After the Interview

David slumped back in the primitive torture device that passed for a chair. They were in what was grandly termed a conference room: a cinder block cubicle with minimum furnishings and no amenities beyond the cups of bad coffee with something sinister-looking floating on top, but a very stout lock on the door.

"She's naming names, too." David unsuccessfully tried to hide his momentary panic. "Not the girls, mind you, she's protecting them. Seems all her employee records were wiped clean this morning: industrial strength cleaning. The johns, on the other hand, now they have something to worry about. As do the folks who approved paying company money for her services. Which, by the way, didn't come cheap."

Polisi looked at David appraisingly. "I don't know what it is that made her cut and run. Maybe you know something about that, maybe you don't. She'll never tell, and I'm not asking. But if you're thinking of using that for something," he pointed again to David's folder, "you might as well skip it. Every account in there has been closed, and by tomorrow evening, nobody except you and she will know they ever existed." David's mouth dropped open for a moment.

"You managed to trace the money all the way through the maze of accounts she was using, and got all the way back to her. That took a smart well-trained money man, a hell of a lot of work, and some goings-on that I don't want to know about. It's water under the bridge now. All I care about, is that's one high class prostitution ring that's closed down and ain't coming back."

David was oppressed by a sense of anticlimax as he left the police station. He had performed a difficult task, in a minimum of time, only to find that it had made no difference whatsoever. He couldn't even use the results to enhance his job hunting: he was no farther ahead on that front than he had been last week. Still, Jill would never have to see another client. They could begin the process of healing their marriage, and that was more important than anything.

Jill's excitement was contagious as she was finally able to share her morning's adventure with her husband. David called Gerry, their friend and lawyer, and was able to get an immediate appointment due to a cancellation. Their good luck ended there.

"I'm afraid you don't have a case," Gerry told them. "I know you'd be content with filing and settling out of court, but we don't have enough even for that." Jill and David's faces fell as they stared at each other.

"David, what you've collected, combined with Greenhough's statement and Thelma's confession, is more than enough to prove that your allegations against SuperCorp executives were correct. Since you hold no interest in SuperCorp, however, you don't have grounds for action. You can't sue for wrongful termination, because there's no evidence that connects the allegations with your being made redundant. There's nothing to show that it wasn't exactly what the letter said: you were released as part of a reduction in force."

"So I'm right back where I was a year ago?" There was a world of defeat and sadness in David's voice; Jill's heart broke as she heard him.

"Not exactly," answered Gerry. "I don't know how blackballing works in your profession, David, but in mine, if the person or persons who are preventing you from being hired, are themselves compromised, their power is at least diminished, if not removed altogether. From what you have told me, the top executives at SuperCorp who blackballed you are some of the same people who have been named in Thelma's confession. I think you might find more doors open to you now."

The three of them talked matters over, and Gerry promised to keep an eye out for possibilities for David, but the mood in the little car was somber as they went to pick up Deirdre. Their financial situation was just as bleak as it had been when Jill had been given the little card that introduced her to Felicity. As they waited for their daughter, Jill took David's face in her two hands, and turned it toward her.

"David, you are my love and my life. I respect you, honor you, trust you, and believe in you, completely, now more than ever." She had the joy of seeing a glint of light return to his eyes, as they received the love and faith that poured from hers.

Jill decided to save the little black dress for later. Neither of them really felt like celebrating, anyway. They had just put Deirdre to bed for the night when the call came.

"Hello, Jillian, this is Felicity."

"Oh!" She turned to David and mouthed, "Thelma." They sat down together on the love seat, where David could hear the conversation.

"I just wanted to call and fill you in on a few things. You weren't with me very long, so there are some things you wouldn't know."

"About the business?"

"Well, yes, but also about me. You know I closed the business this morning." She sighed, and went on wistfully. Jill hadn't thought her boss could do wistful.

"I knew all along that I would have to do this some day; after all, it isn't exactly the sort of business you can leave to your children to carry on after you. So I had a plan. I went downtown, and promised them lists of clients and illicit payments, in return for immunity for me, and keeping my real name out of court. I wasn't to be subpoenaed, and my real name wasn't to appear. Meanwhile, all records of my employees, including you, were completely destroyed.

