textfiles/sex/EROTICA/S/settling.txt

SETTLING THE CASE
by Frank Lambert

   Cathy couldn't believe that she had been handed this mess.  She was a
very junior attorney at the firm, so why had Kerner dumped such an
impossible job on her?  Resolving the worst sexual harassment ruckus
the firm had ever suffered was a plum assignment, no question.
   A knock at the door of her tiny office roused Cathy from her cheerful   
speculations.  She looked up and saw Theresa Caulfield standing in the
doorway and looking thoroughly pissed.  The Complainant, and no doubt
about it.  Cathy had always admired Theresa's independent stance towards
the firm's male lawyers, most of whom she easily surpassed in ability and
drive.  Now, though, Ms. Caulfield was only a very definite pain in
Cathy's bum.
   "So you're the poor sucker that Kerner picked," Theresa addressed her
sweetly.  "What are you gonna do, buy me off?"
   Cathy almost tripped and fell as she struggled out of her chair.  Was
this a red-letter day or what?  "Please come in, Ms. Caulfield," she
managed to stammer out.
   "Come on, don't give me that Ms. Caulfield shit.  I'm not that much
older than you, even if you are two years out of law school and green
enough to be seasick."  Theresa stepped into Cathy's office and closed
the door behind her.  "Oh, I'm sorry for being such a bitch, Cathy,"
she continued in something approaching a softer tone of voice.  "I know
this whole damn mess isn't your fault.  But just call me Theresa, please."
   Cathy recovered to shake hands with Theresa quite professionally,
and they sat down in the two cheap little chairs in front of Cathy's cheap
little desk.  "Well, Theresa," Cathy began, trying not to let her voice sound
too tremulous, "Mr. Kerner has asked me to talk to you to see if we could
resolve your sexual harassment complaint against Mr. Jamison before you file
formal charges with the EEOC or take other action."
   "Look, Cathy," Theresa answered, "Kerner is an okay senior partner but
right now he's peeing in his pants.  He's scared that I'm gonna win a seven
million dollar verdict like that woman out in California.  I think Kerner
knows my complaint against Jamison is damn well justified, so he sent you
to act sweet and helpless and beg me please don't do this to the firm.
Well, I don't know how much you really know about my complaint, but let me
give you some of the gory details."
   Cathy was feeling like that prosecutor who always got creamed by Perry   
Mason.  She was painfully aware of Theresa's huge edge on her as a lawyer,
so she tried to say as little as possible as Theresa began to sketch the
history of her relationship with Ken Jamison, one of the firm's up-and-coming
criminal lawyers.  Cathy knew all about it already from the confidential file
that Kerner had given her--the refused dates, the insinuating and often
outright obnoxious remarks, the long leering looks, even the "inadvertent"
physical contact.  At least Jamison hadn't talked to her about pubic hairs
on coke cans, Cathy very privately joked.
   What impressed Cathy now was Theresa's calm, almost resigned tone of
voice, as if she were professionally detached from all this undoubted
harassment instead of its victim.  Theresa really was a pro, Cathy thought
admiringly.
   "So I'm not going to play the brutalized victim," Theresa concluded, "but
I'm not going to accept what anybody with any self-respect would fight like
hell against.  Listen, Cathy," and Theresa leaned very close to her,  "you'll
never get anywhere in this profession if you let anyone, male or female, 
push you around.  And Jamison's been pushing me around like a piece of meat
on his dinner plate."  And Theresa gave her a long, searching look, while
Cathy tried to find something to say. 
   She was suddenly, startlingly aware of Theresa's physical presence--her
handsome, intelligent face, not insipidly pretty but strong and powerfully
attractive.  And underneath her conservatively tailored cranberry-red suit
Theresa had a lithe body with enviable breasts and svelte hips and legs.
No wonder Jamison had the hots, Cathy thought.
   Cathy's mind also flashed back, wildly and ridiculously considering the
subject of the meeting, to those silly little girl games she occasionally
played with a couple of her sorority sisters in college.  Cathy thought she
had left that all behind (lesbian until graduation, right?), but now she
wasn't so sure.  And she had a quick, crazy idea that Theresa was guessing
her thoughts.
   The two women were practically touching toes in their chairs as they
remained face-to-face for what appeared an absurdly long time.  Finally   
Theresa said in by far the softest tone of voice that she had used, "You
really are so young, aren't you?  You're really scared about this garbage
that Kerner has dumped on you."
   Cathy felt the shift in Theresa's voice like a soft brush on her face.
