"little" Sister

Author's note:

Virtually no sex this installment. Siobhan goes into business and gets pulled into politics.

Chapter 17 – Office Politics

The dinner in White Plains would echo for years. I am very glad I had no true understanding of the importance, because even Dr. Richards might have frozen. That said, it had little impact in Hanover. There is a reason higher education is referred to as a tower, ivory or otherwise. What happened in the real world took its time filtering into our world. For example, it was nearly Christmas before someone inquired if I had seen

Hard Time,

then were shocked when I said I had.

Part of it was the work load. I had classes to teach, papers to grade, TAs to supervise and research to do. On top of that was my new social calendar. Mother would be shocked to learn that I knew how to deport myself at a proper tea. Once the Powers That Be learned the fact, I received a great deal of practice. To a degree it was like ballroom dance. Early training was not entirely wasted.

To a larger degree it was having an example, even if she was fictitious.

Frau Doktor

was Lars' term. In my own mind, she was Dr. Richards. The result was the same. She was above petty annoyances. She could listen to the worst sort of crudity, without reacting, but never miss a word. Real life examples like Sheila and Christine were helpful, but neither would do well in politics. As Gerald said, soft handling of fools was not one of Sheila's talents. However, it was one of Eleanor Roosevelt's many skills.

I was glad for the impulse that moved me to think of ugly leaders. I was, obviously, no Lincoln or Churchill, but Eleanor Roosevelt was someone Dr. Richards could admire. Part of this was her ability to handle the press. Another part, just as significant, was her ability to cope with a self absorbed, philandering husband. I spent so much time reading and considering Eleanor that my wardrobe started to mimic hers. When I noticed, I decided this was not a bad thing. It even came up in interviews a couple of times.

Wardrobe was an issue that I had never needed to deal with before. In this, Elspeth proved invaluable. While I had a good start from Elizabeth, it was only a start. For example, I had little of business casual and nothing for outdoor use. Once again I was buying jeans, but the boots came from Lands End and the shirts from Pendelton. This led me to my signature piece—the leather topcoat.

Have you ever noticed how many movie posters show the hero in a flowing overcoat? Neil (Keanu Reeves) in

Matrix

is an obvious example. I leaned more to Selena (Kate Beckinsale) in

Underworld

. Regardless, winter in New England is harsh. I had two British style trench coats and a quilted down jacket, but none were really suitable for heavy snow. Elspeth came to my rescue, in a backhand way.

When I returned to campus in late July, many changes occurred. I was no longer one of the pure lesbian sisterhood, for example. This was not easy. Every social group has an "Us vs. Them" mentality. Since I was no longer a member in good standing, I was suddenly an unwelcome outsider. Countering this was a wave of appreciation for my new style. Many of my old acquaintances expressed appreciation and offered to talk shop, meaning shopping.

Somewhere to the side of this, with overlap, was the bondage role playing culture. I had known of them all along. I had dabbled a bit, but never took time to get serious. That all changed Labor Day Weekend. There was a back to classes party planned. Elspeth wanted us to attend as a couple. Part of this was Elspeth's desire to show off her new corset, so I allowed it. Elspeth would attend wearing her corset, Victoria's Secret lingerie and a velvet choker. I wore my familiar underwear, corset, heels and attitude.

To say I was a hit understates things considerably. If I had not had the experience in Brooklyn, I might have thought I was impressive. As it was, Dr. Richards simply acknowledged the attention as her due, without believing she had ascended to true mastery. She was gracious, but declined adoration. This attitude was well received by both Doms and subs. For the rest of my time in Hanover, I had a secure position in the BDSM community.

A sidelight of this were contacts in the custom leather market. I was somewhat aware that there was such a market. Sean once showed me pictures of a Hollywood collection of bondage leathers, which sold for well over a million dollars. Sheila gave a flogger to Sean, which involved shark skin and kangaroo hide. When I did my summer session with Mario, Richard used a viscous two stranded whip called a dog quirt. Someone had to be manufacturing them.

