by James Ross
“Where?” Farley was confused.
“Not here!” Pam fired back. “We can host over at my house.”
“What about your husband?”
“He’s never there. If I think he’s going to stop in we can get a room at one of the casinos or motels around town.”
Farley shook his head. “I don’t know about all of this. My reputation.” He studied the x-rated pictures on the site. “I can’t have my face on anything.”
“We won’t put your mug shot up.” Pam reached up and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. She rubbed her hand downward across his chest. “Just a few pictures of us having fun won’t hurt anything.” She retrieved the bottle out of the bucket and filled her glass.
“You know you shouldn’t have more than two glasses of that.”
Pam grinned. “Let’s have some fun.” She hit more keys on the keyboard. “Now let’s finish writing these profiles.” Clearly for her the fun had begun. Farley looked over her shoulder as she typed. “How does this sound?”
“Knowing you I’m sure it will be unique.”
“We are married, but there is a small catch. Not to each other. We are FWBs that are looking to spice up our sex life. Never in a million years did we think we’d be searching for that little something extra-especially online. We’re in our mid-forties, hot for variety and willing to take our passionate desires to the next level.” Pam had a smug look, proud of her literary acumen.
“If that’s what you want to do I guess it sounds good to me.”
The sweet taste of the Chablis was Pam’s favorite. She preferred it to the more sophisticated wines. Her mind got more creative with each swallow. Her fingers worked on. About Him (She Says) . . . He’s one of a kind. Attentive to a woman’s needs. Passionate. Has the equipment to reach depths you never imagined existed. Pam laughed. “I like that.”
She looked over her shoulder, had a twinkle in her eye and gave Farley a peck on the lips. Her fingers resumed their movement. He is sensitive and plays well with others. Expect to be treated with respect. We are open to MFM, FMF or moresomes. He is quite oral and can be bi in the right situation. Pam giggled.
“Hey you don’t need to say that.”
“Well you are. Why are you embarrassed?” She remembered the stories he had told her about his military days, especially the one when he was on a submarine for a long time. “You told me that you visited glory holes in Thailand all the time you were stationed there.”
“It’s not necessary for you to put that in this profile.”
“You said that you were sure that it was men on the other side of the wall and when you got drunk you tried it yourself.”
“That was in the heat of passion. You wanted me to whisper that to you because it made you hot.”
Pammy Poo reached back with her arm, wrapped it around his head and snuggled close to him. With a breathy tone she whispered, “It did. It makes me so hot thinking of you doing that.” She nibbled on his neck then abruptly returned to the computer. “I’m leaving it on there. That way we won’t have to close the door to somebody that wants that.”
“Just put that I’m straight.”
“Hmmm. We’ll see. I can come back to that.” Pam typed some more and finished what she wanted to say. “Now it’s your turn. She typed About Her (He Says)
“I’m not going to be very good at this.”
“Then lie. Just say the things that guys want to hear. But since you didn’t know about the flowers and dinner and romance you may not have a clue.”
“Move off that.”
“I am. That’s why I found Just4Lust.com.”
Farley searched for words. “Let me see.” He rolled up the sleeve on his right arm to reveal a tattoo of a sea serpent. NAVY was in blue ink. “Sensual, sleek, super-charged come to mind when I think of her. She can be passive and submissive or very aggressive depending on her mood.”
“I didn’t know you were so smooth.”
Interruptions seemed to be a deterrent to Farley’s train of thought. He was trying to get the wording right. “Her nipples are quite sensitive and like to be stimulated. A woman’s touch is what she secretly desires. However the setting and company would have to be ideal for the first-time encounter.”
“Mmmm.” Pam finished her third glass of wine.
“But, guys, don’t let that deter you. She is very much excited by the smell, touch and strength of a man. When excited the female half of this couple is vocal, oral and willing to experiment with every inch of pleasure you can provide.”
Pam took her left hand off the keyboard and waved it in front of her face. Her breathing had intensified. Her face flushed.
“Did I mention toys? Her willingness to…”
“Stop, Babe. That’s enough right now.” Pam got to her feet, turned and delivered a wet kiss to her lover as her hands roamed his body.
“Mmmm. Anything else Pammy Poo?”
“Sometimes you can be such a moron.” She reached for the wine bottle. “It’s been a tough day.” Pam grabbed his hand. “Just shut up and take me.” She led him to the bedroom as the girls dressed in skirts and blouses and the boys in dress shirts and ties ate dinner.
CHAPTER 44
To most of the people around St. Louis it was just another hot, muggy summer day. It was that time of year to get the errands run as early as possible and retreat to the comforts of air conditioning for the rest of the day. Only the young and energetic would take on the challenges of the heavy air as the flags lay limp on the flagpoles. Walking to the car and turning on the ignition key would produce beads of sweat.
To the legal community, however, it was a totally different picture. A decision was to be rendered. A court recess was coming up. It was hard to figure why with a backlogged court system the judicial system seemed to take approximately seven months a year off. But that is a different issue. Today was payday.
