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Message-ID: <31786asstr$996797401@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Bill Morgan" <morg1058@chartervt.net>
Subject: {ASSM} NEW from Morgan: ALLISON, 1 of 4; M/F Rom
Date: Thu,  2 Aug 2001 20:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Allison 1.txt" begin>

The following is a work of fiction regarding sexual
relationships.  If you feel that it is illegal, immoral, or
otherwise improper for you to read this, then DON'T READ IT.

* * *

Allison

Chapter 1

Copyright Morgan, 1988, 2001.  All Rights Reserved.

Please note the original copyright date.  This story was
basically written 13 years ago.  As a result, you may find
references to, e.g., "antique" computers, and so forth.  I'm
afraid you'll just have to live with it; it's too tedious trying
to keep up with the latest and greatest in technology in general
and computers in particular

Incidentally, you will find occasional entries, _word_.  The
reason for this is that MS Word's Auto Format function puts a
word preceded and followed by an underscore in italics; that's my
intent.  Similarly, *word* results in the word appearing in bold
face.  If you use Word's Auto Format, it will take care of
things; if you don't, you at least know why it's there.

More of my works are posted on my site <www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Morgan/www> If
you like it -- or if you don't -- please let me know at
morg105829@aol.com.

Incidentally, _Kelly_ in its complete form is also on my site in
.rtf format.  It enables the reader to read it with appropriate
accents, italics, etc.

* * *
Ali McGrath was scared as she knocked on the door of Suite 1400
in the Beverly Wilshire Hotel.  Her appointment was vital.   It
was her first tryout in years and she had to get the part.   A
few moments later the door was opened by a tall man.   "Good
morning," she said, "I'm Ali McGrath and I have a nine o'clock
appointment with Mr. Clifford."

She looked at the man standing before her.  He was six feet two
with a full head of light brown hair graying at the temples.  He
was very trim and conservatively dressed in a gray suit with a
blue button-down shirt and a striped tie.  Ali was puzzled.  Her
appointment was to audition for a movie role and Clifford didn't
look like he was in the business.  He looked like a New York
businessman not a Hollywood film producer.  She guessed his age
as being early- to mid-forties.

When he held out his hand, she took it in a surprisingly firm
grip.  "Hi, I'm Bill Clifford.  I am delighted to meet you, Miss
McGrath.  Won't you come in and sit down?"

Ali McGrath was a tall girl -- five feet eight -- and had a
beautiful figure.  Now, however, she was very thin -- too thin --
and it showed.  She prayed it didn't show too much.  She had
golden blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes with very beautiful
features.  She followed him into the sitting room of his suite. 
This was her first visit to the Beverly Wilshire which was
considered to be a bit staid by the Hollywood types, many of whom
hung around the pool at the Beverly Hills Hotel.  Preceding him
into the room, she took a seat on a side chair.  He noticed she
had passed up the sofa so he took the other side chair and sat
facing her across the coffee table's long axis.  Bill noticed the
girl was thin.  He remembered some of the comments in her file
lying on the coffee table between them that he had justreviewed.

"Miss McGrath, I apologize.  Things have been very hectic for me
today and I never got around to eating breakfast.  I would like
to order from room service.  Could I order something for you?" 
Bill watched as a range of emotions quickly ran across her face.
He noted that he would have completely missed her reaction if he
hadn't been watching for it carefully.

Hunger obviously won out.  "Thank you, Mr. Clifford.  I would be
happy to join you," she replied with a warm smile.

Bill went to the phone, dialed room service and ordered two large
breakfasts of sirloin steak and eggs with hash browns and toast.
With his back towards her he placed the order in a very low voice
so she couldn't overhear.

When he rejoined her and sat down, the two exchanged general
pleasantries for a while and then Clifford turned to the reason
for her visit.  "Miss McGrath, thank you very much for coming in
to see me.  Before I waste time going over what you may already
know, perhaps you could tell me what you know about the part. 
Then I'll fill you in on the rest."

She smiled again.  He noted that her appearance was unchanged
from when she had starring film roles in the 1970's, except now
she did look noticeably thinner.  He looked at her carefully but
still couldn't decide whether she was wearing no makeup or if her
makeup was so well done that it appeared she was not wearing any.
 Bill decided it didn't really matter.

"I really know nothing about the part, except that there is one,"
she said.  Then smiling wryly, she added, "Congratulations on
finding me.  I haven't had an agent in years.  Which raises
another question: There are some things I won't do.  Perhaps I
would have eaten more regularly if I had, but that's the decision
I made.  I just want you to know so I don't waste your time. 
What exactly is the part?"

Bill started to answer when the doorbell rang.  He opened the
door for the room-service waiter who came in and quickly opened
up his service trolley for use as a table.  Then he brought over
the two side chairs, set them up in facing positions and then
held the chair for her as she gracefully seated herself.

The waiter stood back and said, "Excuse me, ma'am, but aren't you
Ali McGrath?"

She looked up at the waiter and smiled warmly.  Bill was reminded
how much he loved her smile.  "Yes, I am, and it's very good of
you to remember me."

The waiter suddenly looked embarrassed and Bill thought he knew
the reason.  He glanced at Ali and saw she didn't mind the
attention.  He looked at the name badge the waiter wore and said,
"It's quite all right, Charley.  You needn't feel embarrassed."

The waiter relaxed and smiled.  "I remember you from movies in
the 70's.  In fact, I saw you in person in Vietnam in 1974 when
you came out to entertain.  I -- my buddies and I -- appreciated
what you were doing.  It sure wasn't a popular place to be in
those days, at least not on our side of the line."  Suddenly, his
face turned grim and his voice went flat.  "It cost you your
career, didn't it?"

She started to shake her head and saw a skeptical look come
across his face.  Then she nodded.  "I'm afraid it did," she
admitted.

"I'm very sorry, Miss McGrath," the waiter said.  "You were our
favorite... but I guess we don't count for much either."

Bill looked at him.  "What are you doing now, Charley?  The war's
been over for quite awhile."

The waiter smiled and replied, "I finally got out.  Now I'm
finishing at law school."  Again he looked embarrassed.  "Miss
McGrath, I... I'm president of the student association at law
school.  I'm at USC.  Could... Would you be willing to come and
talk to the law students?  I know something of your background,
and some of us would love to hear you speak.  Personally, I think
it's a major civil liberties thing that's been swept under the
rug.  Would you consider it?  We would be happy to pay you, of
course.  I know some of the speakers on the college lecture
circuit pull down big money.  We can't come up with the twenty
grand or so an Abie Hoffman gets, but we could go to five
thousand for you to make an appearance."

Ali responded with a very warm smile that appeared to light up
the room -- Bill could see she was really pleased.  She looked at
him and said, "Charley, I'm here today to talk about a role with
Mr. Clifford.  Please believe me when I say that you have just
made me the best offer I've heard in over ten years.  If this
part falls through, I'll call you tomorrow if you will leave me
your phone number.  And if it doesn't fall through, I'll still
call you," she said.  "Furthermore, although I doubt if you know
it, I'm studying law, too.  I'm finishing at UCLA law school this
year.  I think it would be delightful to meet your fellow
students."

As she talked with him, she realized Charley was a very handsome
man.  He stood about six feet three and had dark hair and blue
eyes.  He was very well built, weighing over 200 pounds.  Charley
took out a small pad and wrote hurriedly.  He ripped off the
sheet of paper and gave it to Ali.  As he did so, Bill reached
into his wallet, took out a bill, folded it up and gave it to
him.

He went to slip it into his pocket but then stopped.  "Excuse me,
Mr. Clifford, but I think there's been a mistake.  I think you
took out the wrong bill."

Now it was Bill's turn to smile.  "Charley, I promise I won't
tell anyone.  If I did, you would be thrown out of the waiters'
union.  It's bad for your professional image to give back tips."
He reached into his pocket and took out another bill that he did
not bother to fold this time.  Ali could see it was a hundred. 
"This is for your consideration, Charley.  And I know you can use
it."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Clifford.  I really do appreciate it."
Then he turned to Ali and said, "I hope you get the part, Miss
McGrath.  I think Mr. Clifford is the sort of producer we need
more of around here."  He excused himself after saying he would
be back in a while for the table.

When Ali looked at the breakfast for the first time, Bill saw her
eyes widen.  He cut into his steak, and as he had expected it was
a perfect medium rare.  He looked at the girl across the table. 
"I apologize.  I didn't even ask you what you wanted.  I just
ordered two of what I was having.  I'm sorry.  Girls don't eat
steak and eggs."

Ali had already started on her steak.  She put down her knife and
fork and studied Clifford's face.  She liked what she saw.  "Mr.
Clifford, thank you for what you did for Charley.  You gave him a
$200 tip, didn't you?"  Bill just nodded.  "And you know
something of my background from the conversation we had, even if
you didn't know it before.  I don't care what other girls eat. 
This girl is starving.  Literally.  I haven't eaten in almost
three days.  You couldn't know that, but you did see I was
hungry.  I tried to load up on water, but that didn't work too
well.  Now would you please excuse me for a moment?"

She went to the bathroom and while she was out of the room Bill
again ordered from room service.  He asked if Charley could
please bring up the additional order.  Ali reappeared a few
moments later, sat down and finished her breakfast.  As she
finished the doorbell rang again.  It was Charley with another
cart.  He smiled and left it where it was, winking at Bill.  He
left the room.

"What's that?" she asked.

"A little more for you to eat," Bill replied.  "You're right.  I
do know you haven't been eating very regularly.  I guess I didn't
realize it was this bad, though.  I really don't know why, or
what caused it.  It doesn't affect the possible role you're here
to talk about today, but I am curious."

Ali got up and went to the second cart.  She started exploring
under the metal covers and found an order of raw oysters.  She
looked at him with a question in her eyes.

Bill smiled and nodded.  "I don't know what you like, so I got
some stuff you can graze on.  You know, like a cow?"

"Moo," she said with a grin as she brought the oysters back to
the table and started eating again.  "I've never eaten oysters so
early in the day, but I seem to recall hearing they do eat them
for breakfast along Chesapeake Bay."

When she finished them she looked up and said, "Hollywood is very
open-minded about what you say -- as long as you say the right
things.  That is, the right _liberal_ things.  It's fine for Jane
Fonda to go to North Vietnam.  But if you don't like the way a
script reads -- for example, typically making the Americans out
as the bad guys -- you're uncooperative and you don't get any
work.  I guess I had it up to here with the Army, the CIA and
American businessmen in general being made the heavies.  They're
Hollywood's new 'men in the black hats.'"

"Miss McGrath, you haven't worked in over ten years have you?"
Bill asked quietly.  She shook her head.  "What have you been
doing?  It's been kind of hard tracking you down."

"Mostly I've been going to school.  I have an MBA, and you just
heard about law school at UCLA.  I've been staying alive, is the
best answer.  Now, Mr. Clifford, what is the part you would like
me to read for?  I'm sure it's obvious that my salary isn't a big
deal.  I work this week to try to cover this week's rent... and
that's not a big tab."

He looked at her steadily.  "The part is playing my wife," he
said quietly.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Clifford?" she said, showing her
astonishment.  "I thought you said the part was playing your
wife?"

"It is."  He smiled and continued.  "Let me explain:  My wife
died awhile ago and I have three grown children.  The youngest is
in college, while the others are in graduate or professional
schools.  I decided I'm a little old for the singles scene.  I
have a great deal of money, so I came up with the idea of casting
the role as if it were a role in a movie.  That is basically what
I'm doing.  The contract is very simple: There won't be any
residuals or percentages.  It pays one million dollars for twelve
months.  It's quite simple, really."  He smiled and continued,
"But I do have a few questions, though.  Miss McGrath, I
understand you did many of your own stunts.  Is that true?"

Ali was stunned.  She didn't believe her ears.  All she could say
was, "Did you say _one million dollars?"_

Bill smiled and nodded.  "Isn't that enough?  But you didn't
answer my question.  By the way, since you're auditioning for the
role of my wife, the name is Bill.  My wife didn't call me Mr.
Clifford since...  since ever!  Come to think of it, she _never_
called me Mr. Clifford.

"Bill, the name is Ali, or Allison if you prefer.  I think my
grandmother was the only person who ever called me that, though.
As for your question, yes, I did.  I guess I got a charge out of
it.  Are there any special things you're interested in?"

"Yes, there are.  I remember you in a skiing picture.  Do you
ski?"  She nodded.  "Play golf?"

Again she nodded.  "I used to play pretty well, but I haven't had
the opportunity to play for years.  But why do you ask?"

"Because I like to ski and play golf.  I wondered if you could
play the part, or if I needed to hire a stunt double, too," he
replied with a grin.  "By the way, how old are you?  I know what
the old studio bio says, but they lie ten years or more in both
directions."

"I'm thirty-three," she replied, "How old are you?"

"I'm forty-nine," he answered.  "Is that too old?"

"No.  I lied.  I'm really thirty-five.  It's not too old.  In
fact, you look like you're in your thirties."

"You flatter me," he said.  "What else do you need to know?"

"Tell me exactly what is involved in playing your wife.  Does
that mean I have to sleep with you?"

Bill was very serious as he replied.  "Probably.  But I mean that
literally, not figuratively.  I normally get a suite at a hotel,
but usually there's only one bedroom.  Frankly, Ali, I'm getting
a little too old to be sleeping on the sofa.  Does the idea of
sharing a bedroom with me -- and possibly a bed -- bother you?"

"Bill, I guess it should, but it doesn't.  Please don't ask me
why, because I honestly don't know.  I guess I've played enough
nude scenes that it really doesn't bother me.  On the other hand,
I would have been eating more regularly if I had been willing to
do tricks for the troops.  As a call girl, the pay is pretty good
to start, particularly for a girl who actually had star billing
in a Hollywood film.  What more do you need to know about me?"

"I think I already know a great deal.  I have a folder here
that's pretty complete.  But are you interested in the job?  I
don't want to waste your time."

She looked at him and he could see her eyes start to tear.  He
was surprised when she just sat up straighter in her chair. 
"Please don't say things like that.  You're teasing me and you
know it.  I'm sorry, but I guess I'm just not in shape for it
anymore.  You are looking at a girl -- a woman -- who was
starving -- literally starving -- just a few minutes ago.  Waste
my time indeed!"  She smiled through the tears.  "Do you mind if
I continue my grazing?  I think I saw some smoked salmon --
Scottish, isn't it?"  He nodded, and she went back to the other
cart, retrieving the plate of smoked salmon.  She looked up at
him.  "Yes, I'm interested.  Obviously I'm interested.  What do I
need to do?  Do you want me to undress or something?"

Bill looked at her quizzically.  "Would you mind taking off your
dress?  Just your dress."

She looked at him, got up and unbuttoned the plain dress she was
wearing.  She slipped it off and stood up straight.  "I'm afraid
there isn't an awful lot of me left," she said wryly.  She was
wearing only a pair of bikini briefs and a camisole.  He could
see she wasn't wearing a bra and could see her ribs plainly
through her camisole -- clearly she was ten pounds or more
underweight.  "Do I pass?"

Ali's legs were very shapely.  She had slim hips and -- at least
at the moment -- very small breasts which he could see outlined
beneath the thin top.  She saw his eyes focused on her chest. 
"I'm sorry," she said, "I've never had big boobs, but this is
ridiculous, even for me.  But you haven't answered my question."

"Why don't you put on your dress," he said.  "Do you want the
part?"

She looked at him while she stood holding her shirtwaist dress in
her left hand.  "Yes," she said, "I would like the part.  I need
the part!  What else do you want me to do now?"

"Nothing.  Except get back into condition.  You really are much
too thin."  Bill changed the subject suddenly.  "Ali, how much
money do you need to get clear of all of your debts?"

She looked at him, puzzled.  "It would take more money than the
mint!  Thousands!"  Then she smiled wryly.  "That's funny," she
said softly.  "I used to do features for hundreds of thousands
and thought I was getting screwed.  I guess I really was, too. 
My co-stars often appeared in the same film for millions.  I
suppose it's just a matter of perspective: The answer to your
question, though, is that it would take between seventy-five and
a hundred thousand to be completely clean."

"Where do you bank?" Bill asked.  She told him at Bank of America
and gave him the branch location.  He frowned and said, "Why
there?  It's not very convenient to where you live."

She smiled and said, "That's true.  However, the manager is
ex-Special Forces from Vietnam and does everything he can to help
me."  Bill asked for her account number and she gave it to him.

"What's the name on the account?" he asked.

"Allison McGrath," she replied.  "But what does that have to do
with anything?"

It was his turn to smile.  "Watch and see."

He picked up the phone and dialed a long-distance number.  When
the phone was answered Bill said, "It's B of A, account number
475-97765, in the name of Allison McGrath.  Send a half
immediately."  He checked the time on his watch, then looked at
Ali.  "How about some more coffee?  You haven't been drinking."

She smiled and said, "You're right.  I will have some -- and some
more orange juice, if I may?"

Bill checked his watch and asked Ali, "What is your manager
friend's name, and what's his phone number?"  She told him the
name was Jeff Sills and gave him the number.  He said, "How much
money did you have in your account this morning?"

"Less than ten bucks.  Why?" she replied.  She was curious about
Clifford's cryptic phone conversation.

"There will be substantially more there now.  Ali, I'm going to
call Sills.  Would you please ask him to check your balance?  You
can consider this to be a test of your acting ability.  I'm going
to see if you can keep a straight face."

"How much will there be?" she asked.

"I think there will be enough.  By the way, do you have your
checkbook with you?" he asked as he dialed the number and then
passed the receiver to her.

She took her checkbook out of her purse and said, "For all the
money I _don't_ have in the account, I might as well use the
checks as notepaper."  Jeff answered his phone.  "Hi, Jeff.  It's
Ali.  Can you do me a favor?"

"Oh, God!  Ali, if I do you one more favor, I'm history at this
bank.  But what the hell.  As we used to say in 'Nam, you can't
live forever.  Sure!  What can I do for you?"

"Jeff, could you check your handy computer and see what my
balance is?  My account number is..."

"Ali, by this time I know your account number better than my own!
 Just a second."

She could hear him punching buttons on his keyboard to bring her
account up on his computer screen.  He let out a low whistle and
said, "Ali, I need to check something.  Would you mind if I put
you on hold for a moment?"  She said that was no problem, and she
listened to the music-on-hold for a few minutes.  Jeff came back
on the line.  Excitement was obvious in his voice.  "Ali, I
checked it, and it's not a mistake.  You received a Federal
Reserve money transfer from Morgan Guaranty, New York, in the
amount of half a million dollars.  It's here, it's confirmed, and
it's good money.  With your previous balance of $7.64, that now
gives you $500,007.64!  Honey, I don't know what happened, but it
couldn't have happened to a nicer guy!  Do you want me to do
anything?"

Ali had been slowly shaking her head, but her voice didn't change
a bit.  "Yes, Jeff, I do.  Would you please check and pay off all
my loans with the bank?  Including the MasterCard and Visa
accounts?  Your collection people are going to have a fit!  I'm
going to lose all my good friends in various collection units who
call me every couple of weeks chasing me for a few dollars
against what I owe them.  Can you do that?"

Jeff replied, "Ali, I just checked.  It's a little more than
$20,000.  I just hit the buttons and checked your cards.  They're
active again, and have their full balances available.  Okay? 
Anything else?"

"Jeff, there is one more thing.  How late are you going to be
around today?" she asked.

"Jen has to work late today, so I was going to stick around
awhile.  Why?"

"I'm going to be writing some major-league checks in the next few
hours and some people may want to be sure they aren't rubber,"
she replied.  "By the way, what time does Jen get off work?"

"She'll be working until seven and then is swinging by the bank
to pick me up.  Why?  As far as taking calls, Ali, I will be
absolutely delighted.  It seems like I've spent a fair amount of
the last few years making up tales for you.  This will be a real
pleasure!  I get to act really pompous: 'My dear sir, of course
Miss McGrath's check is good!'  In fact, I'm looking forward to
it."

Bill scribbled a note and passed it to Ali.  She read it quickly
and said, "Do you and Jen have any plans for tonight?"

He replied, "Come on, Ali!  You know us better than that.  I
manage a small bank branch and we're desperately trying to save
enough to make a down payment on a house -- and we're losing. 
You've had spaghetti at our place often enough.  And by the way,
are you eating yet?"

She smiled at the question.  "I've been feeding my face all
morning.  Look, Jeff, I have a favor to ask.  Promise me you'll
do it if you can?"

She could hear the sound of resignation in his voice as he said,
"Sure, Ali.  Don't I always?"

"Great!  You are taking Jen to dinner at Maxim's tonight.  Your
reservations are for eight o'clock.  And Jeff, there won't be a
bill.  It's on me.  I really owe you, and you know I can afford
it now."  There was hesitation on the line so she added,
"Remember, you promised."

The tone of his voice changed as he said, "Okay, Ali, but you
have to pick up the pieces.  Jen will absolutely kill me when I
tell her where we're going without even giving her a chance to
prepare for it for three weeks ahead of time.  On your head be
it.  And thanks very much.  It's... It's our anniversary and we
had agreed we weren't going to celebrate or exchange gifts.  We
put the anniversary celebration money in the house fund."

Ali hung up and smiled her thanks at Bill.  "Thank you.  That was
really very nice.  I guess you know I love those two.  I think
they may have saved my life -- and they certainly preserved my
sanity.  Now what?"

"First, Ali, how would you like to save about $400,000?" he
asked.

"I beg your pardon?  You're joking, aren't you?" she asked, quite
startled.

"No, I'm not.  The money I transferred to you has had taxes paid
-- mine.  However, it's now income to you.  With the new tax laws
you can't income-average anymore.  The tax bite on a million is
about $400,000, give or take a bit after California takes its
piece.  If you want to, we can legally keep it out of their
grubby hands and in your bank account.  Interested?"

"Of course I'm interested.  It's more money than I've seen in the
last ten years combined.  I'm very interested in keeping as much
of it as I legally can."

After nodding once, Bill picked up the phone, dialed a number,
and spoke for a few moments.  A short time later a girl appeared
at the door.  He showed her in and she opened a small black bag.
Looking from Bill to Ali she asked, "Who's first?"

