Revenge Served Cold

She was my sorority sister and I loved her more than my own sister, and her self confidence was gone, the spark that lit up every room she entered was out.

"He raped me."

And there wasn't a damn thing she was able to do about it. In the end it was a "He said, she said" court battle and without hard evidence the presumption of innocence, his very good lawyer said, should prevail. It did.

Betty and I graduated with honors a dozen years earlier, each with a degree in accounting. We were focused on careers, so marriage was not on either of our agendas. We both learned business deals are made when executives play. We both learned to play golf well enough not to embarrass ourselves. Betty took up tennis as well, but I came from a family of hunters. It turns out you can meet lots of interesting people skeet shooting, and I loved that sport. We both had friends, and we had lovers, but had long ago decided sometime in our 30s would be a good time to start a family.

Betty took a position at, well, let's call it Corporation, a couple of years ago. Corporation was privately held, and the 'He' mentioned above was the CEO/Chairman of the Board/President's son. Sonny had an executive position, of course -- he was a 25year old VP of Public Relations. His major job was to keep out the way of his father, an aggressive, bright, and hard working creative man. Sonny was none of the above, except he was very aggressive in trying to bed any female in sight. Daddy's money usually solved any problems sonny had. It was rumored a few hundred thousand dollars had been sent to off shore accounts created for a couple of women Sonny was a little too aggressive with. Betty didn't want money, she wanted revenge. She wanted to be, as we financial types sometimes say, "to be made whole."

I lived about 110 miles from Betty when she was assaulted. My sweet and beautiful almost sister was attacked and fucked by that jerk, and now she was as depressed as a woman could be.

My own life was going well. I had earned enough money so that I could take some time off and complete my MBA. My boss liked that idea, and told me he'd hold my job open for me when I graduated, and I should be on a fast track for Chief Financial Officer there. I liked that.

The MBA program I enrolled in had a couple of interesting features, including co-op opportunities. One could intern for extra credit. I thought it would be an opportunity for wider exposure if I did that somewhere than where I had worked, and my old boss assured me he would not hold that against me -- "but remember, you have to save the last dance for us," he said. "We'll match any offer you might get elsewhere, and you already know you'd be on track to be the youngest CFO this company had ever had." I especially liked he didn't say "female CFO" but he was so into being blind to sex or color when it came to promotions that I was a woman job candidate wouldn't have crossed his mind. Competence mattered more than sex to him.

I spent three weekends with Betty, comforting her as best I could. As a distraction to her own problems I told her what my career plans were and we spent some time talking about them.

I had an inspiration; the plan just presented itself completely to me. "Betty, would it make you feel better if Sonny got what was coming to him, even if it wasn't in a court?"

"I want that bastard hurt in the worst way," she told me. "I even thought about shooting him, but everybody knows I'm his enemy, there's no way I could get away with it. Maybe I'll do it anyhow."

"No, don't. He's already screwed up your life, if you do something like that you'd get hurt even more. But maybe I can do the hurting. Now, this is important. Does any here know you and I are good friends, and that I've been coming here weekends, and that you've visited me at my place?"

"I don't think so. Most of the outside of work friends I have here are guys, and although I love you like a sister I don't tell them my best friend is prettier and smarter than I am," Betty said.

"Good. Keep it that way. Here's what I'm going to do. First, I'm going to see if I can intern at Corporation as part of my degree requirements. And then. . ."

Betty listened to my plan, shook her head and said "I don't believe you could do that."

"Just watch, girlfriend. I won't be in touch with you for a while, I don't want anyone to know about the connection between us, but keep in touch with some of your friends who work at Corporation. We'll get that bastard!"

It was actually easy to meet Sonny at his favorite bar, and easier still to play him. "Oh, you're a vice president at Corporation? Wow."

One thing led to another, and before too long I had an interview with Sonny's dad. Daddy was a lot sharper than sonny and he saw in me an opportunity for his company. "I've been meaning to somehow put in a better system for tracking our inventory. It might be just the sort of project that you'd be able to finish during an internship. How would you do that?"

