Chapter Two

Then there was AT’s reaction when she initiated her sexual harassment suit. Privately she admitted that the lawsuit was really initiated at the behest of Katherine McCarthy, her attorney. The woman had contacted her, met with her several times, and finally convinced her that she was being victimized. Moreover, Katherine had clippings reporting eight prior harassment court victories, each of which carried settlements of at least six figures, while one had crossed into seven digits.

But when the lawsuit was filed, even McCarthy was amazed at what happened next: The company had put her on a paid leave of absence. Candy was drawing full pay even though she hadn’t been near the office in more than a month. Furthermore, it had been made clear to her that the situation would continue until the issues had been resolved or until she asked to return to work. Already she had been out for six weeks, but the paychecks continued to arrive in her bank account with pleasing regularity.

Finally, she got out of bed and went into the bathroom. There was a full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, and Candy examined the reflection of her body in it. For no reason she could explain to herself, let alone to anyone else, she had been plucking her pubic hair until now she had a hairless groin except for a dense and very neat patch of curly hair above her slit. Looking upward, she grimaced as she studied her breasts for the umpteenth time. She glared at her reflection when she noticed that — as usual — her nipples were as hard as pencil erasers and fully extended. Candy didn’t know why this happened, but having erect nipples seemed to be her normal condition.

After showering and washing her hair, she towel-dried it and then followed with the electric dryer. Her hair was brown, but it had the usual collection of sun streaks through it. The streaks were in every color from brown through gold, and almost to platinum. Since she wore her hair in an urchin cut, the overall effect was breathtaking. Unfortunately, the whole effect was lost because of her misshapen mouth. Beyond that, though, had her teeth and jaw been normal, Candy would still have dismissed her physical appearance out of hand.

Finally, Candy ran a towel slowly between her legs. Although she never masturbated, she loved the feeling of the terrycloth chafing her clit, which came out from its hood to welcome its daily visitor. Although it had not been a part of her thinking at the time, the wonderful sensation had been heightened since she had plucked her pubic hair. Again she felt that wonderful sensation in her cunt as it responded to the momentary stimulation.

I wonder what a man’s cock would feel like? she wondered. Or a penis? But I guess it’s called a cock when it’s erect. As if the sight of my body could ever give a man an erection! she concluded sardonically. As she returned to her bedroom, she totally ignored the magnificent appearance of her deeply-tanned body. Another result of her leave of absence had been the fact that she could — and did — spend a lot of time at her health club. There she worked out, swam, and spent time in the tanning machine. Now she was golden all over.

Candy’s initial thought had been to dress for her meeting, but she changed her mind. She decided that, for shock effect, she would wear only well-worn Levi’s and a ragged old work shirt. The meeting was scheduled for eleven o’clock at the offices of Clifford & Jamison, the attorneys for AT. Although she had expected Katherine McCarthy to be with her, she was surprised to learn that she would be alone. Katherine had explained that she didn’t want to be there and possibly tip off her trial tactics by saying the wrong thing. Therefore, her meeting was with Sandra Harris and the mediator, Iris Kaplan.

Leaving her garden apartment, Candy went to her car. As a mechanical engineer, she kept her car in good mechanical condition, although she admitted to herself that it was on its last legs. It was so old, it was a Datsun; when it was built, that was the name Nissan was still using for its cars sold in the United States. Moreover, because of its age and diminutive size, it was not air-conditioned. In the Los Angeles heat this was something Candy missed, although she had been driving the car for so long she had become used to it.

When she arrived at the Clifford & Jamison office building, she let out a soft whistle. Clearly this was not Los Angeles’s low-rent district. Furthermore, she was grateful for the detailed instructions she had received complete with an invitation to park in space number 15 in the building’s basement garage. Locating the space, she realized that there were a number of other numbered spaces that were vacant. The puzzling factor, though, was that there were also five spaces designated for Clifford & Jamison visitors. Why am I not in one of those? she wondered.