2023/08/13 - Sunnie LaMatina 02

ONE MONDAY MORNING

Gail Friday was more than just a secretary. In a small office, the administrative assistant is often chief cook, bottle washer and dog catcher. First thing Monday morning she pulled into her parking space behind the office. A tall hedge ran perpendicular to the back wall of the building. It created a visual block that hid the back entrance until one walked around the hedge. Gail found it unnerving, remembering the time she rounded the hedge and found a homeless man sleeping under the overhang that provided a measure of respite from falling rain. Gail was the one with the keys. Each day she opened the place up. Turned on the lights, turned the thermostat up a few degrees, got the coffee maker up and running, checked the voice messages. So that by the time managing partner Jacques D'orméveux and his associate clinicians arrived, they could hit the ground running.

On this particular Monday morning, she exited her car, and noticed a snazzy black sports car in the ordinarily empty lot. She walked around the hedge and the covered entryway came into view. There, hunkering down against a morning mist, stood a slight young lady, cradling a papier-mâché tray with four coffees.

"Excuse me, how can I help you?" The petite figure turned to face Gail, who then exclaimed "Oh! Ms LaMatina, is it? You took me by surprise!"

"Good morning Ms Friday! It's MISS LaMatina, and I'd feel even better if you called me Sunnie!" Gail shuffled her key ring until she found the right one, "OK, Sunnie, aren't we the early birds!"

"I guess I'm eager to get rolling, Ms Friday. I hope I don't come off as too eager." "Oh, no, it's nice to have company. The place is a little spooky when you're the only one here. And please, call me Gail!"

******************************************

JACQUES D'ORMÉVEUX:

I arrived at my office earlier than usual. It was a Monday, and my new research assistant would be starting. Truth be told, I had quite a crush on the girl. Ha! Listen to me. Girl! She was 4 years my senior but there was something intriguingly little-girlish about her. Not in a child-molester's-fantasy kind of way. No, she was all woman, packed into a condensed form. Maybe that's what made me want to get there earlier than I ordinarily would, just to greet a new hire.

There were two cars when I got there: Gail's "old reliable" and a sexy black Alfa Romeo 4C Spider that I'd not seen before. It had "Sunnie" written all over it. Figuratively speaking. I basically followed them in the door by fewer than 60 seconds. They still had their coats on. Sunnie's was an iridescent black and reached to mid-calf. They saw me at once.

"Good morning Doctor D," Gail chirped, "you're early!"

"Yes, good morning Gail .... Sunnie ..."

For the briefest moment, Sunnie said nothing, but undid the sash on her still-wet raincoat. She did it in such a manner that, as I watched her, my brain processed the whole action in slow motion. It felt like a strip tease. It was subtle enough to allow for plausible deniability. But she knew just what she was doing. I could see it in her eyes. The removal of her mid-calf-length coat revealed a cotton flower-print dress that finished just above the knee. That "briefest moment" had come to the point where further silence would have been awkward.

Like a pro, she beat the buzzer by cooing "Good morning .... Zhaaaak," giggling sweetly, unable to pronounce my name and yet take it seriously. She somehow thought it too unnatural rolling off her tongue. Too pretensious. She took to calling me Jack. Anyone else I'd have sacked on the spot. But I'd let this woman drive her Alfa over my shoes and thank her for it. I suspect she sensed that. She had already told me that she thought I was special.

She shook the mist from her raincoat. Some of it landed on my shoes and trouser leg. She fixed me with a facetious pout and whispered conspiratorially "Oh, Jack .... I made you wet. That's OK. I'm wet, too." She looked away and flashed a subtle smile. No wonder this gal gets laid as much as she claims. It had been 20 seconds since I walked in the door and already all of this had gone on. I was ready to fuck her right there in front of Gail. And of course, Gail chuckled knowingly. Gail had told me that Sunnie was "The One." She saw everything.

Now, a word about Gail. She is in her late 40's. Never married. Never seen her with a guy. Never seen her with a girl. She seems to lead a sexless life and seems just fine with it. She's not bookwormish or standoffish. Far from it. She's slightly plump and gregarious. I guess when you're plump and gregarious, they call you jolly. You can go to a bar with her, have a beer with her, watch a ballgame with her, trade bawdy jokes with her. But I've seen her shoot down suitors left and right. Her personality is more attractive than her looks, and she doesn't look half bad, especially after a couple of hours in the bar. I've never made a move. She's just not my type and she's as old as my mom. But guys think she's an easy mark because she's plain and overweight. Wrongo. Women who think she might be gay have met with the same level of disappointment as the guys. She's lots of fun but it never leads to the bedroom.