"I guess I am," Bill said.  He rolled up a shirt sleeve.  The
girl took out a hypodermic needle and inserted it into a vein,
then connected it to a Vacutainer bottle to draw blood.  When the
bottle was filled, she carefully withdrew first the bottle and
then the needle.  After carefully labeling the bottle she put it
aside.  Ali had been watching with interest as she drew the
blood, then went to the girl and the process was repeated with
her.

Finally the girl put her materials away and said, "The reports
should be ready within an hour.  They will be sent over by
messenger."  She let herself out.

Ali was rubbing her arm with alcohol-soaked cotton.  "I don't
mean to be unnecessarily nosy, but what, exactly, was that all
about?  In my present condition, I'm not sure how much blood I
can spare," she said.

"Ali, let's sit down.  And why don't you finish your grazing
while I tell you about it?  It relates to the role you agreed to
play for a year.  You have the part, by the way.  But I'm sure
you knew that when the money was transferred to your account." 
Ali took the last dish off the second cart -- a huge portion of
lump Chesapeake Bay crab meat -- and set it on the coffee table.

"I'm listening," she said quietly as she looked at him intently.

Bill checked his watch, and made another quiet phone call.  He
came back and sat on the sofa next to her.  "Okay.  First, this
is a tax deal.  If I pay you money, it's income to you.  On the
other hand, a husband and wife can move assets between them to
their heart's content without creating what the accountants and
lawyers term a taxable event.  Therefore, the reason for the
blood test is it's needed in this state for a marriage license. 
We're being married at City Hall in an hour."

Ali looked at Bill with an expression of utter shock on her face.
 "You're serious, aren't you?  You really intend to marry _me? 
Today?"_

He grinned at her and said, "Sure do!  There are some people who
will do anything to lessen the tax bite.  I realize it isn't very
romantic, but there are four hundred thousand good reasons for
you to say, 'I do.'  Are you game?"

"With the understanding I can get out of it later because in my
present weakened condition I was temporarily insane," she said
shaking her head in shock.  Then with a wry grin she asked, "What
do we do now, coach?"

Just then there was a knock on the door.  Bill opened it and
signed for an envelope delivered by messenger.  After opening it
he glanced at the contents.  "We're all set.  The blood tests are
done and we're both in fine shape.  Are you ready?"

She gave him a wry smile, shrugged, and followed him to the door.
 His limousine was waiting at the curb to take them to City Hall.
 When they arrived, it was eleven o'clock.  No one was waiting at
the Clerk's Office and they got their license quickly.  Following
the clerk's instructions, they then went down the hall to the
office of a Superior Court judge.  Just a few minutes later, in
the presence of the judge's clerk and secretary, Bill and Ali
were married.

The judge finished the very brief ceremony and then said, "You
may kiss the bride."

Bill took her in his arms and gave her a warm kiss.  He was
surprised to feel her lips open and her tongue dart into his
mouth.  The kiss ended as far more than the friendly kiss he had
intended.  Bill could hear bells when he kissed her.  As they
left the judge's chambers, Ali looked at the third finger of her
left hand.  She admired the plain gold wedding band Bill had
taken from his pocket and was surprised that it fit perfectly. 
After they had gone a few steps down the hall, she stopped
abruptly.  After taking another step, Bill stopped and turned
around to see why she had stopped so suddenly.  She was bent over
and it looked as if she were crying.  He went back to her and
took her in his arms.  When she looked up, he realized she had
been trying to control her laughter.  In fact, she was still
giggling.

"What's so funny?" he asked, looking at her with a very puzzled
expression on his face.  Clifford thought her giggle was the
cutest sound he had ever heard.

Ali was still giggling so hard she couldn't talk.  All she could
do was slowly shake her head from side to side.  Finally, she was
able to speak.  "I'm sorry, Bill.  I'm laughing at the situation!
 Do you realize the first time you kissed me was when we were
married?  For Heaven's sake, even in the movies we rehearse the
clinches!  You've been here before.  Moreover, you're doing it to
save me some money on my taxes.  But it's the first time for me!
Brides are supposed to cry at their weddings, not laugh!  Thank
you for marrying me and saving me so much tax money."

With a shake of her head she regained control and asked, "What do
we do now?"

"We go and see your creditors," he replied.

They set off and visited a couple of banks to settle charge-card
bills and then a couple of department stores.  Twice the people
in the credit office called Jeff who pompously told them, "Of
course Miss McGrath's check is good!"

Meanwhile, Bill made a couple of phone calls.  At Nordstrom's,
after finishing with the credit department, Bill insisted on
swinging by the Better Dresses department.  Ali quickly entered
into the spirit of the afternoon.  Bill, in consultation with the
buyer, found the perfect dress for her.  It was a shade of blue
that exactly matched her eyes.  While she was changing, he made
yet another call.  She reached for her now-reactivated charge
card to pay for the dress, but was told it was already taken care
of.

After dropping her off at the hair salon in the store, Bill
returned to the hotel.  While there, he sent off a couple of
faxes to New York.  One went to his attorney and the other to his
principal bank, Morgan Guaranty.  Then he went back to
Nordstrom's to see if Ali was ready.  As he read a magazine, he
smiled to himself.  It had been a very eventful few hours.

A few minutes later, Ali emerged from the salon looking
absolutely gorgeous.  Thinking about it, he decided she was only
marginally prettier than she had been when she went in. _My God,
she's beautiful,_ he thought.

"How do I look?" she asked.

Bill looked at her thoughtfully and walked around her.  Finally,
he stood with his hand on his chin.  "Okay," he said
thoughtfully.  Her face fell, and he could see she was hurt. 
Then he added with a grin, "For a goddess!  Ali, you are out of
this world!"  She instantly displayed a beaming smile that was as
bright as sunshine. _It's like the sun coming out from behind a
cloud,_ he thought.

"What now?" she asked.

"Let's go back to the hotel.  There are a few more things on
their way.  Incidentally, do you need anything from your
apartment?  For that matter, do you even need the apartment?"

Her face fell.  "Oh, my God!  I forgot the rent!  Bill, could we
swing over now?  I could take a cab -- oops!  I don't have any
money."  He just grinned. 

They went out to the limousine and drove over to her apartment
which was in a very unfashionable section of the San Fernando
Valley.  She went to the superintendent's apartment and rang the
bell.

The superintendent, Mr. Garcia, looked at her skeptically when he
opened the door.  "Miss McGrath, when can you give me some money?
 The owner is really on my back!  I've given him all of your
excuses and invented a dozen new ones of my own."

Ali smiled at him, and he smiled back inviting them both in.  The
apartment was very neat and smelled of Mexican cooking.  Ali
introduced Bill merely as Mr. Clifford.  Garcia's wife came out
of the kitchen and gave Ali a big hug.  She was a very attractive
-- and very heavy -- woman who enfolded Ali in her arms.  She
went out to the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with
tortilla chips and salsa.  Garcia opened two bottles of Dos Equis
for them and two more for his wife and himself.

While this was going on, Ali had taken out her checkbook and
wrote a check.  "Senor Garcia, I have a surprise for you," she
said.  "I owe you for two months.  The check is for the back
rent, this month, and two more months in lieu of notice.  I'll be
moving out.  I finally got a part after all these years!"

She gave him the check and Garcia looked stunned.  Then he
smiled.  The smile got bigger and bigger until he was beaming. 
"Miss McGrath, am so _happy_ for you!  You are the best actress
in all of Hollywood!  But why did it take so long?  You have been
here and have been available.  Why they not call before?"

Ali smiled at him warmly.  "I really don't know.  I think I know,
but I hope I'm wrong.  Senor Garcia, thank you so much! _Muchas
gracias, senor!  Hasta la vista!"_  They took their leave and
went up to Ali's apartment where she paused for a moment before
entering.  It was obvious to Bill that she was ashamed of it but
she ended up asking him in for a moment anyway. _The apartment is
Spartan,_ Bill thought, _but spotlessly clean._

Ali went into the bedroom and Bill looked in the kitchen.  As he
suspected, there was no food of any kind.  Her cupboard and
refrigerator were almost completely empty.  There was just a
bottle of water chilling in the refrigerator.  Ali returned with
a small suitcase and another small stack of bills including her
telephone and electric bills.  She wrote out checks, put them in
the envelopes and then put the envelopes in her purse.  Smiling
at him ruefully she said she didn't have any stamps.

"Do you want me to send a mover around to get the rest of your
things?" he asked.

She appeared embarrassed but looked directly at him.  "This is
the rest, Bill.  Everything else has been sold."  Suddenly, he
saw her face crumple.  She sat down at the table again and took
out her checkbook.  She looked quickly at the numbers, did some
quick mental arithmetic, and scrawled out a check which she gave
him.  It was for slightly over $450,000.

Bill was caught up short.  "What's this?" he asked.

"That's the rest of the money you gave me, Bill."  She was
sitting up straight in the chair and looking him straight in the
eye.  "Bill, I'm worth less than $10,000 a year.  You've saved my
life.  I obviously can't pay you the rest of the money you gave
me -- you know where it all went.  But I'll do anything you want
me to do until it's all paid back.  Thank you for helping me so
much."  Tears were rolling down her cheeks, but she was still
holding her head up straight.

Bill felt like he had just been emotionally ripped in half.  When
he held out his arms, she got up and came into them.  He just
held her tightly as she started to cry.  He could feel her
shoulders shaking from the sobs while he held her and gently
stroked her hair.  Slowly, she regained control.  "You'll be
perfect in the part Ali -- and worth every dime!"

She tried to smile through the tears and did a remarkable job of
it.  "Thank you, Bill.  It felt wonderful with you just holding
me like that!"

_She really is a top-flight actress,_ he thought.  Then he
carefully tore the check up into little pieces and dropped them
in the trash container.  After putting his arm around her they
went out to the waiting car.Chapter 2

When the limousine pulled up at the hotel, he gave Ali the room
key and went over to the front desk.  "I'm Bill Clifford in Suite
1400," he said.  "I would like to speak to the manager on duty,
please."  The clerk had recognized him and very politely asked
him to wait a moment.  She had obviously used a buzzer because
moments later an assistant manager came out from the office, met
Bill and went to his desk.

Bill said, "Mr. Carson," reading his name badge, "I was married
this morning.  For a number of reasons I would like this fact
kept confidential.  Obviously, not the fact that I'm married, but
rather that it just happened this morning."

Carson smiled broadly and extended his hand, "Congratulations,
Mr. Clifford.  We... hear things.  Did you marry Miss McGrath?" 
Bill nodded, and Carson beamed.  "How wonderful!  She's one of my
favorite actresses.  What has she been doing lately?  I can't
recall seeing her in a film in years."

Bill changed the subject.  "I'm not sure what my wife will be
doing with her career.  Soon, we're going to be doing some
extensive traveling.  The reason I wanted you to know is, first,
she'll need a key to the suite.  Second, she'll have occasion to
cash checks, sign chits, and so forth, and I don't want any
embarrassment.  At the same time, I don't want any publicity. 
This shouldn't cause the hotel any problems, should it?"

"Of course not, sir.  I'll see that the desk and the cashier are
notified.  Is there anything we can do?  We will be sending you a
gift from the management up to your suite, but is there anything
else?"

Bill smiled and said, "Thank you, Mr. Carson, but I think that
will be all.  However, there should be a few things arriving by
mail or by messenger for Mrs. Clifford and I want to be sure
there will be no delays."  Bill excused himself and went up to
the suite.  When he let himself in with the second key Carson had
given him, he found Ali sitting on the sofa.

She brightened when he came in.  "Hi!  Welcome home, Mr.
Clifford."

Just then the doorbell rang.  It was the waiter, Charley, with
yet another cart.  The suite had been cleaned and the other carts
removed while they were out.  Charley extended his hand to Bill
and said, "Congratulations, sir.  I think you're the luckiest men
in the world to marry Miss McGrath.  Mrs. Clifford, I would like
to wish you every happiness."  He turned to Bill and said, "The
manager has asked me to bring this up, compliments of the hotel.
We're all delighted and hope you enjoy it."  Bill reached for his
wallet, but Charley just waved away the tip.

"Charley, before you go, we're hungry.  Could you bring us two
big sirloins on toast along with some french fries?  In the
meantime, we'll get started on the management's gift."  Charley
grinned, motioned thumbs-up, and let himself out.

Bill uncovered the platter on the trolley and let out a low
whistle.  "My, my!  We're really honored guests.  Ali, come and
see what they brought for you to graze on," he said to Ali with a
grin.

He liked the way she rose so gracefully from the sofa and came
over.  Her lips formed an 'O' as she saw a half-kilo of beluga
caviar with all of the trimmings, along with a bottle of Dom
Perignon champagne which Bill was in the process of opening.  She
started to fill two plates with caviar spread on toast.  When she
asked him about his choice of trimmings, he replied,
"Everything."  By this time he had popped the cork from the
bottle and poured two glasses which he brought over to the sofa.

He handed a glass to Ali and raised his own.  "To us!  Thank you,
Ali.  I'm looking forward to the year."

She smiled over the top of her glass.  "Thank you, Bill, for the
opportunity."

They sipped the champagne and ate the caviar.  Then he sat next
to her on the sofa, putting his arm around her.  Turning his
head, he found her lips poised before his.  Their kiss was soft
and sweet but with passionate overtones.  He noticed how soft and
sweet her mouth was.

When they separated, she leaned back against the cushions and
slowly shook her head.  "Bill, if this was submitted as a movie
script it wouldn't survive two seconds.  It would be trashed as
being totally unbelievable.  My God!  I'm actually your wife --
in the eyes of the State of California, if not necessarily in the
eyes of God."

Just then the doorbell rang.  It was Charley with their lunch. 
When he had left Ali rubbed her belly and looked at Bill with
feigned suspicion.  "Are you trying to fatten me up?"

He picked up on her reaction and said, "Damn!  I thought I had
you fooled.  There's an Arab sheik who's looking for a blonde
addition to his harem, but he likes his women with some meat on
them.  You can't blame a guy for trying, can you?" he said with a
grin.  He looked at her fondly.  "Would you do me a favor? 
Please put on your new dress?"

Without saying a word she went to the bedroom to change.  While
she was gone, he made another phone call.

Less than thirty minutes later the doorbell rang.  It was the
representative from a Rodeo Drive jewelry store.  The man opened
a small case he had with him and took out several strings of
pearls.  Ali watched the performance with amazement shaded by
amusement.  The representative took a double strand of pearls and
put it around her neck as she looked at herself in a mirror.  The
pearls appeared too large.  She shook her head and so did Bill. 
She tried another necklace and then a third and a fourth. 
Finally she tried on a two-strand necklace of matched pearls. 
Ali smiled and Bill nodded at the salesman.  She noticed that
almost no words had been spoken.  She carefully took off the
necklace and went back to the bedroom to change.  When she
returned to the sitting room, the salesman bid goodbye to Ali and
Bill and left.

Sitting on the table was a lovely white-wrapped package.  Bill
held it out to her and said, "A very small remembrance of your
wedding day."

She opened it and found the necklace lying in a beautiful
jewelers' presentation case.  For the first time, she saw that
the clasp was diamond studded.  She looked at him puzzled, "They
don't gift-wrap props.  What's going on?  I thought you were
looking for something to go with my dress?"

"I was.  I found it.  Happy wedding," he said with a smile.

"This is real, isn't it?  These aren't fake.  In fact, they are
not even cultured pearls, are they?" she asked skeptically.

He nodded, "They're real.  I guess they're worth a couple of
bucks."

She just shook her head in amazement.  "And they're really for
me?"

"You're the only wife I have at the moment, so I suppose so.  But
do you like them, now that you've decided they're real?"

Instead of answering, Ali went to Bill, put her arms around his
neck and kissed him.  He could feel a wetness on his cheek and
held her away for a moment.  Tears were streaming from her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked.  "What did I do this time?"

Her head was up straight and she shook it slowly from side to
side.  "Bill, you can't possibly understand.  For so long I've
been scrimping and saving -- and fighting.  It seemed like
everyone with any power has been against me.  All I can say is,
thank you!  I love the necklace.  It's absolutely beautiful.  But
why are you doing this?  You never laid eyes on me until this
morning."

"That's not true," he said.  "I've laid eyes on you countless
times -- in your movies.  I think I have every one you ever
appeared in on tape, even the bit parts.  Unfortunately, the
tapes are a bit worn from overuse.  But you've never laid eyes on
_me._  Ali, thank you for going through with this.  For me, this
is really something of a personal dream.  I know a great deal
about you.  When I met you this morning, I quickly confirmed my
impression that you really are what you always appeared to be on
the screen.  This project is working out far better than I ever
expected.  I have one question, though.  You made pretty big
money in a number of your films.  What happened to it?"

She grimaced.  "I guess a big chunk went for my parents.  They
were seriously injured in an automobile accident and subsequently
died.  Their final care was very expensive.  And, of course, the
other guy didn't have any insurance or assets.  Most of the rest
went into my legal battles against the studio and some
individuals over the blacklisting that has kept me from working.
They've been very vindictive.  Not only did they keep me out of
films, they really stopped me from getting any kind of job --
even after I received my MBA.  I guess that's the principal
reason I decided to get a law degree.  This way I can represent
myself without having to pay someone else while I continue the
fight."

She cocked her head and looked at him.  "What now?" she asked.

He smiled and said, "Look, I know you have classes tomorrow
morning, and tonight may be a late night.  Why don't you take a
nap, and I'll take care of a few things?"

She nodded and returned to the bedroom while Bill left thesuite.

It was several hours later when Ali felt a hand on her shoulder.
She was in the bed sleeping under the bedspread.  Her eyes opened
and she saw Bill sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Hi!  Are you ready to rejoin the ranks of the living?  You were
sleeping so soundly I almost didn't wake you.  How do you feel?"
he asked.

She stretched like a big cat.  He noticed how beautiful she
looked even at the moment of awakening.  "Yum!  I feel wonderful.
 Bill, I can't remember sleeping so soundly.  I don't know if it
was the events of the day -- this has been the most unbelievable
day of my life -- or if it's finally getting out from under all
my money worries.  Money has been a constant worry for years. 
Anyway, I feel great.  What time is it and what are we doing?"

He smiled warmly.  "I hope I didn't wreck it.  It's six-thirty
already.  We have a reservation at eight.  Can you be ready or
should I change the time of our reservation?  We are dining at
Maxim's with the Sills."

"I'll be ready for my wedding dinner," she said.  Then she looked
slightly embarrassed.  "Would you mind waiting outside while I
get ready?  I know we're married, and I'm not really very modest,
but would you mind?"  He smiled and said he had already taken a
shower while she was sleeping and didn't mind at all.  He went
out to the sitting room as she got out of bed.

Forty minutes later she emerged from the bedroom and stood like a
model.  "How do I look?" she asked.

Bill glanced up from a book he was reading and then did a
double-take.  "My God!  Ali, you're magnificent!"  Her golden
hair was beautifully arranged as it had been after the styling. 
The dress looked as lovely on her as he had hoped it would, and
the pearls were beautiful.  He got out of his chair, went to her,
took her in his arms and warmly kissed her.  He could feel her
lips move under his and felt her tongue dart out.  Again, Bill
heard bells and this time could feel a two-way flow of
electricity between them.

When the kiss ended and he stepped away he heard her murmur,
"Wow!"  Then she smiled at him and said, "It's a good thing I
didn't put on my lipstick yet.  And if you kiss me like that
again, my knees will be too weak to stand up to do it!"  She
looked in the mirror and very expertly put on some lipstick and
turned to face him.  "I'm all set!"  Then her face fell slightly.
 "I hope it's not too cool tonight.  I just realized I have this
beautiful dress but nothing to wear over it.  I don't think it
would look too cool to enter the restaurant wearing yourjacket."

Bill just smiled.  "I think we'll manage," he said.  Going over
to the closet he brought out a beautiful full-length mink coat. 
"I think this will handle the chill, don't you?  Why don't you
see if it fits?" he asked as he held it for her.  Ali slipped it
on and it fit as perfectly as he had known it would.

She wrapped it around herself and nuzzled her cheek in the soft
fur.  "Yum!  This is beautiful, Bill, and I'll be very careful
with it.  When does it have to go back?" she asked, thinking
that, like so many things in Hollywood, it was rented.  When she
opened it up to look at the lining, she saw her monogram -- her
new monogram, AMC -- sewn into the lining in thread only slightly
different in color from the lining itself.  She looked at Bill
accusingly.  "This isn't rented, is it?"

He shook his head sheepishly.  "I'm sorry, Ali.  I took a chance
you would like the fur and the color.  But it can go back
tomorrow if you don't like it."

"Bill Clifford, you are terrible! _Like it?_  I love it!"  Her
face fell, and he could see tears forming again in her eyes.  "Is
this another wedding present?" she asked.  Again he nodded. 
"Bill, I feel awful.  I didn't get you anything!  It's worse than
that, as I think about it.  You know everything about me and I
don't know anything about you.  I guess all I know is you are a
widower, you  are very attractive, you have three grown children
and a lot of money."

Then she smiled.  Again, he thought it was like the sun coming
out from behind a cloud.  He decided he loved her smile.  She
continued, "On the other hand, I know a lot of girls who measure
a man's attractiveness solely by the size of his bank account.  I
guess I'm not so bad off, after all."  Ali smiled warmly and
added, "I forgot something: You're also incredibly generous.  And
I think you're impulsive, too."

"There's something else you forgot," Bill said.  "I love your
smile.  It literally lights up the room like sunshine.  I guess I
want to do things that cause you to smile.  Ali, your smile just
now made the coat cheap at twice the price.  Can you accept
that?"  She nodded slowly.  "Great!  Now that you're all set,
shall we go?"  She took his arm and they left the suite.

When the doorman at Maxim's opened the limousine door, Ali
gracefully stepped out and smiled at him.  He saluted and said,
"Welcome back to Maxim's, Miss McGrath.  It's been a long time --
much too long.  I'm delighted to see you again."

"Thank you so much for remembering me, Henry.  It has been a long
time," she replied.