The tiny, red brick courthouse that sat in the town square was in the limelight. After years of legal wrangling in the form of filed motions, sworn depositions and documented testimony from expert witnesses the time had finally arrived. The cool season grasses that surrounded the property were immaculately trimmed. The shade from a dozen well-positioned oak trees provided a respite from the sun. A timed spray from an automatically set sprinkler system caused the blades of grass to glisten.
Upon entering the building spectators had to pass through a metal detector that seemed to be more sophisticated than the building itself. With the hypocritical decisions coming off the bench was it any wonder that a disgruntled spouse or angry victim wanted to take the law into their own hands? When will Americans wake up? Any official in public office whether it is a politician in the legislature or judge at any level—city, county, state, appellate or supreme—should be subject to term limits. Instead it seems to be a formality on Election Day to check the box that keeps this judge or that judge in office. Until the public wakes up and demands term limits on those that referee, the corruption will continue. And the state of Illinois had a lot of so-called statesmen that looked out for their own interests rather than the welfare of the public.
Corporate America marched in a half dozen attorneys wearing thousand dollar suits, perfectly shined shoes, gold cuff links, ascots and power ties. Tanner Atkins merely needed to look aloof. He cleaned up well, played the part and had already wrapped the deal up months—maybe years—earlier. Those chewable vitamins conveniently called Chewy Twos had a history of causing bowel problems. What seemed like a daily supplement actually caused Crohn’s disease or ulcerative colitis. At least that was what 72,000 plus had claimed on their class-action lawsuit.
While his wife frolicked, Judge Buchanon Porter took on the role of consummate businessman. With the rule sheet in his favor, the black robe of statesmanship surrounding his torso and the unyielding gavel to settle the issue, he held tyrannical power. With a neat and tidy cut, his thinning gray hair sparkled. Rosy cheeks and a red nose suggested that the fair complexion had been exposed to too
much sunlight. But to those in the know it was excessive alcohol. Reading glasses well-positioned on the bridge of his nose hid the bloodshot eyes.
Whatever Trot had joked about one day in the clubhouse seemed to be true. When he said, “An attorney with an attaché case can steal more money than a thousand men with revolvers,” he must have been on the way out of Judge Porter’s court.
Today was the day for the state of Illinois to clean up. It was a foregone conclusion. Millions upon millions of tax dollars were going to come via a court verdict. Their legal industry, particularly the decisions coming out of Judge Porter’s court, seemed to be as powerful as the USA war machine. And corporate America had to stand up and take notice.
The class action lawsuit is regarded as a US phenomenon. If it is filed in federal court the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure govern. However those courts typically side with the defendants. Wise lawyers like Tanner Atkins that represent a collective group of consumers almost always file first in state court and then use all of their influence to keep it there. Those courts frequently are more sympathetic to victims and render decisions that are favorable to the plaintiffs.
Legal wrangling ensues. Discovery, complaints, pleadings, counterclaims, due process, depositions and motions eat up time. In this particular case the defendant made a move for summary judgment hoping that the judge would make a ruling favorable to them and eliminate their risk of losing at trial. They hoped that sworn testimony and documentary evidence would avoid discovery and would sway his opinion. Judge Porter ruled against them and the class action moved to trial. That decision seemed to be a way of life in Judge Porter’s courtroom. It was a source of pleasure to Tanner Atkins.
In a way a class action lawsuit is necessary. Their intent is to safeguard defendants who participate in widespread harm, but marginally. Each individual in the class files suit against the plaintiff with hopes that the courts will render a verdict that compensates those individuals for their injuries. Those persons that have a claim too small to justify a separate lawsuit benefit by filing a class-action claim. Many times the suits are filed to deter a plaintiff from future wrongdoing.
And now as Judge Porter exited his chamber and walked to the bench all eyes were upon him. The jury had deliberated for nearly two weeks. The verdict had been given to the judge. “We, the jury, find the defendant guilty.” Gasps came from the spectators as corporate attorneys looked in disbelief. He continued, “The damages to be awarded are 356.2 million dollars.”
Tanner smiled. He had plenty of funds to pay the independent contractors that had helped him. Paralegals, aids, expert witnesses, other attorneys and private investigators would be compensated handsomely. Most certainly a lot more would be left for judges, appellate judges and Supreme Court judges in Springfield.
The verdict would be challenged. The appeal process would begin. Every step of the way would delay compensation. The total legal bill came to 355 million dollars. That meant that the 1.2 million dollars was to be divided evenly among 72,000 some odd plaintiffs. But just to make them feel like all the trouble was worth it, each and every plaintiff was also awarded a thirty dollar gift certificate to buy another product from the vitamin manufacturer.
Judge Porter was sitting on a bar stool at Stub’s Missing Digit within forty-five minutes of announcing the verdict. And corruption continued up and down the ladder in Illinois as many in the legal community expected to get their palms greased.
CHAPTER 45
Oliver Pudge stopped by early in the morning on his way into the office to update J Dub on the progress or lack thereof of the decisions from the court. He saw the doughnuts in the box on the counter, shook his head as if to ask the pro if it was okay, got the nod and reached for a round one filled with vanilla cream and topped with chocolate icing. J Dub chuckled. It was appropriate that he would pick one that resembled his physique.
