Flashes in the Dark - Rebecca

"The real criminals are the ones who use the legal system to get away with it. For instance, I'm currently in a class action lawsuit defending a food packaging company who used cheap, harmful anti-freeze in their products. There are over a hundred plaintiffs who have health issues from eating the food, but I know that I'll win, even with all that damning evidence against the company."

"How?"

"Because I know the loophole in the law to exploit. I know exactly how to get evidence to disappear. I know which introductions to make and which palms to grease. The case will go on and on, in an endless limbo for all the plaintiffs until they run out of money to pay for legal fees. That is when I will countersue for abuse of process and bankrupt them all. It will be a message to anyone else with the same idea."

Rebecca gaped. Heather nonchalantly took a drag from her cigarette and said.

"The system isn't meant to protect you and me, Rebecca. It's only meant to protect them. Whatever happens in a major case is always known, always part of a bigger plan."

"Can't you try to change things? You're famous now."

Heather chuckled and exhaled a ring of smoke.

"We're alike, Rebecca. We're both puppets, dancing for the amusement of those who can afford it. The only difference is, I can see the strings and I know the script. It doesn't mean I can change it."

Rebecca looked on in wonder, before she looked down despondently. Heather studied the half of her face visible against the slanted light.

"I already knew some of what you told me," she said, still looking down.

Heather looked at her, puzzled. She went on in a morose tone.

"Around five years back, before I became the head, I had a habit for studying national cancer rates. I noticed a suspiciously high rate of renal cancer in people from coastal towns in this state. Even I had treated a few patients fitting the profile. I reviewed their charts and found traces of toxic chemicals in their bodies. After a little more digging, I found out that Karstedt Petrochemicals uses that shore to dump their processed waste."

"The more I researched, the more I saw the smoking gun. The chemicals in that waste had been connected to higher rates of kidney failure and cancer in many international studies."

"The local ones having been suppressed or bought off," Heather added helpfully.

"I had gathered enough data to write a paper on it. My digging had tipped off the company, who sent a bevy of representatives to buy me off. Sponsorships to conferences, international travel, inflated grants - you name it and they offered it. I refused them all. Then one day, they tried something else."

The lawyer looked down, knowing within her heart what Rebecca was going to say.

"The hospital lawyer, Derek, a close friend of mine, called me to his office one day. There were three men in suits waiting for me. They told me how they planned to finance negative ads against the hospital if I didn't bury the paper. Derek told me it would adversely hit our funding and would mean the end of the new radiology lab I was lobbying for. The men left. Then Derek told me that even if I went ahead with the paper, it would be decades before anything came of it."

"He sounds like a wise man."

Rebecca kept her shameful gaze downwards. Heather sensed her pain and spoke up.

"You did the right thing. Your two choices were getting a new radiology lab and pursuing an impossible ideal for justice. Despite what you may think of yourself, you're a hero."

"Does that change the fact that go to sleep every night knowing people still drink water loaded with carcinogens?"

"No it doesn't. It also doesn't change the fact that they couldn't buy you off. It had to come to a threat before you backed off. Most people would've taken the money."

Rebecca smiled weakly, taking in the validation from her date.

"I bet you weren't the only one who found the pattern. Many did and most of them settled for the money. You were brave enough for them to have to show their true colours. There was one researcher who actually went to court with his findings."

"How do you know it?" her voice trailed off and she saw the rueful look on Heather's face. The lawyer lit a new Ultra Fine. "You were their lawyer?"

"At the time, I was. I got in touch with a crooked prosecutor and trumped up so many charges against him - unpaid taxes, unpaid child support, embezzling. None of them could ever be proved, because none of them were true, but the damage was done. His reputation took a beating. He lost his house, his family, his job. Finally, he took a swan dive off Brooklyn Bridge. The CEO of Karstedt gave me a bonus over and above my retainer for a job well done."

The doctor took a few seconds of silence to digest the news while Heather burnt through half her cigarette in one pull.

"So if I had gone ahead with the paper and tried to publish it..."

"You would have come up against me in court. I hate to think what I'd have to do to you then."

"Thank God for small mercies."

Heather walked over to her cabinet and unearthed another bottle of cognac. Rebecca smiled as she brought it to the bed.