They were ushered to their table by the maitre d'hotel.  It was a
table for four; Jeff and Jennifer Sills had not yet arrived. 
Several minutes later when the maitre d' showed the Sills to the
table, Bill rose and held out his hand.  "I'm Bill Clifford, and
I assume you're Jeff Sills.  I'm very glad to meet you.  I should
have warned you, perhaps, but this is my wife, Ali.  We were
married this morning."

Jeff's jaw dropped.  "Married?  My God!"

Jen squealed and hugged Ali.  Then she stood back and said, "Ali,
you look marvelous.  You haven't looked this good in years."  She
grinned and continued, "Clearly, married life -- at least the
first eight hours or so -- agrees with you."

The couple sat down and the waiter brought the champagne Bill had
ordered along with a huge container of beluga caviar.  Bill
offered a toast.  "To us.  Jeff and Jen, congratulations on your
anniversary.  Many happy returns of the day.  Ali, thank you," he
finished simply."

The dinner was a great success.  Finally, as they were having
coffee and cognac and everyone was feeling very mellow, Ali
looked at Jeff and Jen and asked, "How's your down-payment fund
coming?  How much do you have and how much are you trying to
save?"

Jen answered for the couple.  "We're losing is what's happening.
Ali, in the last twelve months Jeff and I have added nearly
eighteen thousand to our savings.  And you know what?  I think
the down-payment we need has increased by more than twenty!  We
have nearly fifty thousand, but we figure we need almost one
hundred to be able to afford the payments, closing costs,
insurance, taxes, and that sort of thing.  Thank you so much for
the dinner.  I guess we were both feeling pretty low this
morning.  We're running as fast as we can, but we seem to be
going backwards."

Ali smiled and said, "Kids, the dinner is on Bill.  It's his gift
to you and to me.  But I haven't given you a gift in all the time
I've known you.  I just show up like a stray cat in desperate
need of food and a kind word.  I know there have been times when
you and Jeff were scrimping, but you always welcomed me and
shared whatever you had."  Ali smiled softly.  "It's not really
my style to just take and never give back.  So finally I have a
gift for you."  She took a check out of her purse that she had
written earlier and gave it to Jen.

The girl looked at it, and then looked stunned.  "Ali, this is a
joke!  Please say it's a joke," she exclaimed.

Jeff looked over her shoulder at the check.  "Jen, it's not a
joke.  I happen to know it's good."  He took it from Jen and gave
it back to Ali.  "Ali, you know we can't possibly accept this. 
We appreciate what you're trying to do, and we'll accept a check
for one hundred dollars very gratefully, but _one hundred
thousand?_  It's out of the question!"

"Why is it out of the question?" Ali asked quietly.  "Jeff,
what's my balance at the bank?"

"I'm not sure.  I don't know how many checks you've written, but
I guess it's around four-fifty," he replied.

"What's my balance been running for the last year or so?  Let's
face it: it was a cause for celebration if it hit triple digits,"
she said.  Jeff nodded slowly.  "Okay, then.  I give you one
hundred thousand.  That leaves me with about three-fifty.  Jen
said it all: You're losing ground.  I'm just trying to get you
over the hump.  With this money coupled with your savings you can
get into the house you want.  Maybe you can even get some
furniture.  I've heard it's dangerous to have only a bed.  First,
you can't go out much because you're so financially strapped. 
Second, when the only furniture is the bed, it becomes the
playpen and all kinds of very expensive things can happen.  You
can think of it as protecting my investment.  You've just
admitted I have the money.  What you may not know is I also have
a very generous husband, so I don't think I'm going to be
spending much of my own money for the next twelve months.  I'm
asking you as a personal favor to me to take it.  Please!"

Jen looked at Jeff and asked, "Is what Ali just said true?"  Jeff
nodded and said it was.  Looking at Ali, tears came to her eyes.
She got out of her seat and went to Ali, took the older girl in
her arms, and started to cry.  "Ali, thank you.  There aren't
words...  there can't be words to express the gratitude we feel.
This morning we were despondent.  We were losing our fight to get
our house.  Tonight, it's suddenly there.  I don't know what to
say, except thank you."

Ali smiled.  Bill noticed it was the smile that he had begun to
think of as her sunshine smile.  "Now that it's all settled,
then, do you have a house in mind?"

Jeff and Jen nodded in unison.  Jen said, "We sure do.  There's a
place in the Valley we've been looking at.  It's a new
development, but the developers are really good.  They've been
building for several years, but they do it slowly -- just a few
units at a time.  That's been our big worry: We really love the
place, but they're nearly built out.  We were scared to death
that the lots would be all gone before we got the money."  She
smiled.  "They're really nice people.  We've been over there so
much, we're on a first-name basis with most of them.  They'll
collapse when I call them tomorrow and tell them we're all set."

Jeff picked up.  "Ali, we will register a second mortgage on the
property in the name of Allison McGrath Clifford.  Will the going
rate for second-mortgage money be okay?"

Ali glared at him.  "No, it will not be okay.  I'll compromise
with you: we'll call it a deferred second for fifty thousand. 
Interest is waived until the first is paid.  It then takes
interest at the first-mortgage rate and runs for the same term as
the first, but beginning when the first is paid.  Otherwise, it's
a gift.  Period."

Jeff looked at Jen and smiled sheepishly.  "Jen, it's a tough
deal, but it's the best I can negotiate.  Is it okay with you?"

Jennifer was a small dark-haired girl with beautiful features and
lovely green eyes.  Right now her eyes were tearing as she slowly
shook her head.  "Ali, what you're saying is your hundred is for
the down-payment.  Our fifty is for closing, furniture, and
getting-in expenses.  Is that right?"  Ali nodded vigorously. 
Jen smiled and said, "It's a deal.  Thank you."  She turned to
Jeff and said, "Do we have to drive home tonight?  I think I'd
rather just float.  We could float home and admire the lights of
the city.  I feel I'm up about three thousand feet on a cloud as
it is.  Honey, do you want to come with me?" she asked with a
warm smile.

"I'm with you already!  Folks, would you excuse us?  I'm just a
poor banker.  We're not used to excitement like this and I don't
know how much of it I can take.  Besides, I see a look in my
wife's eyes I want to take advantage of.  Since you're newlyweds,
you probably understand."

The Sills left arm-in-arm.  As they left, they even appeared to
be floating.

Bill looked at Ali and said, "Thank you.  That was the nicest
wedding present you could possibly have given me.  Isn't it fun
making others happy?  Ali, particularly when it's you, it gives
me joy.  In fact, you have a sunshine smile which appears when
you're joyous.  It absolutely lights up the place.  I love to see
it and feel a sense of gratitude when I do.  Now are you ready to
go back to the hotel?"  She nodded and they left the restaurant.

When they got back to the hotel, Ali went into the bedroom while
Bill remained in the sitting room.  When he went in, she was
already in bed with the covers up to her chin.  Going into the
bathroom, he got ready for bed.  After putting on a pair of
pajama bottoms, he went back to the bedroom.  When he slid
between the covers he saw that Ali was completely nude.  She
looked at him questioningly as he slid under the covers beside
her.

"Remember what I said?  We sleep together literally, but not
figuratively.  But would you give me a kiss?" he asked.

Again he saw the sunshine smile as she rolled on top of him and
crushed his lips under her own.  He could feel her tongue working
as he gently caressed her back with his fingertips.  Her skin was
like warm satin to his touch.  Finally, she broke the kiss and
rested on his chest.  As she did, he could feel her now-erect
nipples.  "Are you sure?" she asked softly.

"I'm sure," he replied softly.  With a very quiet sigh she rolled
off him.

"May I sleep close to you?" she asked.  "I would appreciate it if
you would let me.  I've felt so lonely for so long."

He put his arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her towards
him.  Resting her head on his broad shoulder, Ali's hair spilled
like a golden fan over him.  She lay back and pulled his arm
around her shoulders, then cupped his right hand on her breast
and put her hand on top of it.  He turned off the light with his
left hand and in moments they were asleep.

The next morning Ali woke up at six o'clock.  Bill's hand was
still on her breast.  Very gently she took it off, eased her head
off his shoulder and slipped out of bed.  She gathered up some
things and went to the bathroom.  When she came out dressed in
Levi's and a blue chambray shirt, she tiptoed out to the sitting
room.  She was startled to see Bill sitting at the breakfast
table waiting for her.

"What on earth is this?" she asked in amazement.  "What are you
doing up so early?"

"When my new wife has to get up at the crack of dawn to go to
work -- or to school, in this case -- the least I can do is keep
her company."

Bill was wearing a white terry robe with the hotel's logo on the
pocket.  Ali recalled seeing them in the bathroom and guessed
that Bill had taken one out and put it in the closet.  He poured
her coffee as she sat down at the table, then he asked her which
newspaper she wanted.  "We have _The Los Angeles Times, The New
York Times,_ and _The Wall Street Journal,"_ he said.  She took
the _Journal_ and Bill was surprised to see her immediately go to
the third section containing the financial tables.

"Honey, do you have a broker I could use?  For years I've played
paper games with commodities.  I've made a lot of money on paper.
 Would you mind if I used some of my money and tried it for
real?"

Bill warmed as he heard her call him honey.  "Of course not. 
It's nine-thirty in New York.  Do you have a trade in mind this
morning?"

She nodded, looking a little embarrassed.  He picked up the phone
and dialed a number.  When it was answered he said, "Pete, it's
Bill Clifford.  My wife..."  He listened at what was obviously an
expression of surprise and congratulations.  "Thanks, Pete. 
Anyway, my wife would like to open a commodities trading account.
 She banks at B of A."  He listened for a moment and said, "How
much do you want to give them?"

She replied, "I want to deposit $150,000 and trade on $50,000
using the rest as backup.  Is that okay?"  It was quickly set up
and she told Bill her first trade was to buy pork bellies.  She
turned to her food as Bill took care of the details.  It was
corned beef hash with poached eggs.  When Bill got off the phone
she said, "How big do I need to be for the sheik you've sold me
to?  Would two hundred pounds be enough?  At this rate I'll be
there in about a month."  In spite of what she said, she ate it
all very happily.  Then she looked around the room trying to find
a clock.

Bill said, "Is this what you're looking for?"  He gave her a
square box.  It contained a gold lady's Rolex.

She smiled at him wryly.  "Would you please knock off this shit?
We haven't known each other for even twenty-four hours.  Already,
though, I start to think about something and it appears.  It's
eerie!  But thank you so much.  It's lovely, and it's something
I've wanted for years and years.  But I've got to dash, or I'll
be late.  Honey, would you please call Jeff later and make
arrangements to wire the money to the broker?"

"Why are you leaving so soon?  What time is your class?" Bill
asked.

"It's nine o'clock, but it's going to take awhile for me to get
there.  Public transit from here to there goes in roundabout
ways," she replied.

He just shook his head.  "You surprise me.  I didn't think you
would be such a slow learner.  Why in God's name would any sane
person take public transportation in Los Angeles when there's a
perfectly good car sitting out front.  I thought that Fred with
the limousine would look a little ostentatious dropping you off
at school."  He looked at his watch.  "You've got plenty of time.
 Just give me a few minutes to get dressed."

He disappeared and then returned a few minutes later.  "Are you
all set?"  She nodded and they went down to the lobby and then
out front.  There was a white turbo-charged Mazda convertible
sitting in front with its top down.  The attendant was holding
the door as he greeted Ali.

She took one look at it, turned to Bill and, standing on tiptoes,
kissed him softly.  She whispered, "Thank you, darling.  I'll see
you later -- about four, if that's okay?"  He nodded and grinned
as she guided her new car out of the driveway.

At four o'clock when Ali returned she found Bill in bed, face
down.  She sat on the side of the bed, pulled the covers down to
his waist, and found he was sleeping in his shorts.  Then she
started to kneed the muscles in his shoulders and the back of his
neck.  He woke up instantly and just started to make contented
noises as she massaged his neck, his shoulders and then his back.
 When she finished, she pulled the covers up again.

He rolled over on his back and smiled at her.  "Hi, honey.  To
what do I owe this attention?  Want me to give you a massage?"

She smiled and said, "Not now.  I just had one at the health club
I joined.  It felt so good after the workout, I though you might
like one too.  By the way, what are your plans?  How much longer
will we be in Los Angeles?"

Bill replied, "At least until you graduate in June.  Do you need
to take a bar cram course?  I'm not that familiar with UCLA's law
school.  Are you prepared for the bar exam?  And when is it?"

"The answer is I am prepared, and the exam I want to take is in
late June.  What do you want to do then?"

"How about going out to Maui?  Maybe we could spend a couple of
months playing golf, swimming, and generally relaxing.  Does that
appeal?"

For an answer, she leaned over and kissed him softly.  Then she
whispered, "Bill, could it be a real honeymoon?  Please?"

He just kissed her back, and stretched.  "Honey, I have some
things for you if you'll let me get out of bed."

He realized that what had been an infatuation for Allison McGrath
was changing.  In less than forty-eight hours he realized he was
genuinely in love with this girl -- and she appeared to be in
love with him.  He smiled at her and was rewarded with her
sunshine smile.  When she left the room, he got dressed and
joined her.  "Honey, I don't even know if you drink, let alone
what you drink.  Do you?" he asked.

She looked at him with a quizzical little smile.  "William
Clifford, I ask you -- with a name like McGrath, do you
_honestly_ think I'm a teetotaler?"  Then she smiled brightly and
said, "Oh!  I see!  You mean do I drink on days other than my
wedding?  Bill, things ar moving much too fast.  I suddenly
realized that since I've met you I had a bottle of Dos Equis with
Senor Garcia and the rest of the time we've been drinking Dom
Perignon.  I've developed a real taste for it, by the way.  And I
think you're doing it to me deliberately."  There was another
smile.  "Actually, Bill, I drink almost anything.  Could you just
make me one of whatever you're drinking?"

He looked at her skeptically.  "Are you sure?  I drink martinis,
known to some as silver bullets... as in lethal.  Are you sure?"

Ali grinned and nodded her head vigorously.  "The worst thing
that could happen is you would take advantage of me in my
weakened condition.  But you promised me a honeymoon anyway, so
I'll take my chances."  Her expression became thoughtful.  "Bill,
I want you to know something straight out.  I'm getting into this
role."  Her face became almost solemn as she said, "I should warn
you -- in case it's not completely obvious.  If I'm not madly in
love with you yet -- and I may be -- I'm going in that direction
very fast."

Then she gave another quick grin.  "Before I get completely
maudlin, may I have a martini, please?"

Bill had been making the drinks.  He gave Ali hers and went over
to the table and sat down.  The bell rang.  It was the
room-service waiter -- not Charley, this time -- with a trolley
of hors d'oeuvres.  She looked at Bill and raised her glass.  "To
us, darling.  I could get used to this very easily."

Bill had a small pile of packages which he started giving to her
one at a time.  "Honey, first, this is your American Express
Platinum Card.  If there's a limit on the account, I haven't
found it yet.  It's a related number on mine."  He gave her the
plastic with its assorted paraphernalia.  Then he opened another
box containing a tan leather checkbook wallet with a supply of
checks on Morgan Guaranty.

Ali looked at the checkbook and opened it.  The personalized
checks said Allison M. Clifford.  The address printed on the
checks was c/o Morgan Guaranty Trust Company, New York.  She
looked at it carefully.  "My God!  I guess I am married. 
Darling, doesn't Morgan's imprimatur make it official?  But why
the bank's address?"

Bill looked at her sheepishly.  "Morgan didn't know I would be
marrying an MBA.  As a result, this is checkbook balancing made
easy.  Once a month, you just give me a list of check numbers and
amounts which I send to New York.  You don't ever show a balance
in your check register."  He grinned and added, "But try to let
me know, though, if you write a single check for over $10
million.  It could affect the bank balance."

Ali just shook her head in wonderment.  "Darling, the reason I'm
shaking my head is I know you're serious.  Forty-eight hours ago,
I couldn't write a check for _ten dollars_ without breaking out
in a cold sweat.  Now my darling husband asks me if I would sort
of let him know if I write a check for over ten _million!_  Just
call it a state of shock.  But I love it!"  Again, there was the
glorious smile, "Is there more?"

Bill smiled in the warmth of hers and nodded.  He gave her a gold
Visa and a gold MasterCard.  "You'll have to be a little careful
with these, honey.  You have to watch what you spend.  There's
only $25,000 on each.  Can you manage?" he asked with a grin.

Ali looked at him and he watched her face fall.  It appeared she
was going to cry.  "Only twenty-five thousand?  William, I
thought you said you loved me?"  She then started to cry and he
applauded.

The tears instantly stopped and were replaced with an impish
grin.  "Did you like it?  Did I do it all right?  Do I get the
part?"

For an answer, he took her in his arms and kissed her.  Again, he
felt the warmth of her lips, her dainty tongue, and the sense of
leashed passion waiting to burst forth.  "I thought you did it
beautifully!  By the way, how do you like your new car?" he
asked.

Again her face lighted up, her act forgotten.  "Darling, it's
spectacular!  It will blow the doors off a Porsche.  It's great!
By the way, I did some of my own driving stunts, too.  Usually
when the director and producer didn't watch me too carefully. 
They would have had my head on a platter if they knew some of the
things I did.  Honey, it's wonderful."

Suddenly she was very serious as she looked at him.  "There's one
problem.  Darling, there's only one thing I can give you for a
wedding present -- me.  I'm trying to get into the physical shape
you want me to be in.  I want to be as perfect for you as I can
be.  Does that sound strange?"

"It sounds embarrassing, is what it sounds like," he answered. 
"Did you call Charley?  I'm kind of interested in the USCthing."

"I tried earlier.  Can I try again now?" she asked.  He just
passed her the phone while she looked in her purse and found the
number.  She dialed it and this time got an answer.  "Charley,
this is Ali McGrath.  I'm following up on your invitation.  Were
you serious?"

Charley Conrad replied, "I certainly was.  Would you consider
doing it?"

She smiled and said, "I certainly will.  There are a couple of
problems, though, some of which we share.  First, we're getting
close to the end of the term.  Can we do it in the next week or
so?  Second, instead of paying me, could you have a beer party or
something and put the rest of the money back in the treasury?  If
Southern Cal is like UCLA -- and I'm sure it is -- the way to
really get the attendance up is to announce that free beer will
be served.  Are you game?  And, if so, you better have some beer
for me."

There was silence on the line for a few moments.  Then Charley
said, "Mrs. Clifford, you're serious, aren't you?"

"Charley, I never joke about anything as important as free beer.
Of course I'm serious.  And Charley, since I'm now an invited
speaker and a fellow law student, I would appreciate it if you
would call me Ali.  I'm practicing, but 'Mrs. Clifford' is still
a pretty new concept to me."

"How about next Wednesday at four, Ali?" he replied, "You can
talk with us and we'll serve the beer when you finish?  I'm sure
I can schedule it if you can."

"Charley, it's a deal.  Could you drop off the directions for me
at the hotel?  I would appreciate it," she replied and hung up.

Bill regarded his wife thoughtfully.  "There's one final thing:
investments.  Ali, I gather you like running money.  I'm getting
the sense that you like the excitement -- similar to fast cars
and doing your own stunts.  Am I right?"

She nodded and said, "I think you probably are.  In some ways I'm
very cautious, but I guess it's because I've had to be.  When I
look at investments it's more of a game -- trying to beat the
other guy, with the money you make -- or lose -- as a way of
keeping score.  Does that sound weird to you?"

Bill was reacting to a phone call he had received earlier about
Ali's commodity position.  His broker told Bill that one of the
professional traders in the Firm had looked at the position with
great interest.  The broker indicated that while it was
unorthodox, it most certainly was not off the wall.  He replied,
"No, it doesn't.  Not at all.  Look, I pay a bunch of investment
advisors a ton of money each year to get me investment
performance that isn't as good as the market averages.  Would you
like to get in on the game?"

Ali looked stunned and slowly shook her head.  "Honey, that's not
fair.  I came here originally because you were casting a part --
a very interesting one, I found out.  I'm a professional actress.
 I have a string of very real credits and even an award or two. 
I could apply and accept without a qualm.  But this is different.
 I've never run a nickel.  When I had some money, I didn't know
the difference between an investment and a piece of jewelry. 
When I started to study and learn something about financial
markets, I didn't have a dime.  The only investing I've ever done
was on paper, reading _The Wall Street Journal._  There's one
more thing: I know from reading the paper that there are a host
of new investment vehicles that didn't even exist when I was in
graduate school, let alone appear in text books.  Bill, why not
just leave it to the pros?"

"Ali, the problem is they don't know either.  Furthermore, I pay
them a lot more in a year than I'm paying you to get a lot less
-- a hell of a lot less.  It would please me if you would take a
shot.  Will you?  My proposition is this: I have about $2 billion
invested.  I normally use ten managers.  Periodically, if one is
performing particularly poorly, I'll drop that firm and add a new
one.  I'm ready to drop one right now.  To put it into better
perspective, it's hard to really know who to drop.  Last year,
Ali, _none_ of them even equaled the S&P 500 on their equity
investments.  Not a single one!  In other words, they all stink.
I'd like you to take over the portfolio from the poorest. 
Please?"

She had been studying his face as he spoke.  Again, she slowly
shook her head, but this time it was an expression of
bewilderment rather than negation.  Finally, she nodded and gave
him a wry smile.  "Well, honey, I guess we can survive on a few
million dollars less with only a few minor cuts in our lifestyle.
 You have to promise me, though, not to cut my throat when I lose
it all.  How much do you want me to start with, and what's the
deal?"

Now Bill grinned broadly.  "I thought you should start small --
$200 million.  It's all held by the custody folks at Chemical
Bank in New York.  They'll send you a list by fax of the holdings
of the outgoing manager.  Oh, one more thing.  The compensation
is 1 percent per year of assets under management, paid monthly. 
Expenses -- custody, commissions, and that junk -- come off the
top before we calculate the commissionable assets.  Fair?"