It turned out I had already created such a system for my old boss, and I described it to Daddy. He saw the possibilities in an instant. "So just a couple of clerks could keep it updated?"

"Probably only one."

"I have six people doing that now."

"Well, sir, if I do the project for you that'll be five people who will be working on adding value to your products, not just counting them."

The deal was done: I was able to start on a part time basis the next week. Corporation even got me a garden apartment for the three days a week I'd be there.

Part one of the plan was in place.

Sonny made it his business to be in my office nearly every day, and tried every kind of move on me. "Go with me and your future in this place has no ceiling. You'd go farther than any woman ever did. Don't go with me, and you'll only ever be an intern."

I was sure Daddy worked really hard at not knowing what Sonny was doing. Maybe he wasn't so smart after all, that kid could cost him his company!

Some of the younger women at Corporation warned me: "Sonny chases anything with a skirt, and you're on his hit list. There's no way to get off unless you quit."

I wasn't quitting.

Neither was Sonny. "I'm going to get you one way or the other," he told me in my office.

"Keep acting like that and it will be no way, Sonny," I said. "I don't want the other girls to think I'm dating the boss's son."

"Fuck what they know. It doesn't matter to me," was what he said.

"But it matters to me," I assured him.

A month of so later the inventory control system worked better than daddy ever thought it would. It would save Corporation almost a half million dollars a year by removing people from that payroll, but more importantly the total amount of inventory and the space it needed was going to be a lot less.

Sonny wouldn't give up. "What do you want to do? I got you this job, and I can make it go away. I want you, and I don't care how I get you." He had no idea that his daddy was in my corner and my internship was nearly over.

I hated this guy, both for what he was and for what he did to my friend. I hated him, but he didn't know it.

It was time to close the trap. "Sonny, I think you're a sexy guy, but you're still the boss's son and I don't want people we're dating. I'll tell you what. You come on to me outside where people can see, and I'm going to slap you."

"Bullshit you are."

"Wait a minute. If you let me do that, then tonight, like after midnight, come to my apartment. I know you know where it is. Park somewhere else, and come in the back door. I'll be waiting for you."

"What kind of a game is this?"

"When you look in the patio doors you'll see me waiting, Sonny. That's the only way you're ever going to get me."

"OK, but if you hit me hard, you're going to pay big time."

A half hour later I was getting a cup of coffee in the cafeteria when Sonny came up in full view of a half dozen people. He fondled my ass, and I turned around and slapped him -- hard!

"I'll get you for that, bitch," he said. "Just wait." He stormed away.

I couldn't have scripted it better.

Night time finally came, time for the final chapter in this game.

I showered, and then just pulled on a robe. I let it hang open, exposing my body.

Bait. Yeah, with a hook.

I smiled a little, sat in the living room facing the patio doors with just enough light on to be visible.

At 12:30 a shadow crossed the patio, and then the door jerked to the side. Sonny came into the room, angry. "Bitch, you hit me too hard, and you're going to pay. I'm glad you're nearly naked, I would have torn your clothes off if you weren't." He started toward me and then got his first surprise. I stood and pointed my Ithaca 16 gauge right at his middle. "Sonny, you jerk, do you know I'm an expert shot? And you're a lot bigger than the clay pigeons I usually shoot. Stop right there."

He was 10 feet way, and took another step closer. "Hey jerk, you don't think I'm going to let you get close enough to touch the gun, do you? Stop!"

His mouth dropped open. I've never met a bully who wasn't a coward. "Uh, don't point that thing at me, it might go off."

"Oh, it sure might," I told him. "It's loaded, the safety is off, and if you move another inch the gun will go off, too."

"I'll, I'll just go home. I'm sorry about what I said to you." He started to turn. "Stop, right there!"

He didn't have the courage to do anything else but what he was told.

"Open your pants pull them down to your knees. Show me what you got."

A smirk crossed his face. "Oh, you want it after all?"

He pulled at his belt and dropped his pants; his pathetic penis was trying to come to life.