"You forgot the glasses."

"We won't need glasses this time," said Heather with a deliciously wicked smile. She raised her hips and parted her legs, exposing her leaking pussy. She uncorked the bottle and tipped it tantalizingly over her slit. The doctor's eyes widened at the thought.

"For real?"

"Why not?"

Carefully, Rebecca positioned her mouth under Heather's lower lips. With a smile, Heather tilted the bottle, letting a thin stream flow down her slit before sloshing into Rebecca's mouth.

"Told you I had something better in mind," said Heather, tilting the bottle some more.

**

"C'mon, Heather. You get to do some good too," said Rebecca. "Look at the Belvedere trial."

"That's one case."

"I'm sure there are more. I remember the media talking about a dying environmental activist you helped out."

"They're the exceptions. It makes the others bearable."

"Are there any other memorable cases like that?"

Heather cracked her neck and closed her eyes, mulling over her cases.

"What I'm about to say can't leave these four walls, okay?" said Heather solemnly. "Trust me, you will be inviting a world of pain on yourself if you even think about telling anyone."

The doctor nodded.

"Remember Sandra Bertram?"

"Yes," nodded the doctor. "It was a few months back. It dominated the headlines for days. High society party ends in murder. Sandra Bertram was found shot to death in her own home after she had hosted a party. I think they even found the man responsible - a security guard who tried to rob the safe in the room."

"The thing is," said Heather, taking a deep pull on her cigarette. "That man was only guilty of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her husband, Ross, shot her. It was murder, plain and simple."

Rebecca's eyes went as wide as saucers.

"Wait... the guard confessed, right?"

"He's just a patsy. The Bertram family, being as important as they are, wanted to avoid a scandal. Armed robbery gone wrong sounds much better than murder. They called my firm and in turn, me, to do the needful."

"Why would the guard confess then?"

"His little daughter has very severe cerebral palsy. He couldn't afford the treatments or therapy. The Bertrams agreed to pick up the tab for as long as she was alive if he took the fall. After that it was the usual. The right cops came and in exchange for money, falsified all the forensics to point straight to the guard. He played his part and confessed, tying up the whole thing in a neat bow."

"How is that helping someone?" Rebecca asked, still in rapt attention.

"It is. You see, the Bertram family paid for all of two months, the time it took to tie up the loose ends and dispose of any evidence. Then, they saw no need to pay any more. He couldn't appeal from behind bars because the evidence trumped up against him was too damning."

"What happened then?"

"Nothing happened - the payments kept coming to the PO box where they were supposed to."

"I don't understand," said Rebecca, narrowing her eyes. "Who paid the-"

She stopped mid-sentence and her head snapped up. She caught the knowing, grim smile on the lawyer's face.

"You've been paying ever since?"

Heather nodded, taking her latest cigarette out of her mouth.

"Why?"

"That man sacrificed his freedom for his daughter. I promised him his daughter's treatment would be taken care of. I think it's the least he deserves."

"Any idea why Ross Bertram did it?"

"I don't know. Maybe Sandra was having an affair. In my experience, it's better for your peace of mind if you don't know the answers to such questions. As far as the world goes - they were the unfortunate victims of armed burglary. The real truth will probably never come out."

Silence reigned in the air for a few long moments. Swirls of cigarette smoke shrouded the air, wafting in the breeze.

"All things considered, it's a good thing that you did for that girl. You should be proud of yourself."

"It means a lot, coming from someone else. Thanks."

"Have you met the girl? Does she know why her father is in jail?"

"No," replied Heather, stubbing the remainder of her Marlboro on the ashtray before taking a fresh one out of the pack.

"I think she knows on some level. You'd be surprised how perceptive kids are. We adults try to hide the ugly truths from them, and yet they take it more easily than us."

"Where'd you get that from?"

"Tommy Dunn. Seven years old. He had osteosarcoma... bone cancer. From the first time I saw his test results, I knew how bad the prognosis was. It was a matter of months. His parents tried so hard to hide their grief from him, but he knew."

The doctor took a few moments to gather her thoughts. Heather lay on her side, propping her head up on one pillow and taking a smoke with her other hand.

