To K.
God, my life sucks. But here’s a little story, featuring a couple of years’ worth of a let-up, that I want to share with you, because it’s so damned funny, in a way, and educating, too.
To N.
For the perfect legal pervert you are.
1.
Someone from Canada sent gmail advertisements for private jets and choppers to my professional email account at a large law firm. Sickened by the spate of email – I had been receiving the advertisements twice a day for three weeks in a row – I sent a comment: “Asshole, stop sending me this crap or I will have you sued.” To my great astonishment I received an almost immediate reply: “I cannot believe your language! How inappropriate“! And, within seconds (how unprofessional!), a further reaction: “Actually, I am surprised that you want off the list as a partner in a Law Firm [his capitalization] that I am sure has clients who deal in aviation.” To his email he added a picture of himself, showing a beyond middle-age man I could’ve acutely fallen in love with in more propitious circumstances.
I felt I had to make a few points here. I did so in an email communication which, to add credibility to my main point, I sent from my private account (Hotmail). I’m by nature abundant and prolix, and more abundant and more prolix as my emotions are whipped up further. Part of what I had to say was: “Mr. Hunter, I might owe you apologies for my language. But, pray, do consider the following: I deliberately wasn´t reacting in any professional capacity. I don’t like email – pretending to be of a professional nature – from generic email accounts. The point about my clients is moot. It is for me to decide which services, whether of myself or of third parties, I want to market to my clients. If you think your email may be useful to individuals or companies my firm provides services to, then send your email to such individuals and companies. We are a law firm, not your sales agent. Respectfully, etc.”.
I wasn’t going to be disappointed. He mailed back: “Ms. Potter, I appreciate your frankness. There’s a lot I could write in my defense. Instead, I invite you to visit my company and consider yourself a guest in my house while you are here. Traveling expense will be on the company. Salomon.” To which I replied: “Agreed. My secretary will contact you to work out the details. Dingenom.“
It would be a 5-day trip, in a month’s time, which I had my secretary take down in the electronic time registration as “Marketing Teams”. I think we once had a transportation and mobility team; but that was buses and trains, nothing getting off the ground (which, come to think of it, includes the team). Anyway, it vaguely reflected Mr. Hunter’s assertions about his motives for sending me the aircraft crap email, even if it patently flouted the views I had expressed on those assertions in my email communication.
2.
I arrived at the airport, Vancouver International, where Mr. Hunter had come to collect me, wearing Victoria Beckham skintight jeans that NAP on its website had advised buyers to buy two sizes smaller than their usual jeans size. I had bought them a size 24. They are jeans I like to show off my all-but-perfect butt in. Mr. Hunter was dressed as one would expect of a man in the aircraft business living in a vast and empty country: khaki pants, fur-lined bomber jacket, which he wore open, green/off-white checkered shirt, brown shoes, metal framed shades. No man his age looks hot. They look on top or they don’t. Hunter did. I took his outstretched hand.
“Welcome to Canada!, Ms. Potter.”
“Please, Dingenom,” I said.
“Asshole,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Or Salomon – you can call me Sal; whichever you prefer.”
It was a bad joke – worse, a bad joke timed badly. I knew that he knew it and, which ought to be even more painful to him, that he knew I knew he knew it. It would have restored the balance somewhat. Except that nothing in the way he had said it, or in his face or in his eyes, suggested he had been trying to be funny. I decided I preferred Hunter.
“I’m renting some space here, a hangar. Let’s get you a security pass and I can give you a little tour.”
He showed me small jets whose bodies all looked perfectly similar to me. What Hunter told me about their engines struck me as totally meaningless. The jets’ interior had my uncompromised interest. They were comfortable little cocoons. I wondered what would be left of the quiet display of self-contained luxury once the engine noise kicks in.
If I consider my life an asset and my hopes and expectations credit taken out on it, then, the advanced stage of depreciation of the asset taken into account, my LTV ratio is far in excess of one hundred percent. What was I thinking I was doing here, anyway? It turned out there was an answer to this question, an answer that in my wildest dreams (my dreams, to be honest, since a long time not being all that wild anymore) I couldn’t have imagined on my arrival in less than ebullient Canada.
3.
We drove to Hunter’s house.
