Disclosure: A Novel (17 page)

He hesitated. "How much detail do you want?"

"Just the broad strokes for now." She bit her sandwich. "You say you were kissing."

"Yes."

"And she initiated this?"

"Yes."

"What was your reaction when she did that?"

"I was uncomfortable. I'm married."

"Uh-huh. What was the general atmosphere in the meeting, prior to this kiss?"

"It was a regular business meeting. We were talking about business. But all the time, she was making, uh, suggestive remarks."

"Like what."

"Oh, about how good I looked. How I was in shape. How glad she was to see me."

"How glad she was to see you," Fernandez repeated, with a puzzled look.

"Yes. We knew each other before."

"You had a prior relationship?"

"Yes."

"When was that?"

"Ten years ago."

"And were you married then?"

”No.”

"Did you both work for the same company at that time?"

"No. I did, but she worked for another company."

"And how long did your relationship last?"

"About six months." "And have you kept up contact?"

"No. Not really."

"Any contact at all?"

"Once."

"Intimate?"

"No. Just, you know, hello in the hallway. At the office."

"I see. In the last eight years, have you ever been to her house or apartment?"

No.

"Dinners, drinks after work, anything?"

"No. I really haven't seen her at all. When she joined the company, she was in Cupertino, in Operations. I was in Seattle, in Advanced Products. We didn't have much contact."

"So during this time, she wasn't your superior?"

"No."

"Give me a picture of Ms. Johnson. How old?"

"Thirty-five."

"Would you characterize her as attractive?"

"Yes."

"Very attractive?"

"She was a Miss Teenage something as a kid."

"So you would say she's very attractive." The pen scratched on the legal pad.

"Yes."

"And how about other men-would you say they find her very attractive?"

"Yes."

"What about her manner with regard to sexual matters? Does she make jokes? Sexual jokes, innuendoes, ribald comments?"

"No, never."

"Body language? Flirtatious? Does she touch people?"

"Not really. She certainly knows she's good-looking, and she can play on that. But her manner is . . . kind of cool. She's the Grace Kelly type."

"They say Grace Kelly was very sexually active, that she had affairs with most of her leading men."

"I wouldn't know."

"Uh-huh. What about Ms. Johnson, does she have affairs inside the company?"

"I wouldn't know. I haven't heard anything."

Fernandez flipped to a new page on her pad. "All right. And how long has she been your supervisor? Or is she your supervisor?"

"Yes, she is. One day."

For the first time, Fernandez looked surprised. She glanced at him, and took another bite of her sandwich. "One day?"

"Yes. Yesterday was the first day of a new company organization. She had just been appointed."

"So the day she is appointed, she meets with you, in the evening." "Yes."

"All right. You were telling me, you were sitting on the couch and she was kissing you.

And what happened then?"

"She unzipped-well, first of all, she started rubbing me."

"Your genitals."

"Yes. And kissing me." He found himself sweating. He wiped his forehead with his hand.

"I understand this is difficult. I'll try to make this as brief as possible," Fernandez said.

"And then?"

"Then, she unzipped my pants, and started rubbing me with her hand."

"Was your penis exposed?"

"Yes."

"Who exposed it?"

"She took it out."

"So she took your penis out of your pants, and then rubbed it with her hand, is that right?"

She peered at him over her glasses, and for a moment he glanced away in embarrassment.

But when he looked back at her, he saw that she was not the least embarrassed, that her manner was more than clinical, more than professional-that she was in some deep way detached, and very cold.

"Yes," he said. "That's what happened."

"And what was your reaction?"

"Well." He gave an embarrassed shrug. "It worked."

"You were sexually aroused." Yes.

"Did you say anything to her?"

"Like what?"

"I'm just asking whether you said anything to her."

"Like what? I don't know."

"Did you say anything at all?"

"I said something, I don't know. I was feeling very uncomfortable."

"Do you remember what you said?"

"I think I just kept saying `Meredith,' trying to get her to stop, you know, but she kept interrupting me, or kissing me."

"Did you say anything else besides `Meredith'?"

"I don't remember."

"How did you feel about what she was doing?"

"I felt uncomfortable."

"Why?"

"I was afraid of getting involved with her, because she was my boss now, and because I was married now and I didn't want any complications in my life.

You know, an office affair."

"Why not?" Fernandez asked.

The question took him aback. "Why not?"

"Yes." She looked at him directly, her eyes cool, appraising. "After all, you're alone with a beautiful woman. Why not have an affair?"

"Jesus."

"It's a question most people would ask."

"I'm married."

"So what? Married people have affairs all the time."

"Well," he said. "For one thing, my wife is a lawyer and very suspicious."

"Do I know her?"

"Her name is Susan Handler. She's with Lyman, King."

Fernandez nodded. "I've heard of her. So. You were afraid that she would find out."

"Sure. I mean, you have an affair in the office, and everybody's going to know. There isn't any way to keep it quiet."

"So you were concerned about this becoming known."

"Yes. But that wasn't the main reason."

"What was the main reason?"

"She was my boss. I didn't like the position I was in. She was, you know . . . well, she had the right to fire me. If she wanted to. So it was like I had to do it. I was very uncomfortable."

"Did you tell her that?"

"I tried."

"How did you try?"

"Well, I just tried."

"Would you say that you indicated to her that her advances were not welcome?"

"Eventually, yes."

"How is that?"

"Well, eventually, we continued this . . . whatever you call it, foreplay or whatever, and she had her panties off, and"

"I'm sorry. How did she come to have her panties off?"

"I took them off."

"Did she ask you to do that?"

"No. But I got pretty worked up at one point, I was going to do it, or at least I was thinking about doing it."

"You were going to have intercourse." Her voice again cool. The pen scratching.