"He told me how he knew but he was hiding it from his parents. He didn't want them to know he knew. He wanted to give them that scant satisfaction."

"He wasn't scared of dying?"

"On the contrary, he was looking forward to visiting his grandma and tasting her chocolate chip cookies once more. The only thing he was sad about was his parents splitting up."

"They didn't bother to hide it from him?" asked Heather coldly, taking another pull from her Marlboro.

"They tried. They really did. Cancer doesn't just kill people, it kills families. The grief of seeing someone die slowly drives their loved ones into a deep, unremitting depression. Very few parents get through seeing their children die right in front of their eyes. Tommy Dunn's parents were no exception. They tried to be amicable about it and hide it from Tommy as best they could, but he knew and he blamed himself."

Heather shook her head ruefully, letting tresses of auburn hair fall behind her shoulders.

"I told him it wasn't his fault, but he kept blaming himself. He wished he never got cancer, only because it made his parents fight. He made me promise that I would tell his parents to stop fighting when he wasn't there any more."

"When did he finally..." began Heather. Rebecca looked into her eyes and discerned the unspoken word.

"November 24^th, 2013 at 4:55am. Cause of death, multi-organ failure secondary to osteosarcoma metastasising to other parts of his body. I was with him the whole time. I saw the light flicker in his eyes one moment and die out the next. I called the time and I signed the death certificate. His parents were in the waiting room, finally asleep after so many long nights. I was the one who woke them up."

There was silence once more. Heather held her fag over the ashtray, tapping the ashes in.

"The smallest coffins are the heaviest to carry."

Rebecca averted her gaze, looking at the intricate floral pattern on the bed. She did not say anything, letting the disquiet speak for her.

"I pray he's with his grandma, having his favourite cookies."

**

"What do you think?" said Heather with a smile, standing in the doorway. Rebecca's eyes lit up.

"That's a surprise."

Heather looked down, letting her slender fingers idly stroke the eight inches of rubber jutting out of her crotch. It was attached to a triangular black leather harness which looped around the lawyer's thighs and buckled to her side. The fake cock was flesh coloured and reasonably realistic, even with a network of veiny contours wrapped around the shaft.

Rebecca slowly spread her legs, taking a sip of cognac. The low light in the room made her slit glisten. Heather briefly stopped to light up a fresh Marlboro. The doctor's eyes were arrested by the dildo, even as she inched across the void between them.

"Ever done this before?"

"A few times," she replied, lazily rubbing her clit. Her fingers dipped into her slit. She brought the wetness up to her her hardened nipple and rubbed it all over the areola. Heather bent down and took it in her mouth, relishing the tarty taste. The tip of her dildo teased and probed Rebecca's lower lips. She looked into the doctor's eyes for a final go-ahead and sank the entire length into her in one smooth motion.

Rebecca gasped. Her pupils dilated at the sudden entry. She stiffened and felt her inner walls clamp down on the intruder. The grooves and ridges along the sides rubbed against her sensitive walls. Heather's lips remained fastened on the nipple, even as she drew back. She pushed in, eliciting a throaty moan from the doctor.

And again, she pulled out entirely. The fake head was visible at her entrance. She plunged back in all at once, ramming into her G spot.

The doctor's eyes opened wide and he muscles tightened. Her nervous system was aflame with desire, bursting out from between her legs and engulfing her entirely. She let out a throaty groan from the pit of her stomach, feeling a rising swell within her.

Heather slammed in and out of her in long, rapid strokes, with the rhythm and intensity of a battering ram. Her lips left the delectable nipple and she brought her level with her lover's, pounding her. Her hips swayed back and forth, driving the amalgamation of rubber and plastic deeper into Rebecca. Each stroke connected with her G spot, spurring her on to unknown heights of ecstasy.

The lawyer dropped her cigarette and wrapped her arms around Rebecca, pulling her forward. Her manicured nails left a shallow wound, but neither of them seemed to bother. Heather plowed on with renewed vigour.

"More... harder."

With those two simple comparatives, all pretence was thrown to the wind. Heather slammed home on every in-stroke with all the strength she could muster. Their sweaty skins were plastered together one instant and exposed to the cool air the next. Flesh splattered against flesh in a carnal celebration.