Short of being introduced to anyone when we entered, there being no signs of anyone actually living here in the first place, I wondered about Hunter’s personal situation. Its intenseness but more likely its inevitability may have caused my wonder to pass the barrier between my mind and Hunter’s. He volunteered that he had two sons, one 25, the other 27. They were still in their teens when his wife decided to divorce him and had continued to live with her. His ex-wife, he added, had died 5 years ago.
I was thinking how simple, on balance, life was. It only becomes complicated when you have your nose rubbed in it; the avoiding of which is easier said than done when the life it concerns is that of your own.
“Is there a part of the house you would particularly want to see?” he asked.
A weird question, I thought. What made him think I would want to have a tour of the house in the first place!
“The bathroom,” I said.
“The master bathroom?”
“The loo,” I clarified.
“Ah,” he spread out his arms, “it’s been too long since I have had a lady guest.”
A girl could not have wished for a more welcoming toilet though. It smelt and looked freshly cleaned, the seat was down, the walls were painted lilac, white and mint. And it was warm. In fact, the thing was more comfortable than any of the four toilets in my own house. When I flushed, beautiful pink colored water filled up the bowl as the water with my pee and some paper in it whirled out of sight.
“If you don’t mind,” I said on my return, “I would like to lie down for a while.”
“Of course, I will show you to your room.”
He picked up the baggage I had left in the hallway and led me to an upstairs room. I was pleasantly surprised at its general air of pristineness, the walls and the woodwork done up in white and pastels, the light generously let in through large windows bordered by Scandinavian style floor length curtains. The bed was queen size. On it was a honey colored quilt with a wild-flower print. A hint of jasmine was in the air.
“This is a lovely room,” I wholeheartedly commented.
“The bathroom you use is the first door on your left when you go out.” Opening a door in one of the walls of the room he said. “You have your own washstand and a mirror here.”
“It’s perfect,” I said. “I feel like I am here on holiday”.
“I was hoping that’s what you would feel. If you take my advice, I suggest you rest for about two hours. A short nap is the best way to negotiate a jetlag. I have booked a table at a restaurant downtown tonight at 9. When you come down again, we can talk a little about your practice and my business before we leave.
I showered. I had forgotten to bring my bathrobe – never mind, a lilac bathrobe of the softest material lay neatly folded on a stool in the bathroom.
4.
Three and a half hours later I was back downstairs. I had spent over half an hour just deciding what I was going to wear. I had finally come down to a fitted dark-olive Burberry Prorsum dress and black suede high-heeled pumps as the perfect in-between outfit for informally dining out in the context of a business relationship. Walking from my room to the staircase, then descending, then walking from the hall to the room where I had first sat down with Hunter, I had kept a loose rein on my senses, which, happily registering all that my rational mind chose to ignore, flagged to me the feminine taste and care the whole house breathed. It raised questions which had nothing to do with my practice or his business, and that I found a whole lot more interesting than either.
“The house is very well kept. You must have found the perfect housekeeper.”
“My housekeeper is very good,” he said, but I can’t vouch for his perfection. “I have had the place completely redecorated. It was done after we scheduled our appointment. I bought this about half a year ago. I have an apartment downtown. I live there. My housekeeper will be up here twice a week. He will be here tomorrow for the first time.”
“I feel honored to be what I assume is one of your first guests in your country house.”
“The very first. There will be three more people at our table tonight, business partners. I thought it might be interesting for them to meet with you.”
So much for the questionnaire on the house that I had mentally prepared. I wasn’t afraid of company turned into a crowd, but my own practice hardly going anywhere since I had joined the firm I’m currently with, I did feel apprehensive to discuss business with complete strangers in a jurisdiction where I had no practice at all. This had to be dealt with as a matter of priority. “Can I prepare for anything? What business are they in?”
“Don’t prepare. You’re fine as you are. No one is interested in your going into any detail about the legal services you provide. Did I say business partners? Think of them as my friends. I told them about your visit. They see it as a good excuse to meet up over a nice dinner in town.”
“An all-male company?”
“Yes, fine men. You will like them. They helped me in procuring the appropriate advisory services for the interior decoration of this house.”
Appropriate – how odd, I thought. “What I saw of the house exhibits a feminine touch.”
“That was intended. The interior decorator is a woman, about your age. She immediately grasped the concept. We never once felt we had to intervene while she was implementing it. Tell me a little about your work.”