Suddenly -- and surprising to Bill -- Ali beamed.  "Whoopee!  I
get to play Monopoly with real money."  Then she quickly turned
serious.  "I think you should know my style, hon.  I intend to
look over what they own, get out of whatever I consider to be
junk and hold it in cash until I find some good opportunities. 
With any luck, you -- we?  -- shouldn't do much worse than the
money-market rate.  Is that acceptable?"

Bill smiled and said, "You had it right the second time -- we. 
If it's okay with my better half, it's certainly okay with me."

Later that day a bellman brought up a thick envelope containing a
fax message from Chemical Bank.  Ali had a copy of the _Journal_
and went through the list of securities checking the paper
occasionally.  Bill was reading a book -- or pretending to -- as
he watched her concentrate.  She finished and picked up the phone
to call Jeff Sills.

When he answered, she said, "Jeff, it's Ali.  Does B of A still
have a discount brokerage?  You used to own Charles Schwab.  I'm
looking for a broker here, and thought you might get some brownie
points for a referral."

He replied that they didn't but there were still cordial
relations with Schwab.  He then mentioned that her account was
again at the $500,000 level -- some more money had appeared from
Morgan.  He said he'd call a friend at Schwab and have him call
Ali.

After hanging up the phone she glared at Bill and said, "More
money appeared in my account.  What's going on?"

He looked at her while appearing puzzled and replied, "Nothing,
really.  It's just bad for my image if my wife bounces a check. 
I just wanted to be sure you're...  comfortable."

She stuck out her tongue at him just as the phone rang.

It was a Schwab broker named Jack Cummings who introduced himself
as a friend of Jeff's.  "What can I do for you, Mrs. Clifford?"
he asked.

Bill watched as she very efficiently went over the account set
up, the registration information, and the custodial arrangements.
 Then she ran down the list of stocks to be disposed of.  Ali was
pleased that Jack Cummings was obviously just as efficient.  He
played back the information she had given him precisely.

Then she said, "That gets rid of the garbage.  Now I want you to
buy 100,000 shares of Acme Industries at a price less than forty.
 Its last trade yesterday was 39-3/4."  He confirmed.  "Finally,
new subject.  I would like to open my own account.  I would like
Schwab to retain custody.  The account name is A. M. Clifford. 
Jack, I don't want Ms., Miss, or Mrs.; just the initials."  She
gave him her social security number.  "I want to buy 1,000 shares
of Alliance Studios for that account.  Let me know the exact
amount and I'll tell Jeff to transfer the money to you on the
settlement day.

"By the way, on the Clifford account the confirmations always go
to Chemical, but in addition I would like an additional copy sent
to me wherever I happen to be.  Right now it's the Beverly
Wilshire, but we're planning on moving around.  You have our
number here, and I'll keep you informed.

"Go to it, Jack.  I'm looking forward to working with you."

She hung up the phone and saw Bill grinning.  "What's so funny?"
she asked, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Nothing," he said.  "Want to make a little bet?  Ten dollars?" 
She was puzzled, but said she would.  "Ali, I'm betting you ten
dollars that by the end of your contract -- one year, less a
couple of days -- you'll be running all of our money.  And you'll
be doing it because you will have outperformed every other
manager I have.  Okay?"  She grinned and shook on the bet. 
Within the next two days Ali had invested about $80 million. 
Bill was impressed with her ease in handling the money.  She
spent an hour or so with the papers and magazines and a little
time checking some special investment research she ordered.  He
was very pleased.

In the meantime, she continued to go to her law classes and work
out at her health club.  On the following Wednesday morning, she
had on her Levi's and chambray shirt.  She had found a leather
jacket to wear with it and had her hair tied back in a pony tail.
 "Do you think I look all right for a beer party?" she asked.

Bill just grinned and nodded.  "Darling, you look beautiful
wearing anything at all.  Should I wait for you to have dinner?"
he asked.

Suddenly, she looked at him in surprise.  "Bill Clifford, do you
realize if I stay for dinner with them it will be the first
dinner I've eaten without you since the day we met?"  She
frowned, and said, "Would you mind if I called you after the
session?  I don't know if there are any plans.  But would it
bother you?"

"Honey, I love being with you, but I'll survive for one night.  I
think those guys can help you in your quest.  Enlist them init."

"What quest is that?" she asked, puzzled.

"Your quest for justice from Alliance Studios and friends.  I
hope you hang them by their balls.  By the way, our family
resources are not inconsiderable, as you know.  They're
completely at your disposal to use in any way you wish.  I hope
you know that, too," he replied.

She smiled at him.  "Darling, I love you.  And I'm looking
forward to our honeymoon.  You can't understand how it feels to
sleep with you but not able to have you.  I thought you were
imposing on me when you said I would be sleeping with you
literally but not figuratively.  It's turned out to be one hell
of an imposition, but not the way I thought."  Her smile
brightened, "But I'm patient... sort of."

As she said it, she thought about their personal relationship. 
It had developed into a pattern with an understood -- but
unspoken -- set of rules.  They used the bathroom separately. 
Ali usually went to bed first, and was always nude.  When they
were in bed, she played a game with their one goodnight kiss. 
She was inventive in developing new ways to communicate her love
and mounting passion, but it was always a single kiss -- never
more.  She would then snuggle against him and they would go to
sleep with her breast cupped in his hand and with her hand on top
of his.  Remarkably, she was intensely happy and they both slept
well.  She decided that, overall, it was a strangely pleasing
relationship.Chapter 3

That afternoon she drove to the USC campus and met Charley Conrad
who was waiting for her at the parking lot.  As they walked
towards the school he said, "Ali, you've already established a
first.  This is the first time since I've been here -- and maybe
the first time in history -- a featured speaker arrived on time.
In fact, precisely on time.  Thank you for coming and for your
courtesy to us by being so prompt."

When he took her to a large lecture hall in the law school, she
was surprised to find it was crowded with law students.  After
calling the meeting to order, he looked at his watch.  "Ladies
and gentlemen, I think this is a first.  It is now four o'clock.
We have a featured speaker with us and we're starting on time.  I
think it says something about our speaker today.  Like many of
you here -- looking around, I see a number of older faces -- I
remember Allison McGrath from her screen roles in the 1970's.  I
can recall going to bed and dreaming about her.  She was the most
beautiful woman alive, but then she disappeared.  There was a
rumor going around about disagreements with the studio.  You
still see her on the Late Show, of course, but there was no sign
of her until a few weeks ago.

"As some of you know, I work at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel in
room service.  Last week I delivered a breakfast order to the
Trouble Suite."  He turned toward Ali and put his finger in front
of his lips, then turned back to the group.  "Ali's not supposed
to know this, of course, but the suite gets its name from the
guests normally in it, not from the facilities.  It's the finest
suite in the hotel -- normally filled with the most obnoxious
SOBs in the world: Traveling VIPs.

"At any rate I took an order up and met Ali and her husband, Bill
Clifford.  Now I'm going to say something that can get me thrown
out of the union, if I'm still alive.  The people who know guests
best are the staff -- particularly if the guests are in the hotel
for a while.  Right now, there are near fistfights to see who
gets to service their suite.  It's not the tips, although they're
very generous.  The fact is, it's the smile.  You see -- and some
of you may remember this from her films -- Ali has a smile that,
when she really turns it on, is like sunshine.  The staff turns
collective hand springs if they get that smile -- and they
usually do.  To show you how bad it is, one guy was walking
around like he'd been hit by a truck.  I guess he sort of had. 
He'd been hit by one of Ali's smiles.  He was walking around like
a zombie with a grin on his face.  I asked him about his tip.  He
actually didn't know if she gave him one and he didn't seem to
care.

"Now you're not waiters or waitresses, but I know many of you
have been.  When was the last time you didn't know _if_ you got a
tip, let alone how big it was?  With Ali, it's not unusual.  She
could really save a lot of money.  At any rate, I met her at the
hotel.  She is the most gracious person I can ever recall
meeting.  She thanked me for remembering her, and thanked me for
inviting her to visit us today.  I could go on and on.  I would
like to mention one thing more: Ali is a movie star.  Some
consider her a sex goddess.  She also has her BA in History from
the University of Kansas, and her MBA from UCLA, where she is now
completing her law degree.  She graduates this June.  Some
friends over there tell me she's at or near the top of her class.
 Would you join me in welcoming our professional colleague,
Allison McGrath Clifford?"

He turned to Ali and she replaced him on the podium.  She was
warmed by the applause she heard.

"Thank you for the very warm welcome.  Charley tried to make you
believe waiters only work for tips.  Well, there's also a point
of view that actors only perform for the money.  That's just not
true, either.  What we live on is applause... and that's the
first applause I've drawn in over ten years.  Thank you so much.

"I suppose I should comment on my appearance this afternoon.  I
couldn't figure out whether Charley was inviting an actress -- in
which case I would do my movie-star imitation -- or a lawyer.  I
kind of decided he had invited a lawyer, but I don't even have my
basic grey-flannel lawyer suit yet.  Then I remembered the real
attraction this afternoon: free beer."  She smiled her very warm
smile and was amazed when it evoked a spontaneous cheer. 
"Anyway, I came dressed for a beer party.  I hope there are no
serious women's libbers here who'll chew me out for the rest of
the afternoon.  Anyway, we've now agreed why we're all here.

"However, particularly these days when everyone takes himself so
seriously, we couldn't just blow off the talk and start pouring
the beer.  Appearances must be preserved, so I have to say
something.  Unfortunately, Charley never told me what I was
supposed to talk about, and I've been too busy getting ready for
my own finals to sweat it.  This bothered me for a while.  Then I
remembered that Charley originally offered me five thousand
dollars to appear today.  I now realize the smartest move I ever
made was to refuse the money and ask him to use some of it for
beer.

"Although I didn't realize it at the time, I now know it took me
off the hook.  Since I'm not doing this for money, I didn't have
to write a speech, so I didn't.  I propose to answer your
questions, if there are any.  Then we can get to the serious
business of the afternoon.  However, there is one more word of
preamble.  I am truly pleased to be here at the University of
Southern California.  I would have loved to be a student here
myself, but frankly I couldn't afford it.  Thank you for inviting
me and does anyone have any questions?"

Ali walked out from behind the podium and sat on the edge of the
stage with her legs dangling.  She realized that the acoustics of
the hall were good enough that the PA system wasn't necessary.

A student rose from the back of the room.  "Miss McGrath, like
Charley, I'm a Vietnam veteran.  I think I heard that Charley saw
you over there in 1974.  I didn't have the privilege.  He
referred to a rumor that I've heard, too: that your career was
cut short because of the war.  Would you care to comment?"

Ali grimaced.  "Yes, I will.  I guess the 'in' thing is to tell
you where I'm coming from, although I detest the phrase.  First,
I think we went over there with very honorable motives.  The
phrase at the time was the domino theory which, as a concept,
obviously had merit.  We lost Vietnam...  Excuse me, the
Vietnamese lost their freedom, as did the Laotians and the
Cambodians.  The dead in Cambodia are now numbered in the
millions.  So much for the question of why.  Once there, though,
we managed the war abominably.  Our leaders couldn't make up
their collective minds what we were there for.  But one thing was
clear: We weren't there to win the war in any historically
recognizable sense.  That's the tragedy.  Our people -- some of
them are you people -- did absolutely everything they were asked
to do.  They performed effectively, often under extremely adverse
conditions.  But we left with our tail between our legs.  We
weren't beaten.  We were _never_ beaten.  We walked.

"I bitterly resented seeing our boys fighting, bleeding and
dying, and then being spit on by draft-dodgers at home.  Sure,
there were some committed pacifists who are against all wars as a
matter of principle.  There were some very thoughtful people who
had some of the same doubts I had: about the way we were
fighting, not why we were there.  However, there were also a
substantial number of committed cowards.  These were people who
took cover in the antiwar movement.  I guess you could say they
were in the forefront of what is now a major effort to make us
safe from any accident or misfortune.  In fact, I'm waiting for
OSHA to cite the U.S. Armed Forces on the grounds that war can be
hazardous to one's health.  But I digress.  I guess I got fed up
with seeing us -- our GIs -- being portrayed as the bad guys.  In
some influential quarters in Hollywood, they were all for free
speech -- as long as you were saying the right things.  Jane
Fonda was.  I wasn't.  She worked.  I didn't.  I guess it's that
simple."

The reaction to her short speech was astonishing.  Suddenly, the
whole group was on its feet applauding.  Charley came up to her
and shook her hand.  "Ali, that was absolutely magnificent!  I've
never heard it summed up so accurately and clearly in so few
words."  Slowly the applause died down and a girl raised her
hand.  Ali recognized her.

"Miss McGrath, what you just described sounds like a boycott. 
Specifically, it sounds like an organized effort to deprive you
of the ability to earn a livelihood.  Did I understand you
correctly?" she asked.

Ali noted she was a very earnest-appearing young lady who seemed
to be far too young to have been involved in any way during the
Vietnam confrontations.  "First, you would all do me a great
favor if you called me Ali.  As a matter of fact, my life was
saved by Bill Clifford.  I still don't really know why, but he
married me and changed my life.  Technically, it's Mrs. Clifford,
which is a name I've come to like very much.  However, since
we're all law students -- even if there are some of us who are
over the hill..."  At that instant, there was a loud chorus of
boos and shouts disagreeing with her 'over-the-hill' assessment
of herself.  She grinned and continued, "Thank you so much.  But
as I was saying, since we're all law students and I came for the
beer, please call me Ali.

"Miss, to address your question, I think the answer is yes, and
I'm working on it.  You see, after I stopped getting work I still
had a fair amount of money.  Unfortunately, my parents were
critically injured in an automobile accident and subsequently
died.  Their expenses took a great deal of my money.  While I was
with them, though, my agent was getting blank stares as he tried
to sell me into various parts.  After I buried my parents in
Kansas, I came back here to be available for casting.  I was also
realistic enough to know I had to do something to support myself,
too.  I went to UCLA and got my MBA.  When I graduated, I
received no job offers.  Not one.  I don't mean to brag, but I
graduated first in my class.  I suppose I could have gone home to
Kansas and gotten a job, but I didn't want to let them run me out
of Southern California.

"The last of my money went on lawyers.  I don't think mine were
very good, or else they didn't care very much or try very hard. 
Anyway, it's what got me to law school.  And I say this in full
knowledge of the axiom, 'a lawyer who represents himself has a
fool for a client'.  Until a short time ago I was flat, stony
broke.  Let me just say that on the morning of my wedding I had a
bank balance of $7.64, I was two months behind in my rent and I
was being hounded by every bill collector in SouthernCalifornia.

"Finally, I would like to comment on Charley's introductory
remarks about the attitude of the hotel staff towards us. 
There's an Indian saying to the effect, 'To understand a man, you
must walk a mile in his moccasins.'  Well, I think I know what
it's like to struggle and scrimp.  I appreciate people who have
to work hard to earn a living.  I really appreciated what he said
about Bill and me and only hope he's not exaggerating too much."
She smiled and was rewarded with another burst of applause.  "Are
there any more questions before we have the beer?  I'm planning
on staying, by the way.  It's a condition of my appearance. 
Charley promised to save a beer for me, so I would love to talk
more with you while I'm here."

A young man sitting close to the front said, "Ali, can we help
you?  We all get involved in these legal-aid things.  I guess it
helps when you take care of a tough landlord situation, but many
of us would like to do something bigger.  At the same time, I
can't stand these 'constitutional issues' cases where we get a
few poor souls to sign some complaint papers and use them -- and
I mean the people, not the papers -- to fry some fish of ourown.

"Anyway, is there something we can do?  It sounds to me that you
were raped!  Like most of the people here, I was very young when
Vietnam was a hot item.  But I think we've been sensitized enough
on civil rights and civil liberties to see some application here.
 Ali, have you given any thought to going after those bastards on
a Federal rap of conspiring to deny you your civil rights?  I
sure don't know you like some of the others here, but I have seen
many of your films on TV.  I wondered what happened to such a
great actress.

"Actually, though, having listened to you this afternoon, I'm
coming to the point of view that maybe you aren't such a great
actress.  After all, how great do you have to be to play
yourself?  I think that is what you were doing: playing Ali
McGrath.  And I think Ali McGrath is a pretty wonderful person!"

Again, everyone in the room rose and gave Ali a standing ovation.
 She could feel tears rolling down her cheeks as the applause got
louder and cheers and whistles mixed in.  Then she jumped to her
feet again, stood on the stage and just listened to the applause.
 Moments later she was joined by Charley who stood by her side
with his arm around her waist.  While he remained standing, she
waved to the crowd and then sat down in the chair positioned for
her.

Charley waited for the cheering to die down, and finally it did.
He said, "This is the end of my third year here at USC Law
School.  In that time I've seen many distinguished speakers come
to address the students.  Frankly, this is a first for me.  I
have never seen such a reception accorded a speaker since I have
been here.  I've been thinking about that comment John Jacobs
made, and I think he's probably right.  I guess Ali isn't such a
great actress.  She's a great person, playing herself.  Anyway, I
want to thank her for coming.  I would also be very interested in
organizing and participating in any effort to assist her in
seeing justice done."

Then he held up his arms and yelled, "The beer tap is now open! 
Thank you all for coming."

He turned to Ali and said, "You were great.  By the way, you look
great, too."  He studied her and then slowly shook his head. 
"That's all you, isn't it?  You're wearing no makeup at all, are
you?"

Ali looked chagrined.  "I'm sorry, Charley.  I just took a shower
at my health club and came on over.  I didn't think it showed
that much."

He shook his head and looked at her as he might look at an
amusing child.  "You really don't understand, do you?  Ali, how
many girls can step out of a shower and look like a gorgeous
movie star without putting on a shred of makeup?  And I most
particularly include the movie stars!  Damn!  If only I'd met you
an hour earlier!"

She looked up at him and turned on her smile.  "Why Charley
Conrad, I'm overwhelmed!"  She stood on tiptoe and kissed him
softly on the lips.  "Thank you," she said softly.

Charley just looked dazed as he lightly rubbed the back of his
wrist on his lips.  With an effort of will he regained control. 
"Come on!" he said, "The beer will be all gone, and then you'll
kill me!"

She grinned at him and said, "I'm glad to see you understand the
seriousness of the situation."

He led her to the side of the room and left her with a group of
students who were crowding around.  A number wanted autographs
which she cheerfully provided.  She asked them where they
intended to practice and asked their names.  Then she wrote a
couple of lines using the person's name and referring to each as
a colleague at the bar.

Just then, Charley came up wearing his white waiter's jacket and
carrying a silver tray high over his head to clear the crowd. 
When he rejoined Ali, he lowered it with a flourish.  On it was a
bottle of Sam Adams and a tall frosted pilsner glass.  He
carefully poured the beer and presented it on the tray to her,
along with a paper napkin.  He grinned at Ali and the group and
said, "I happen to know Ali is spoiled by the quality of service
she gets at the hotel.  Also, USC has its honor to uphold against
UCLA."

She grinned back and said, "Charley also knows I love Sam Adams.
Charley, thank you so much!  But where are the pretzels, for
heaven's sake?  Who ever heard of beer without pretzels?"

Just then a friend of Charley's, also wearing a waiter's jacket,
offered her a basket of fat beer pretzels.  Ali pretended to
faint.  Although she let her knees go limp, she was careful not
to spill a drop of her beer.  She then jumped up and grinned. 
"I've died and gone to heaven!  Ice-cold Sam Adams and jumbo
pretzels!  Yum!"

A quiet girl had been standing close to Ali without saying
anything.  Finally, Ali looked directly at her.  She reddened
slightly and then said quietly, "Miss McGrath, could I speak to
you alone for a moment?"

Ali looked at the girl and thought it had taken an effort of will
for her to speak at all.  Charley had seen the exchange, so Ali
winked at him while moving off with the girl towards the stage. 
"Don't you have a beer?" Ali asked.

"I don't drink, Miss McGrath.  My name is Virginia Jamison.  I'm
a third-year student here.  I wanted to speak to you personally.
How do you handle men the way you do?  You're so relaxed and
natural.  I should tell you I came here to boo.  I thought that a
big-time stuck-up movie star was going to grace us with her
presence.  Then I heard you and saw you.  You're real, aren't
you?"

Ali could see the girl was deeply troubled about something and
she knew it was no time for a joke.  "Yes, I guess I am," she
replied.  "What you see is what you get."

Virginia went on.  "You're so...  so free with the guys.  How do
you do it?  How do you maintain your dignity, your sense of
personal worth?  How do you keep men from dominating you?"

Ali looked at the girl carefully.  She suddenly realized that
even she -- with her trained eye -- couldn't discern what
Virginia really looked like.  There wasn't the least hint of a
figure under her clothes.  She appeared formless and it puzzled
her.  Then Ali said something totally removed from her thoughts.
"First, what do people call you?  Virginia is...  kind of formal.
 Second, I don't care if you drink or not, I want you to get
yourself a beer and get us a basket of those pretzels.  Then I'm
yours for as long as the pretzels hold out.  Okay?"

"Well, some people call me Ginny, but I don't think that's
appropriate for a woman lawyer.  It's not serious enough."  Ali
slowly nodded as the girl went off.  A few minutes later she was
back with a glass of beer for herself and a bottle of Sam Adams
stuck in a basket of pretzels for Ali.  Ali grinned and relieved
her of the basket.  She refilled her own glass and gracefully
pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the stage.

"Won't you join me, Ginny?  You can get up here, can't you?"

The girl gave Ali a strange look, then gracefully turned and
lifted herself effortlessly up on the stage.  Ali smiled and
said, "Have a pretzel."

Ginny looked at them and said, "But they have so much salt.  All
that sodium..."

Ali looked concerned and said, "I'm so sorry.  You don't _look_
like you have a heart problem."

Ginny looked startled.  "I don't!  Why would you say a thing like
that?"

"Because people with a tendency towards high blood pressure need
to watch their sodium.  Personally, I don't have the problem and
I love pretzels and beer.  In fact, I think I'll have a couple
more and ask someone else to drive me home.  This is furthering a
plan of my own."

"What plan is that?" Virginia asked.

"I need to gain some more weight.  I've been working out a lot,
particularly exercises that are supposed to increase the size of
my boobs.  I've promised myself I'll be in perfect shape -- or as
good as I can ever get -- within sixty days -- or die in the
attempt.  Right now I'm still too damned thin, and as flat as a
board.  Why do you hide your figure, Ginny?  May I call you
Ginny?"

