The Woman in the Cave

While I was speaking with him my office phone buzzed, indicating that my secretary was trying to reach me. I muted my cellphone and pressed the button to talk to her. Brandon was still droning on, so I knew that I had a few moments before I had to respond. Like I said, we had this conversation daily.

"Yes Kim."

"Mr. Ross is here to see you."

I smiled to myself and rolled my eyes. Terry. Of course he was here. No doubt the reason for his visit was to gloat and rub my face in the fact that he won our little bet.

We had this whale that we were both trying to reel in named Mr. Wellington. This guy was a lawyer's wet dream. He was a walking law suit, as well as a VIP of a Fortune 500 company. He was worth so many billable hours that he would have probably saved a fortune by opening a law firm and dedicating it to his cases. You would think that his company would cut bait with such a liability, but he was a rainmaker at making them money. It was in their best interest to keep him properly represented rather than let him go.

Terry and I pursued this guy relentlessly. Both of us knew that landing him would go a long way to making Senior Partner. The competition got so intense that Terry proposed a bet. The loser had to make the winner coffee every day for a month; whenever the winner wanted it. Whether it was during a board meeting, or simply a meeting with a client, the loser would have to endure the humiliation of stopping whatever he (or she) was doing and go fetch coffee.

I thought I had the upper hand in that battle. Since a lot of Mr. Wellington's cases involved inappropriate conduct with women, I strategically thought that it would be in his best interest to have a female face doing his defense. I looked good on camera, and people often responded well to me, so having me would help his PR immensely.

What I didn't count on was Mr. Wellington being such a blatant sexist. His ego made him not even feel the need to hide it. When I first met with him and his wife, I wondered how she had any brain cells left with all the coke that she snorted. An hour into the meeting, I came to the realization that that was the only way she could endure being married to him.

I knew I was fighting an uphill battle with him when he continually referred to me as "honey buns" and "sweet cakes". He was a fat fucker, but he wasn't referring to his sweet tooth. Later, Terry jokingly told me to be thankful that he didn't call me "blouse meat" like he did to the ex-employee that was currently suing him for sexual harassment.

To make a long story short, Terry won the client, and the bet. I hated losing, but I was glad that I didn't have to be the one constantly defending that misogynistic asshole. I was a lawyer, and a damn good one, but I was also a woman.

"Hey, hey, hey, Bran." I said quickly as I tried to cut through his memorized script to get his attention. "Let me call you back. I have a client walking in."

Okay. It was a little white lie. I didn't even need to tell it. It just seemed easier to say that a client was walking in rather than another lawyer. It was still business related. Kind of.

"Okay Kitty Kat. See you tonight. Love you."

"Love you too. Bye." I said hurriedly as I disconnected. Then I pressed the button on my office phone again and said, "Send him in."

A few seconds later, Terry sauntered in and closed the door behind him. I watched him smirk confidently as he took the seat in front of my desk and crossed his leg with his ankle on his knee.

"What can I do for you Terry?" I asked in a blasé tone of voice, like he was annoying me. He chuckled and rubbed his chin.

"Coffee, light. 2 Hazelnut creams, three packets of Splenda."

"Splenda? Are you watching your girlish figure?"

"No. That's just how Stephanie likes it. I figured I'd bring my secretary a cup for a change. You know, to show my appreciation. It's the least I can do." He said with smugness masquerading as genuine selflessness.

"Your benevolence knows no bounds." I said dryly as I rolled my eyes and stood up. I walked over to my door to head out of the office. From the corner of my eye I saw him watching me the entire way.

Terry and I often went at each other in the office. There was a lot of cutting quips and slick talk as we berated one another. But everyone knows that when two people go out of their way to take jabs at each other, it's just a thin veil to flirt. Underneath it all, there was mutual respect, as well as physical attraction.

I stopped at my door and turned around, ignoring the fact that his eyes were on my ass. "You aren't really going to make me go through with this ridiculous bet, are you?"

This got another chuckle from him. "You know Kat, I hear you talking, but I'm still caffeine deficient. What say we fix that, mmmkay?" He ended it with an exaggerated wink and a clicking sound from his teeth.

