And I Love Her

"That's easy again, Mr. Robinson," Donna replied hotly. "I am embarrassed that anyone would be so vile as to photograph my husband and me while making love. The truth is, however, that my love for my husband far exceeds any personal embarrassment I may suffer. I will not stand by and have him maligned or insulted. He is a fine man with an impeccable reputation and should never have to take any shit like this!"

"How old are you, my dear?' asked Mrs. Mildred Simon.

Donna turned her attention to Art Simon's wife. She looked at the older woman for half a minute before responding.

"As long as I'm baring everything here, I may as well tell you, Mrs. Simon. I'm 44 years old. I weigh 122 pounds and I'm an inch shy of five and a half feet tall."

"With all due respect to the ladies present, the woman in these pictures is much younger than 44!" snorted Robinson. "I'd be willing to bet the slut in these pictures isn't even 35!"

I had Robinson by his lapels and across the conference table before he finished his sentence. I was pulling back to paste him a good shot when Donna grabbed my arm.

"Dan! Don't even think about it! He's just stating what he thinks is fact. Let him go, now!" barked Donna.

I relaxed my grip on Robinson and let him flop back into his seat. It seemed quite apparent that my job was history now.

"Mr. Robinson, I don't know how you feel about your wife being insulted in front of you, but believe me when I tell you that Dan will not tolerate it from you, or anyone. He absolutely worships me!" beamed Donna as she looked at me.

"My Dear," interjected Mildred Simon. "Personally, I admire the way both of you protect and defend each other, but I am afraid that Mr. Robinson has made a valid point, although his crudeness is very upsetting. You are 44 years old and the woman in the photos appears much younger. Her face is not clear in any of them, what with her hair always in her face."

Donna reached into her bag and pulled out a red wig and placed it on her head over her blond hair. The group at the table looked unconvinced.

"It seems you do have a red wig, Mrs. Benson, but the age difference is still a considerable hurdle for us to get over," stated Mildred Simon. "I, for one, have difficulty accepting that you are the woman in the photos. It seems very possible that you are going to great lengths to save your husband's position with our company."

"You have no idea how far I'd go for Dan, Mrs. Simon," answered Donna. "Will you admit that if the woman in the pictures is me, then Dan has done nothing wrong? That he has, in fact, helped your company prevent the theft of your formula at tremendous personal embarrassment and ridicule? Will you admit that a married couple can enjoy love making in private as depicted in these photos, without shame or humiliation? Is it possible that if we had pictures of you and Mr. Simon in a moment of ardor, there is little here that you wouldn't be doing?"

"This is not about Mr. Simon and me, Mrs. Benson," smiled Mildred Simon. "I will say that I would be most uncomfortable to have photos of my personal life circulated on the internet, although less so if I could look as good as the young lady in these photos. We seem to have reached an impasse here, I'm afraid."

"I will not accept that. Dan is being accused of impropriety. He's actually being condemned for loving his wife! The so-called evidence that he was with a cheap whore is a bunch of lousy pictures! You can't even see my face in them because of this cheap wig I bought in the airport in Los Angeles. You can't even see my face in the photo taken at the bar while I still had my clothes on," Donna stated calmly.

"Somehow I knew it would come to this. I want you to look at these pictures that Gloria enlarged," insisted Donna as she pulled two glossies from her handbag and tossed them on the table in front of the group. "Look at the freckles on the left breast. Then look at the little tattoo just above the pussy my husband is so enthusiastically paying lip service. Then compare them with this!"

I had thought I'd seen everything. Now everyone saw everything. Donna had quickly unbuttoned her coat as she spoke and shrugged it off her shoulders. She was completely naked!

I didn't know if I should crawl under the table, grab her coat and put it back over her, or just stand there and beam. There's something about seeing your wife naked in front of other people that is extremely erotic. I had seen her naked for 22 years, but she never looked sexier.

"Mr. Simon, please look at the pictures and then my left breast, and then down below. What conclusion do you reach, Sir?" Donna asked Paul Simon as she stepped up to the table, standing close in front of him.