"Now sit right there."

Now he wasn't sure what was happening, but he would learn. Oh, he would learn.

He sat. "Pants around your ankles!"

He did that too. I wanted him to not be able to move fast.

"What a pathetic piece of shit you are, Sonny, look at you," I told him. "Now stay right there."

"What are you going to do, call the cops? I can get out of this, I've done it before."

"No, I'm not going to call them. But there are some things I'm going to do. Stay right there or you're going to learn what this shotgun does at short range. It's not pretty, Sonny."

He had nothing to say and sat quietly.

I carefully walked around him to the half open patio door. "No, don't turn around. Face the wall, don't look at me," I told him.

I stepped onto the dark patio, bent down and picked up the brick I left there.

I hoped this would work. I swung hard, and the brick shattered the glass door, with not too much noise. I stepped inside just before my neighbor's patio light went on. I was sure she didn't see me: good!

Sonny swung around and looked at the broken glass and the brick on the floor. "You silly girl, you're going to have to pay for that," he said. He still didn't get it!

"Oh, someone will pay," I assured him, and then I picked up the phone and dialed 911. "Who are you calling, are you calling the cops? Don't call the cops, I'll pay you not to call the cops!"

"I lied about not calling the cops. Stand up, shut up and listen to what I say, Sonny. You'll catch on soon enough."

Sonny struggled to his feet with his pants around his ankles. "You ridiculous fool," I told him. "Listen to me when I talk on the phone. Everything will be clear in just a minute or two."

"911. What is the nature of your emergency?" the voice on the phone asked. I gave her my name and address, then said "someone just broke into my apartment: I shot him. Send an ambulance!"

Then I hung up and turned to Sonny. "You didn't shoot anyone," he said as I raised the shotgun. "Not yet," I told him. I wanted you to know it was going to happen. Then I touched off a round aimed at his groin. It was a hand load with not a lot of power, loaded with the finest shot I could find. Through an open choke it spread out to about an 8 inch diameter cloud of shot across the room, and removed most of Sonny's groin.

He fell, bleeding, clutching himself -- what was left of him.

The phone rang again, the 911 operator said an ambulance was on the way, and wanted to know what happened. "Someone broke into my apartment, he broke the patio door window, and I had my shotgun and I shot him" I said in what I hoped was a panic filled voice. "I think it's someone from work."

The cops came, the ambulance came too.

By the time the trial came I was CFO at my old job. The trial was almost funny.

Sonny actually testified -- he insisted against the advice of his father and his attorney.

"You mean," the prosecutor said, "she tricked you? She told you to break in?"

"She broke the window!" Sonny shouted. "She tricked me into letting her slap me."

Some members of the jury actually laughed. They had already heard from people at Corporation that I slapped him that very day. They had already heard of 'prior bad acts' showing a pattern of behavior. Betty was allowed to testify: that helped. Somehow his lawyers never made the connection between Betty and me, and we didn't think it was worth telling the prosecution. After all, they'd have been obligated to give that information to the other side, and it was a tool I didn't want them to have.

"And you're telling us she made you take down your pants?" Some jury members laughed out loud.

Sympathy didn't work much either, even after the doctors said Sonny would be urinating though a tube that from his bladder to a bag the rest of his life.

He was sentenced to 12 years in jail. A pseudo man without a penis would be very popular there.

Then there was the civil suit. Do you think Corporation had the smallest chance of getting off when an officer of the corporation with a reputation as a whoring man was on trial?

When it was all over I had enough stock in Corporation to control it. Daddy was allowed to stay on as a consultant. Betty became CFO, and I became CEO. We changed the culture there.

About a year later I went to visit Sonny. He was gaunt: somehow while in prison he had gotten active AIDS. I don't know why he agreed to come to the visitor's room to talk with me.

But I didn't talk very much with him. I just looked at him for a few minutes, then I stood up and said "Thanks for helping me get to own Corporation, Sonny. Betty was an expensive piece of ass, wasn't she?"

Then I blew him a kiss and left. After all, I had a corporation to run!