I groaned loudly. "Fine. I'll be right back." I said through gritted teeth. As I walked out, I heard him jokingly yell out, "Put some pep in your step, blouse meat."

I threw him the finger over my shoulder in response.

I seriously thought about putting something in his coffee. Maybe some Maalox or something like that. I relented in the name of good sportsmanship, but it was a close call. Instead, I brought the coffee back to him per his specifications.

"Enjoy." I said cryptically as I handed it to him. I sat back down behind my desk and smirked as I looked at him, daring him to drink it. I was trying to psyche him out. I didn't put anything in his cup, but he didn't know that.

He eyed me suspiciously for a moment, then he took a hesitant sip. When he realized that it was poison free, he looked at me with that goddamn grin again.

"Wow Counselor. I have to say, you make a really good cup of Joe. We should've made this bet a while ago. Stephanie is going to love this."

"Eat me." I said without fully thinking about it. The moment threatened to become awkward, but Terry played it off masterfully.

"Such unladylike language. Do you kiss your husband with that mouth?" he said, sidestepping the rise in tension.

I was a little disappointed that he didn't return the volley. Most men wouldn't have passed on that opportunity for a flirt. This time, I deliberately upped the ante. I leaned forward, shot him a smoldering gaze and said, "You'd be surprised by what I can do with my mouth."

That got his attention. He looked at me curiously, trying to see if I meant that like it sounded. When I didn't look embarrassed, he responded with, "Honestly Kat, I wouldn't be surprised by anything from you. You're a woman of many talents."

My ego was properly stroked, so I doused him with cold water to cool things off. "Good. Now you can leave my office and give your secretary my perfect coffee."

The quick change in temperature threw him for a second. Then he laughed it off as he got up from his chair. "You're a bitch sometimes. You know that?"

"So I've heard." I said as I did the same wink and clicking sound that he did to me. He shook his head with a final laugh and headed for my door.

He was about to walk out, but he stopped. He turned and looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. "What if I gave you another way to pay your bet?"

Curious, I leaned back in my chair. "I'm listening."

He thought for a second, as if trying to decide whether or not to say what he was thinking. Then he slyly asked, "What kind of underwear are you wearing?"

This time it was my turn to catch whiplash from the sudden screeching turn that this conversation took. "Excuse me?" I exclaimed incredulously.

He took a step away from the door and towards me. He looked me confidently in the eyes as he repeated, "What kind of panties do you have on?"

My mouth gaped open. "You're kidding, right?" He didn't say anything. Didn't apologize, or try to play it off. He just stood there, like he was seriously expecting me to answer. "Um, none of your fucking business. That's what kind." I finally said.

He smirked and huffed out a small laugh, like he knew something I didn't. "Okay. Okay." He said as he put his hands up in mock surrender. "But...if you were to go into the bathroom and send me a sexy pic, I could be persuaded to go back to making Stephanie get her own coffee." Then he walked back over to the door, leaving me in disbelief.

"You're insane." I said. I noticed that my voice had no hint of mirth or anger. It was more like amusement.

"Just a thought." He said as he finally opened the door and left.

I sat in my now empty office and shook my head. That man had a lot of nerve. He was married for fuck's sake. I'd met Christine on multiple occasions. He was also familiar with my husband. Neither stopped him from making his absurd request.

Still, I couldn't help being impressed by his audacity. I should have been more offended, but I wasn't. Surprisingly, I was a little flattered.

I found Terry attractive. Any woman who wasn't a full-blown lesbian would. He was good looking, driven, successful, always smelled nice, and had a way with words. It does a person good to know that someone that they find attractive also feels the same.

I thought about his proposal. What should have been an immediate "hell no" became a debate between me and my conscience.

I mean, he didn't ask me to fuck him. He didn't even ask me for a naked photo. Just a sexy one.

I picked up my cell phone and sent him a quick text saying,do you have Instagram? He replied a few minutes later with a link. I checked it out and saw it was his account.

I can't believe I'm actually going to do this.I thought as I left my office and made my way to the ladies' room.