"My conclusion, Mrs. Benson," responded Paul Simon after what seemed like an unnecessarily long inspection, "is that you are indeed the woman in the photograph and a vision of beauty. It is also my opinion that we owe you, and the extremely fortunate Mr. Benson standing next to you, a huge apology. These proceedings, in retrospect, subjected both of you unfair accusations bordering on slander.

"I am now offering a motion that this board formally apologize to Dan Benson, acknowledge that his quick thinking has saved our company the loss of our formula, present him with a five thousand dollar bonus in appreciation as well as a five percent raise in salary," he continued. "Do I hear a second?"

The six other members seemed to all respond at the same time, seconding the motion of Paul's. It passed unanimously. Donna was still hugging me when Art Simon gently placed her coat on her shoulders. His wife, Mildred, waited for us to separate.

"My Dear, it goes against the laws of nature for a woman to look as good as you do at 44, or at almost any age! I apologize for my reluctance to believe you, but I can assure you that if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes; I would never have believed our area's third grade teacher could achieve such a metamorphosis by donning a wig and shedding her clothing! Your devotion to your husband, and his respect and love for you, are most touching. It's regrettable that those pictures of you are circulating. Especially when you look so good, but your face can't be recognized in them! "

Chapter 2 by RPSuch

Several other board members started to add their own comments simultaneously.

I can be somewhat volatile as my outburst against Bob Robinson had shown. But listening to this last bit of obsequious condescension by Mildred Simon, and the murmur of all their babbling, set me off like a match to an open tank of gasoline.

"Shut up!" I yelled so loud I'm sure it could have been heard throughout the building. There was instant silence from them.

I continued in a voice that was loud, but lacked the explosive power of my original two words. "You can take your $5000 and your 5% and stuff them where the sun don't shine you sanctimonious hypocrites! You slandered me and my wife. With no reason you made her out to be a manipulative liar. Despite my quick actions to protect the company you portrayed me as a man with no morals. Then you humiliated her by giving her no choice but to submit a display of public nudity in front of you. And you further humiliated me by making her do it with me here to see it. You all compounded the personal cost. $5000 is an insult that just confirms your contempt. $5000 won't nearly do it.

"You, Robinson, pronounced her a slut, while drooling over her pictures, you old pervert. You others gawked at her body; ogled her like drunks on the first row at a cheap strip club.

"You, Mildred, oozed contempt for her defense of me after I saved the formula at great personal cost, including a willingness to lose my job just to save my wife the embarrassment of having her body recognized in those photographs.

"Shame on all of you."

I was shaking with anger. My eyes burned with a fire that told them not only was I serious, but that my real preference would have been to give every one of them a sound beating.

"Your accusations didn't just border on slander. Do you understand the cost of the kind of slander you people have made against me and my wife in a community this small? She could lose her job. I might never be able to find another job here because of the cloud of suspicion you've created. Our kids will be affected. Our parents will be affected. And what will the community make of the generous offer of $5000? It's far less than a nuisance lawsuit would cost you. Accepting it would be seen in this community as an admission of wrongdoing by both of us.

"Do you remember that guy accused of the Olympic bombing in Atlanta? The FBI annihilated him in the press. Do you think anybody remembers he didn't do it when they meet him, when he goes for a job, when he tries to get a date? They remember the lies.

"That's the position you've put us in. Every other employee of this company and probably their whole families and all their friends, basically the entire community knows why you called me in here to fire me. Even if we come to an agreement, they all figure where there's smoke, there's fire. And by now they know Donna is here trying to help me. Are they going to hear what she did?

"Yeah, snicker Robinson, you pig. I'll make sure each of you is sued individually as well as suing the company. But, before we even discuss money, there is a non-negotiable demand if you don't want me to sue the company out from under all of you, and I promise I will.

"I demand that all of you strip completely naked right now. I want you to understand the humiliation you've created by suffering it yourself. At least you won't have the additional suffering of having your private acts of love publicly displayed and demeaned by the likes of yourselves."

Oh, shit! I'm normally a reasonable guy. I prefer to cooperate, negotiate, accommodate. I'd just gone off on a rant that could cost us everything. They're going to fire me, expose me, expose her. Why couldn't I just take the money and the raise? I must have been crazy. Can I plead extreme emotional distress? I'd gone so far off the deep end I wasn't sure I could even find the deep end again if I tried.

