Two reclusive people meet in a charity soup kitchen in a down-and-out area of London, and their mutual attraction tempts them to follow their hearts. Both know that breaking out of their social shells risks revisiting buried traumas, but it might re...
After the press conference, Valerie spent a few minutes with selected members of the IT team, examining and discussing the new images. She pointed to three of them. "It's so easy to see that each of these is a different vulva. None similar to mine." She shook her head and blew out a deep breath. "Too much information."
A short while later, as she walked toward her office with her Chief of IT, she said. "That took me back to standing in a public courtroom, trying to defend myself by debating the colour, size and configuration of my intimate lips with my rapist's defence attorney."
"That must have been a horrid experience." She grimaced. "Most women would have given up and dropped the charges by that point."
"That's what the rapists' attorneys aim for. Make it too demeaning to continue. To even start. And sadly, the system appears to support them." Valerie led Florence into her office and motioned to a chair. "Coffee?"
"Please."
Valerie pressed the heat button on her espresso machine. "I'm away to South Africa tonight; back Thursday noon."
"Fast trip." She tilted her head. "I wasn't aware you had a meeting there this week."
Valerie topped up the bean hopper. "I don't. Chloe and I are just going along for the ride."
"Expensive ride." Florence smiled as she looked at Valerie's beaming face. "With the mysterious Mr Benton?"
Valerie nodded as she placed two cups under the nozzles. "Yeah."
"So, where was Kreesyays? We still haven't found it."
"It's spelt C-R-I-S-S-I-E-R. It's outside Lausanne, Switzerland." She pushed the start button.
"Aha! No wonder. Not in Britain. That's a long trip for dinner."
"Less than an hour by air."
"Plus all the time and disruption getting to and through the airports."
"He has a private jet." Valerie took the two espressos from the machine and set them on the low, circular table as she settled into one of the deep leather chairs in the nook. "He flies from the City Airport."
"Less than three miles from his office. Convenient." Florence picked up her cup and brought it to her nose to inhale the aroma. "Ahh. Thank you."
"I want you to use as much of the team as you see necessary to root out this – this thing. It's our number one priority."
"Seems we've been playing Whack-a-Mole with it."
"You need to use more hammers, then. Heavier ones. I anticipate a reasoned response from most people to my message to the media. It will be on this evening's news and possibly tomorrow morning's. And in all the papers. There should be a slowing in the knee-jerk spreading of the images. While the initial impact hits, I want maximum effort put into finding images and submitting take-down requests."
Valerie and Florence continued their discussion, enjoying their coffees, until a knock on her open door interrupted. "Come in."
As Christine entered, Valerie pointed toward the coffee machine. "Pull yourself one and join us."
While Christine pulled her coffee, she said. "Perfect length. They won't edit it. There was nothing to edit, anyway."
She placed her cup on the table and opened her computer, clicked Play and slid it across the table so they could all watch. "This is what viewers will see on BBC, ITV, Channel 4 and Channel 5 tonight."
They watched the short video, and when it had finished, Christine said, "I love your pauses and your pointing. Your accusing and your causing people to think. To question."
"Thank you. But it was all your coaching."
The three women discussed strategies for reinforcing Valerie's request for sensibility. Their brainstorming included a follow-on message to the media and additions to the FAQs pages on their various websites. They were nearly finished when Valerie's personal phone pinged.
Oh, God! That's Lorne's text sound. She pulled the phone from her purse. "Excuse me. I must take this."
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Valerie closed the conversation and looked up, blushing. "Lorne Benton." She sighed. "Looks as if the media aren't finished." She went to her desk and picked up her computer, brought it to the table and logged in. A few quick clicks took her to the Mirror's online news site and to the story, and then she turned the screen toward the others.
Well, well! It appears the reclusive Lorne Benton has finally come out of the closet. And if these photos, taken last evening near Hyde Park Corner, are any indication, it appears he's come STRAIGHT out. What a surprise! Those are definitely not sisterly kisses. And who is SHE?
"You're unidentifiable in those shots, Val. Your face is covered by his here, and the other is the back of your head."
"Yeah, but unidentified for how long, Christine? You know how they dig."
"Unrelenting. Do you want to keep the relationship quiet?"
"I fear for Chloe. This might be a way for Broughton to find us. To find her." She examined the photos again. "She was there with us last night, but fortunately, she doesn't show in these."
"These are close-cropped to show the kissing. She's probably in the originals, or in shots not used."
Valerie nodded. "Yeah." She rose and crossed to her desk and pushed Brad's intercom button.
"Yes, Val?"
"Security. Round up the top two or three who are immediately available, and have them come see me."
"Right away."
As Valerie returned to the table, she saw the questioning expressions on the two women's faces. "I want to see if they can find out where Mr Benton lives."
Florence pursed her lips as she shook her head. "Our team tried for three days last week and could find nothing."
"Yeah. Just thinking Security might have different channels than IT. Looking for him has gone from fun to serious."