"There are only four people who know you ever worked for me." Jill held up five fingers and pointed to David; he nodded. "You and me, Mr. Smith (who, as I'm sure you guessed, is sometimes my employee), and Derek Greenhough, who now has more than enough troubles of his own: whatever he might be able to do to you, you can do far worse to him. I just wanted you to know, Jillian, that you're completely safe."

"Thank you, Felicity. I do appreciate that. It was kind of you to take the trouble."

"My first priority, you see, was to protect my family, but after that, to protect my employees. You, especially, were vulnerable, because I know how much you love your husband, and want to shield him, just as I do mine. The clients and the misuse of corporate funds didn't matter to me at all, so I had no qualms about sacrificing them.

"Which reminds me: your husband. My accountant did some digging about him; she said his name looked familiar when she deposited your first commission into your joint account. She says that among accountants, he's much admired for his skill and honesty, but no one will say so in public because they all know who fired him and why. One person she talked with said he was 'deadly with a pencil or with a sausage.' Sausage? What's that all about?"

Jill smiled. "I don't know. I keep trying to get him to tell me, but he says if he did, he'd have to kill me."

Thelma laughed. She had a warm laugh; Jill found herself unexpectedly enjoying their conversation. Still, she saw no reason to let Thelma know just how mighty her husband was with a pencil, or that they knew her real name and considerably more.

"Anyway, she thinks that now that the SuperCorp executives who fired him probably won't be free men very much longer, much less men of influence, your husband will find many opportunities open to him that had been closed. She said she wouldn't try SuperCorp if she were him; he probably wouldn't want to be there anyway. She also suggested that the government might be one of the first areas to open up. Personally, that's where I hope he goes."

"Why?" Jill's puzzlement showed in her voice.

"Oh, it's purely selfish. That way I'll finally know that there is one honest person in the government!" Both women laughed, and even David cracked a smile.

"Seriously, Jillian, my accountant said it was pretty obvious your husband was fired and blacklisted for doing exactly what he was supposed to do, and we both think that's pretty rotten. She hopes we've done something for him in turning out the SuperCorp execs, and she hopes it eases your financial situation. She sends him her best wishes, and so do I."

Jill and David looked at each other in surprise. "Thank you, that ... well, thank you," Jill stammered out.

"It's a pity, really," Thelma went on with a sigh. "It would have worked out so well. Everyone would have been happy. We both know you wouldn't have kept the money for yourself, you'd have brought it to your husband, even with the separate account. He'd have been happy to have the financial burden eased. Your daughter would have been happy because you'd never have had to say no to her."

"Every daughter needs to be said no to sometimes," Jill interrupted.

Thelma laughed again. "How right you are! Let's say then that you'd have never had to say no to her because of money. Your clients would have been very happy indeed, and you'd have been happiest of all."

"I don't know..." Jillian felt a coldness around her heart.

"Come now, Jillian. We're very much alike, you and I. I knew that five minutes after I first saw you; it's why I liked you on first sight. You love your husband, deeply and completely. He'll always be the only man for you, and you will do or dare anything for him. You feel the same way about your daughter. You absolutely will not stand by and see your husband in pain; you will do something about it, to the limit of your powers and even beyond.

"You're sexually very responsive, just as I am, and like me, you are quite aware of the assets you have to offer in that realm. You enjoy good sex, as do I. You valued your fidelity very highly, and giving it up was difficult for you. Once you did it and fully accepted that it was for your husband's well-being, I am completely confident that you would have enjoyed every minute of your work, as well as enjoying the proceeds of it."

Jill was flustered by Thelma's assessment of her, especially with David listening in. She decided to go on the offensive.

"So that's how it worked for you, then?"

There was a silence on the line that would have terrified Jill if it had occurred during the interview. Even down a telephone line, she paled and shivered.

