Abigails story part II.

Thank you, Abigail for this second installment.
With forehead to yours,
Mark

　

　

Abigail: Part II: First rise from flunky to major assistant. .

After using many men as I had John to reach whatever goal or object I desired at any given moment, I began to wonder if the same principles could be used with jobs. Sure, I’d worked a bunch of fast food jobs as a teen and never really thought about using coworkers to gain anything at that point. Some of my friends during my college years used their bodies to make money, by being strippers, doing stag parties and the like. Some even hooked for a while in school. Easy money, they’d say, just don’t skimp on cheap condoms.

I started thinking I could do things a bit different than them without having to smell some stinky asshole as they pounded me into a wall.
At that point I was working as a gopher in a law firm. I’d do their copying, fetch them coffee, pretty much whatever they needed. Like most law firms at that time, it was male dominated, with mostly women as either paralegals, first year lawyers or simply a personal assistant to one the firms partners. The assistants made roughly twice as much with me.

After working their about a month, I got to know several of them after work. We’d go to bar near the firm every Friday in downtown ****** . We’d have a few drinks, in most cases way too many drinks, and they’d talk about their boss and the private details of their lives. This one paying hush money to some whore he had knocked up. That one being unfaithful countless times to those of ‘lesser stature’ or this one who’d tanked his taxes for the last twelve years. All these assistants had two things in common: They had all slept with their boss, and two, they easily spilled their guts when drunk, and some literally so.

I’d given them no reason not to trust me. I shared with them prefabricated stories of jobs that I had been taken advantage of by the toady little men in power and that I knew how they felt. I told them stories with such lush detail they never once suspected they were lies.

NOTE TO OTHERS: WHEN YOU LIE, GO LARGE. NEVER LACK DETAIL, GIVING THE LISTENER WHAT YOU REMEMBER ABOUT BACKGROUND NOISES, SMELLS, HOW THE SKY LOOKED, ETC. USE THE SAME THINGS YOU LIKE TO READ ABOUT IN NOVELS. LOOSELY BASE THESE STORIES ON MINOR MEMORIES FROM YOUR PAST (THAT WAY YOU CAN REMEMBER THEM WITHOUT FAIL IF YOU HAVE TRAINED YOUR MIND WELL ENOUGH).

I talked to my brothers, asking them which partner had more to lose if they were cornered. Both my brothers came to the same conclusion: The one with the soon to be discovered tax problem. They reasoned: he was married, had children, two houses, a motor home that went for 750k, a 50 foot yacht with crew, which were all paid in cash, and a host of other toys that he had never paid taxes on.

After doing a bit of research, I discovered he had only declared an income of 200k, on average, to the IRS.

One day, Andy I’ll call him. (thanks, Mark, for pointing out the importance of changing names), I told him about his assistant and how she so idiotically would spill her guts when bombed. Anyone in earshot could hear her, and how that could blowback on him. I gave him a highly concerned facial expression, seldom having my eyes meet his, as if ashamed to break a confidence. He thanked and said he’d deal with her in his own way, never losing a lawyers cocky self assurance.

Two hours later, he gave me a tiny tape recorder and said it would benefit me if I could catch her on tape this coming Friday. I sheepishly gave him a ‘uh, well, I’d feel really bad if I did that…’ and he piped in, ‘I’ll give you her job, that’s twice what you’re making now and there are ‘perks’ that go with that..” I told him thanks, but ‘I just don’t know. I mean, what if she comes back at me/” He smiled like the egotistical bastard that he was, “don’t you worry about a thing. God knows, I need someone I can trust…”

The following Friday, I bought the drinks with money he had given me.

Roughly, two months after I started there, not even done with the mandatory 90 day probationary period, I became an assistant. Granted, I lacked the overall skills for that job, but that really didn’t matter. His closest friends were also partners, and like all good lawyers, loved solid intelligence on their underlings. In my eight there while in college, I was responsible for the termination of roughly twenty assistants and as each one passed, I got a good salary bump and extra paid time off for things like, exams, studying for exams, paid vacations to Rio, Maui and Aspen as many of the partners assistants liked me around to spot potential women that ‘could use them for blackmail it slept with’.

Here is where one needs to ask a very important question. How can one who cannot possibly do the job they reached get away with it by simply being a stoolie? It was very easily done this way. I’d look harried and frantic and ask one of the gophers to run this and that to the courthouse. Get this copied ASAP and get it back to whomever, and take the notes from this meeting and such saying Abigail sends her respects but she called away for ‘other’ duties. Over drinks one night at some fund raiser Andy asked me how I managed to get all the things done that I had received credit for, citing “where do you find the time?’ I looked at him with the cold, confident look of a lawyer and said:‘I got others to do the majority of it and feel good about doing it as it ‘may’ benefit them in the future. I gave him a ‘come hither’ smile and stroked his ego by ending it with: You taught me well, great master. He burst out in laughter I had seldom heard as he reached out to shake my hand. “I taught you well then.”

Later that night, after I had scoped him out some seriously wasted dizbrain secretary from Wisconson, giving her some fake name for him, he met for more drinks after he’d nailed her.

“you know why I never tried nailing you/” he asked, face still aglow from random sex with someone that was not his wife.

I told him flatly: because you know I’d fuck you up for three quarters of what you own.

He nodded, raised his Makers Mark and bowed his head. “ I know a fellow predator when I meet one. And I am not suicidal.”

I smiled at him, meeting his eyes I then realized he was no different than me.

Over the years, I’d met his wife and kids and even went a few vacations with them. He knew I’d never say a word to them as I had grown some loyalty and respect for him as his dealings in the world of law were both ruthless and cunning. I was at that firm for over eight years when he retired and for that I received a check from the firm for 1.2 million dollars for ‘services rendered’ with the option to come back at any time and be the senior partners assistant. I also received a most gracious letter of recommendation for future employments for my services, achievements above all else, my ability to keep the confidential information of senior Execs.

And yes, I had paid full taxes on that 1.2 million.

(to Mark. Thanks. Yours is the first Psychopathy site that didn’t go into those that serve a breed wrong. The serial killers and their ilk, Columbine clones and their like. Thanks for keeping your blog real.)

Takes one to KNOW one,

Yours,

Abigail.