"Yes."

"You were a willing participant."

"For a while there. Yes."

"In what way were you a willing participant?" she asked. "What I mean is, did you initiate touching her body or breast or genitals without her encouragement?"

"I don't know. She was pretty much encouraging everything."

"I am asking, did you volunteer. Did you do it on your own. Or did she, for example, take your hand and place it on her-"

"No. I did it on my own."

"What about your earlier reservations?"

"I was worked up. Excited. I didn't care at that point."

"All right. Go on."

He wiped his forehead. "I'm being very honest with you."

"That's exactly what you should be. It's the best thing all around. Please go on."

"And she was lying on the couch with her skirt pulled up, and she wanted me to enter her, to . . . and she was sort of moaning, you know, saying, `No, no,' and suddenly I had this feeling again that I didn't want to do this, so I said, Òkay, let's not,' and I got off the couch and started getting dressed."

"You broke off from the encounter yourself."

"Yes."

"Because she had said, `no'?"

"No, that was just an excuse. Because I was feeling uneasy at that point."

"Uh-huh. So you got off the couch and started to get dressed . . ."

"Yes."

"And did you say anything at that time? To explain your actions?"

"Yes. I said that I didn't think this was a good idea, and I didn't feel good about it."

"And how did she respond?"

"She got very angry. She started throwing things at me. Then she started hitting me. And scratching me."

"Do you have any marks?"

"Yes."

"Where are they?"

"On my neck and chest."

"Have they been photographed yet?"

“No.”

"All right. Now when she scratched you, how did you respond?"

"I just tried to get dressed and get out of there."

"You didn't respond directly to her attack?"

"Well, at one point I pushed her back, to get her away from me, and she tripped on a table and fell on the floor."

"You make it sound like pushing her was self-defense on your part."

"It was. She was ripping the buttons off my shirt. I had to go home, and I didn't want my wife to see my shirt, so I pushed her away."

"Did you ever do anything that was not self-defense?"

“No.”

"Did you hit her at any time?"

“No.”

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes."

"All right. What happened then?"

"She threw a wineglass at me. But by then I was pretty much dressed. I went and got my phone from her windowsill, and then I went-"

"I'm sorry. You got your phone? What phone is that?"

"I had a cellular phone." He took it out of his pocket and showed her.

"We all carry them in the company, because we make them. And I had been using the phone to make a call from her office, when she started kissing me."

"Were you in the middle of a call when she started kissing you?"

"Yes." "Whom were you talking to?"

"An answering machine." "I see." She was clearly disappointed. "Go on, please."

"So I went and got my phone and got the hell out of there.

She was screaming that I couldn't do this to her, that she would kill me."

"And you responded how?"

"Nothing. I just left."

"And this was at what time?"

"About six forty-five."

"Did anybody see you leave?"

"The cleaning lady."

"Do you happen to know her name?"

“No.”

"Ever seen her before?"

“No.”

"Do you think she worked for your company?"

"She had a company uniform on. You know, for the maintenance firm that cleans up our offices."

"Uh-huh. And then?"

He shrugged. "I went home."

"Did you tell your wife what happened?"

“No.”

"Did you tell anybody what happened?"

“No.”

"Why not?"

"I guess I was in shock."

She paused and looked back over her notes. "All right. You say you were sexually harassed. And you have described a very direct overture by this woman. Since she was your boss, I would have thought you'd feel yourself at some risk in turning her down."

"Well. I was concerned. Sure. But I mean, don't I have the right to turn her down? Isn't that what this is about?"

"Certainly you have that right. I'm asking about your state of mind."

"I was very upset."

"Yet you did not want to tell anybody what had happened? You did not want to share this upsetting experience with a colleague? A friend? A family member, perhaps a brother?

Anybody at all?"

"No. It didn't even occur to me. I didn't know how to deal with what- I guess I was in shock. I just wanted it to go away. I wanted to think it had never happened."

"Did you make any notes?"

“No.”

"All right. Now, you mentioned that you didn't tell your wife. Would you say you concealed it from your wife?"

He hesitated. "Yes."

"Do you often conceal things from her?"

"No. But in this instance, you know, involving an old girlfriend, I didn't think she would be sympathetic. I didn't want to deal with her about this."

"Have you had other affairs?"

"This wasn't an affair."

"I'm asking a general question. In terms of your relationship to your wife."

"No. I haven't had affairs."

"All right. I advise you to tell your wife at once. Make a full and complete disclosure.

Because I promise you that she will find out, if she hasn't done so already. However difficult it may be to tell her, your best chance to preserve your relationship is to be completely honest with her."

"Okay."

"Now, going back to last night. What happened next?"

"Meredith Johnson called the house and spoke to my wife."

Fernandez's eyebrows went up. "I see. Did you expect that to happen?"

"God, no. It scared the hell out of me. But apparently she was friendly, and just called to say that the morning meeting was rescheduled for eight-thirty. Today."

"1 see."

"But when I got to work today, I found that the meeting had actually been scheduled for eight."

"So you arrived late, and were embarrassed, and so on."

"Yes."

"And you believe that it was a setup."

"Yes."

Fernandez glanced at her watch. "I'm afraid I'm running out of time. Bring me up to date about what happened today quickly, if you can."

Without mentioning Conley-White, he described the morning meeting briefly and his subsequent humiliation. His argument with Meredith. His conversation with Phil Blackburn. The offer of a lateral transfer. The fact that the transfer would deny him the benefits of a possible spin-off. His decision to seek advice.

Fernandez asked few questions and wrote steadily. Finally, she pushed the yellow pad aside.

"All right. I think I have enough to get the picture. You're feeling slighted and ignored.

And your question is, do you have a harassment case?"