Finally, Thelma spoke. "There's no point denying it, is there? If we're enough alike that I know you so well, I should expect the reverse to apply. Very well, then. It's been a bit over seven years since I decided that there was only one way I could make the needed impact on our financial situation, and I went on my back for hire for the first time. Believe me, Jillian, I mourned the sale of my fidelity every bit as deeply as you did yours.

"Then I reasoned that once it was gone, it was gone: no weeping of mine could bring it back. My husband was pleased with the money, our children had a better life, and I would protect his happiness by keeping my job completely secret from him."

"What if something went wrong? What if he saw you someplace you shouldn't be, or if an associate of his let drop that he, well, knew you better than he should?"

"I made very sure that couldn't happen, Jillian. I know him very well; I always know where he is, and I keep my activities far away from wherever he is. I make a point of getting to know his associates and acquaintances, and I keep them away from my business and I refuse their custom. I am very discrete, and very thorough."

"Then why did you close the business?"

"I found that on two occasions this week, I had failed to take appropriate precautions. Neither of them would have led my husband to suspect, but I realized I might be getting overconfident. I enjoy my work very much, and, of course, I enjoy the money, but even the slightest chance that my husband's happiness might be destroyed wasn't worth it. I'm sure you feel the same way."

"Actually, Felicity, there are a couple of things you don't quite understand about me." Jill smiled at David, and went on. "The first thing is, David and I tell each other everything. I told him every detail about my interview with you, and about both of my assignments. In fact, he's sitting next to me right now."

"You mean, he knows?" Thelma was aghast.

"Of course. My fidelity was, and will be, equally important to both of us, so why shouldn't we decide together? You should also understand it was never about the money. There's not enough of it in the world to justify what I did. It was something else entirely, but you're right, it was for him. He is, and always will be, the best of my life."

"I feel the same way, Jillian. That's why I want to see my husband as happy as I can possibly make him. He wasn't happy when he was so very worried about our finances; he's blissfully happy now. If in order to keep him that way I have to keep secrets, and do some things he's quite sure I wouldn't, I'm willing to do that, because I love him."

"Did you ever think of including him in that choice?"

"Of course not. He would be terribly hurt that I was even considering it, just like your husband must be hurting now from knowing about you. How do you justify causing him that pain?"

Jillian shook her head in frustration. "I still don't think you understand. We made promises to each other at our wedding, just as I'm sure you and your husband did. If I were going to deliberately break one of those promises, isn't it right that David be involved in the decision? That's why David held veto power: if he'd said no, for any reason, I would never have done it. We decided together that our objective was worth risking my faithfulness to try to achieve. He has shared the burden with me; otherwise, I couldn't have borne it.

"There's more, too." Jill paused to try to find words. "We're ... we're one person. Well, not really, but we're combined into an us that is bigger than just us. Oh, I'm not saying this well. What I mean is, whatever affects one of us, affects the other, whether they know about it or not. If I am changed, that changes us, even if he doesn't know. That's why in the long run, it's best that he know.

"The last, and biggest, thing is this. Do you know what it feels like to live with someone and know you can tell him anything? Absolutely anything, and he'll still love you? To not need to keep secrets, or to hide anything? One person with whom you can be completely yourself, and completely secure? That's what we gain from committing to tell each other everything, and it's wonderful. Yes, sometimes it's very painful, but I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. I ... I wish that for you, Felicity."

Jill turned to David. His was looking at her with shining eyes, and all his love. "I'm proud of you," he mouthed.

"Thank you for your wishes, but I think, perhaps, that you should start calling me by my real name: Thelma."

"If you like, but I don't think I've ever met anyone who was less a Thelma."

"Thank you for saying that," Thelma chuckled. "I'm glad I don't seem like a Thelma to you. If I may say it, I think you're the perfect Jillian."

The women shared a laugh.

"Thelma it is, though, because that's who my husband married, though I think it was in spite of my name, rather than because of it." She sighed. "Felicity's day is done. She had a good one, I think, but it's time to put her to bed. I do hope she goes quietly."

"So do I. Good luck to you, Thelma."

"And to you, Jillian, and to David, as well."

