The Scorn of all Women
This is a work of fiction. No characters within this work are representative of real people.
"We are conditioned to look for justice and when it doesn't appear, we tend to feel anger, anxiety and frustration. Actually it would be equally productive to search for the fountain of youth or some such myth. Justice does not exist. It never has and it never will. The world simply isn't put together that way. Robins eat worms. That's not fair to the worms... You only have to look to nature to realize there is no justice in the world. Tornadoes, floods, tidal waves, droughts are all unfair." -
Dr Wayne Dyer, "Your Erroneous Zones" (New York: Avon Books, 1977), p.173
Chapter 1 Jenny
Captain Jenny James smiled with pride while reflecting on memories of her recent promotion party as she tucked 8 year old Tabby into bed with a soft kiss on her hairline.
"I love you, Mommy," Tabby said as she snuggled into her pink bunny Pillow Pet.
"I love you too Hun." Jenny flipped the light switch as she exited.
As always, Tabby's door was left cracked. Jenny stared from the hallway as her daughter settled in under the down comforter. Despite the little girl's beauty, Jenny hated the fact she looked so much like her father.
Beautiful or not, Tabby was conceived during rape. Whenever her husband came home drunk, Jenny would not sleep with him. That was the deal they agreed upon. That night he wouldn't take no for an answer. He kicked the bedroom door off it's hinges, then stormed in. She scrambled to rise from bed, but a barrage of fists knocked her down, supine. She tried kicking up at him to no avail. He fell flat on top of her and grasped her throat with a strong right hand.
"Stop it, Bitch," he growled before delivering a left backhand for good measure.
She stopped resisting. He hammered into her repeatedly for hours. His stamina that night was inhuman. He was still erect inside her when he finally passed out.
He awoke wearing handcuffs. Nine years later he was still in prison.
She smiled in Tabby's direction before walking away from her door. That's what she enjoyed about her work. Heading the Ballistic Evidence and Forensics (B.E.A.F.) Unit meant that she could insure that sick bastards who hurt innocents got what they deserved.
Even if it meant bending the rules.
She walked to her bedroom and flopped across her bed. She wasn't tired. In fact, she was far from it. It was invigorating to be who she was.
When she married John, he was the perfect gentleman. She was content being his homemaker on top of being a full time Henrico County Sheriff. She laughed upon remembering how passive she was back then, at how her father had taught her better than to be submissive to anyone. Yet, she eagerly pleased him whenever, wherever, and however he asked.
She would never be that woman again!
She joined a support group a few months after the rape at the behest of the department's psychiatrist. It was either that or take psychotropic medication which would entail resignation or becoming a desk jock. Neither were a feasible option.
Though reluctant at first, she became a symbol of strength for many of the victims in the group. She arrived at the first meeting a few minutes late, still wearing her uniform. The other women flocked to her. Inadvertently, she taught them all a lesson that empowered them to move on with their lives: If an officer of the law, with all her training, could get raped, the rest of them didn't have to feel sorry for themselves. Maybe it was not their fault after all. It didn't just happen to the weak and helpless. And, since they really were the victims, they didn't have to feel ashamed.
That was only the beginning. She quickly embraced her role as mascot. Soon she was giving motivational speeches, at meetings and publicly. In turn, the public embraced her. Local politicians began using her to further their own careers. Politics had offered reciprocal gains. In no time she became a Board Member of the Rape Victims Sisterhood. From there, her next move was to Chairwoman of the Board. Next, she was President. Then pressure on once solicitous politicians moved her up the ranks within the Sheriff's Department.
Politics also introduced her to her first lover since John. Miesha Bowers was now Henrico County's Commonwealth Attorney. She'd never imagined herself falling in love with a woman. Never the less a black woman. Miesha was special. She was brilliant, bold and charismatic. They hit it off immediately when they chanced upon one another outside the Mayor's Office because they both were single mothers with daughters of the same age.
They met at parks and playgrounds to allow the girls to play together. The women talked while watching the children play nearby. Sometimes they visited the other's home for dinner. The girls often had sleepovers when it was convenient.
It was after one of those sleepovers that the relationship began. While hugging to say goodbye as they usually did Jenny released her inhibitions and kissed her new best friend's plump pinkish brown lips. She was shocked when their lips touched. She hadn't planned to do it and she didn't expect it to feel so thrilling.
It turned out to be the single most electrifying moment of her life. Miesha accepted it. The kiss lasted for what felt like an eternity. She was surprised to learn later that Miesha had desired her since the friendship began. The Courtship lasted a few more weeks before they made love. Miesha gave her pleasures she was sure no man ever would or could.
The relationship didn't last. Jenny wanted monogamy. Miesha was in the habit of using all her assets to further whatever her current agenda might have been. They still loved each other after six years, but they never tried to have a committed relationship after the initial break up.
Jenny let out a sigh, then smiled before pulling the scrunchy off her jet black ponytail. She had secrets that could ruin everything she'd worked for. Fortunately for her, she believed, she was now in the perfect position to keep them hidden. Besides, if she ever did have to take a fall, she would be able to live with herself. So what she wasn't perfect. She knew she was doing the right thing even if others thought it was wrong.
. . .
To be continued
. . .
To be continued