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

DR. CARTER – PRESENT

Katrina sat on the couch looking contemplative when she finished her story. Hearing this story being told, in her own voice, seemed to be unnerving her. No doubt she tucked this event away in the back of her mind as insignificant. It had nothing to do with the outcome of her marriage. It was a completely separate event.

At least that's what she probably told herself until now.

"So, Kat. You sent him these provocative pictures of yourself. I assume he enjoyed them."

Her contemplative look turned into a confident smile. "Of course he did. He's a fucking man."

"I do find it interesting that you allowed yourself to relegated to a sex object. You strike me as someone who fought long and hard to be treated as just the opposite."

The smile left her face as she thought for a minute. "That's the thing, Dr. Carter. I didn't see me being treated as a sex object by Terry. Him asking for the pictures of me seemed more like he was telling me that he found me sexy, and he knew that I felt the same."

I took note that she finally called me Dr. Carter. By now her wall had almost completely fallen. The hard, tough as nails, cynical woman that entered the office was gone; at least for the moment. Her entire persona had changed. She allowed herself to be vulnerable with me.

"I can see that." I said as I nodded. I didn't completely agree with her, but I could see where she was coming from. "And you enjoyed the attention?"

"Every woman wants to be desirable."

"And Brandon? He didn't make you feel desirable?"

She took a deep breath and brushed her hair out of her face. "It was different with Brandon. He called me beautiful and sexy all the time."

"So, what made Terry so different?"

"I don't know." she said with frustration in her voice. We sat there in silence for a moment, as if taking a small break. Kat blankly looked off into space, her mind spinning in search of answers.

"Did you view Brandon as your equal?"

"Of course." She answered offhandedly. "He was my husband."

"Being your husband is not synonymous with being your equal. Earlier you described Brandon as being less of a man..."

"I didn't say that!" she interrupted abruptly. I was a little surprised by the vehemence that came with it. It seemed out of place.

"A few times you've stated that you wished that he would 'man up'."

"That's just a saying doc. I wasn't really calling him less of a man." She replied as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Her tone was argumentative.

Well, I'm back to being doc again. She doesn't like the thought of undermining Brandon. Seems strange considering her attitude about him.

"Kat, I believe the term you used to describe him was a 'bloody, tampon wearing, pussy'. It's kinda hard to forget vivid imagery like that. It doesn't sound like a term that a woman would use to describe ANY man, let alone one that she loved and married."

"Yeah! Well, I...I..." she stammered incoherently. When she failed to come up with rebuttal, a defeated look came across her face. Her eyes started to water.

"What did you mean when you called him those names?" I asked after a moment of stalled silence.

"I...I don't know." She said as one of the tears made its way down her cheek. "I guess Trina was right. I did emasculate him. But I wasn't trying to. I just wanted him to be motivated."

"What did you want Brandon to be motivated to do?"

"I don't know, something. Anything. He had so much potential! He was just wasting it away, waiting for the right person to read his novellas. Do you know how frustrating and embarrassing that was for me?"

Now we're getting somewhere.

"Embarrassing?"

"YES! EMBARRASSING!" She said passionately. "Here I was, this successful, kick-ass lawyer. At work, I was the shark. People looked up to me. People feared me. My colleagues respected me. I fought every obstacle that people put in front of me like Rocky fucking Balboa! Then, they would ask what my husband did." She paused and gave a small, cynical laugh. "I would tell them that he was a writer. Then they would say, 'Ohhhh! A writer! What has he written?' And do you know what I would have to tell them?"

"Nothing." I finished her statement for her, empathy filling my voice. I knew that I should have let her get it out, but it overtook me. Honestly, I felt her frustration. I was a successful therapist. I'd written a few books myself, and was highly respected. My husband owned his own Carpentry business that was very successful. He started it in his garage with his best friend. Now, there were 3 different offices across state. He was talking things over with his accountant to open a fourth.

When people would ask me what he did, I would proudly go into detail about it. I enjoyed bragging about him. Most women enjoy boasting about their husbands' accomplishments. Even successful women like to boast about their men.