Ginny smiled a very warm smile.  "Of course.  But Ali, isn't
it... unprofessional?"

Ali gave the girl her sunshine smile and said, "Names are names.
They're neither professional nor unprofessional."  She looked at
the girl very carefully and then slowly shook her head.  "Ginny,
you are a first.  Look, I'm a pro.  I've done nude scenes.  I've
faked lovemaking with a full film crew watching.  Where people
are concerned, I see things most people don't.  But you baffle
me.  I think you're a beautiful -- and very sexy -- girl.  But
I'm not sure.  You do the best job -- in fact, a nearly perfect
job -- of hiding it.  Why?"

"Because I want to be respected for my brain, not for my tight
little buns.  Is that so wrong?" she replied.

Suddenly, Ali had an idea -- and it seemed to fit what little she
knew and had observed.  "How old are you, Ginny?"

"I'm twenty-four," she replied.  "Why?"

Ali ignored the question.  "How old is Charley Conrad?"

"He's thirty-one or thirty-two.  I've never been able to find out
for sure," she replied.  Suddenly, the girl turned bright red.

"Why are you blushing?" Ali asked.  "Are you in love with Charley
Conrad?"  The girl nodded slowly.  She looked miserable.  "Well,
what are you doing about it?" Ali continued.

Ginny looked at her in surprise.  "What do you mean, 'What am I
doing about it?'  What _can_ I do about it?"

Ali just looked at the girl steadily.  "First, you could look
like a woman.  Ginny, I would be willing to bet you have a great
figure, don't you?"  The girl gave the smallest possible nod. 
"Your face I can see.  You have to work hard to conceal its
beauty.  As far as your hair is concerned, I have a friend who's
a hair stylist.  In fact he's won a couple of Oscars.  I don't
think he could do a better job of 'uglifying' you than you did
yourself.  Why do you do it?"

Ali could see the girl's face start to crumble.  She was very
close to tears as she said, "That's all very well for you to say.
 You're a movie star.  You're not supposed to have a brain.  Just
a body.  I'm a lawyer!  Lawyers use their brains, not their bods,
for Christ's sake."

Ali just slowly shook her head as the girl was speaking.  "Ginny,
let me tell you something.  I just got an investment management
contract.  It's paying me $2 million a year.  Guess what?  They
don't give a shit if I'm green with purple polka dots.  They care
about investment performance, and I'm giving it to them."

She glared at the girl with blue fire coming from her eyes and
continued.  "I don't know why, but I'm going to tell you
something I've never told anyone.  My marriage isn't consummated.
 My husband hasn't taken me -- yet.  And believe me, it's not a
question of physical capability, either.  God, is he capable!  Do
you know what's the greatest time in my day?  It's going to bed.
I snuggle next to him as close as I can.  With my head on his
shoulder, he puts his arm around me and cups his hand over my
right breast -- what little there is of it.  I put my hand over
his to keep it in place and I go to sleep.  I feel so warm, and
snugly and loved!  You could take the investment management
contract and shove it.  I'm a woman!  I think I have a very hot
cunt.  I long for his cock to be in it.  I told you earlier I'm
working hard to build up my boobs so he'll have something more to
hold.  I don't go around selling it or preaching it. 
Nevertheless, I think a girl needs a man to love her.  And I'm
using the word, 'needs,' advisedly.

"Now, Ginny, let's get back to you.  Are you afraid Charley won't
talk to you if you fix yourself up?  How do you really feel about
him?  You said you loved him.  What have you done about it?"

She had been studying the younger girl carefully.  Something had
been bothering her -- it was the hair color which was odd.  It
was like no hair color Ali had ever seen.  And her eyes.  There
was something strange about them, too, when studied at close
range. _My God,_ she thought, _This kid is wearing colored
contact lenses!_  Then aloud she said, "Ginny, your natural hair
color is auburn, isn't it?"

The girl's eyes widened in momentary astonishment.  Then she
reluctantly nodded.

"What color are your eyes?  Green?"

This time the girl just ogled Ali.  "Who are you, anyway?  How
could you possibly know that?"

Ali smiled.  Things were starting to fall into place.  "Ginny,
where are you from?  Did you have a bad sexual experience with a
guy?"  Ginny shook her head.  This was going to be tougher than
Ali thought.  She asked the girl, "Can I buy you dinner?  I would
like to continue this a bit longer -- and at a place where we
could have more privacy?  Are you interested?"

Ginny nodded reluctantly, and Ali went off to find Charley.  She
found him with a group of students who were discussing her legal
problems with great animation.  Charley told her the bull session
was going to go on for a while and asked if he could get together
with her later.  They agreed to meet in her suite when he got off
work on Friday afternoon.

For reasons she didn't fully understand Ali felt exhilarated as
she went to rejoin Ginny.  When she asked the girl if she had a
car at school, Ginny said she did.  Then Ali asked, "You live
alone, don't you?"  Again, Ginny's surprise showed in her eyes,
but she nodded.  "Nearby?" Ali asked.  Again there was an
affirmative nod.  "Great!  Get your car and I'll follow you to
your apartment.  We'll drop your car and use mine.  Now let's
go."

They went out to the parking lot.  Ali was getting a picture of
what was going on.  Ginny's car -- a nondescript Volkswagen --
supported the picture.  She got into her convertible and followed
the girl to an equally nondescript apartment house and waited. 
Ginny walked up from the garage and got into the passenger seat.
Ali smiled to herself as the girl luxuriated in the leather
bucket seats. _All is not yet lost,_ Ali thought.

She drove to a nice restaurant she knew of and left the car with
the valet.  She asked the maitre d'hotel for a table for two in a
quiet corner, giving him a twenty dollar bill as she did.

He looked at her and bowed deeply.  "You're Ali McGrath, aren't
you?"  Ali nodded, and the maitre d' beamed.  "It is a great
honor, Miss McGrath," he said as he ushered them to the table in
the far corner of the room.  "Is this satisfactory, Miss
McGrath?"  She smiled her assent and the two women were seated.

Ali excused herself and went to the phone to call Bill to tell
him she would be late.  She could hear the grin in his voice as
he said, "Free at last!"  Then he chuckled and said, "Have a good
time, sweetheart."

She told him where they were and quickly explained the situation.
 "Darling, would it be terribly inconvenient to have Fred pick us
up later in the limo?  Is that possible?"

She heard Bill's quiet chuckle again and his comment, "You're
learning.  You're slow, but you're learning.  Darling, chauffeurs
are for times when you feel like drinking a little more than you
can safely drive on.  How about if I have him there at
nine-thirty.  He'll just wait for you out front."  She agreed and
smiled fondly at the phone as she hung it up and went back to the
corner booth.

She sat down and ordered two very dry Beefeater martinis, on the
rocks.  She was amused as Ginny's eyes widened as she placed the
order.  She looked at the younger girl and asked, "Ginny, are
those contacts corrective?  They're not, are they?"  Ginny shook
her head.  "Then please do me a big favor?  For God's sake, go to
the ladies' room and take the damn things off.  And while you're
at it, see if you can remove some of that camouflage you're
wearing?"

For reasons she didn't fully understand, Ginny did as she was
asked and went to the ladies room.  In a stall she removed waist
padding and stuffed it into her capacious purse.  Then she took
off her blouse, removed her constricting bra, and put the blouse
back on again.  At the basin she carefully removed her contact
lenses.

She smiled remembering the battle she had with the optician when
she had insisted on the particular shade of brown.  "Ginny," he
had said, "That color is hideous!  My God, girl, it's the worst
color possible for you!"  He was right, of course, which was why
she had insisted on it.  She looked at herself in the mirror and
felt strangely relieved to see her emerald-green eyes looking
back at her.  She rejoined Ali.

"You really did work at it, didn't you?" Ali said when Ginny
returned to the booth.

Feigning ignorance, Ginny said, "Worked at what?"

Ali just shook her head.  "You know, Ginny, it's a remarkable
achievement.  It's worthy of some of the best makeup people in
Hollywood.  Better, in fact.  They only fool the camera, which
isn't really so hard to do.  You fooled people who saw you up
close.  I still only see a vague hint of why, though.  I think
you read too much women's lib literature.  You have read a lot of
it, haven't you?"

Ginny nodded.  Then her head came up and her eyes flashed with
green fire.  Ali thought her eyes were very beautiful.  "What if
I do?  Men just want to put their cocks inside us.  We're
cavities for them to use to fill up with their fluids.  We're not
people, Ali, we're just cunts!  I don't want to be just a cunt! 
I have a brain," she wailed.  Ali could see she was close to
breaking down into tears.

The waiter had brought their drinks and Ali offered a toast "to
the practice of law."  She then asked Virginia, "Just how
experienced with men are you, anyway?  You talk about being 'just
a cunt for men to fill up with their fluids'.  Is that the way
you've been treated?"

"Well, no," Virginia replied reluctantly.  "But that's only
because I don't give them the chance.  They always want to get in
my pants."  She glared at Ali as she said the last words.

"You haven't been with many men, have you?  Did you have a very
painful experience?" Ali asked, ignoring the girl's incipient
outburst.

"The first one was," Virginia replied with a wry smile.  "No, on
second thought I guess it really wasn't.  In fact, I guess it was
funny.  Of course, it wasn't funny then, but it would have been
hilarious if someone had filmed it.  Neither of us knew anything!
 He was trying to get his thing out and trying to get my pants
off at the same time in the front seat of a pretty small car. 
Thinking about it, I guess it was sort of ridiculous."  Her eyes
warmed as she continued.  "There have only been a few.  The last
one was...  pretty good."

She grimaced and continued, "Bullshit!  It was very good.  I
loved it -- and it scared me.  Ali, I lost control!  It happened
when I was a senior in college.  We had been talking about
something or other like intellectuals.  He had his arm around me
and started cupping my breast.  The next thing I knew, I had
taken off my sweater and bra so he could really feel me.  Ali, I
did it to myself!  I took off my clothes.  He didn't.  I unzipped
his fly and took off his pants.  My God!  I guess I raped him.  I
made him take me on the floor.  It was in my own living room and
my roommate was due back any minute.  There I was, stark naked,
with his fluids still dripping from my cunt, and I was holding
onto him, begging him to do me again.  It was terrible!"

Ali could see the problem emerging.  The girl wasn't really
afraid of men, she was afraid of her own feelings and behavior. 
The waiter had brought another round of drinks and Ali had
quietly ordered dinner for the two of them, thinking as she did
so how out of character it was for her to order without even
asking what the girl liked -- or didn't.  She noticed that
Virginia had just taken the new drink and was handling it like it
was ice water.  She asked, "How did it feel?  When he fondled you
and then made love to you?"

Virginia's eyes glowed.  "It was heavenly.  I was on fire.  When
he touched me, I melted.  My bones were like rubber.  Finally,
I... I... I had an orgasm.  I just exploded.  It was like nothing
that's ever happened before or since.  I completely lost control.
 I guess that's why I tried to get him to stay.  I wanted to see
if we could do it again.  It felt so great!  Then the next
morning, I panicked.  I've never seen him since."

Again Virginia smiled wryly.  "Ali, this is the first time I've
ever spoken about that night... to anyone.  God, I was a bitch! 
The guy took me to heaven, and then I refused to speak to him
again.  I'm sure he wondered what he had done.  He must have
known it was good for me, so he had to wonder what he said, or
what I might have found out, or something.  The truth is, it was
so great it scared hell out of me.  That's when I decided I would
change."

The waiter had brought the first course of jumbo shrimp cocktail.
 Ali was amused to see Virginia start to eat with relish.  She
was quite certain that the girl would normally pick at her food
if she weren't so caught up in her memories.  Ali continued the
interrogation.  "Virginia, where are you from?"

"I'm from Seattle," she replied.  "Dad's with Boeing.  I decided
to come to law school down here where I could get some sun... and
hide."

"What do your parents think?  Do you have any brothers or
sisters?  And how do your parents get along?"  Ali continued her
questioning.

Again the girl smiled wryly.  "They've about given up on me.  I
think they think I'm an all-galaxy loser... and I guess they're
right.  I don't have any siblings, Ali, and that's part of the
problem.  Dad was a fighter pilot when he met Mom.  I guess he
was a hot ticket, and still is.  Mom teases me that they haven't
given up trying for a brother or sister.  It's disgusting -- no,
damn it, it isn't.  I guess it's really pretty wonderful.  When
I'm home, which isn't often, I hear them going at it every night.
 And every morning, Mom and Dad have that well-fucked look.  Mom
is young -- under forty-five, and she doesn't look a lot older
than you do.  Dad's still in great shape."  Virginia's eyes got
larger.  "Would you believe it!?  Even today, when I'm home and
they don't think I can see, he'll grab her buns in the kitchen
while she's at the sink or something.  The result is always the
same."

"What's the result?" Ali asked.

"I see her knees break.  She takes a deep breath making her boobs
stick out.  Then she turns her head, kisses him, and gently
removes his hand.  She never slaps him or says anything.  She's
the kind of person those books you mentioned are talking about. 
She has no sense of self-worth.  She just serves as a depository
for his fluids.  Do you know, Ali, I think at times when I'm not
home they walk around the house naked!"

Ali continued the interrogation.  "Does your mother work?"

Virginia looked a little surprised at the question.  "Yes, she
does now.  She's a securities broker and is doing very well, I
guess.  Why do you ask?"

Instead of responding, Ali changed the subject.  In the meantime
the waiter had brought their main course, two beautiful thick
boneless sirloin steaks.  She was amused to see Virginia just
continue her eating.  She said, "You admitted your natural hair
color is auburn, didn't you?"

The girl was startled.  "Yes I did, but how did you know?  It
surprised hell out of me when you said it at school.  How could
you know?"

Ali smiled and said, "It was a guess.  And you're one of the very
rare ones who tan, aren't you?"  The girl nodded.

"No wonder your parents are disgusted.  Virginia, let me replay
what you've told me in my own words.  First, you're a beautiful
girl.  I imagine you're a real stunner -- without working at it
at all.  Your parents are loving.  They sound like two of the
neatest people around, deeply in love with each other.  They act
it, they show it, and they love it.  How do you suppose they feel
with a very bright, very beautiful daughter, who hides -- no,
buries -- her beauty?  A girl with a sex drive that sounds like
her mother's.  Unlike her mother, though, she's scared of it. 
Have you ever asked your mother about sex, by the way?"

"Yes, I did.  I once asked her if she wasn't afraid of Dad
playing around on his trips -- he travels a lot.  She said, 'Not
at all.  And if he did, it would be my fault for not working hard
enough to keep him focused on me.'  She was working out on an
exercise machine.  She said her objective was to be better for
him than any other woman could possibly be.  As far as going
away, it made the homecoming an event.  Ali, she had the nerve to
tell me that they almost never sleep the first night he is home
from a trip -- and still don't.  Can you believe that?"

Ali smiled and slowly shook her head.  "Virginia, I think it's
the neatest thing I've ever heard.  My God!  There is the
wonderful Biblical line, 'they have eyes but they do not see.' 
That line must have been written especially for you.  You were
raised in a family with so much love, if it were water, it would
flood greater Seattle.  Yet you flee from it and from yourself. 
Your only real experience with sex you describe as being so good
you tried to keep the guy from leaving.  You're a major-league
head case.  By the way, are you ever called Ginger?  It's an
obvious nickname for a girl named Virginia, particularly one with
auburn hair."

She nodded reluctantly.  "It's what my parents call me.  They
know I hate it -- it's not a serious-sounding name -- but they do
it anyway.  And all variations, like Gin, and Gingy.  They think
I'm pompous, arrogant, a stick-in-the-mud, and an intellectual
phony.  And then, you know what?  They say they love me anyway. 
They tell me they haven't given up hope.  What do you think?"

"I think I would like to meet your parents.  In fact, I've made a
mental note to get up to Seattle to do just that.  Maybe your
mother might like a new client with money to invest.  As for
their comments, I think they're dead right.  What do you think?"

"I _know_ they're right.  Is it too late?"  Suddenly the girl
grinned, "Ali, would you call me Ginger?  Or Gin?  Or Gingy?  Do
you know, I say I hate it, but I really get a warm feeling
thinking of my parents calling me that.  They're not teasing
me...  Yes, they are, but in a different sense.  They're trying
to tease me back into the human race.

"Ali, you may think I haven't been paying attention to the food,
but I have.  I said I don't drink, but I do.  I love a drink
before dinner, but I never have one here -- only at home.  As for
food, this is the first steak I've had in Los Angeles, in all the
time I've been down here.  I've been eating like a damned rabbit
-- a fearful one, at that.  I take everything so seriously about
my diet.  But Ali, I don't want to!" she wailed.  "Would you
believe, I have a weight problem?  My problem is keeping it on. 
I just don't eat enough.  This dinner has been marvelous.  And
thank you for listening to me."  She started to get up from the
table.	

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?" Ali asked sternly.
 "We're not nearly finished with you.  You said you work out. 
Where?"  Ginger told her.  It was an out-of-the-way location. 
"Of course!  You would have to go to some out-of-the-way place. 
You're in a leotard and people can see your bod -- really.  And
you couldn't allow that to happen where anyone from S.C.  could
ever find out.  Right?  Incidentally, I noticed you took off your
bra.  I envy you your chest."  The girl looked sheepish, but then
felt flattered.  "What's your class schedule like tomorrow?" Ali
asked.

"I don't have any tomorrow.  There is only one class scheduled
and it was canceled.  Why?"

"Because I'm picking you up at your apartment at eight o'clock
and we're going to my club.  And you had better be prepared to be
inspected.  I'm also going to make some other arrangements.  Now,
there is one element in all of this I need you to confirm.  You
said you're in love with Charley Conrad.  Why, in the name of
God, haven't you done anything about it?  Ginger, you really make
me mad!  When you first came up to me, I thought it was the
classic case of the plain girl with a crush on the handsome guy.
Now I know -- or am pretty sure -- that you're a knockout!  Why
in hell haven't you done anything with what you have?"

Ginger just shook her head and said, "If I told you, you wouldn't
believe me.  In fact, it's so stupid, _I_ don't believe me!  Ali,
I think I got so caught up in my act, I forgot to look in the
mirror.  Is there any hope?"

Ali just grinned.  The girls had passed on dessert and had a
cognac with coffee.  Ali checked her watch and saw it was almost
ten o'clock and knew Fred would be waiting.  She smiled inwardly
at the realization that here in Hollywood it was possible -- and
expected -- to show up at a fine restaurant in blue jeans and a
work shirt with no one even glancing up.

Fred Clark, the chauffeur, was holding the door as they emerged.
He saluted Ali who introduced him to Ginger Jamison.  Then he
whispered to Ali that he had taken the liberty of having her car
driven back to the hotel so it would be available for her in the
morning.  It was something she had completely forgotten and she
gave him her big smile and thanked him for remembering.  Then she
gave Fred Ginger's address from memory and got in.

As they drove off, she saw Ginger smiling and shaking her head. 
"Charley had it absolutely right: You smiled at Fred, and I could
see him melt.  Ali, you made his day, right then.  He's not doing
you a favor, you're doing him one.  You are thoughtful,
considerate, appreciative, beautiful -- and smart."  Suddenly the
girl brightened and smiled.  Her natural smile was similar to
Ali's.  It lit up the car and Ali smiled back.  "My God!  Now I
see.  Ali, if you can do it, maybe I can, too.  Do you think it's
possible?"

Ali said, "We're going to try like hell!"

When she returned to the hotel, she quickly filled in Bill on her
project.  "Honey," she said, "I'm doing a Clifford.  Do you
mind?"

By this time they were in bed together and Ali remembered her
conversation with Ginger as she carefully placed Bill's hand on
her breast and snuggled close.  She had given him a soft,
lingering kiss while gently rubbing her now-engorged nipples over
his chest.  Then she just snuggled closer and went to sleep.

*  *  *

At eight the next morning she rang Ginger's door bell and went up
to her apartment.  She had decided that Ginger had plenty of
money, although that, too, was well hidden.  Her apartment,
nondescript on the outside, was beautiful inside.  It was
spotless and was decorated with taste.  Ginger was wearing a pair
of skin-tight jeans and a tee shirt.  There was no bra.  Her
breasts were beautifully shaped and her small nipples were
bulging the thin fabric.  Ali gave an appreciative whistle. 
"This is going to be much easier than I thought," she said.

They went to the health club.  Ginger had a tiny bikini she wore
in the exercise room.  When they went up to the roof to lie in
the sun, the bikini came off, revealing an all-over tan like
Ali's with no bikini marks on her loins or breasts.  Her body was
magnificent.  Beautiful legs, slim hips, and a flat belly.  Ali
noticed that her pubic hair was dark auburn.  Her breasts were
perfect.

As they left the club, Ali asked her about her clothes.  Ginger
grinned.  "The jeans are mine.  The rest are things my parents
gave me.  Do you think I would have the nerve to buy a bikini
like that?  You know what's funny?  My mother bought it.  She
bought one for herself and then a second for me as an
afterthought.  I think she looks better in hers than I do in
mine!"

Ali smiled and said, "I repeat: I want to meet your mother."

They went to the Alliance studio.  There was a pass for Ali who
drove to a back area where the makeup department was located. 
The first stop was the hair stylist.  She introduced Ginger to
Henry Hall who looked at the younger girl thoughtfully while he
exchanged news with Ali.  Seating Ginger in a chair, he took out
a powerful magnifying glass.  He and Ali consulted on color as
they carefully studied the roots of her hair.  Finally they
agreed on the color, and the work began.  While Hall worked, Ali
wandered around and renewed acquaintances with some of the people
who had been around for years.  When she returned later, Henry
was ready to start combing out the hair and styling it.  The
chair had been positioned facing away from the mirror.  He spun
it around towards the mirror and asked, "How did we do?"

Ginger gasped.  "My God!  It's perfect.  Ali, when I got home
last night I started to cry.  The dye job wasn't going to go
away, and I envisioned years before it fully grew out.  I think
you got the color on the nose.  Thank you so much!"  She smiled
at Henry warmly and he blushed.