So Gail isn't past having a good chuckle as she observes the emerging dynamic between me and this adorable pixie. Sunnie had shown up with coffees for us from a local spot called the Breakfast Nook. The locals call it the Brekkie. Regulars call it the Brek. We each grabbed one and made our way back to my office. Damn that's good coffee. Better than ours. Remind me to send Gail over to the Brekkie for some lessons.

I watched this vision called Sunnie as she moved to the same chair from which she'd interviewed the week before. The red flower-print dress followed her form faithfully without hugging it obscenely. It scooped at the neck but showed no cleavage. It seemed to float on air as she moved. When it came to office protocol, there was no single detail on this garment that you could point to and cry foul. It only looked slutty because I knew that the tiny girl inside it was, by her own admission, a total slut. I gathered myself as she crossed her legs. And of course, she didn't just cross her legs, she Crossed Her Legs. As God is my witness I can't find the words to describe the difference. But nothing that Sunnie LaMatina did was quite the same when she was the one doing it.

"Well, Sunnie, I've been giving some thought as to how I'd like to put your talents to good use here. And I've devised a plan as to how I'd like to get things underway." "Yes, Jack, I've been doing pretty much the same thing, and here's where I see us going." Holy crap! This was getting to be like the interview. This girl just took over and seized the initiative. I decided to listen to her idea, just to get it out of the way, and gave her the floor. Well, I liked her idea. Not better than mine, but it was so unexpectedly different than the way I had planned to go, that I was intrigued enough to want to see it through. I had wanted her to sit in on my sessions, starting as a silent observer, and to work her way slowly into the process.

But Sunnie wanted to look at old files to see what I'd missed. She felt that I didn't have my eye on the ball when it came to identifying the sexual aspect of situations that had seemed on the surface to have had none.

One thing I'd yet to sort out was a work space just for her, so I showed her the files and told her she could use the large conference room table to spread out. She heard me say that she could spread out on the conference table, and she replied with a mischievous wink. I wisely moved on and left her to her own devices. I checked in a couple of times during the day and she barely looked up at me. She had papers and file folders strewn about and was deep into her process. By day's end she'd had Gail put together a cardboard file box and had it filled with the cases she wanted to bring home to review.

That night, I lay there in bed, visions of Sunnie floating through my head. That dress! And how I stared when she uncrossed her legs! Like I was half expecting some evidence of her claimed depravity. I don't know...semen or something. God this woman is doing sick things to my head. Anyway, I grabbed my phone and shot her a text. "Hey Sunnie just wanted to say hello and maybe goodnight. Hope I'm not interrupting you and Justin again"

"Who?"

"Justin wasn't that the guy you were busy with when I texted you last time?"

"Oh yeah, that one LOL. Not 2nite Jack I've got a headache"

"Oh no not the dreaded monthly I hope"

"God no Jack altho I am pee-em-essing so stand back"

"OK Sunnie I'll consider myself forewarned"

"Not to be rude baby but I'm working right now"

"All right, you have already told me that you're a slut, that you're a busy girl and that now you're working at bed time. Second job?"

"U caught me red handed Jack I'm turning tricks and my 11 oclock should B here any minute"

"Sunnie, the tragedy here is that I can't tell if you're being facetious. Also is your 12 o'clock slot filled yet?"

"Ha ha baby my slot is always filled. No just kidding about the prostitution. Jack you bastard. U think that a slut is same as a whore. LOL I'm working in my bed ha ha but not turning tricks. I've got files spread out and I want 2 put them in order. Do U have files spread out on your bed, Jack?"

"Sunnie, when I talk to you, there is no flat surface on my bed."

"Ooh, Baby, I get the picture. Well I think my top priority is going to be this Antarctica deal"

"Oh wow I think I remember, the scientist whose hubby didn't like her going away for assignment in Antarctica. There wasn't anything sexual going on there though was there?"

"Baby I took one sniff of this file. The scent of pussy was all over it. It was a damn fish store"

"I'd like to hear your reasoning on that. Tomorrow?"