But, I was right. Their behavior had been disgraceful at best.

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. I wouldn't have been surprised to find that nobody had even breathed.

I put my hands on my hips. I straightened up into the most aggressive pose I could manage. I had a hard look on my face that was more than anger. It could easily have been the look of someone who's been pushed too far and was picking out the first victim to be hurt.

Still no movement.

I waited no more than ten or fifteen seconds. My voice was no longer loud, it was just determined. "I have your answer. You won't have to wait long for mine."

I turned and took a few quick steps toward the door.

"Wait," said Paul's son, Paul, Jr. "Isn't there any other way? What you're asking is humiliating."

I smiled. It was not friendly and engaging. "Exactly. How much more humiliating must it have been for Donna when she was the only one? How much more humiliating was it for me to have to watch it? You're getting off easy."

I glared at them, challenging them to argue.

Paul, Jr., slowly stood, took off his jacket and started to unbutton his shirt.

"Paul," said his father.

"He's right, Dad. We owe him this. We owe her this."

His father stood and started to disrobe.

Art's son rose. Art followed. "You, too, Mother," the young man said angrily. "He's right. Your disrespect was a close second to Robinson."

Paul's daughter, Gwen got up with a sigh. "Grow up, Mildred," she said. "Your devotion to yourself, and your respect and love for yourself, are most touching." Her voice dripped sarcasm. "If you didn't always have your nose stuck so far up in the air you'd have noticed just how much worse you were making this situation. If only one of us had to strip, it ought to be you. Now get with the program."

Mildred wasn't looking so resolute, but neither was she giving any indication of joining in.

"Mildred, do it now!" Art commanded. "Contribute something to this business for a change."

She fumed, but succumbed to the pressure being exerted by her family. Before she completed unbuttoning her blouse, she said, "Just a minute. Robinson, are you part of this board?"

He shrugged.

"Take off your damn clothes," she said.

"Take off your damn clothes, my dear," corrected Gwen.

Mildred gave her a withering look.

"Robinson," asked Art severely, "Are you a member of this board?"

"He means are you still a member of this board," said Paul. "Are you still an officer of this company?"

He hesitated.

"Does anybody know someone with a strong financial background?" asked Art.

Robinson stood and slowly took off his jacket. When he got to the shirt the family resumed disrobing.

When they finished they stood there attempting to avert their eyes, their shoulders slumped, chests concave. Donna had stood proudly.

I looked from face to face. This was what I had wanted. They were humiliated. Now I could … Oops. I hadn't thought this far. Now what do I do? This was going to be a hell of an anti-climax. Except…

"Now we can negotiate," I said.

"Like this? Naked?" asked Gwen.

"What's the problem?" I asked. "You guys had a leisurely discussion while Donna was naked. You moved a motion and voted on it before she got her coat back."

I had never felt so powerful. I had never been so powerful. If I was ever involved in negotiations again, I would try to arrange for the other side to be naked. They would want to wrap these negotiations as quickly as possible.

"I've got to tell you how disappointed I am about this whole thing," I said. "I was the victim of a burglary in my hotel room, a felony. The purpose of the burglary was to commit blackmail, another felony. The purpose of the blackmail was to commit industrial espionage, another felony, a damn serious felony. Then I was put out of their car at knifepoint, another serious felony.

"And after being the victim of my own personal crime wave, and helping the company avoid the disaster which was the purpose of this crime wave, you brought me in here to fire me for my moral deficiency. The cherry on this cake is that even though they thought I cooperated, they released the blackmail photos anyway, with no reason at all, nothing to gain." That's when it hit me. I glanced at those eyes and I knew.

I shook my head and sighed. I was having a great time dragging out their nudity. "Sooooo disappointing." I had to stop dawdling or pretty soon I would start laughing.

"Enough," snapped Mildred. "Make him a fair offer and let's get this over with."

They offered a 20% raise. I wanted 25%. I told them I would accept their offer tentatively, but I would talk with them further to persuade them I was worth 25%.

We agreed on a bonus of $50,000. They offered stock. I wanted cash.