Ali had told him about styling the girl's hair.  "She's playing a
lawyer.  She has to be able to look very professional.  At the
same time, you can see she's athletic, and she's _very good_ in
bed.  We don't want a lot of hair pins, curlers, etc., cluttering
up the bed.  Understand?"

Henry just grinned and went to work.  What emerged was a
masterpiece, showing off the beautiful hair, but at the same time
being a very easy-care hairdo.  He said to the women, "It only
works, Ali, because she has hair very similar to yours.  It's got
body, it's full and it has a natural wave.  Ginger, what do you
think?"

She jumped out of the chair and gave him a big kiss, followed by
a big smile.  "That's what I think," she said.

Henry reddened and smiled.  He turned to Ali and said, "This girl
may make it bigger than you did.  She's a beauty -- and she has
the same star quality.  Thanks for bringing her in.  Who's
producing the film, by the way?"

Ginger had heard the references, but hadn't said anything.  Ali
replied, "It's an independent production, Henry.  It's not in the
studio so I want to pay you now.  There's no recognized budget
for the production here at the studio."

He just waved it away.  "It was a real pleasure.  It's not often
I get to have so much fun.  Thanks again."

The girls left, and Ali did some shopping for Ginger.  Finally,
she gave her instructions for Friday along with a shopping list.
Things were falling in place -- she had confirmed that Charley
wasn't scheduled to work that weekend.

*  *  *

When the doorbell at the suite rang promptly at four o'clock
Friday afternoon, Ali winked at Ginger who responded with a weak
smile.  They were dressed as twins -- both wearing tight Levi's
and chambray work shirts.  Neither wore bras.  Ali opened the
door for Charley who had just finished work and was dressed in
slacks, a golf shirt, and was wearing a blue blazer.  Ali decided
he looked great with his dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and
athletic build.  He didn't look like a lawyer -- but neither did
they.

Charley came in and saw Ginger.  Ali said, "Charley, you know
Ginger Jamison.  I asked her to join us for our discussion."

Charley looked admiringly at Ginger and shook his head.  "Ali,
I'm afraid I don't.  I'm sure we've never met before.  Ginger is
not a girl a guy could forget very quickly."

"Charley," Ginger said, "we're classmates.  I'm in your class at
S.C.  Virginia Jamison?  Is the name familiar?"

"Virginia Jamison," Charley said softly, almost to himself. 
Suddenly he jerked up, startled, and blurted, "But that can't be!
 Virginia is short and mousy and...  and nondescript."  He looked
at Ginger and shook his head.  "It's impossible.  I can't
remember what color Virginia's eye's are, but they sure as hell
aren't emerald green.  The same thing with her hair -- I can't
remember what color it is, but it sure isn't your autumn fire. 
And her figure -- she just doesn't have one, and you sure do." 
He looked at Ali and at Ginger with a baffled look on his face. 
"What's going on?"

Ginger smiled an Ali smile, and Ali could see Charley start to
melt.  "Charley, it really is me.  What you see is the product of
a couple of days with Ali.  I... I had some pretty screwy ideas.
I've been wearing brown contacts since I came down here and... 
Wait!"

She took her purse and removed the wallet.  "Charley, here's my
California driver's license.  Does the picture remind you of
anyone?" He looked at it and was shocked.  There was the girl,
Virginia Jamison, that he knew of but hadn't bothered ever to get
to know.  As Ginger said, the eyes were brown, and the hair was
brown.  She then handed him another license.  "Charley, I live in
Washington State.  Here's my Washington license.  Do you see any
differences?"

He looked at the picture and then looked at the girl in front of
him.  It showed a beautiful green-eyed girl with auburn hair.  It
was the girl in front of him with her hair in a different style.
He put the two licenses together.  The names, dates of birth, and
social security numbers were identical.

"I guess I'll have to get a new California license," she said.

Ali had been watching the exchange with great amusement.  She
mentally complimented the girl for her quick thinking with the
licenses.  It was something that would not have occurred to her.

Charley just shook his head and finally said, "Wow!  You're...
You are beautiful.  Absolutely gorgeous.  What, in hell, were you
doing?"

He realized that standing up straight as she was now, Ginger was
as tall as Ali -- probably about five feet eight.  Her head was
up straight and she said, "Being a turkey... an idiot... a
fool...  Charley, I think I'm reasonably bright.  I didn't think
guys liked smart girls.  Then I met Ali.  Then she introduced me
to my own mother, for God's sake.  Then she got me out of my
edumb shell.  Charley, I'm afraid this is really me.  What you
see is what you get."  She turned to Ali as Charley's eyes
widened as he tried to grasp the significance of her last
statement.  Then she said, "What's a girl have to do to get a
drink around here?"

Ali grinned and went to the bar.  A platter of cold hors
d'oeuvres were there which she brought to the table in the room.
"What are you drinking, Ginger?  The same?"

Ginger nodded with a grin, while Charley looked baffled again. 
"But Virginia, you don't drink!  That's one thing I _do_
remember."

Ginger stuck out the tip of her tongue at him.  "You're
absolutely right, Charley.  Virginia doesn't ever drink anything
stronger than spring water.  On the other hand, Ginger loves
Beefeater martinis, very dry on the rocks.  I'm afraid Virginia
died an unlamented death a couple of days ago.  Ali, may I?  How
about you, Charley?"

He grinned and went to the bar and made three.  Then they sat
down and started to review the material he and his friends had
gathered.  In just a couple of days the USC law students had made
tremendous strides preparing Ali's case.  Charley had a list of
names and addresses of people who had been contacted.  With the
passage of time it appeared a number of them were now willing to
talk -- and talk on the official record.  They discussed the
possibility of taking depositions, and Ali identified specific
names on the list she thought could be most helpful.  After a
couple of hours, they put away the papers.

Ali had been amused to see the reaction of the young couple.  It
was what she had expected, but she suspected it came as a
surprise to Ginger.  Charley was paying strict attention to her
ideas.  So much for the theory a girl could not be beautiful and
smart.  Ali was sure Ginger was getting a more serious hearing
than she had since she started law school.  Charley made another
round of drinks and Ali continued her grazing among the hors
d'oeuvres.

It was clearly getting to be time to go, but just as clearly
Charley didn't want to leave this lovely girl he had just
discovered.  Yet he didn't seem to know quite what to do.

Ginger took the bull by the horns.  She smiled at Charley and
asked, "Do you have any plans for this evening?  I'm having a
couple of people over for dinner.  Would you like to join us?" 
Ali maintained a straight face knowing -- as did Ginger -- there
was a message on her answering machine saying her other guests
couldn't attend.  Jen Sills had left the message.

Charley visibly brightened.  "I would love to," he said.  "What
time?"

Ginger glanced at her watch and yelped, "Holy cow!  Right now! 
Ali, I'm sorry, but I have to dash.  Charley, I hate to impose,
but Ali picked me up.  Could you drive?"

Ali admired the very professional acting performance Ginger was
giving.  There wasn't the slightest false note.  The two left the
hotel suite in a rush.Chapter 4

At nine o'clock Monday morning, Ali was stretching luxuriantly in
her bed when the doorbell rang.  Bill had had to get up early to
go to New York so it was the first time they had been separated.
She had wanted to go with him, but he had insisted she stay and
prepare for her finals.  Slipping on the unisex terry bathrobe,
she went to open the door.  Standing behind the room service cart
was Ginger in the hotel's room-service uniform, complete with
white shirt and bow tie.  Ali grinned broadly and held the door
open.  Only when Ginger pushed the cart in did Ali realize the
girl was wearing no pants.  Her beautiful bare legs disappeared
under her waiter's jacket.

Ali started to laugh.  "Ginger, you look great!  Come over here."
 The terry-cloth robe was very short and Ali and Ginger stood
side by side comparing legs.

Ginger was the first to speak.  "You know, Ali, your legs are
really very good... for a middle-aged woman."

Ali grinned and punched her in the arm.  "And yours aren't bad
either... for a little kid."

They both laughed.  Ginger proceeded very professionally to open
up the service cart.  "Where's Mr. Clifford?  His breakfast is
here, too," she said.

Ali just grinned.  "That's not his, it's yours.  He's left for
New York.  You haven't eaten, have you?  And where's Charley, by
the way?"

Ginger gave her a big smile.  "He couldn't get out of bed this
morning.  He just couldn't move.  When my alarm went off, he just
groaned."

Ali raised an eyebrow.  "When _your_ alarm went off?  Why Ginger
Jamison, that implies he slept in your apartment last night.  I'm
shocked!"

Ginger tried to look pensive but her grin kept getting in the
way.  "Actually, Ali, your statement isn't quite accurate.  He
spent the night _at_ my apartment.  However, he spent it _in_ me.
 In fact," she said with a broad grin, "He spent very often in
me.  He didn't really sleep, though.  That was the problem.  Ali,
may I sit down and spread my legs?  I am absolutely ruined.  I'm
at the point right now where my body doesn't feel normal unless
my thighs are spread wide.  May I?"

Ali just grinned and nodded.  "Gee," she said, "Aren't you the
girl who feels women are just cunts to be used by men as a
depository for their sexual fluids?  You sort of resemble that
girl."

"That's me," Ginger said brightly.

She and Ali were attacking a huge breakfast and Ginger acted like
she hadn't eaten in a week.  She was smiling at Ali when suddenly
her smile turned into a frown.  "But I have a bone to pick with
you, Allison Clifford.  About that depository business?  You
didn't tell me that sometimes the guy runs out of those fluids!"

"So tell me what happened?  Before you start, though, let me just
say you could have a brilliant career in films if you want one. 
But with respect to careers, I have another idea I want to talk
to you about later.  You handled that material here on Friday
like a pro.  It was all I could do to keep from applauding your
performance.  Your delivery and timing were perfect.  But then
what happened?"

"First, Ali, while compliments are being passed out, you could
have given Niccolo Machiavelli a run for his money.  I may have
spoken the lines, but you sure as hell wrote the script.  It
played brilliantly.

"Anyway, we jumped into Charley's car and roared over to my
apartment.  Strangely believe it, there was a message on my
machine from my friend -- your friend -- Jen.  The poor thing was
in tears because she and Jeff couldn't make it.  There was an
emergency involving her new house."  Ginger grinned.  "I almost
had to step back to keep from drowning in the tears coming from
the machine.  Who is Jen, by the way?"

Ali smiled.  "She and Jeff are lovely people to whom I owe my
sanity.  On the other hand, they think I'm responsible for
helping them get their house.  You and Charley will have to meet
them sometime.  I know you'll like them.  Jeff was Special Forces
in Vietnam.  Anyway, then what happened?"

"Well," she continued, "I smiled and said to Charley that I hoped
he was hungry.  He made more drinks, we ate shrimp cocktail and
steaks -- and I did a beautiful job, if I do say so myself.  Then
we took our coffee and cognac into the living room and were
really feeling expansive.  I guess we had something on the cable
channel and were sitting on the sofa.  One thing led to another
and he kissed me.

"Ali, it was all over right there.  There were bells.  I just
melted.  I couldn't wait, so I unbuttoned the front of my shirt.
Since I wasn't wearing a bra, my breasts were bare.  He held me
and caressed me, and a few minutes later we were in bed.  We made
love, and slept a little.  We made love and took a shower
together... and made love in the shower.  We didn't eat much, we
didn't drink much, and we sure in hell didn't sleep much.  But
God, did we make love.  My snapshot memory of the weekend is
arms, legs and bodies in every imaginable position.  The common
denominator was mostly my thighs were spread as wide as they
could go.  I guess that's about it."

Ali was beaming.  "You don't regret it, do you?  You don't think
you compromised your intellectual integrity?"

"That's one of the things that's so strange.  In the first place,
you can take intellectual integrity and stuff it.  But in the
second place, we had some great post-coital conversations. 
Incidentally, Ali, I took a tip from you.  After making it, when
I was absolutely drained and limp, I was on my back in bed next
to him with my head on his shoulder.  Then I snuggled as close as
I could get and put his hand on my breast.  He cupped it, I held
his hand, and we were instantly asleep.  God, it feels so great
to feel a man's big hand on your tit when you wake up!  The funny
thing is, the talk was intellectual -- or at least intelligent. 
Does that sound strange?

Ali shook her head and said, "No, not at all.  To change the
subject let me ask you: What are your plans for after school?  Do
you have a job?"

Ginger smiled and said, "I did.  Unfortunately, my offer is from
the same firm where Charley is going.  He got terribly unglued,
but I told him our relationship compared to a law firm was no
contest.  I told him I would be his secretary so he could take me
on his desk, but we agreed that the law firm probably wouldn't
like that idea much better.  So anyway, I'm now looking for a job
again."

Ali beamed and Ginger looked puzzled.  Ali said, "I'm offering
you a job.  But there's a minor contingency: we both have to pass
our bar exams.  Are you confident?"

Ginger paused for a moment and said, "Virginia Jamison is in a
panic -- but she's always in a panic.  Ginger Jamison, on the
other hand, is confident as hell.  She'd climb Mount Everest
naked if she had to.  Hell yes, I'll pass.  I'll ace it!"

"Great!" Ali continued.  "How would you like to be a partner in
the firm of Clifford & Jamison?  Bill thought the idea was great
when I talked to him about it last night.  Here's the deal: The
money is mine, but most of the time will be yours.  As you know,
Bill hired me -- married me -- to travel with him, and I'm
looking forward to it.  Meanwhile, you'll be working your buns
off -- what's left of them after Charley's through with you, of
course.  I have my eye on an office suite downtown -- it's on the
38th floor, northwest corner, with a view of the mountains to the
north and out to the ocean in the west.  I can't wait to be there
at night with just the lights of the city, with the office dark,
and being laid on my desk in full view of the ocean and the
mountains.  Does it scare you?"

"Scare me?" Ginger exclaimed, "Ali, you're a witch!  You just
sold me.  Where do I sign?"

Ali held out her hand and said, "Shake, partner!"

They shook hands and then Ginger took the older girl in her arms
and hugged her.  Ali was surprised to feel the girl's shoulders
shaking.  She held her by the shoulders and stepped back.  Ginger
was sobbing.  Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Ginger, what's wrong?  Why are you crying?  I thought things
were looking pretty good?"

Ginger held her head up, but the tears continued to stream. 
"Allison McGrath Clifford, you have turned my life upside down in
just five days.  I thought I was happy in my little gray shell. 
Now you have smashed my shell, forced me into love -- into the
most wonderful relationship a girl could imagine.  Then you give
me a law partnership -- a partnership, for God's sake -- before I
even graduate!  You are a piece of work.  And I love you.  And
I'm so damned happy, the happiness is streaming out of my eyes."
She tried to grin, but instead just kissed Ali on the cheek.

Ali didn't know what to do as the younger girl sat down on the
sofa and leaned back.  In seconds, she was sound asleep.  Ali
lifted her legs up on the sofa and stretched her out.  Then she
went to the bedroom and came back with a pillow and a blanket. 
Placing the pillow under Ginger's head, she covered her with the
blanket.  Then she went to the table by the window that was used
for eating, drinking, and as a desk the rest of the time. 
Because of the VIP nature of the suite, it had provision for
private telephone lines that bypassed the hotel switchboard. 
These were now in use for a private fax machine and a private
telephone, in addition to the regular hotel line.  She spent time
looking over the securities research she had received over the
weekend and made plans to invest more of the money she was
managing.  Then she studied for her final exams.

At eleven-thirty, there was a stirring on the sofa.  Ginger's
eyes opened and she looked at Ali.  "Hi," she said sleepily. 
Suddenly, she jerked upright.  "Ali, did I do what I vaguely
remember doing?  Did I really collapse in tears?" Ali just smiled
and nodded.  "Oh, shit!" Ginger jumped up and remembered what she
was wearing -- or not wearing.  "Ali, you've done everything else
for me already.  Could you stand one more favor?  Could I use
your bathroom?" Ali started to say, sure, when she remembered
something.

"Ginger, I can do better than that.  You can have a bath of your
own.  There's a second bedroom we pay for but never use.  It has
its very own bath that's cleaned religiously every day.  Come
on!" She glanced at Ginger and asked, "Where are your clothes?"

The girl grinned and removed them from under the service cart. 
Then she quickly stripped off the uniform tunic and stood there
in only a pair of bikini pants.  Ali had seen her figure the
previous week, but now there was a glow.  "You've been well
loved, young lady," Ali said.  "You glow!"

Ginger smiled and ran into the second bedroom while Ali moved the
cart out to the hall and then went back to her law books.  Awhile
later Ginger emerged with a towel wrapped around her hair wearing
her Levi's and a shirt.  "What are you doing?" she asked Ali.

"I'm getting ready to give your mother some business.  Would you
mind calling her from here?"

Suddenly, Ginger was excited.  "Could you handle some true
confessions?  They say confession is good for the soul.  I see
your phone has a speaker unit on it.  Could we use it?"

Ali said, "Of course!  What's your mother's number?"  Ginger told
her and Ali dialed Seattle.  The phone was answered with the name
of the firm.  Ali said, "Mrs. Jamison, please."  A moment later a
girl answered saying it was Mrs. Jamison's office.  Ali asked for
her and identified herself.  She had learned that Ginger's
mother's name was Barbara.

A moment later a very musical voice came on the phone.  "This is
Barbara Jamison.  How may I help you?"

"Good morning, Barbara.  This is Allison Clifford.  Your
daughter, Virginia, is here with me, and would like me to turn on
the speaker on my phone.  Do you mind?"

"What a surprise!" came the reply.  "Of course, I don't mind." 
Ali hit the button and Barbara said, "Hi, Ging!"

Ali began.  "Before we get to the personal part, I would like to
introduce myself.  My name is Allison McGrath Clifford.  You may
have heard of my husband, Bill Clifford?"

"Mrs. Clifford," Barbara Jamison replied, "Is that William
Harrison Clifford of points east?  Somewhere in the top ten on
_Forbes_ list?"

"I'm afraid so.  Do you mind if I call you Barbara?  And please
call me Ali," she said.

"My God!" Barbara exclaimed, "Are you Ali McGrath, the actress?"

"I was, Barbara.  Right again.  But why the surprise?" sheasked.

"Ali, the only thing that saved my marriage was the invention of
the VCR.  If you were on the screen I could be standing naked
rubbing my groin, and Bob would just peer between my legs.  We
have every movie you ever made on tape.  Bob Jamison is going to
absolutely freak out when I tell him I talked with Ali McGrath."
She paused for a moment and continued, "Ali, could you send me an
autographed picture or something?  Bob flat-out just won't
believe it if I don't have some solid proof."

"I think I can do better than that.  First, Ginger tells me
you're a broker and she says you're doing very well.  I love your
daughter, and I envy you and Bob.  But this is all business.  I
am a money manager.  Right now I'm running $200 million and it's
going up to $2 billion.  I have a broker here, but it occurred to
me that Seattle could be a very nice place to trade from.  No one
thinks of people running money from Seattle.  Do you have room
for another client?"

There was silence for a moment.  Then the musical voice, now
sounding somewhat shaken, said, "I'm not sure I heard the size of
the account.  It elmost sounded like two hundred million
dollars."

"Well, that's only now.  It'll get bigger.  Are you interested?"

"Ali, I don't know how long it will take, but I'll crawl on my
hands and knees from Seattle to Los Angeles for a small fraction
of that amount.  You are serious, aren't you?"

"Barbara, I don't joke about money like that.  I take your answer
to be yes.  Let me give you some information about it."  She gave
her the numbers, the Chemical connection, and the rest.

Barbara then said, "Thank you very much, Ali.  By the way, for my
daughter's information I'm now a vice-president of the firm.  Now
what's the next step?"

"Barbara, how would it be if I had Chemical Bank wire you open
authority for an initial $100 million, subject to discussion of
investment objectives and specific securities.  Would that be
sufficient to break you loose and get you down to see me here in
LA?  I am serious.  I would like to meet you very soon."

"There's a two-thirty flight that gets into LAX about six-fifteen
today.  Would that be soon enough?  Or would you like to do it
some other time?"

"Barbara, I'd love it.  Ginger and I will meet you at the United
terminal.  I'll make a reservation for you here at the Beverly
Wilshire, if that's all right?"

"It's great.  Now may I speak to my backward daughter for a
moment?"

Ginger picked up the phone and said, "Mom, now that you're a vice
president, do you rate a private line?"

"I sure do, why?" she asked.

"Because I'll call you, or better yet, you would call me at this
number.  It's a private line into the suite bypassing the hotel
switchboard."  Barbara agreed to place the call, and Ginger hung
up.  Moments later, the phone rang and Ginger picked it up again.
 "Mom?"

"It's me," Barbara said.  "What's on your weak excuse for a
mind?"

"Mom, the speaker's still on.  I want Ali to hear this because
she engineered it.  I want to apologize to you.  I remember
always thinking how physically abused you were -- how Dad was
always using you as a sexual plaything.  You'd be in the kitchen
and, when Dad thought I wasn't looking, he would grab your buns.
You always sort of melted and kissed him.  I always thought you
were being abused.  I never said anything, but each night I could
hear you being tortured.  I always thought you were so brave and
self-sacrificing.

"Mom, I know better, now.  It really does feel great, doesn't it?
 Last weekend I was naked and peeling a carrot at the sink.  My
lover came up and grabbed my buns.  I almost fell when my knees
wanted to turn to water.  The next thing I know, he is lifting me
by the hips and is entering me from behind.  And Mom, guess what?
 I'm about to cum, and I'm still peeling the damned carrot!"

Barbara gave a soft, musical laugh and said, "I'll give you a
tip.  Try to keep the cum out of the salad.  The taste clashes
with several popular salad dressings.  Dad and I know from
experience.  How did it feel, honey?" she asked softly. 

"Mom, it was heaven!  Right now, I don't know what to do.  We
made love so much over the weekend, my cunt hurts when he enters
me.  On the other hand, I'm in agony if he doesn't.  So he does.
Was it like that for you?"

"Welcome to the club, Darling.  I'll see you this evening.  Will
I meet this paragon of manhood, too?"

"Bet on it, Mom!"