"2 mrrw it is. Gnight baby"

"Goodnight Sunnie"

********************************************

The next morning there she was. Coffee from the Brekkie and a charcoal grey business dress, modest but for the slit up her thigh. Zip up the front. That's interesting. We got to my office and she sat in her customary chair. She pitched her idea to me. Maybe I looked a little apprehensive at first, so she did what came naturally to her and lowered the front zip on the dress just enough to show me a hint of cleavage. Everything was to scale on her. Her tits were small only because she was tiny. But damn. They looked so big on her. Now I was putty. She could have convinced me to look at the sexual angle in the Gettysburg Address.

We looked at the case of Kimberly Esposito Chance. She had come to NAST when she was 33. Her husband Scott Chance was 2 years older. Kim was a climatologist, who had recently been stationed at a year-round station in Antarctica. During the Antarctic summer the sun never sets and the station has a peak population of 150. During the winter, there is no sun. None at all. 24 hours of darkness. And the population drops to 50. The only coming and going of personnel and supplies occurs during a narrow window of the 4 warmest months.

Kim's consult with NAST had occurred following her return from her first assignment in Antarctica. My sessions with her focused on the strain her work had placed von her marriage. Her husband had only been reluctantly supportive of her first mission. When she came back he told her how lonely he had been, and how worried he'd been for her well-being during her isolation. Kim told me that Scott was now dead set against her upcoming second mission. He was now talking divorce.

She conceded that he may have been lonely, but he had friends and family and freedom of movement for the entire time she'd been gone. At any time he could visit people, go to a bar, hell, he could get on a plane and fly to London if he wanted. Things Kim couldn't do, so she had only limited sympathy. She thought that he was threatened by a strong and independent woman, and that he was being whiny by putting his foot down. So she had decided to go back to Antarctica for a second 9-month assignment, his threats be damned. She would come back for further consultation after her return home.

The difference between me and Sunnie is the whole difference between the type of practice we had before she got here, and what we've got now. I saw the surface problem. When I saw marriage in the equation, I thought in terms of a clash of interests, a clash of goals, with an element of power play thrown in. When Sunnie saw marriage, she saw sexual issues. Some folks say "follow the money" when trying to get to the "why" of any situation. Sunnie says "follow the sex". She says money is only the means to an end. And the end game is always sex. So Sunnie told me that in reviewing the details, the whole thing reeked of a sexual issue.

"Jack, look at this. Kim said that Scott complained about being lonely. She was trapped down there for months with the same 50 people. So what's the first thing you think you'd say if you were stranded with a few people with no hope of escape for the next six months and someone whined to you about how lonely they were? Think, Jack, think!"

"Hmm, well, I think I'd say that I was trapped inside a weather station for months on end and that I was lonely, too. In fact, with my limited options and restriction of movement, I'd say that my loneliness was worse than what anyone on the outside suffered."

"And there you go, Jack. But they are two different things. Why did she go straight for the 'Scott, you were free to travel' argument and never used the 'Scott, I was more lonely than you' argument?"

"Because she wasn't all that lonely?"

"Bingo, Jack, bingo."

"Tell me Sunnie, do you think we can get her back in here?"

"Not yet, according to the dates in the file, Kim should be smack dab in the middle of her second mission. But Jack, I'm more interested in getting the husband in here. We only have her end of things. I suspect the other half of the story is more interesting, and we're not likely to get it from her."

And so it was that Scott Chance was contacted. He was aware that Kim had been to see Dr D'orméveux. He had seen the co-pays on their credit card statement. Kim never thought about that junk. She was clueless about statements and the paper trail they left. Jack couldn't tell him anything about the sessions he'd had with Kim owing to HIPA regulations, but Jack and Sunnie were willing to meet with Scott and proceed as if they knew nothing. Jack conducted the interview. Sunnie had agreed to just observe. Scott said he was not uncomfortable with Miss LaMatina listening in.

Dr D: Scott please have a seat. I'm Dr D'orméveux .... can I get you anything? Water perhaps?

Scott: Yes that's fine, thanks.

Dr D: Scott, it's OK if I call you Scott? OK? Good. Well, from the outset, please know that I can't discuss what your wife told me, and by the same token, nothing discussed today will be discussed with her without your permission.

Scott: That makes sense.

Dr D: Would you be able to discuss what the greatest issue was between you and your wife when she came in to see us?