"Well, I...," Cathy began, looking down at the floor for help which wasn't
forthcoming.  Then she looked back up into Theresa's eyes and surrendered.
"Yeah, I'm scared as hell.  I don't know what he wants me to do.  I don't
know what I CAN do."
   Theresa smiled.  "Maybe you can do this," she said.  And the two women
kissed, delicately at first, then more and more strongly as they felt their
mutual desire.
   Suddenly Theresa broke it off and nearly jumped out of her chair.  "Oh my
God, Cathy," she almost cried, "I can't believe I did that.  I mean, I come
in here to talk about harassment and I wind up kissing..."  Theresa ran her
hand distractedly over her hair.  "Please, I'm so sorry.  I have to leave
now.  Please forget this ever happened."  And she practically lunged to open
the closed door and escape.
   But Cathy was even quicker and blocked her way.  "Just wait, Theresa," she 
said, sensing for the first time that the older woman wasn't Ms. Perfect who   
always knew exactly what to do.  "Just wait, okay?"
   Theresa retreated a little, staring strangely as if she couldn't believe
that this little girl was giving her orders.  And to be honest, Cathy could
hardly believe what was happening herself.  It seemed insane and tender and
explosive all at once--except she was now in some kind of control.
   Cathy took a moment to compose herself as best she could, then looked at
Theresa as hard as she could.  "Ever since you came in here, you've been
treating me like some goddamn little kid," Cathy heard herself saying.
"Well, maybe you've got a surprise coming.  Maybe I'm as much of a woman as
you are."
   The words seemed grotesquely overstated, as if she were reading a script
by a particularly melodramatic author.  But they had the intended effect on
Theresa, who stood amazed that this piddly twerp junior nothing, who didn't
know shit from cheyenne, was taking command of a situation.
   Cathy walked up to Theresa and said, "And maybe I know what I want."
She took Theresa into her arms and kissed her as passionately and deeply as
she had ever kissed anybody in her life--and she knew that Theresa was just
as shaken and desiring and vulnerable as herself.
   "Cathy, this is...crazy," Theresa finally said after their long embrace.
"What if somebody walks in?  We can't do this here."
   "Don't worry," Cathy answered with a smile at Theresa's newfound
uncertainty.  "Before you got here, I told Liss not to let anybody disturb
us.  And if anyone gets past her, well, we'll just have to kill him."
   Theresa managed a half-smile but was still obviously worried.  Cathy
didn't care--she just wanted Theresa's trim but sensuous body next to hers.
So she kissed the older woman again, more lightly and teasingly, as she ran
her hands over Theresa's hips and ass and felt their smooth tense curves.
Although Theresa initially seemed to resist, Cathy soon sensed that her
excitement was building.  She knew Theresa wanted her, and the knowledge
was dangerous, sweet, exhilarating.
   Theresa backed away slightly.  She looked at Cathy with a mixture of
desire and fear, but then began to delicately trace the outlines of Cathy's
breasts with her fingertips.  "I can just imagine Kerner walking in on us  
now," Theresa said wryly.  "I don't think this is what he had in mind."
   "Oh, who cares," Cathy answered, "he's just some man."  And she took
Theresa's hands and placed them more firmly on her breasts.  "I wish they
were as big as yours," Cathy said.  "Your breasts are so beautiful.  I'm
jealous."
   "You've got nothing to be ashamed of," Theresa replied.  "Yours are so
young and firm.  I'm getting to be an old lady."  And she finally surrendered
completely to her desire and embraced Cathy with unreserved passion and a
wild wet kiss that was almost feral in its intensity.
   At last Theresa broke it off.  "I've got to go now, Cath," she said
breathily.  "Really, we can't keep doing this here.  It's too risky."
   Cathy held her for a moment.  "Then please come to my apartment tonight.
I want to be with you."  Cathy knew she was pleading but she also knew
Theresa would give her what she wanted.

   A half-hour later Cathy was sitting behind her desk and gradually emerging
from one of the deeper dazes of her life.  What had happened with Theresa in
her humdrum, sterile office seemed like wild farce disconnected from any
reality on this planet.  All she knew was that Theresa was coming to her
apartment at 7:30 that night--for what?  So she could seduce Theresa into
abandoning her harassment complaint?  Yeah, sure.
   Cathy checked her face in her make-up mirror one more time.  The two
women had gone through a funny, rushed effort to clean up their faces before
Theresa had left.  Cathy couldn't help thinking that it was a lot easier to
eliminate the physical traces of their encounter than the psychological ones.
   She looked up from her mirror for a moment and saw just who she didn't
want to see in her doorway--Ken Jamison, looking like he had been bulldozed,
compacted and incinerated.