At five o'clock, Ali and Ginger were in the gray limousine going
west on the Santa Monica Freeway towards the San Diego Freeway
and the airport.  Ali leaned forward, opened the small bar and
made two martinis for Ginger and herself.  She gave the girl hers
and said, "Ginger, a toast.  To us and to our partnership:
Clifford & Jamison."  They clinked glasses and sipped.

"Why is it this traffic doesn't bother me, Ali?  Normally, I
detest rush hour in Los Angeles, but this doesn't bother me at
all.  I really can't understand it," Ginger said with a very
broad grin.  She leaned her head back on the seat.  "Ali, I
really wouldn't have to train very hard to get used to this.  In
fact, I think I'm going to give my dad hell.  I think my real
talent is to be a second-generation millionaire.  Why didn't he
cooperate?"

Ali picked up on the joke and said, "You're quicker than I was,
Gin.  It took me a long time -- thirty or forty seconds -- to get
used to it.  Of course, being a woman you have an advantage.  If
your dad didn't make it, you marry it.  That's what I did. 
Charley _is_ a millionaire, isn't he?" Ali's eyes were dancing as
she said it.

Ginger stuck out her tongue.  "When I told Charley about tonight
and about our partnership, he was ecstatic.  He said I could now
support him in the style to which he would like to become
accustomed.  When I said we were just starting out, he said I
could easily make it on my back with my legs spread.  He said
he'd give me a great recommendation.  And besides, he says I'm a
nympho and he needs all the help he can get.  Wait until I get
him alone!"

Ali pretended to look puzzled.  "Ginger, I don't understand.  If
you're mad at Charley, why did you lick your lips when you talked
about getting him alone?"

She grinned at Ginger and then said, "Do me a favor?  Better yet,
I'll make you a bet.  I'll bet you ten dollars I can identify
your mother with no help from you.  A bet?" Ginger grinned and
nodded.  Ali said, "Sucker bet!  First, I have a pretty good idea
who I'm looking for.  A woman who looks about my age, but with a
figure like yours.  There won't be that many of those. 
Furthermore, you forgot something.  She knows me.  But thanks for
the money, partner.  I'll deduct it from your first pay check."

Ali picked up the car phone, called United Airlines, and learned
that the flight from Seattle was on time.  Looking out the
window, she decided they would hit it just right.  When she
picked up the intercom and told Fred they were right on the dot,
they could see his smile in the rear-view mirror.  The car pulled
up to the curb at the Arrivals entrance of the United terminal,
the two girls got out and walked inside.  After passing through
the tunnel they checked the Arrivals screen and found the Seattle
flight was shown as being on the ground taxiing to the gate. 
They went to the security barrier and waited.

Ginger said, "I'm not going to make it any easier than it is
already.  I'm just going to stand well back and watch."  Ali just
grinned.

A few minutes later, Ali saw a beautiful woman walking up the
concourse with a long-legged stride.  She was wearing a
well-tailored business suit and carried a shoulder bag.  Ali went
up to her and said, "Barbara Jamison?"

The woman stopped suddenly and her eyes widened, "My God, it is
you!  Ali McGrath!" The two women, for reasons neither
understood, hugged each other like long-lost college roommates.

Just then Virginia came up.  She was holding a folded ten-dollar
bill which she gave to Ali with a wry smile.  "You win.  And you
didn't even cheat.  I thought I had won.  Mom was looking for me,
not for you."  Then she gave her mother a big smile and hugged
and kissed her.  "Mom, it's so great to see you!  Let's go. 
Where's your baggage check?"

Barbara Jamison winked at Ali, held up her handbag and said,
"This is my baggage.  An extra bikini doesn't take up a lot of
room these days.  Shall we go?"

They went out to the car and Fred Clark saluted as Barbara got
in.  Ali winked and he grinned back in return.  Fred was another
in a very long list of people who loved Ali.  Nothing Ali wanted
was ever any trouble for him.  The women got in the car and it
pulled away.  Then Ali peeked into the ice bucket and smiled.  As
she had expected, it had been refilled.  She decided she didn't
want to know how or where Fred obtained the things he did.  They
were just always there.  Ali grinned at Barbara and said, "I
don't know if you're used to riding in a limousine, but I'm not.
I always feel like a little kid.  I want to press all the buttons
and bounce up and down on the seat!"

Barbara was sitting next to Ali in the back seat while Ginger was
riding backward in a rear-facing seat in the stretch limousine. 
Barbara grinned back at Ali and said, "Ali, I feel at home
already.  Can I bounce?" And she did, with a broad grin, while
Ginger pretended to look chagrined.

Ginger, pretending to look embarrassed, said, "Mother!  Really! 
I can't take you anywhere."

They all laughed and Ali asked if she could make Barbara a drink.
 She said it was what she enjoyed most about the car.  You
_could_ drive and drink.  Ali started to make martinis for the
three of them.

Ginger's head was nodding up and down and Barbara said, "I can't
believe it!  My daughter?  Having an alcoholic beverage! 
Darling, I thought you only drank spring water -- and then only
from selected springs."

Ginger smiled and said, "Mom, you're right.  Virginia Jamison
only drinks spring water, but Ginger Jamison is a real swinger. 
She likes Beefeater martinis.  Virginia Jamison disappeared, Mom.
 She hasn't been seen anywhere since last Wednesday.  That's when
I met Ali.  Mom, I love you and Dad.  But why didn't you drown me
or something?  I was a real bitch."

Barbara Jamison looked quite serious as she replied, "I tried,
dear, several times.  Your father always pulled you out by your
hair at the last minute.  He's the one who's soft-headed, not
me."  Then she smiled and Ali realized that Ginger's smile was a
near-duplicate of her mother's.  "Ginger, you look lovely! 
You've never looked so good.  In fact, as we used to say in the
Air Force Officers' Wives Club, you've got that well-fucked
look."

Ginger smiled back, "Maybe that's because I am.  Well fucked, I
mean.  Mother, I think my juices are drained dry and I know
Charley's are.  It was the most divine experience, and now I
understand more about you and Dad.  Incidentally, I remember you
saying he never gets to sleep when he gets back from a business
trip.  Does that go for you, too?"

Barbara licked her lips lasciviously and said, "I certainly hope
so!  On the other hand, this is the first business trip I've ever
taken."  She looked at Ali and smiled.  "I feel like a little kid
playing grown-up.  I get to travel just like a real businessman!
I hope you don't mind?"

Ali stuck out her hand.  "Barbara, you're a girl after my own
heart.  When Ginger told me about you, I kept saying I had to
meet you.  I'm delighted it happened so soon.  You know, she's an
incredibly lucky girl to have a family like yours.  From what I
hear, if your love and Bob's were liquid, it would flood Seattle
and the entire Puget Sound area.  I envy you.  I really do."

Barbara looked at Ali closely.  Finally she said, "I think you
really mean that.  Maybe it's true.  All I know is my cunt still
gushes whenever Bob comes home.  I'm not sure if there's a square
inch of that house we haven't made love on at some time or other.
 I love sex, I love him, and he loves me.  It's pretty simple,
really.  I call it our bedroom exercise.  I think it keeps me in
shape."

"Barbara, can I tell you a secret?" Ali asked.  "I bet Ginger I
could find you at the airport.  I looked for a beautiful woman
who looked to be about thirty years old.  And there you were.  Of
course, you look closer to twenty-five than thirty, but what the
hell."

Barbara studied Ali carefully.  Ali just looked at her steadily.
Finally the older woman said, "You know, Bob is absolutely right.
 I was serious this morning when I talked about you.  It really,
honest-to-God happened.  I was standing, absolutely naked -- and
my figure is pretty good.  I was running my finger up and down my
slit.  Bob had been caressing me and my cunt was running rivers.
I needed him desperately.  Suddenly, there you are on the screen.
 That bastard literally watched the screen between my legs.  I
could have cheerfully killed him -- and you.  But he said you
were the very best.  He said you were really the person you
appeared to be on the screen.  He said, 'That girl isn't acting.
That's the way she is.  And I love her!'  You know what?  He was
absolutely right.  I hope he has a chance to meet you sometime. 
I think it's going to be the funniest thing in the world.  He's
just going to just stand there with his mouth open for at least
five minutes without saying a word.  He'll just stare!"

Ali smiled and sipped her martini.  "Barbara, thank you."  Ali
then slid as far into the corner away from Barbara as she could
and said, "Could I apologize for disturbing your love life?  If
it had been me, I would have thrown something at the picture tube
-- preferably something very heavy!"

Barbara grinned.  "We were poor, then.  If I remember, the idea
crossed my mind, but then I remembered the set wasn't paid-for
yet!"

"I wonder about your husband's judgment, though.  You are
absolutely gorgeous!  A choice between you in the flesh and me on
the tube is no choice at all.  All I can say is: Wow!  He must be
a real fan.  I wish I had a few more over the last few years. 
They've been very lean years, indeed."

Ginger had been listening and not saying anything.  She was
sipping her drink, when she interrupted.  "Ali, I know you've
been on very short rations for years.  But what about residuals?
As a star, aren't you supposed to get paid when your movies rerun
on TV?"

Ali jerked up like she had been struck across the face.  "My God!
 What an idiot!  Ginger, you're right.  I can't remember the last
check I got.  In fact, come to think of it, I can't ever remember
getting a single one!"  She grinned and leaned forward in the
seat and held out her hand, "Thanks, partner!  That's what you're
being paid for -- whenever you get paid.  Barbara, I don't think
we got around to telling you: I'm finishing law school this June,
too.  Your daughter and I are forming a partnership, Clifford &
Jamison.  I've got our offices picked out, and I'd like you to
see them.  I think they're kind of neat."

Ali studied Barbara Jamison and decided she was the kind of
person she really liked.  She glanced outside the speeding car to
check their location, then checked her watch.  "Barbara, I've
been thoughtless.  We're headed for the restaurant, but would you
like to go to the hotel and freshen up first?"

Barbara smiled and shook her head.  "I'm fine.  I...  Old habits
die hard.  Because Bob is with Boeing and they sell to virtually
every airline, we give the customers a bit of a rebate by always
flying first class.  I'm not with them, but I guess I decided to
celebrate my vice-presidency.  Anyway, I flew down first class
and was very well-treated.  I have nothing to change into,
anyway."

She smiled and continued, "Ali, will you please do me a great
favor?  Would you please tell me what you said and did with my
daughter?  I'm proud and pleased.  I tease her, but there
actually was some truth in the teasing.  Bob and I were trying to
get me pregnant again up until only a few years ago.  I guess I
owe Ginger something, too.  I don't think I would have gotten out
of the house if it hadn't been for her.  She made me so damned
mad!  Her favorite phrase was 'displaced homemaker'.  What
bullshit!  Maybe it's the fact that Bob and I were married while
he was a fighter pilot.  It's not the world's safest occupation
and I was determined to make the most of our time together.

"Ali, it was funny... strange.  I set out to make him happy and
made myself happy as hell.  I wanted to give him a great sexual
experience, and the more I worked at it, the better it was for
me.  I wasn't kidding about your movies, by the way.  I really
think I need sex more than Bob does.  I tease him about giving me
my regular protein injection.  Anyway, I thought about it while I
looked at Ginger digging a hole and burying herself in it.  I
thought about Bob and our life together.  A job requirement of
mine was that nothing was going to get in the way of our time
together.

"Anyway, I decided selling securities could be the answer.  I
looked at the people in it.  So many are trying to push product
whether the particular security fit the needs of the client or
not.  It occurred to me that if I didn't make a nickel in
commissions it didn't matter."

She looked at Ali and smiled, "You know what I did?  I 'yessed'
them to death.  The sales manager would start off every day with
the great new deals we were supposed to push.  I would ignore all
that and try to figure out what my clients should have in their
portfolios. I used my femininity as an advantage.  The sales
manager would threaten me with termination, and I would just turn
on a big smile and he'd melt.

"Anyway, it seems my way works best.  Last year I was the biggest
producer in the office.  What the firm hasn't understood is that
it's a result of my doing the very best job for my clients.  And
Ali, I'm not sure I could have done that if Bob didn't have a
good job producing an income that more than covers all our
requirements."  She grinned and added, "Would you believe it? 
When I got my first pay check I didn't know what to do with it? 
I wasn't working; I was trying to prove something to my daughter
and to myself.  Does that sound sufficiently weird?"

Ali grinned and said, "No.  It sounds exactly like something I
would do.  But that means we're probably both a little weird." 
The two women laughed and Ginger just shook her head.  Fred
pulled up in front of Maxim's and the doorman opened the door. 
Ali greeted the doorman and went inside.

When they entered, they found Charley waiting for them and Ginger
immediately went into his arms.  The other two women heard her
whisper, "It's been so long!"

They looked at each other and smiled.  Barbara winked.  Ginger
took Charley's hand and said, "Mother, I would like you to meet
my lover, Charles Conrad.  Charley, this is my mother, Barbara
Jamison."

Charley held out his hand but Barbara stepped inside it and
kissed him full on the lips.  Then she stepped back and took his
hand that was still outstretched.  "Hi, Charley," she said with a
grin.  "I guess I should apologize.  I'm always embarrassing my
stuffy daughter.  On the other hand, I guess you don't know my
stuffy daughter, Virginia.  You love my swinging daughter,
Ginger!"  She smiled warmly, and he melted.

"Mrs. Jamison, wow!" Charley said with a smile.  "I was wondering
where Ginger got her beauty.  Now it's easy to see where it came
from, but comparatively, she didn't get a lot."  Ginger punched
his arm as he spoke.

They all laughed and the maitre d'hotel showed them to a table in
the corner.  He exchanged a few words with Ali.  "I hope this
table is adequate, Miss McGrath?  As you instructed, there will
be no bill presented.  We will add the service to the bill."

Ali smiled and nodded.  The waiter came over and they all ordered
drinks.  When he left Ali looked at Charley and teased him.  "I
missed you this morning, Charley.  Where were you?  And for that
matter, you look like hell.  You look like you were run over by a
truck."

He smiled wryly at Ali and winked at Barbara.  When he did, his
back was towards Ginger.  "Ali, I'm going to report this girl to
OSHA or somebody.  She should come with a caution sticker,
Dangerous When Wet, or something like that.  Thinking about it, I
was lucky to get out alive.  She's a man-eater!"

He looked at Ginger who pretended to pout and stuck out her
tongue at him.  "What are you bitching about?" she pretended to
grump.  "You still have two arms, two legs, and one head."  She
then leaned over and lightly kissed him on the lips.  Turning to
her mother she said, "Mom, Charley was a Marine fighter pilot.  I
told him Dad flew fighters in the Air Force and he said Air Force
fighter jocks are woosies."

Barbara raised an eyebrow.  "And what, may I ask, is a woosie?"

"Mom, it's a combination of wimp and pussy, or woosie.  Often
shortened to woos."

"Oh, I see," Barbara replied archly.  "Marine fighter pilot..." 
She shook her head sadly.  "Darling, I think you should trade him
in.  It's not the danger.  In fact your father thrived on it and,
in a strange way I did, too.  But Marines?...  Your dad used to
swear at their stupidity.  I guess he still would if someone
dared to mention them in front of him.  He used to get so damned
frustrated because the jarheads couldn't understand why a jet
can't fly through a rice paddy.  I don't mean over.  I mean
through.  You could always tell a Marine fighter: it had rice
growing in its air intake."  Barbara daintily stuck out her
tongue at Charley and turned back to her daughter.  "Ging, why
don't you find someone in a safe, sane occupation... something
like bomb disposal?  Woosie, indeed!"

Charley was laughing hard and had his arms up in a sign of
surrender.  "I give up.  We may be stupid, but we're not
_complete_ fools!  I know when I'm overmatched."  He smiled at
Barbara and asked, "Do you always defend your husband likethat?"

She grinned and said, "Only when he's not around.  When he is, he
can more than take care of himself.  Charley, if Bob were here
tonight I might have taken your part to even things up a little.
I'll tell you though, don't get him going.  He can cite book,
chapter, and verse.  He knows aircraft... and still flies them."

Charley persisted.  "You really love him, don't you?"

Barbara smiled softly.  "Let's just say we've been good for each
other and to each other.  The short answer is I adore the man. 
Is that what you were looking for?  I sometimes get the feeling
that we're a little old fashioned.  I really believe that man is
naturally monogamous.  If a guy strays, I think the wife often
had more than a little to do with it."	

Charley smiled warmly and said, "Mrs. Jamison, in Mr. Jamison's
absence, I would like to ask for your permission to court your
daughter.  I would like to marry her when she agrees.  My
intentions are strictly honorable."

"My," Barbara replied, "how quaint!  Have you asked Ginger?"

"No, ma'am.  She's been asking me."  He yanked his arm away just
as she swung at it, causing her to miss.  "I told her I would
have to speak to her parents first."  Again he winked at Barbara,
who smiled back.

The waiter had taken their dinner orders, and began to serve a
very fine meal.  Barbara ordered a steak saying they always had a
ton of seafood from Puget Sound.  Ali had been trying to keep
from laughing out loud at the byplay between the Jamisons and
Charley.  Finally, she turned to Charley and said, "Don't keep us
in suspense, Charley.  Are you going to accept Ginger's
proposal?"

Charley looked at Ginger and his eyes softened.  He replied,
"Ali, that's a good question.  Now you're a lawyer, so let's look
at it the way a lawyer should: First, appearance.  Well, she
might not win the Miss Universe contest.  A finalist?  Certainly.
 The winner?  Maybe, but I doubt it.  There are maybe two or
three other girls in her class and you can't rely on judges.

"Brains?  Okay.  Phi Beta Kappa in History from University of
Washington, but she won't be number one in the class at S.C. 
She'll be number two, maybe three.  But I guess we can make
allowances.

"Family?  I'm looking at half of it, so enough said.  Then there
are the other factors.  For example, I love this girl so damned
much, I really can't live without her.  But it's not all roses. 
For example, she's so damned passionate it scares me sometimes. 
I'm not sure how long I can go without sleep, but what the hell.
I signed on as a Marine fighter pilot and they have a combat life
expectancy measured in milliseconds, so I'm on borrowed time,
anyway.  The short answer, Ali, is... I have to.  I can't live
without her."  He turned to Ginger and said, "Ginger?  Will you
marry me?"

She jumped out of her chair into his arms and said, "Oh God,
Charley!  Yes!  Whenever you want."  Then she kissed him.

Ali looked at Barbara and said, "That was fast."

Nonchalantly, Barbara replied, "It's okay, but not really fast. 
Let's see: It's Monday night.  Their first date was Friday. 
That's seventy-two hours.  No, Ali, that's not fast.  Bob and I
did it in under thirty-six.  Of course, he was on active duty so
I guess we had to move faster."

Meanwhile, Charley had reached into his pocket and took out a
ring.  "Darling, it isn't very big, but I hope you like it."

The girl's eyes danced as she slipped it on her finger.  It was a
diamond ring with a small but perfect center stone.  She gave
Charley a warm kiss.  Then she held out her hand to her mother. 
Barbara looked at the ring, and then looked at her own.  "Honey,
it's twice as big as mine, and mine worked pretty well."

Ali had signaled the maitre d' and moments later the wine steward
brought a bottle of champagne to the table.  The waiter also
brought a lovely little cake with "Congratulations Ginger and
Charley" written on the top.  The champagne was poured and Ali
offered a toast.  "To Ginger and Charley: May every day be as
joyful as the days just past!"

They drank the toast and Ginger looked at her mother.  "Mom, how
did you meet Dad?  I don't think you ever told me."

Barbara smiled warmly at her daughter and replied, "Darling, I
was younger than you are.  I guess I was only about twenty.  I
had just finished my sophomore year in college and your father
had just received his silver wings as an Air Force pilot.  He was
so proud and I was so impressed.  I can't really remember what
happened next.  I don't know if he seduced me or I seduced him or
if we seduced each other.  All I know is I was attracted to the
wings and fell in love with the man.  I guess we spent two nights
and a day in bed."

Barbara frowned and added, "Incidentally, your father and I
invented sex about twenty-five years ago.  We filed for a patent.
 I wonder why it hasn't issued yet?"  The rest of the group
laughed and Barbara grinned.  "That's just in case you and
Charley think you made an original discovery."

Ali had been watching Barbara carefully.  She realized there was
something a bit different about her.  She was alive, vibrant, and
beautiful, but there was something else.  At this point she spoke
up.  "Barbara, you've been puzzling me for hours.  But now I
think I've finally figured it out.  You're secure.  You have what
you want, don't you?  Bob is your whole life."

Barbara turned to her and replied, "Of course.  All the rest
doesn't really count -- except for Miss Jamison here, of course.
I guess that's really it.  I have Bob and my daughter and I don't
really need anything else.

"You know, it's kind of strange.  I finally got my degree in the
last hours before Ginger was born.  It was funny.  My classmates
at graduation seemed like such children.  I'd lost a couple of
years, but that wasn't it.  They were so uptight, and I was so
relaxed."  She turned to Ginger.  "I think there may be hope for
you yet."

Ginger was showing her impatience.  She excused herself and she
and Charley rose to go.  But first he went over to Barbara and
kissed her.  "Goodnight, Mom.  I'm looking forward to becoming a
part of the family."

Barbara smiled and said, "Take care of her, Charley.  She's
really a pretty good kid.  Good night to you both."

They left and Ali and Barbara had another cup of coffee.  Finally
they left the restaurant and found Fred waiting for them with the
limousine's door open.  They were driving towards the hotel when
Ali said, "Barbara, I made a reservation for you at the hotel. 
However, when I spoke to you, I had completely forgotten we have
another bedroom and bath in our suite which you are more than
welcome to use.  It's your choice."

"I think I'll take you up on it, if I may.  I can't recall ever
staying in a suite before."  She smiled wryly and continued, "I
mentioned that because of Bob being at Boeing, we fly first class
whenever it's available.  However, the Lord giveth and the Lord
taketh away.  I get the feeling we make up for it by staying in
fourth-rate hotels.  Thank you for the invitation."