Striking a conversational tone I said. “Don’t expect to be let off the hook so easily, Mr. Hunter. I’m dying to know why you intended the interior decoration to be feminine.”
“There you might owe me apologies again, Dingenom, to use your diligent words. But as a I can provide an altogether decent answer to defuse the potential delicacy of your question, I will forgo the pleasure.” He said it in a friendly voice, almost condescending, but he never smiled.
“My apartment is a man’s den. It’s secluded. Its paneled walls are dark, the furniture is heavy, thick carpets are on the floor, Victorian style draped and tasseled curtains cover the windows, there are old paintings on the walls. The entire apartment smells of leather and polished wood. It faces away from the world. I will not have a woman stay there for any length of time. I prefer not even to invite women to my apartment. Having women in my apartment makes me feel uncomfortable – on their account. But, of course, I work with women, women are among my friends. I think in this house I will be feeling at ease in their company. I feel at ease with you in this house.”
I let the latter observation, whether of fact or merely conversational, pass uncommented, unchanging the level of guarded politeness I was at. “The men we will be dining with? They helped you set up this place. Do they all live in a man’s den?”
“They are all bachelors. A coincidence. I think it’s time we made our way to the restaurant.”
5.
Two of the men Hunter had invited were about his age. Let’s call them Mr. B and Mr. C. The third one was much younger – Mr. A. They all looked well-off. The younger man was stunningly good looking. Each had a 15% interest in Hunter S. Fine Aircraft Inc. Hunter had a controlling 55% stake. Turned out, they ran a money laundering racket. The racket pivoted on clients buying aircraft at an overstated price and being paid back the excess, equal to amounts of black market money – God knows wherefrom – paid to Hunter in cash or deposited on a foreign bank account in his or his company’s name, minus a handsome kickback obviously, as so-called warranty repayments made out at the presentation of fake bills and certificates for maintenance and repair work assigned to shell corporations controlled by Hunter’s companions. Most of the aircraft were sold back, directly or indirectly, to Hunter S. Fine Aircraft Inc., which seemed not to be uncommon in this business.
Hunter said: “We’re open about this to you, Dingenom. The reason is that we want you in. You are in now; and you cannot get out. I marketed my products and services to your firm at the recommendation of one of your senior partners. I will not mention his name. You know him. He is crazy about jets. He takes flight lessons in the US, Florida. I sell craft to the flight school he has enrolled. That’s where I first met him. A nice man. Not as spirited as you, Dingenom. But a nice man, definitely. We maintained contact. He’s not implicated. He’s going to do a perfectly legal tax structuring through the Caymans for my company. It’s worth a lot to me and I pay him well. I refer business relations to him who consider having similar structures set up. Potentially there are millions in revenue for your firm in this, Dingenom. It’s not going to do your position in the firm much good when I tell him about the email you sent me.
“When I tell them about your criminal side-kick I’m sure my firm does not even want to do business with you.”
“Oh, but we considered that of course…,” Hunter began.
“Of course,” I quickly said. “Don’t expand on your solution to the problem. I see this as an unexpected career opportunity. Where do you want me in?”
“In the house, first of all,” said Hunter. It was the first time I saw him smile other than out of politeness. “You will resign from the firm. You will be appointed Chief Legal Officer & Company Secretary in Hunter S. Fine Aircraft Inc. I like your style. You’re direct. You’re tough. My company needs a person like you. And you’re attractive. All these are functional observations. You don´t have to know anything about aircraft, but I will familiarize you with the market. Your remuneration will be far in excess of what you make at your firm.
“My remuneration is subject to negotiation,” I said. “It´s not as if I am entirely without leverage and you know it.”
“Yes, Hunter said, “we are aware of that. Factor in that we would require private services from you also, to be performed in the house.”
“What I will factor in is that I will not be ill-disposed to providing such service at the request of any of the men at this table. But he,” – I pointed at Mr. A, the perfect amalgam of what the ancient Greek must have imagined Hercules and Adonis to have looked like – “after we have finished our dinner, will take me to the house and spend the night with me. Only if his company meets my expectations, shall we further negotiate the terms of this part of the deal, which I would appreciate to be referred to as ancillary services from now on.”
“Mr. A?,” Hunter asked, holding out the keys to the house.
“Eager to please our charming companion,” the younger man said.