Rebecca clenched her eyes and gritted her teeth. She felt her lungs deflate when she let out a piercing scream. Her sound reverberated around the room. Her closed eyes beheld an explosion of colours dancing in front of her. The rising feeling of euphoria finally crested, heralding a volcanic orgasm. A shock wave of pleasure surged from between her legs to the extremities of her limbs, leaving a tingling aftermath even as she came violently around the dildo embedded deep within her.

They collapsed in an entanglement of sweaty flesh. For a few seconds the room was still spinning and the world was definitely off its axis. Rebecca lay on her back, facing the blurry ceiling and Heather rested her head on the doctor's breasts. They panted, slowly regaining their breath and Rebecca's bosom rose and fell, moving Heather with it.

Dr Rebecca Maitland, MD, ached in the best way possible.

**

"Is this the place?" asked Heather. The doctor nodded.

"I'm not so sure about this."

"You're going to do it," said Heather, pulling her Bugatti to a stop around the street corner.

Rebecca took a deep breath, feeling the twin emotions of apprehension and fear flood her. Her stomach knotted with anxiety. Heather sensed it and reached over to wrap her arm around her shoulder.

"I know how scary it seems at first, but it's something you need to do. You can't keep bottling it up within you. You need someone to share your burden with on a regular basis."

"Otherwise?"

"Otherwise..." said Heather with a derisive laugh. "Otherwise you become me. Don't do that to yourself."

Rebecca leaned back into the leather seat while Heather took out a fresh cigarette and lit it.

"I know a guy who knows the guy behind the New Year's Day fireworks over the city. It might take me a couple of days, but I can organize a grand fireworks display. Do you think you can bring Perry to the venue?"

The doctor looked over with a weak smile.

"I'll try. It all depends on how he holds up."

"Cheer up, Rebecca. We'll give him the best damn fireworks display he's ever seen. He won't miss the fourth of July."

"Thanks. I'm sure he'll enjoy it."

The heavy resignation was evident in her tone. Heather cupped her chin and turned her face towards her.

"I also want you to know that if you want to publish your paper linking Karstedt Chemicals to cancer, I'll represent you against the libel charge pro bono."

Rebecca chuckled weakly and replied. "And if you keep smoking at this rate and get lung cancer in the future, you can always look me up."

They sat in silence, staring at the late evening crowd shuffling out of theatres and hallways, making their way to their cars. Heather made rings of smoke against the window.

"So essentially, the next time we meet will be either when you are being sued or I have lung cancer?" said Heather with a smirk. "Doesn't sound like an ideal second date if you ask me."

"It is what it is. Maybe you are right. Maybe we are all fucked up and doomed to die in this apathetic excuse for society with no one to remember us."

"On the contrary," began Heather, tapping the ashes out of her window. "Ever since the Belvedere trial, I am more convinced than ever that there is goodness in society."

"Really?"

"I was cynical before. I only saw greed and avarice, but then I realized I was looking in the wrong place. I was looking at the top - at politicians, businessmen, the rich and famous in general. They are the people I get to meet most often and hence, I assumed that any goodness in society would lie with them. I was sorely mistaken."

She took another drag of her cigarette before continuing.

"There is no goodness or morals in big business, big industry, big oil, big pharma or even Congress. The tragedy of our society is we let the filth rise to the top. As much as we may want it to be different, power and money corrupt everybody."

"If you want goodness, look at the other end of the spectrum. Look at underpaid teachers and social workers. Look at doctors in inner city clinics. Look at the patrol cops or the firemen down the street who risk their lives for complete strangers. Look at the Good Samaritan who gives a homeless guy a twenty for a meal. Look at the teenager who helps an old lady across the road. Look at the everyday acts of kindness all around you, but for God's sake, don't look at the top."

There was silence in the car as Rebecca digested all the words. It swirled inside her head, sinking into the walls she had built to protect her.

"Thank you Heather," she said in a tremulous voice. "I really needed tonight. I didn't realize how much, but I needed it."

"Which is all the more reason you need to get over your fear and do what we talked about. You need someone in your life to share with and care for."

"What about you?" the doctor asked, her tone still trembling with emotion.