“Coffee?” the pro offered.
Pudge nodded. His mouth was full and he was busy placing his file down on the counter. Some goo had rolled out of the corner of his mouth. He was scrambling to free his other hand to clean up the mess.
“Don’t let that bother you,” J Dub said with a snicker. He looked over at Fred. “We’ve got plenty of others around here that do the same.” He poured a cup of coffee and scooted it in front of the lawyer.
“I need cream and sugar,” Pudge gargled. Or that was at least what J Dub thought he said.
“What do you need today?”
“If you have a second I’ll update you on the decisions and court rulings and things of that nature.”
J Dub led him into the office. “It might get busy. If so, I might have to run back out to the register.”
“Aren’t you worried that somebody will steal money out of it?”
“Fred’s out there. He’ll watch it. My thoughts are that I can lose a heckuva a lot more from the crooks that run our courts and justice system than what some guy can dig out of that cash register.” He studied Pudge for a reaction. The attorney was busy digging into a folder. “You kind of fall in that category, you know.”
“I’m here to help you.”
“Then let’s see what kind of progress you’ve made.”
“Not much.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
“The court denied our request for a change of venue.”
“Not surprising.”
“Judge Porter denied our motion to dismiss.”
“That was expected.”
Pudge fumbled through some documents. “Oh, I almost forgot. The judge also ruled that he does not have a conflict of interest. The suit will stay in his court and be heard by him.”
“So we want this nuisance lawsuit to go away and we’re already 0-for-3.”
“Well I wouldn’t exactly look at it that…”
“How else can I look at it? That’s like saying I would have been three under par standing on the fourth tee if the twelve-footer on one would have gone in and the six-footer on two and the twenty-foot putt on three. But instead I’m even par still scrambling to keep a good round going.”
“That’s one way to look at it.”
“No, don’t misunderstand. That’s the only way I’m looking at it. I want this frivolous lawsuit to go away and I’m already spending way more money on this crap than I wanted to.”
“We can always settle.”
“I saw their request. It’s asinine and this thing shouldn’t even be in court. The demands are ridiculous.”
“So we fight.”
“I’m a peaceful guy that’s minding my own business. I don’t want the hassle.”
“I understand.”
“Look, this will get us nowhere. You know where I stand.”
The pro was frustrated. “Curt was doing some research on the computer and came across a new statute that became law in Illinois.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s called the SLAPP statute. I believe that’s what he called it.”
“Yeah, he called me on that.”
“What did you find out?”
“The basis behind it is to disallow lawsuits that are brought to solely intimidate the defendants. The plaintiffs don’t expect to win.”
“Isn’t that what we have here? You really don’t think that a guy suffered five million dollars’ worth of damages from rolling a golf cart do you?”
“That’s for the court to determine.”
“And what do we have to spend to prove otherwise?”
Pudge couldn’t offer a guess. He shrugged his shoulders. Then he folded his hands in his lap. “It’s hard to say.”
“Let’s file something with the court saying that the action on their part violates the SLAPP statute.” J Dub was getting pissed. “I don’t want to be intimidated.”
“We can, but I don’t think that it will go anywhere.”
“Why not?”
“The Supreme Court in Illinois has already ruled that the case has to run its course before the
SLAPP statute can be applied.”
J Dub stood up and then pounded the desk. “That’s ridiculous! You mean we have to still spend the money to defend ourselves, be intimidated by a party that clearly wants to reach an out-of-court settlement and is strictly using its position of strength to position itself?”
“That pretty much sums it up.”
“And the state has enacted a law to prevent that from happening but doesn’t allow for it to be applied until after it happens?”
“Yep.”
“Get your ass out of here.” J Dub took a deep breath to compose himself. “Look, I’m not mad at you. I’m frustrated by the laws of this state… and for that matter the laws in this country. The lawyers, courts, judges and politicians have created a legal nightmare for all of us. It seems to me that the whole system is set up so that the clock keeps ticking so that all of you people in the legal profession can get billable hours.”
“Not exactly.”
“How else can we feel? Some attorney finds a guy with deep pockets. He files a lawsuit. Then come the motions, depositions, court filings, phone calls and on and on and on. We get the bills and are expected to pay. Nothing gets settled. And you scumbags keep cashing checks so that you can make your mortgage payments.”
“Don’t put me in that category. We’re all not like that.”
“It’s a figure of speech. The system is like that.”
“What do you want me to do?”
J Dub was tongue-tied. “I don’t know. But this thing is headed in the direction that I don’t want. We’re not wealthy people by any stretch of the imagination. We’re simply trying to make a living like everybody else out there and I can see this thing starting to drag out in a system that doesn’t want to get anything settled. I don’t like it one bit.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Pudge said as he stuffed papers in his folder. He made a move to the door.
“Thanks for getting my day get off to a rousing start. Do what you have to do to get this thing taken care of I guess.” J Dub showed the lawyer the door.