“Then,” I continued, “provided Mr. A has managed to please me as much as he is eager to and we have negotiated the package and executed the contract, I want Mr. Hunter to spend the night with me. If he disappoints me, the part of our contract regarding the ancillary services shall terminate automatically in its entirety. This will be in the contract, of course.“
The younger man made to look amused. “Mr. Hunter?”
“Dingenom doesn’t know what she’s in for. But I can tell her now that it will not be for a disappointment. Agreed.”
“We’ll see,” I said. “And finally, I will not in anyway, at any stage, be involved in or informed about money laundering or other illegal transactions or any part of such transactions, either in my capacity as Chief Legal Officer of the company or privately. The contract will lay down that, should I become aware of any illegal activities engaged in by Hunter S. Fine Aircraft Inc. or a member of its management during the term of my employment, I have the right to terminate the contract without a notice period and the company will forfeit to me a penalty of five times my annual remuneration, including the part pertaining to the ancillary services. It means the money laundering will have to be kept out of my sight. I want a return ticket and when I use it I want to get out with a clean bill of health in my purse.”
“And a little pocket money,” Hunter remarked.
“The penalty is to prevent the situation from arising,” I said.
“I think we can consent to the principle. The penalty amount will have to be discussed.”
“Mr. Hunter, I am stating my terms for willing to enter into negotiations on the contract. This is the unilateral phase; take or leave. I would be giving up my position in the firm. It’s not a position to get easily re-installed in and the income attached to it is not easily raised in other ways. The penalty is to be five times my annual remuneration.”
“Then it may be in your own best interest to reconsider your unilaterally taken position. Remember, I can break your career with the firm, whereas I have a beautiful alternative on offer.”
“Mr. Hunter, whatever hold you think you have on me, or however confident you are of your defense against the proliferation of what I have become privy to, I am certain that you will not rule out that I can break your company, and you and the other gentlemen at this table with it. In other words, there is more than a choice between your destroying my career and sending me off on one of your own making. I am willing to take the risk. What are you willing to risk for the lousy difference between what I ask and what you would be willing to offer?”
Hunter said nothing.
“The problem I see, Sal,” one of the older companions (Mr. B or Mr. C – who cares), said, “is that our dear friend here, in the position offered to her, may legally be expected not to let bogus transactions pass unnoticed. This would imply a certain degree of active scrutiny on Dingenom’s part as to the transactions Hunter Aircraft enters into, even if Dingenom would not be involved in them. She may have to ask questions about certain dealings. The ensuing exchange may trigger her right to terminate and to claim the penalty.”
“I thought about that,” I said. “Listen, I am not after the penalty. We don’t even have a contract yet. I said that I see Mr. Hunter’s proposition as a career opportunity. Preparing an easy exit from a contract that I haven’t even entered into is not my idea of a career. Gentlemen, I have had a strenuous day and I anticipate a less than quiet night in the company of Mr. A. I would be much obliged if you would excuse us now. During my time with Mr. A, hoping he will leave us a moment, I will explain to him how the issue raised by Mr. B (or C?) can be resolved. I will ask Mr. A to take notes in his own words. Put a signature at the bottom, if he wants. He can share the information with Mr. Hunter. I will review his notes first to ensure that they cannot be traced back to me. Remember, as at execution of the contract, I will be unaware of any illegal activities of Hunter S. Fine Aircraft Inc. Mr. Hunter, thank you for a lovely night out and the promise of so many pleasures to come. I suggest you pass by the house at 11 am. We’ll take it from there.”
I felt lucid. I felt in control. And there was the faint smell, the smell one always hopes goes unnoticed by others, that came with the feeling that I just couldn’t wait for Mr. A to fuck me into a coma, fuck me back to my senses and fuck me unconscious again – repeatedly.
6.