Kat nodded her head sadly. "Yeah. Nothing. It was like he was my stay-at-home-wife. I know that's sexist, but I don't give a shit. We didn't have kids, so I couldn't even use the stay-at-home-dad reasoning. After a while I just avoided all conversations that would lead people to ask about him. Trina doesn't really get it. Her husband is a body builder and a fitness coach. She can be proud of him. Hell, all she has to do is show a picture of him with his shirt off and people couldn't care less what he did for a living."

"Trina?" I asked. Kat looked confused for a second, so I said, "You've mentioned a person named Trina twice now like I'm supposed to know who she is, but..."

The lightbulb came on in her head. "Oh, yeah. Sorry Dr. Carter. Trina is one of my best friends. We went to Stanford Law School together. Now she works in the DA's office. Both of us are named Katrina. People kept getting us confused, so we told everyone to call me Kat since she mostly went by Trina."

"Got it. Got it." I said. For some reason, there was something familiar about a woman named Trina working for the District Attorney, but I couldn't put my finger on it. "So, with all this talk about your husband's faults, it makes me curious as to why you married him in the first place. What attracted you to him?"

The rare smile made its way onto her face again. "Brandon was sweet. And thoughtful. He was the type of person who would drive to the store at 3:00 in the morning for ice-cream, just because I couldn't sleep."

"Uh huh. And how was the sex life?"

Her smile turned coy. "Bran was...pretty damn good." She said with a laugh and a nod. "He was VERY skilled with his mouth. And he was a good conversationalist!"

Both of us shared a laugh at her joke. It was good to see her remembering good times that she had with her ex. It would keep her from shifting so much of the blame for the demise of their marriage onto him.

"So, your problems with him came from the dissatisfaction that you felt with his lack of ambition. You wanted him to be successful at something, like you were."

"It wasn't so much about his job. I made enough to support the both of us. I just wanted to be proud of him, you know? Men feel like their wives are obligated to be proud to call them husband, even if they don't do shit. We are supposed to swoon and fawn over them no matter how much or how little they do."

"Well, yes and no." I paused to collect my thoughts. I had another way to present this to her, and I was trying to decide the best way to get it out. "Do you mind if I give you my perspective on that?"

"Not at all Dr. Carter. That's what I'm paying you for."

"Touché. You work hard to keep yourself attractive, yes?"

"Yes, I do."

"Okay. How would you feel if your husband was embarrassed by the way you looked? What if his dissatisfaction with your appearance made him ashamed to show your pictures to people, or bring you up in conversation? Would that hurt?"

"Of course it would. I don't see the correlation."

"Well, you expect your husband to be proud to call you his wife, right? Even if you were a 250 pound woman who worked at Walmart. Wouldn't you still expect him to be happy that you're his wife? Would you excuse an affair that he had because you weren't pretty enough?"

"That is soooo different, Dr. Carter. It's apples and oranges."

"No Kat. It's apples and apples. We women - often subconsciously - judge our potential lifelong mates by how secure they make us feel. In prehistoric times, the ability to hunt, build a house, or make a fire was what the men were expected to do. Now, we measure that security by how important their careers are. Higher paying jobs usually means that the job is more important. In today' society, women are taking control of their lives and going after those jobs instead of relying on men to do it. However, when we are choosing a mate, we usually still look for a man whose job title is equivalent or above ours. We want our cake, and to eat it, too. Intellectually we must know that if we are going to be at the pinnacle of our professions, often our mate will not be. But we are still conditioned to expect that."

"Okay..." she said, waiting for me to connect the dots.

"Well, men usually have a more primal measuring stick. Physical beauty. The more beautiful the wife, the more she is revered by others who look at the marriage from the outside. In prehistoric times, a woman's physical body was a determination of how equipped she was too bear and nurse children. Sexual arousal did play a part too, I'm sure. Men were still men." We both chuckled a little before moving on. "Of course, there are other factors that go into deciding a mate. Today's society has changed a lot about how we view things. But, if we are honest, these are the FIRST things men and women look for in each other."

"Still not seeing where you're going with this doc."

"Well, an argument could be made that you being embarrassed by your husband's lack of ambition is almost equivalent to him being embarrassed by your looks."

She looked at me contemplative for a moment. Then she screwed up her face and said, "Nope. No offense Dr. Carter, but I completely disagree with you on that."