When they arrived at the hotel, Ali informed the desk that Mrs.
Jamison would be staying in the suite and picked up a key for
her.  They went up and Ali opened the door.  As usual, it had
been prepared for the evening.  The lights were dimmed and soft
music was coming from the FM radio.  Ali asked if Barbara would
like a nightcap.  "We have essentially anything," she said.

Barbara shook her head and said she had to call Bob and tell him
where she was.  She placed the call.  When the phone was
answered, Ali noticed a change in the tone of voice.  The love
between them was obvious in Barbara's voice.

"Hi, darling.  I'm staying at the Beverly Wilshire in room 1401.
It's part of a magnificent suite my new client, Ali Clifford has.
 Do you miss me?"

Ali saw Barbara's face brighten and her hand move down to her
crotch.  Clearly, Bob Jamison was being explicit in his answer.

Barbara continued, "Bob, I think a set of major problems
involving our wayward daughter has been resolved.  First, she now
allows herself to look as beautiful as we've always known she is.
 Second, she's now engaged to be married and it looks like I'm
going to have to run like hell to make the wedding arrangements.
She's as impatient as we were.  Tonight she officially became
engaged to Charles Conrad.  Incidentally, Bill, she introduced
him to me as her lover -- not a good friend, fiance, or some
other bullshit.  Then Charley formally asked my permission and
then asked Ginger to marry him.

"Finally, she has a job -- as a partner in a law firm.  Her
partner is my new client, Ali McGrath, who I'm sure you remember.
 I'm staying with Ali now."

Barbara jerked the phone away from her ear as Bob yelped, then
put it back.  Ali was grinning as she watched the exchange. 
"Yes, Bob.  She's right here.  I'm staying in  her suite -- and I
already told her how she almost broke up our marriage.  How you
would rather watch her on the tube than make love to me in the
flesh."

She paused, and then said, "I'll ask her."  She looked at Ali and
said, "I told you!  He doesn't believe me.  Will you talk to
him?"

Ali took the phone and said, "Good evening, Bob.  This is Ali
McGrath -- actually, it's now Allison McGrath Clifford.  My
husband, Bill, is out of town.  And I have a bone to pick with
you.  Barbara told me you're one of my biggest fans and I was
flattered.  Then she told me how she was standing in front of you
naked and you were watching one of my movies between her legs. 
Bob, your wife is one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen.
 If we were nude side by side, I'm afraid I would lose.  With me
on the screen and Barbara in the flesh, choosing me raises
questions about your judgment, your sanity, or both."

Ali could hear laughter at the other end of the line.  Bob
Jamison said, "You really are Ali McGrath.  I not only recognize
the voice, but I sure recognize the attitude.  Ali -- may I call
you that? -- I always said you just played yourself.  Will I get
to meet you sometime?"

"Bob, I'm sure we'll meet in no more than a few weeks.  On the
day Ginger graduates from USC, I'm graduating from UCLA Law
School.  Furthermore, Ginger and I are law partners.  I intend to
be matron of honor at her wedding -- although she doesn't know it
yet -- and your wife is going to be my principal securities
broker.  We're certainly going to meet soon.

"Incidentally, Barbara didn't have a chance to mention it, but
your future son-in-law is also an ex-fighter pilot.  He flew for
the Marines... and your wife was giving him a well-deserved hard
time."

She passed the phone back and went to her bedroom so Barbara
could finish her call in private.  She heard the phone hang up
and there was a knock on the bedroom door.  Barbara stuck her
head in and said, "I came down here to see you on business, Ali,
but all that's happened has been I've been treated like visiting
royalty, and you've solved a whole bunch of my family's problems
and concerns.  But when are we going to talk about you?"

Ali grinned and said, "How about starting over breakfast.  Is
eight o'clock too early?"

Barbara grinned and shook her head.  "Remember the time
difference?  We run on the Big Board's clock.  It opens at
nine-thirty which is six-thirty here.  Eight o'clock is
practically the afternoon.

"On the other hand," and she smiled broadly, "that bed is simply
scrumptious.  I think I can suffer in silence for a bit."

She left the room and went to bed.Chapter 5

At eight o'clock the next morning, Barbara came out from her room
with a towel wrapped around her head wearing the hotel's terry
cloth robe.  She grinned and said, "Good morning, Ali!  I have a
question.  How long did it take you to get used to this luxury?"

Ali looked thoughtful for a moment and then replied, "A long
time.  Five... maybe ten seconds.  Something like that.  Why?"

"Because it took me almost twenty," she replied with a smile. 
Her face became serious and she said, "Ali, tell me about
yourself.  You look beautiful, but..."

"...I'm much too thin?" Ali finished the sentence for her. 
"You're right.  I am.  It comes from not eating which results
from a lack of money.  Barbara, I've been thinking about my
fortunes over the last few weeks.  I decided that it wasn't all
bad.  I was raised in Kansas and came out here after a producer
-- shooting a movie in Lawrence, Kansas, of all the improbable
places -- thought I should.

"I really got into the business very easily.  Too easily, I
guess, in retrospect.  Anyway, things went along.  I guess I
didn't see eye-to-eye -- to say the very least -- with the people
who like to depict America and its institutions as the bad guys
whenever and wherever possible.  I guess I spoke out a little too
loudly and in the wrong places, and suddenly, no more parts. 
Then my parents died.  The last months have been tough."

Barbara looked at her thoughtfully and asked, "Then what
happened?"

Ali continued.  "Then I met Bill Clifford.  More accurately, he
found me."  She smiled at Barbara and said, "Would you believe
it?  We were married less than three hours after I first laid
eyes on him.  Bill calls it a tax deal.  Now I'm madly in love
with him."

"Does he know that?" Barbara asked.

"I don't know.  I haven't told him.  Except maybe I whispered it
once or twice.  It gets even stranger: Our marriage isn't
consummated.  We sleep in the same bed and have ever since the
first day I met him -- our wedding day.  I never wear anything at
all in bed -- I'm stark naked.  I do play a little game, though.
I kiss him goodnight.  During the kiss I can do anything I want
above his waist.  When it ends, it's over for another day.  Oh,
there's one more thing: We always sleep on our backs with my head
on his shoulder.  I snuggle as close to him as I can get and we
go to sleep with his hand cupping my breast -- or what passes for
one in my present condition.

"Barbara, I'm jealous of you in two ways: First, it's so obvious
that you and Bob are still madly in love and have a joyous sex
life.  Second, I'm jealous of your chest.  I haven't seen them,
but I'll bet your tits are perfect."

Barbara opened her bathrobe and stood there like a model.  As Ali
had perceived, the woman's breasts were beautifully shaped, full,
but not too large.  She had small, lovely nipples.  "Do you
approve?" she asked with a shy smile.

"As I said, I'm jealous."

Barbara slipped her robe back on as Ali continued, "Now that
that's out of the way, how about breakfast?"  She smiled and
said, "Bill and I have another running joke.  He said he's
fattening me up for an Arab sheik who wants a blonde concubine. 
However, he said Arabs still like their women... full-bodied,
shall we say? -- so I've got to put on weight.  At any rate, I've
been catching up on meals uneaten for the last year or so.  What
would you like to have for breakfast?"

"How about orange juice, crisp bacon, and eggs over light?"
Barbara responded.  "No toast."

Ali picked up the phone and ordered.  Turning back to Barbara,
she said, "Are you ready to talk business?"  The woman nodded and
Ali started to explain the investment arrangements.  After they
went through the preliminaries with Barbara completing all the
necessary forms for opening an account, the doorbell rang.  Ali
opened it for the waiter who set up their breakfast.  When they
finished eating, Ali turned back to Barbara and they started to
discuss investment opportunities.

Barbara asked, "Ali, what is your investment goal?  Preservation
of principal, capital appreciation -- what?"

"I guess my answer is going to sound rather odd: It's to beat the
S&P 500.  There are nine other investment managers right now and
Bill doesn't really like the results from any of them.  I managed
a portfolio on paper for a couple of years now and did pretty
well, so Bill decided I ought to do it with real money.

"Barbara, there's one area I'm interested in: fiber optics. 
Everyone has heard the Sprint ads touting its fiber optic
network.  It's given me an idea.  First, how much do you know
about fiber optics and communications?"

"Not much, I'm afraid.  All I know is communications travel using
tiny glass fibers rather than copper wire," she replied.

"I guess I know a little more than that.  First, the traditional
telephone service uses analog transmission.  Fiber optics uses
digital which is much cleaner and clearer.  However, it's like
the chain that's only as strong as its weakest link.  To get the
full benefit of fiber optics, the system has to be digital
end-to-end.  Now there are a great many digital systems -- in
offices, particularly.  The AT&T Merlin system, for example,
doesn't use telephones.  They look like telephones, but
technically they're digital voice terminals.  In other words, the
communication is digital from the phone to the Merlin box.  If
it's long distance, it may use digital on a fiber-optic
long-distance network.  The problem is the local telephone
systems are all analog.  No one receives the full benefit unless
its digital _end to end._

"What I would like to invest in is a company that has the
facilities and equipment to make fiber optic connections from the
originating point to the point of connection to a fiber optic
network.  Question for you, Barbara: Is there such a company?"

Barbara smiled and said, "I think there is.  I recall hearing
about a small company in the East that's struggling.  Apparently,
they make a full line of connection hardware.  Let me check." 
She picked up Ali's phone and called Seattle.  She spoke with the
research director for a few minutes, thanked him, and hung up. 
"It's called ComTech and it's in Massachusetts.  The stock is
traded over-the-counter.  It's a thin capitalization stock. 
There may be a few million shares outstanding.  The last quote is
3-1/4.  Want it?"

Ali grinned and stuck out her hand, and Barbara took it.  The
girls shook on their deal.  "We're in business!  Buy as much as
you can get for any price under five.  If it goes higher, we'll
talk about it.  I think maybe we ought to go and see the fine
folks back East.  Do you think they might give me a seat on the
Board?"

"For the kind of investment you're talking about, I'm sure they
will.  What do you want to do?  Own it?"  Ali just smiled and
shrugged.

Barbara called Seattle again, this time asking for the trading
desk.  "Charley, there's an OTC stock called ComTech.  I have a
new client who wants to buy it -- as many shares as you can get
your hands on at any price five dollars a share or less."  She
gave the trader her phone number and he promised to keep them
informed.

Ali and Barbara spent the next two hours talking about other
investment opportunities.  When they finished, she had committed
another $50 million.  Finally, she said, "There's one more thing,
Barbara.  Open another account in the name of A. M. Clifford. 
It's going to be my funny-money account.  I'll wire you some
money to start -- I guess $100,000.  You handle the money.  If
you get any hunches, just buy for me.  I think we'll do all
right."

She smiled and said, "Now, how would you like to see our new law
offices?  We can't announce yet because we have to pass the bar
exams before we can formally hang out our shingle.  But the
offices are there.  Interested?"

Barbara nodded and ran off to her room.  Ali went into her own
and showered and dressed.  She put on a light-colored linen suit
she had purchased as her first "lawyer suit" and went back to the
living room and found Barbara already waiting for her.  "I
decided this is the way to travel -- just a spare pair of pants.
I don't have to spend an hour deciding what to wear."

They went down to the lobby and out the front doors where Ali's
car was waiting.  "I hope you're not terribly sensitive to your
hair blowing?" she asked Barbara.  "My car is still so new, I
can't bear to drive with the top up."

Barbara just grinned and said, "Ali, I think our hair is similar
in texture and wave.  I just run a comb through it when it blows.
 If that's not enough, tough!"

"I knew it!" Ali exclaimed, "A girl after my own heart.  We're
off!"

She went out to the freeway and then towards downtown Los
Angeles.  She got off at an exit and made her way a few blocks to
the garage entrance of a bank's headquarters building.  After
driving down the ramp she parked in a reserved spot.  The
reserved spot next to it was also empty.  "That's for Ginger,"
Ali noted.  They took the elevator up to the lobby and then
another one up to thirty-eight, the top office floor.  Getting
out, she turned right.  Facing them were two impressive cherry
wood doors in a lovely polished-wood colonial-style entrance. 
Above the door in brass letters was Clifford & Jamison and below
it in more discrete letters, Attorneys at Law.

Ali stopped short and exclaimed, "Wow!  It's really neat."  Then
turning to Barbara she said, "I apologize.  I'm not supposed to
say things like that.  But it's the first time I've ever seen
it!"

Barbara smiled at her and said, "Why not?  I would have been
jumping up and down.  In fact, since it's my name there, too, I
think I will!"  And she did.  Then she gave Ali a big hug.  "Can
we see the inside?" she asked.

Ali opened the door and they entered the office.  She stood at
the doorway and smiled.  Obviously, the decorating had been
completed.  She turned to Barbara and said, "Instant law office.
Just add people."  There was a receptionist/secretary's desk
along with a leather sofa, and a group of very
comfortable-looking leather chairs.  They went through the door
and found the offices.  There were two large ones, one in the
corner and another next to it with a connecting door.  There were
two smaller offices on the outer wall, a small law library and a
conference room.  After exploring it, they went into the corner
office.

It was on the building's northwest corner.  Behind the desk were
the hills and the San Fernando Valley beyond.  To the west there
was a clear view of the ocean. _"What do you know?"_ Barbara
exclaimed.  "Today is LA's clear day for the year so you can even
see the ocean!" She turned to Ali and saw the girl's eyes were
dancing.  "It's beautiful, Ali.  It really is.  You don't waste
any time, do you?"

Ali looked at her with a puzzled expression and Barbara
continued, "I gather it's only been a couple of days since you
asked Ginger to join you.  How did they do it all so fast?"

Ali grinned and held her finger up in front of her mouth and
said, "I cheated, Barb.  I could see it coming with Ginger and
Charley so I had the firm name lettering ordered last week.  I
guess they just put it up yesterday.  Do you really like it?  Do
you think Ginger will?"

"Ali, I can't believe you're serious!  Let's take the second
question first -- about Ginger.  I ask you: You're not
twenty-four years old yet, you haven't graduated from law school
let alone been admitted to practice.  Nevertheless, here you are
as a name partner in a law firm with the most prestigious address
in the city.  She'll freak out!  As for me, I'm a small-town girl
from Texas..."  She stopped and looked at Ali quizzically.  "Ali,
how long has your family lived in Kansas?"

Ali looked at her, surprised at the question.  "I really don't
know, Barb.  They've been there for generations, but I never
bothered to find out exactly how long.  Why do you ask?"

"Young lady, my ancestors probably knew yours.  We've been in
Texas for generations, too.  I know my family ran cattle drives
north to Kansas and the railroad.  I figured there had to be some
reason we get along so well!"  Taking Ali in her arms she gave
her a kiss.  "Hi, cousin!" She stepped away and smiled warmly. 
"Anyway, as I was saying, I'm a small-town girl.  This is the
most impressive office I've seen outside the set of _LA Law_ I
see on TV.  I think it's marvelous!"

They were trying out the leather-upholstered furniture in the
office when they heard a squeal of excitement from the elevator
lobby, followed by a knock on the outer door.  Ali went out and
opened it.  Ginger and Charley were standing there, waiting. 
When she saw Ali, she grabbed her in a big hug and kissed her
warmly on the cheek like her mother had done.  Stepping back she
said, "Ali, it's magnificent.  You weren't kidding, were you?"

They walked in and Ali gave her a tour of the facilities ending
in the corner office.  "What do you think?  Does it live up to
its billing?  Your mother commented that today is our clear day
for the year so you can see the ocean."  The office had glass
walls that ran from floor to ceiling.  There were drapes that
could be drawn, but were now wide open.  Ginger and Charley stood
and admired the view.  Ali continued, "Ginger, since I'm not
going to be around very much, this is your office."

Ginger turned and her jaw dropped.  Then she rapidly shook her
head.  "Absolutely not, Ali.  I won't hear of it!  I was gaping
at the office next door, thinking it was a junior-grade palace. 
By the way, how much does it cost?"

Ali looked puzzled.  "The rent?  I..."

Ginger grinned and said, "No, Ali!  How much is it going to cost
me to work here?  I can't afford to pay you very much, but I'm
going to get a job nights and sign over my paycheck so I can use
my office.  Charley and I were talking and he thinks I have the
talent to be a good stripper and they do pretty well...  Then
there's the after-hours work.  He feels he needs some help..."

Ali instantly understood and her face became serious.  She looked
at Barbara and said, "Cous, do you think she could make it? 
Isn't she a little.... scrawny?  I think she needs much bigger
boobs to make it as a stripper."

Barbara just laughed.  "Darling, I think you're one of the
luckiest girls alive.  Seriously, have you had a chance to talk
about the firm and what you're going to do?  I don't want to be a
wet blanket, but do you know enough law to handle this?"

Ginger's face fell.  "Mom, that's a question I was hoping no one
would think to ask.  I woke up in the middle of the night last
night thinking about it.  What am I supposed to do, Ali?"

"The firm has one client now, Ginger: me.  I'll be retaining the
Firm to represent me in the actions I'm getting ready to bring
against Alliance Studios and other assorted friends.  It won't
get dull."  Then she said, "Charley, you've been very quiet. 
What do you think?"

He smiled broadly and replied, "We stopped off at my firm on the
way up.  The managing partner's office isn't half as nice as
this.  And the less said about accommodations for junior
associates the better.  Incidentally, Mom, Ginger was nice enough
not to awaken me when she was pondering her future -- as a
lawyer, that is, not as Mrs. Charles T. Conrad."

He looked at Ali and said, "Could I look over your equipment,
Ali?  I've always been fascinated by what they're doing now with
computers.  Didn't I see one outside?" There had been a stack of
IBM packing boxes arrayed alongside one of the desks.

Ali replied, "The way things are going, it looks like business
must be slow in Los Angeles.  I didn't expect this stuff for
weeks."  She sat down in the executive chair and swung it around.
 "I think I could get to like this stuff, kids.  How about if we
start getting it sorted out?  Barbara, this is a little out of
your line, though."

Barbara just snorted.  She and Charley started opening boxes. 
"Before we get carried away, what did you buy and where do you
want it?" Charley asked.

Ali said, "That's an intelligent question.  We have two powerful
IBM PCs.  They're supposed to be really loaded -- the full memory
expansion and the whole nine yards.  There's one laser printer,
too.  Why don't we each take one?  Then we can play with our own
toys.  They're supposed to be fully equipped to communicate with
each other, as well."

Charley showed unexpected facility with the computers.  In a
short time they were both up and running.  When Ali picked up a
telephone on the desk, she was surprised to hear a dial tone. 
"Will wonders never cease!  The phones are apparently in service,
too."  Charley continued with the wiring, and finally hooked up a
modem to the telephone line.  Ali thought they had done enough
and took the group out to lunch.

That afternoon she and Barbara drove out to the airport and Ali
put her on the plane.  Then she went to the American terminal and
waited for Bill's flight which was late arriving.  After waiting
at the security area she finally saw him coming toward her and
felt a strange thrill.  It was the first time she had felt this
sense of anticipation. _Maybe it's the association with Barbara,_
she thought.  As soon as he was through the checkpoint, she was
in his arms.  She gave him a very warm kiss and got an equally
warm response.

"I missed you, darling," she whispered.

Bill kissed her again.  They ignored the looks from the
passers-by as she held him.  "I missed you too, Ali.  How was
your day, yesterday?"  Arm-in-arm they walked out to where Fred
was waiting with the car.  As they drove back to the hotel, she
filled him in on the developments, including Virginia's
engagement to Charley and her meeting with Barbara.  Then she
told him about the investment in ComTech, the reasons for it, and
looked at him with a question in her eyes.

Bill just smiled and then gave her another kiss.  "It's wonderful
what a smart wife can do.  Honey, it makes all kinds of sense to
me.  Incidentally, I talked to your commodities guy.  He's
watching what you're doing in some wonderment.  He doesn't know
where you get your information but his traders have been watching
your moves with increasing interest.  They are now following your
trades with their own money and would like to recommend the same
trades to their clients.  They have one major problem doing it,
though," he said with a laugh.

Ali looked puzzled and said, "What's that?"

"They can't figure out why you're doing what you're doing.  As a
result, they can't make it a Firm recommendation!  Can you
imagine?  They're following your lead, but it would look pretty
silly if they recommended it to a customer.  The customer asks
why they're recommending the move and they reply, 'We don't know,
but one of our customers is making a lot of money doing it. 
Except we can't really figure out what it is she's doing.' 
You've got a big profit in your positions already."

That night they went through their accustomed bedroom ritual. 
When Bill got into bed, Ali rolled over on top of him.  Instead
of kissing him, she lay on his torso with her face only inches
from his.  He looked into her brilliant blue eyes that were
intently focused on his.

Without moving her head, she lowered her body so the nipples on
her breasts were barely touching his chest.  Then very slowly she
started to move.  Her nipples were now engorged from the sensual
contact with the hair on his chest.  As she continued to move, it
felt like two soft pencil points were making circles on his
chest.  It was tormenting.  He saw a small smile on her lips and
a glow in her eyes.  Finally, he could take it no longer and
whispered, "Ali, what are you doing?  I can't take much more of
this."

The small smile remained as she replied softly, "I'm torturing
us, husband.  I'm trying to get you to feel the same need for me
that I feel for you.  It's against our rules, darling -- I know
I'm not supposed to say anything -- but my cunt is flooded with
my juices.  I need you, and want so desperately for you to need
me, too.  I'm glad you can't take it anymore.  It means I'm
winning."

She then lowered her head so that her lips barely touched his. 
Their single nighttime kiss was a dream of sensuality.  Her
tongue darted into his mouth, while her lips maintained only the
barest contact with his.  Finally, it was over.

She rolled off him, fit her body to his, and placed his hand on
her breast which, with her diet and exercise, was regaining its
former shape.  Bill could feel their pulses racing.  Her hand
came over his, and minutes later they were both asleep.

(To be continued)

* * *

Comments and constructive criticism are sincerely welcome.  Let
me hear from you.  morg105829@aol.com

_Allison_  Copyright 1988, 2001 by Morgan.  <morg105829@aol.com>

All rights reserved.  No part may be reproduced or transmitted in
any form or by any electronic means, including photocopying,
recording or by any information and retrieval system, without the
written permission of the author. <1st attachment end>


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