"Dan," said Art, "You're going to invest the money anyway. Art & Paul's Old Fashioned Soda Company pays a very nice dividend." He looked at Robinson for help.

"Take their damn offer. This is a closely held corporation and it gets favorable tax treatment." Then he grumbled, "It's almost as much stock as I own."

I scrunched my lips and started to rock as if I were evaluating the offer. You better believe I was taking it. I decided to be gracious and put them out of their misery rather than posturing any longer.

"Done," I said, and they quickly started to dress.

Donna came over, put her arms around me and gave me a steamy kiss that made me want to get naked. "My hero," she said.

I wanted to take the rest of the day off but I was torn. "Art, Paul, could we speak in one of your offices? I think I can quickly convince you about that extra 5% before I run home to my wife."

"Is there really a rush?" asked Paul.

"I just want to wrap this up and get it in writing."

They agreed reluctantly.

Mildred, now dressed, came over and shook my hand. "Congratulations, young man. I apologize for my attitude and my behavior. You have a lovely wife and a lovely marriage. Everyone should be so lucky."

Donna and I both accepted her apology.

Art asked for five minutes to get himself coffee before we met in his office.

I whispered a request to Gloria.

I went to the kitchen and got myself a diet A&P Root Beer. Nobody makes it better than Art and Paul.

We settled down to discuss my raise and they told me the floor was mine.

Art's phone buzzed. He politely asked us to wait while he answered it. He listened and said, "Okay, thanks," into the phone.

"Gloria spoke with the police and with the private firm we hired. It seems they have both lost the men who tried to blackmail you. The cars were stolen so, for the moment, they have no leads," he said. "The police also said they would be back to speak to you again later."

"I wonder what makes them think I know any more now. Maybe they think I was part of the conspiracy." This seemed a good lead in.

"Never. We'll tell them that," said Paul.

"Well, it turns out I'm pretty sure I can help them. But I think you might like to know what I'm thinking before I talk to them."

They both gave me curious looks.

"You recall they asked me for my ID card and the code I use to get into the more sensitive areas of the company."

Both nodded.

"Anyone could have told them we wear IDs. Other than what may have been implied by the Time Magazine article, who actually knows that we do have sensitive areas? We have codes for a number of internal doors and use the same code for almost all of them, a practice which I intend to change without delay. Who knows there are two doors for which a different code is used?"

"I'd have to think," said Paul. "Not even the kids know. It could be just Art and I, and you, of course."

"Who knows we have security cameras?"

"That's pretty common knowledge among the office staff. I'm sure they have all seen them by now," said Art.

"Who knows the areas of coverage? I checked the tapes. The guy avoided us recording even a clear frame of reference to gauge his height. He navigated to the security room as if he could have done it blindfolded."

"Shit!" said Art.

"Inside job," said Paul, very softly.

I nodded. "Who knows about our first-Tuesday meetings; not just that we have them, but when, and that even the secretaries attend them? It's not something you would learn from the outside because there's a phone system in the conference room where anybody can take calls. You can't tell the desks are vacated."

Art's phone buzzed again. "Yes. Okay."

After a pregnant pause, the door to his office opened and Gloria led in the chief detective handling the case. She left and closed the door.

Art nodded to an empty seat and the detective took it.

"Gentlemen," he said. He frowned, then continued. "I'm sorry to have to tell you, but we're fairly confident this was an inside job." He turned his gaze meaningfully to me, and said nothing further, waiting for me to address his unspoken accusation.

"Dan was just telling us he had reached the same conclusion," said Art.

The detective continued to stare at me. He apparently thought he was going to get a confession.

"Continue, Dan," said Paul.

"They had the layout. They knew the timing of the meeting. They knew where the cameras were located. They knew exactly how to get directly to the secure room so there would be no wasted time.

"Who knows the code to get into the secure room?" I asked.

Paul and Art looked at each other, eyes questioning.

"Right," I said. "Just me. The code is in a safe deposit box accessible by the two of you upon my death. Even my wife can't get in."

"Hmmm," intoned the detective. "That could explain a lot. You obviously had access to your own room in Vegas. You knew the email addresses to make it look like a blackmail scheme. Since you're the only one with the code, you had to give us a scheme to point to your innocence."