Jill was thoughtful after the call ended. David observed her troubled face patiently, knowing that if he gave her time, she would tell him what was on her mind. He loved having that surety, and couldn't imagine living without it. He had been surprised to find himself sympathizing with Thelma, at least a little bit, but how could she and her husband live without that trust? It's why he was always careful to be completely candid with Jill. Except, of course, about that sausage.

"Do you think she was right about me? I mean, that I would have learned to enjoy... selling myself? My body, I mean?"

"Yes, I do. It's what I was most afraid of when you went for the interview. But you were right, too, that we'll make it through this together, because we tell each other everything. I'm still ever so glad it's over."

"Me, too." Jill spoke with deep feeling.

"David, was it worth it? We did this to trace the money, and prove you were right, so we could file a wrongful termination suit and get you back into your profession. We traced the money, and we proved you right, but it didn't give you a court case, and Thelma has immunity. You may be going back to work, but that's only because Thelma decided to close down Felicity, and we didn't have anything to do with that. Did we give up... what we gave up... for nothing?" Jill was ready to cry.

David thought for a moment. "We don't really know that; why she closed Felicity, I mean. Detective Polisi thinks we had something to do with it. He took pains to reassure me, in a roundabout way, of course, that we wouldn't suffer any repercussions from whatever we did, that he didn't want to know about. I wonder... you remember she said something about having made a couple of mistakes, so she couldn't trust herself to keep the secrets any longer? Remember her accountant was checking me out, and knew why I'd been fired? What if she suddenly found out I'd worked at SuperCorp, while you were with Greenhough? That would explain why she got you out of there in a hurry."

"Yes, that makes sense, and it would certainly shake her self-confidence. So I guess in an indirect kind of way, it might have worked, just not the way we thought it would. That's comforting, and I know it was my idea, but please, let's not do anything like this again."

"Hear, hear!" David agreed enthusiastically. "There's something else she said that struck me. Remember she said something about how you loved me completely? She's right, you do. I've never doubted your love, not for a moment, but I never knew the depth of courage that went with that love. I do now, and if there's one good thing to take from this mess, I think that's it." Jill's face was glowing with her love and her eyes shone with tears. David sought all the courage in his own heart, and his love for his beautiful wife.

"Jill, I want to love you tonight."

Much later, they lay together, sated and content, almost asleep.

"I thought of putting on my little black dress and having a celebration for you tonight, but it didn't quite seem right. This was perfect. Thank you, David."

"You're right, this was perfect. I have all I need, right here." He gave her a gentle squeeze. "We'll celebrate when I'm working again, little black dress and all. Though you shouldn't plan on wearing it very long."

Jill curled up in her husband's arm. Bliss, she thought. There's nothing better than this. We took a huge risk, bigger than we understood, and it didn't work out the way we hoped. We're never doing anything remotely like that again. We did it together, and somehow we escaped, together, and we're going to be okay. Better than okay. I'll make certain of that, and I know David will, too. I wonder what Thelma will do when her husband finds out...

EPILOGUE: Five years later.

It was Thelma's fortieth birthday. She received the expected gag gifts and lampoonery with casual aplomb: she didn't care about being forty. She was still hot, and she knew it. Her assets still had considerable monetary value, should she choose to realize it. She did not: the reason to do so no longer existed. Indeed, if she had been honest with herself, they hadn't needed the money for quite a while before she closed down Felicity; she had continued it because she enjoyed making money, and enjoyed the business. Jen was the only one who knew it, but she had still seen the occasional client while running Felicity. She told herself it was just to keep her hand in, as well as other things, but the truth was, she had enjoyed that part of the work as well.

All that was finished now. She had been completely faithful for five years, with no regrets whatever. Her husband's current income plus her savings would be more than enough to see them through college expenses into a comfortable retirement. She had discovered that she had considerable interest and acumen for small business management; she was now applying that to a charitable organization that helped homeless single mothers and orphans become self-supporting. She found it just as rewarding as Felicity had been, though of course in different ways. She saw only one flaw in her current life: her name. Thelma.