Men are a different species to me, a species from a different world, a world from a different dimension. Men’s views and thoughts and emotions and behavior are third degree alien to me. Men are worse than a black box to me: not just what goes on inside, but what comes out is beyond my purview of understanding, empathy or sympathy. Did I say I could have fallen in love with Hunter? I did, referring to his image on the photo. Using my imagination, working from my own mental make-up, I could (and did) construe Hunter as someone I could surrender to (I can imagine no love but one in which I surrender). I have that with movie stars, or men in magazines. But men in real life I can only do business or make polite conversation or have sex with, or marry. In reality, men are too alien to me to establish anything but a functional bond with (sex and marriage to me being functional, except in my dreams of closeness, safeness and love; I had spent my marriage, if not my life, dreaming of that). Women, on the other hand, are too much of my kind; they are too close to me. Face to face with a woman, any woman, I suspect her of wanting to occupy the space I have already taken and I suspect, too, that the reverse is equally true. Women are competition at its bloodiest. I have no friends among women or men. I have relationships, professionally with men and women, sexually with men. I can shine in a company and not care a damn about the people I’m with. In fact, the only way I can relate to the world, other than functionally, is through books and art, the views I hold, and my own estheticism and morality (if any).
Even if it had not always been like that, it did account, more or less, for the current situation, which saw Mr. A take his liberty with me, very much consented in the pre-contractual phase we were in. He fucked me in front of the mirror in the main hall after we had entered the house (and he had performed the requisite readjustments to my dress, which conveniently had a two-way zipper through the back). I invited him to my bedroom. I undressed, wrapped myself in the lilac bathrobe and made for the bathroom. Before I had reached the door of the bedroom, he came up from behind, pushed me against the door, yanked off my bathrobe, pressed and grinded his pelvis against my buttocks until he was sufficiently hard, turned me around to face him, lifted me and fucked me. When I had returned from the bathroom, he forced me face-down on the bed, pulled me up by the hips and fucked me. Boy, did he live up to the eagerness displayed verbally during dinner! And, boy, did he continue to perform brilliantly during the rest of the night! As a result of which I received Hunter at 11 in the morning rosy-cheeked and reinvigorated, and extremely well-disposed to negotiating the terms of the contract. Mr. A, who, hollow-eyed and drained (reasserting a fundamental biological difference between women and men post-multiple-coitum) but with the notes on how to perfect the racket and not implicate me in it in his pocket, was not remiss in gracefully complimenting me on the ancillary services performed. To remind him of where we were, legally, I equally gracefully replied that, although no such services had yet been agreed upon, Mr. A had more than met the expectations I entertained when I had expressed the willingness to consider providing such services under a contract yet to be entered into; at which I saw him out, my mind already working on Mr. Hunter and our mutual business.
I informed my secretary that I was on the brink of landing a large assignment, necessitating an extension of my stay in Canada. It took us almost two weeks to hammer out a contract, including the annexes (some of which were indicated by a form saying “intentionally left blank” and stored in a safe place), between Hunter S. Fine Aircraft Inc., each of its shareholders and myself. With Hunter being impatient to have his way with me, time was entirely on my side. I was both the main contributor to and the main beneficiary of the delay in getting the contract ready for execution. It took another week for Hunter S. Fine Aircraft Inc. to reach an agreement with my firm on my immediate resignation. Hunter proved true to his word; did anything but disappoint me. He liked the rough game and I liked to play along.
7.
The arrangement lasted three and a half years. Being considered such a good fuck by all shareholders (never mind the job performance; a trade-off I had secretly counted on when entering into the contract) it was easy to have my salary raised a couple of times during this time.
On the day preceding the 3-year anniversary of my association with the company, Hunter, flying one of his own jets, crashed and died.
As per the shareholder agreement, each of Hunter’s companions had a right of first refusal to buy a maximum of one third of the stock formerly held by Hunter, and now part of his estate, at an independently fairness opinioned market price, payable to the estate, plus one share at the highest price bidden among them. Loathe to see Hunter S. Fine Aircraft Inc. at the risk of breaking up under a jointly held majority stake of Hunter’s sons, to whom, after all, might have been passed on more honesty and decency through the maternal line than their father’s darker genes could have diluted, the remaining racketeers bought all of Hunter’s stock, the one share jointly, appointed the younger companion as CEO and jointly transferred to me the ownership of the one share.
8.
Soon after I felt it was about time to start packing and I made my move.
I had company records that Hunter had kept in his apartment brought over to me in order, as I explained to his sons, to have everything in one place and to make sure that nothing was overlooked in our efforts in keeping the company going concern following Mr. Hunter’s decease.
“But,” I said, “I want this to go through the company´s regular counsel´s office. I will ask them to scan and electronically store all documents for future reference as to which company records Mr. Hunter had kept in his apartment. You never know when this information may be useful.”