   "Uh, hi," Jamison said uncertainly.  "You wanted to see me?"
   Cathy hurriedly put away her compact.  "Yes, Mr. Jamison, please come in.
And close the door behind you."
   Cathy stayed behind her desk and shook hands with Jamison as primly as
possible.  Ever since she had read Kerner's file, she hadn't felt a whole
lot of sympathy for this jerk who had treated Theresa like a slut, and the
subsequent events in her office hadn't made her feel any more kindly towards
him.
   Jamison slumped into one of the chairs in front of her desk, stared down
at the floor, and said nothing.  But his expression and body language
shouted one word--defeat.  Cathy could hardly believe he was the hard-
charging criminal lawyer who argued every case as if it were World War III.
   Oh well, she said to herself, don't go feeling sorry for this asshole.
"Mr. Jamison," Cathy finally broke the silence with an infinitely sharper
tone than any she had used with Theresa, "I think you know why you're here.
Mr. Kerner is extremely concerned about your actions towards Theresa
Caulfield and their possible impact on the firm.  Ms. Caulfield hasn't begun
formal proceedings yet but the consequences, financial and otherwise, could
be devestating."
   For the moment Cathy felt quite proud of herself.  She was being a genuine
hardass and enjoying it, especially Jamison's ridiculous hangdog expression
practically invited abuse.
   Jamison muttered a soft "I know, I know," in repsonse to Cathy's
impersonation of a Gestapo officer.  He looked up at Cathy with the saddest
eyes this side of a country music video and continued," I'm in total shit
and I deserve it.  You don't have to tell me."
   Cathy felt the hardass going soft.  Somebody had once told her she was a      
sucker for vulnerability, and Mr. V was sitting in her office.  "Well, there   
may be a chance to avoid the worst," she said in a voice that had suddenly
lost a huge chunk of its harshness.
   "No way, no way," Jamison said softly.  "Theresa's gonna nail my butt to
the wall, and she's got every right to."  And he launched into a long,
doleful tale of how he had fallen hard for Theresa's smarts and looks and
maturity and toughness and everything else Cathy had swooned over just a few
minutes before.  Before long Cathy was sitting in the chair next to his and
communing with a fellow sufferer under Theresa's spell.
   "So when she wouldn't have anything to do with me--and I mean anything--
well, I just couldn't take it," Jamison was finishing.  "I know I shouldn't
have said and done the things in that damn complaint, but I couldn't help
it.  I just needed her so much and all she would do was treat me like dirt."
   "I don't mean to be cruel," Cathy said as softly as she could, "but that
really doesn't excuse what you did."
   "I know it doesn't.  Believe me, I know.  I've tried apologizing to her
but she doesn't accept apologies.  Let's face it, I'm dead at this firm and
maybe in this profession and I got nobody to blame but me."
   Cathy laid her hand on Jamison's, which probably wasn't the smartest
thing to do in a harassment case.  "Look, Ken," she said, "maybe I can
arrange a meeting or something.  Theresa's not really mean at all--she just
acts tough because she thinks a woman has to.  Maybe we can get some kind of
settlement."
   "If I met with Theresa right now, she'd spit in my face, kick me in the
balls, and tell me to go fuck myself."
   Three good guesses, Cathy thought.  She also had a ridiculous mental
glimpse of another kind of meeting between the two, but she forced it out of
her mind.  Really, though, they would have been well matched.  Jamison was
just as pysically attractive and vigorous as the comely Complainant.  His
sturdy, masculine face and lean, athletic body would complement Theresa's
attributes very well.  Or my attributes, Cathy couldn't help thinking.
   The two of them sat in silence for a long sorrowful spell--just where she
and Theresa had sat, Cathy didn't need to remind herself.  Finally Jamison
looked up at Cathy and said wistfully, "You know, you're just about the only
woman in this firm the last week who's treated me like something other than
pure crap.  Ever since word of this leaked, they've all looked at me like I'm
the Boston Strangler."  Jamison managed a bitter smile.  "And before this
all the guys around here called me a fricking feminist."
   Oh boy, Cathy thought, this guy could win a Nobel in hurt.  In fact, what
he was saying was quite true--before all this nonsense with Theresa, Jamison
had been one of the few male lawyers at the firm who actually seemed to take
his female counterparts seriously as equals.
   Insanely, as she was well aware, Cathy leaned over and kissed Ken on the
cheek.  Jamison stared at her as if she were crazy, which she would have
admitted was not all that wide of the mark.  "Uh, is that really the best
thing to do when we're talking about sexual harassment?" he asked.