Scott: Depends. What's the time frame? I think I know but I just want to be sure.

Dr D: Can you confirm her current whereabouts?

Scott: She's in Antarctica, doing climate research. She's been at the base for the last half-year.

Dr D: All right. Then in the period immediately prior to her departure, what was the main issue between you?

Scott: Her affair with Everett Corvel. (At which point I met eyes with Sunnie. She nodded at me with a knowing smirk)

Dr D: Did you discuss the affair with her before she left this time?

Scott: She doesn't know that I know about the affair. She came back from her first mission pregnant. She doesn't know about that either... that I knew about the pregnancy. But I found a record of a copay in our credit card statement. Seems she was at a women's reproductive health facility in Albany. I mailed them a request for a statement claiming a billing issue, and I used my wife's name, hoping she'd used her name and our home address. She had indeed, and they mailed it to our home. I always get the mail, so I saw when it came in. The procedure was termination of pregnancy. Um, I'll admit I was floored. She hadn't been that far along so there was nothing to notice when we had sex the first time she got back, you know, no baby bump. I went back and looked at my calendar and sure enough she'd gone out of town the day before the date of service shown on the bill. She had claimed she had a work-related trip in White Plains and I hadn't questioned it at the time. But White Plains was a two-hour drive from Albany, so I wasn't sure that she'd have made a two-hour drive immediately following that kind of procedure. So I guessed that White Plains was just a smokescreen and that she'd never left the Albany area. She was home four days after she left and so that's three days after the abortion. The whole thing rattled me on a bunch of different levels. One of them was that Kim and I had always been staunch pro-lifers. To this day, I wish she'd given birth and put the baby up for adoption. It was the adultery that killed the marriage, baby or no baby. So if she killed the baby hoping to save our marriage, it was a wasted life. I still feel horrible about it.

Dr D: Now let me back up for a sec. You mentioned a name with regard to the affair. I'm wondering how you knew....

Scott: Everett Corvel is the guy. I did some digging. I made a list of names I remember her mentioning, as close as I could figure to spell 'em. Then I went on the agency website and confirmed some spellings. I googled and pulled up some other names. Then I started running location searches on these guys. Come to find out Corvel lives in Troy, a suburb of Albany. The others lived well out of area. The closest were a handful in New York City. Then I did some thinking back. You know the old story ... before the affair the wife will talk about the guy all the time. She doesn't even realize it. But the infatuation is growing and the name can't help but come up. But once they do the deed, suddenly she never utters his name again. Self conscious or guilt or whatever, but suddenly the guy you once heard about five times a day is never heard about again. Sure enough, it was like that with Corvel. Before her first mission he was mentioned. After she got back, the guy didn't seem to exist. Then, every few weeks after she got back, it was off again to "White Plains" for a work-related conference. Ostensibly she was meeting to discuss data from her time at the weather station. She'd leave home just after lunch on a Sunday, stay overnight to be there for an all-Day Monday meeting, spend Monday night to be rested for some shopping and the drive home, and then I'd see her Tuesday for supper. At least that's the story I got.

Dr D: Do you suspect that she was actually meeting Corvel?

Scott: I'm all but sure that she was. Once again, the credit card statements. I kept track of the dates. They seemed to alternate. One trip she paid for the motel, the next trip she'd pick up the restaurant tabs. And she'd gas her car up. All from East Greenbush another suburb but on the opposite side of Albany from his hometown of Troy. He's married, so I'm figuring that he needed to keep from being caught. She always went to him. He never came to her. There were no credit card charges at any motels or restaurants near us on the dates she was gone.

Dr D: Am I correct in understanding that all this time you did not confront her or contemplate divorce?

Scott: Confront, no. Divorce, yes. I was scared at that point. Scared to move, scared to not move. My mind wasn't right. It wasn't, guess you'd say, resolute. And I was maybe still in that denial stage. Lots of wishful thinking. Hoping that circumstances that didn't involve me directly would intervene. He'd drop dead. His wife would find out and rein him in. He or my wife would suddenly grow a conscience. So I didn't want to confront her. In case she came back to our marriage, I didn't want having to look me in the eye be any kind of hindrance to her. It was bad enough that I knew. I didn't want her to be too scared to face me. Too afraid to make it back to me because she couldn't face the shame. If it meant getting her back, I'd make it as easy for her as I could, and take it to my grave if I needed to.