In those records I found what I had hoped would be in there. It was a note which, towards the end of the first night together with Mr. A, I had typed and not saved but printed with the date appearing automatically in the footer, using the desktop equipment in the house. I had handed the note to Mr. A, who, after a cursory review, had signed it as a matter of routine (as expected, but wholly unnecessarily) before stowing it away in the inner pocket of his jacket that he had slipped on with nothing underneath to cover the upper half of his mouth watering body. I remember thinking how I’d love to have that signed document stowed in my pocket, except that, on Mr. A’s insistence, I had been typing the note stark naked, the insistence no doubt spurred by his desire to get warmed up to the splitting attack on my reserves which had followed soon after we had finished the business with the note, in the form of his instructing me to bend, arms stretched out forward, over the low, rounded armrest of the nearby couch and forcing his way into the little hole, which, neither unfamiliar with nor unsympathetic to this type of action and greased lavishly by Mr. A’s expert fingers (building up to almost four in about two minutes, the fourth hanging by the thread though), wetted with the moist that abounded in the other cavity, nevertheless required over five thrusts to resign to the torture and five more to crave for it.
But enough of the prurience. The part of the note that I was most interested in ran as follows:
“We anticipate the appointment of a Chief Legal Officer/Company Secretary in Hunter S. Fine Aircraft Inc. Given this official’s (possible) statutory duty of care and (possible) responsibility vis-à-vis auditors we must ensure that he or she shall be kept unaware of any information, whether in documents or carried otherwise, which refers to non-compliant operations by HSFA and/or its shareholders and/or companies other than HSFA involved in such operations and which, should it become available to him or her, may trigger an obligation to disclose such information to relevant public authorities or other third parties. This requires the following changes to be made in HSFA’s financial administration, contract management system and record keeping. […]”
During the general meeting of shareholders I had convened I said: “Gentlemen, going through files, relevant to the company, that Mr. Hunter kept at home, I came across an internal communication which has forced me to consider my position in the company.” I read out the introductory paragraph.
“Who do you think you’re fooling, Dingenom?,” Mr. A impatiently asked. “You wrote that, as you will surely recall.”
“It is in print, Mr. A,” I said, “and it has your signature at the bottom.”
“Of course, but…”
“It is very unfortunate that this document should have come to my attention,” I continued, ignoring Mr. A. “There is much that I have this company and both our former and incumbent CEO to thank for. My commitment in serving the interests of the company has been second only to my commitment in serving the needs of its principal shareholders. As it is, I feel I have no choice but to step down – subject to the terms of my contract.”
Mr. A tried a different approach. But Dingenom”, he said, “in the position you held in the company over the past years, you surely must have come across that memorandum before? The contract clearly cannot be construed as allowing you to terminate without notice and claim the penalty when you had access to the information all this time? You say it was found in Mr. Hunter’s apartment. But what if I tell you it wasn’t; that it has always been in the files we keep at the office?”
“Ah,” I said, “whatever of your argument that I would have forfeited the right to invoke the termination provisions if I would have been aware of the memorandum earlier, please be advised that our regular counsel´s office has a record and copies of all company related documents that Mr. Hunter kept at home. May I kindly refer you to our counsel’s office to verify that the memorandum was among those documents?”
“We had a copy here”.
“A copy? Really, Mr. A! I have the originally signed document in my hand. Go and show us the copy that you claim is in the files we keep at our office. Besides, looking at what the document is about, would you not agree that it is extremely unlikely that a copy were made and kept at our office? It pains me to have this discussion with you. I wish you and the company no harm and I certainly don’t want to take you and the company to court over this. A court trial would be the end of you, whatever the outcome for me. Remember that, having been made aware, as per your own choosing and for motives on whose respectability we had better not argue, of the illegal activities you and the company have engaged in, I had proposed to insert the specific termination provisions into the contract to prevent damage from being caused to the company and its shareholders by a situation which we have at hand here.”
“Hmm,” said Mr. A.
“Hmm,” the elder men nodded in support of what or whom I couldn´t quite make out.
I flew out first class on a reliable 747-8, musing that there’s no better way to benefit from crime than by taking appropriate measures to avoid being implicated in it. I fell asleep with my reputation unscathed, without a job, and without the need of one for a long while still. After eight hours of uninterrupted sleep I was roused by cabin personnel preparing for landing.
___
Hard Nosed Women 