Daphne

(16) Skeletons in the Closet

All during the meeting he couldn't reconcile the brazen loose-cannon nymphomaniac of the libelous emails with the composed, articulate, and thoughtful professional seated across his desk. In fact, he was so impressed with her demeanor that he was tempted to hire her on the spot, rumors be damned, but she balked, explaining that he should fully understand the nature of the 'shit that would hit the fan' first.

"Mr. Flynn ... sir, we both know what's being said about me and while it's not technically, factually true, I do have a roughly similar skeleton in my closet. Some might say it's worse than the emails...

"When I was in college I had a job where I allowed certain acts to be performed on me. It's difficult for me to talk about this, not because I am ashamed – I am not – but because of stupid Political Correctness censorship and even sillier puritanical Sexual Harassment rules that conspire to forbid frank talk, particularly between you, a powerful man, and me, the dainty daffodil that you are supposedly inclined to take advantage of. We both know better than this, but those are the idiotic rules. But you and I... we... must have a frank discussion because before you hire me you need to know about a certain episode in my life. It's already been used against me once and I'm sure it will be again.

"I have seen and done more than you can probably imagine! There is absolutely nothing you could possibly say or do will make me wilt like a sequestered schoolgirl. You need to feel free to ask me pointed questions and I need to be free to give you direct answers. If it's OK with you, I want to forget about all that nonsense and speak freely!"

Thank God! Finally, a woman I can actually talk to! I hate walking on egg-shells whenever I'm near female staff!

Flynn: "Sounds good, so let me break the rules first and say that you are a stunningly good-looking woman! I always enjoyed saying that and I never get to anymore."
Daphne smiled sweetly, her face lit up and Flynn instantly wished he was twenty... no... thirty years younger. "Why, thank you, Mr. Flynn. You're going to make me blush!"

She sure knows how to turn on the charm! "Touché"

"How stunningly good-looking?" she asked Sam, looking at him intently. "Am I sexually attractive to you? Would you like to see me naked?"

He gulped. "Oh, NO!"

Daphne laughed back. "Sir, forgive me, but you are such a liar! The only men that don't like to look at naked women are dead or gay!" She paused. He nodded. "OK, let's try that again, would you like to see me naked?"

"OK... yes, I would – but please keep your clothes on!"

"I wasn't offering to strip for you; I was just asking a question." She grinned at her would-be future Boss mischievously. He grinned back, shaking an index finger at her.

"OK, let's get started..." Daphne explained what happened – what she did and what others did to her – at Leo's place. She concentrated on the Friday evening sessions, convinced that no-one would understand the rest. Even so, Sam was initially taken aback by the acts Daphne described and wondered whether the truth was worse than the fiction. Why would such an attractive girl publicly debase herself like that?

It was as if Daphne read could his mind. "I've seen that look before" she sighed. "You guys all think you're King Stud when you 'dip your wick' into more of us 'sperm banks' than your drunken buddies at the Frat party, but, in an age when women are supposed to be equal to men, we're sluts or whores (or worse) if we want to experience our own sexual thrills." Daphne turned serious and looked Sam in the eye. "Could you please tell me to my face a good reason why that is?"