   "No, and this won't make it any better," Cathy answered.  And she kissed
Jamison hard on the lips.
   In what seemed like nanoseconds, they were locked in an embrace tighter
than the collar on a cheap blouse.  Cathy kept telling herself that she was
completely looney tunes--but it didn't matter.  She wanted Ken's probing
tongue, his hard chest, the stiffness she could sense in his crotch.  They
kissed each other greedily until Ken, just as Theresa before him, sobered up.
   "Cathy, we can't do this.  It's crazy," he said as quietly as he could
manage.  "If anybody walks in on us now--oh man, they'll shoot my ass."
   They may have been standing on the same spot where she and Theresa had
stood, Cathy thought with wild amusement, and Ken was just as worried about
that door opening.  What goes around DOES come around.
   "Nobody's gonna come in," she said with what she knew was a strange smile.
"Nobody ever comes in."  And she kissed Ken once more, politely at first,
then with delicious lustful aggression.  Hey, if you're going to be nuts, go
all the way.
   A few minutes later Ken was gone.  But not before he had agreed to come to
Cathy's apartment that night at 8:30 to see if he and Cathy "could work
something out."  There were going to be two very surprised people at her
place tonight, Cathy thought.  Of course, she also thought that she was one
extremely insane person.
   
   Theresa had been in Cathy's apartment for fifteen minutes.  Cathy had
watched her drain two glasses of wine, act nervous and foolish, try to look
interested in Cathy's small rooms and few things, and feel Cathy's eyes on
her.  Cathy couldn't help smiling inwardly at the contrast between the cool,
tough, self-possessed Theresa of the law office and the uncertain, tentative
woman before her.
   Now the two women were sitting in the off-white love seat in what Cathy
ambitiously called her living room, and Theresa was trying to explain.  "I
guess I seem awful nervous, Cathy," she said.  "It's just that it's been a
long time since...well, since I've been with a woman like this."
   "Hasn't been that long for me," Cathy answered.  "Just since college."
She stroked Theresa's soft, chestnut-brown hair for a moment, then kissed
her and kissed her again.  Soon the two women were holding each other almost
frantically close.  Cathy kissed Theresa's face and neck and then unbuttoned
her simple blue blouse.  She unhooked Theresa's bra after a bit of comic
fumbling, and cupped the older woman's beautiful breasts in her hands.
"They're so wonderful," Cathy murmured as she began to lick those tempting
nipples playfully.
   Theresa arched her back a little as Cathy fondled and licked and sucked
the full breasts that so many male lawyers at the firm had dreamed about.
Cathy then lossened Theresa's belt and pulled off her slacks and panties,
and finally saw the full beauty of Theresa's firm but generously feminine
body.  Cathy gazed for a moment at this splendid naked woman, then yanked
off her own clothes (just a t-shirt and jeans--underclothes were for the
office only) and practically fell on Theresa.  The two women slid onto the
cheaply carpeted floor, and Cathy licked and kissed her way down to Theresa's
pussy and plunged her tongue into its wild wetness.
   She could feel Theresa writhing beneath her as she licked the older
woman's clitoris and played lightly with her asshole.  Theresa was moaning
softly and Cathy sensed how her body was stiffening as the release
approached.  She licked Theresa's clit more and more roughly and gradually
worked a finger deeper into her anus, until Theresa finally shuddered and
cried out with an explosive orgasm that lasted for a long sweet time.
   Cathy lay down beside her lover, with the sharp deep taste of Theresa's
vagina still on her tongue.  Theresa eventually turned towards her and
whispered a soft "thank you."  She kissed Cathy lightly on the lips, then
began to caress and suck Cathy's smaller but firmer breasts.  A few moments
later her tongue was teasing the sweetness from Cathy's pussy.  Cathy
massaged her own proudly erect nipples as she felt Theresa lick her
engorged clitoris.  Soon a shattering orgasm surged through Cathy with wave
after wave of powerful pleasure.
   Afterwards the two women lay still for a few minutes amid their clothes
strewn on the carpet.  Finally, Cathy got up and fetched the bottle of red
wine.  She poured a glass for herself and for her lover, and the two naked
women drank an oddly ceremonious toast to their lovemaking.
   "You shouldn't make me drink this much," Theresa said.  "I hardly ever
drink at all, and I'm starting to feel this bigtime."  She was sitting with
her back against the love seat, and Cathy admired the taut curves of her
mature, womanly body.
   "Then try some more," Cathy answered, filling her lover's glass again.
