back from the gate.
The flight itself was very comfortable and they enjoyed the food and the service. Instead of watching the movie, Kathy reclined her seat and went to sleep. Since it was a war movie, and Ken had had a great deal more sleep than Kathy anyway, he watched it. After landing on Maui, since they had no luggage, they were the first passengers to leave the arrivals area.
They looked around not knowing what to expect. This time they saw a uniformed man with a neatly printed sign that said, "Mr. & Mrs. Carlson". After identifying themselves, he greeted them and escorted them to a limousine parked at the curb with its motor running. He did not act at all surprised by their lack of baggage but just got in and pulled away.
Although they had no idea of where they were going, they talked about it quietly and concluded that they were being taken to a boat or a light-plane airfield in order to get to whatever island Kapalua was on. They reached the west coast of the island and turned north, driving past an array of hotels and condos. Ken commented that it looked like Miami Beach with grass. When the road started to pass between pineapple fields that just seemed to extend forever, Kathy wondered, Could Kapalua possibly be on Maui? I doubt it.
Then the car passed through a gate-house where a guard saluted. Suddenly, the whole vista changed. From unbroken acres of pineapple fields, they found themselves in the most beautiful setting either had ever seen. There were manicured golf courses and what appeared to be small groups of condos beautifully sited to least intrude on the setting.
The car drove slowly past what seemed to be a small village and then continued up a driveway that swept them into a covered hotel entrance. The car had no sooner stopped when the door was opened and a tall brown-haired man wearing a blue blazer and grey slacks greeted them He appeared to be in his mid-thirties. On his blazer pocket was a strange emblem: a fuchsia butterfly — a Kapalua. "Mr. and Mrs. Carlson?"
They got out of the car and shook hands. He said, "Welcome to Kapalua. I'm Henry Wellington, the general manager of the property. It is a personal pleasure for me to welcome you both."