Theresa smiled wryly, then downed the wine with gusto.  "Satisfied?" she
asked Cathy.
   The two women stood up, and Theresa made a show of dizziness.  "Whoa,
girl, you got my head spinning," she said half-seriously.  Cathy laughed
a little, then kissed her lover deeply and held her in an embrace that was
gently repectful in its tenderness.
   Cathy heard the knock at her door.  "What's that?" Theresa asked dreamily.
   "Well, let's see," Cathy replied.  She pulled her lover by the hands
towards the door before Theresa, dazed by wine and woman, could protest.
Still holding onto Theresa, Cathy quickly checked the peephole and then
opened the door to Ken Jamison, who rewarded her with a hilariously intense
look of amazement at the sight of the two naked women.
   But Jamison's look was nothing compard to the wave of dumbfounded
revulsion that swept over Theresa's features as she realized what was
happening.  "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHITHEAD DOING HERE?" she shouted,
stumbling back against the wall.
   At least there weren't any passers-by in the hall outside her door, Cathy
thought.  They would be getting quite a show.  She waved Ken into the
apartment, then went quickly to Theresa, who was rather ineffectually hiding
her breats and crotch with her hands.
   "He's here because I invited him," Cathy told Theresa as calmly as she
could.  The situation was chaotic and potentially disastrous, but Cathy
couldn't help feeling excited, wild, free.
   "You WHAT?" Theresa gasped back at her.  "How COULD you?"
   "It's all I could do.  It's all I could think of.  Please, Theresa, try
to understand."
   Theresa seemed to be attempting to reassert some of her dignity, which
wasn't easy for a naked woman cowering against a wall.  "Oh God, Cathy, are
you crazy?" she asked in a lower tone of voice.
   "Yeah, I guess I am.  You're right, I am crazy.  So try to accept it,
please."  Cathy kissed Theresa gently and could sense the older woman's
resistance weakening.  "Please," Cathy whispered.
   Suddenly they both became aware of Jamison, who had closed the door behind
him and then apparently set the indoor record for Rapid Disrobing.  He kissed
Cathy first as Theresa looked on, stunned.  Then he turned to the older
woman, who glared at him with a combination of distaste and undeniable
attraction.
   "Don't...touch me," she said, in a noticeably irresolute voice.  Ken
kissed Theresa softly at first, then more insistently as she gradually
succumbed to the sex, the wine, and the raw desire for the hard naked man
pressing against her.  Cathy exulted inwardly as she saw Theresa acquiesce
in Jamison's embrace--the insane gamble had paid off.
   Ninety seconds later they were on the floor.  Cathy was spread-eagled with   
her back against the carpet, as Theresa lay on top of her and kissed her   
passionately, while Ken entered Theresa from behind with powerful, animal-
like thrusts.  It wasn't long before a crushing, irresistible orgasm coursed
through Ken and Theresa almost simultaneously.

   Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you, if you're young at heart.
Just before noon next day, Cathy was ushered into Mr. Kerner's office.
   Her first impression--as she surveyed the deep carpet, polished
furnishings, and heavy drapes--was that Kerner's office was worth twenty
times as much as she was.  Her second impression was that she had never seen
the senior partner more relieved or happy.
   Kerner enthusiastically greeted Cathy and started to burble on about the
wonderful meeting he had just finished with Theresa Caulfield and Ken
Jamison.  He could hardly believe that the two had reconciled and Theresa
had decided to abandon her sexual harassment complaint.  There would be no
charges filed with the EEOC, no legal action, no threat to the firm.
   "Of course," Kerner said, "we have made a generous financial settlement
with Theresa to compensate her for the...indignities which she undoubtedly
suffered."  (Cathy later learned it was a hundred thousand dollars, not
chump change but far from Kerner's seven million dollar nightmare.)
   "Cathy," Kerner continued as he looked at her cheerfully from behind his
desk, "both Theresa and Ken have told me that this settlement would never 
have been possible without your personal intervention.  That's why I'm
promoting you immediately with a thirty percent raise."
   Sitting in a more luxurious chair than any she had ever possessed, Cathy
made as many thank-you noises as possible.  Kerner waved his hand, then went
on with a knowing look, "Well, Cathy, I had a feeling that your...particular
personality was just what we needed to reach an agreement in this case.  I
see that my confidence was not misplaced."
   Which made Cathy consider the senior partner more closely.  She had always
thought of Kerner as a bit of a stuffed shirt--impressive-looking, well-
respected, but no speed demon on the uptake.  But maybe she had been wrong.
Maybe he knew a lot more than he let on.