My new contact was more in the apparel line. Everyone was impressed with Julian's corsetry, but felt other things could be improved. For example, one of the Doms wore thigh high boots. Leather briefs were common on both sexes. Leather harnesses could be found on almost anyone. That first night, I contracted for lederhosen and suspenders. A picture of me wearing them, wool stockings and not much else, was part of Lars' birthday gift.

Two weeks after I returned from Thanksgiving, New Hampshire had it's first winter storm of the season. London Fog makes an excellent raincoat, but it is not up to blowing snow and single digit temperatures. My coat from the previous winter was (supposedly) a Soviet military coat. While it had seen better days, it was warm, sufficiently long and a suitable color. I set about trying to find a newer version of the same thing.

To some extent I was frustrated. I found a workable substitute coat, which pulled me through the next week, but I was not thrilled with it. For one thing, it was much shorter. My military coat came down to my calves. The new one was only thigh length. It was also a men's style, which made it tight over my bust. Even a trip to Manchester produced nothing better.

I might have suffered through December, but I chanced across the man who made my lederhosen. We greeted each other, then he asked how the leather shorts had worked out for me. I described my bare picture on the bear rug, which he appreciated. I commented that the lederhosen was not suitable for recent weather. He laughed and said I needed a longer coat. An hour later he took my military coat as a pattern, promising three custom coats. The price was obscene, but I never regretted a cent of it.

The pay off began almost immediately. Dartmouth is on a session schedule, which is fairly close to trimesters. Finals are the center of campus life for the first half of November. Once they are over, the Holidays begin. From Thanksgiving to New Year is one fairly continuous party season. My first leather coat arrived the day before my first obligatory reception, thrown by Philis Harmon, the President's wife. Almost worse than a blizzard, the weather was a "winter mix" of freezing rain, sleet and/or snow, varying with the temperature at the moment.

Driving around campus was difficult, but parking was next to impossible. With a full length coat, I elected to skip the issue and walk. In the six blocks, I passed two traffic accidents. When I arrived, my coat had acquired a layer of slushy mess, so I asked for a small towel. Mrs. Harmon quickly provided one. As I dried the leather, she asked how far away I had needed to park. I told her I had walked over from campus.

I thought nothing more of it, but he next day the story was all over the department, possibly the whole graduate school. I am convinced people dropped by just for a look at my coat. Thursday another coat was delivered. This one was sealskin and I loved it on sight. The dark gray color would go with almost anything, yet it was fur lined for warmth and almost waterproof. The timing was slightly less perfect, since the storm did not hit til Monday afternoon. Even by New England standards, this blizzard was impressive.

Tuesday classes were postponed, but the snowfall stopped by midday. Wednesday morning was clear and bitter. Though the streets were open, I elected to walk rather than risk black ice. With good boots, the fur lined coat and a wool cap and scarf, I was fairly comfortable. That made one. Half my class stayed home. Those in attendance enjoyed a dead easy (attendance graded) pop quiz, while I saved the lesson for another day.

It might have ended there, except for the campus paper. Naturally, there was a cover story on the storm and the snow day. The associated picture was of me, walking through the middle of the quadrangle in my past knee length coat. I was simply striding along. What made the picture interesting were the people at the edges of the shot. All had normal winter wear and were huddling against the cold. It was so good I requested a digital copy to send to Sheila. Again, I thought nothing of it.

The full nickname is The Dark Queen of Winter. This could be a reference to my hair, which Sean compares to Mila Kunis'. More likely it is a reference to the sealskin coat. Queen is more clear. Even I think the picture makes me look disdainful of the cold. After all, Dr. Richards is not distracted by petty things like weather.

The nickname was not the original caption for the picture. Someone scribbled it at the bottom of a copy and tacked the picture on the message board of the Union, next to the tutoring ads. It must have been around for a week or more before I heard it. By then it was too late. The photographer titled the image "Queen of Winter" when she entered it in a regional photo contest.

They say reputation for power

is

power. For me that is certainly true. The nickname morphed into several versions—Dark Queen, Dark Lady, Winter Queen, even Ice Queen, though that was sarcasm when spoken. Add that to the distinctly British style of my suit at Sheila's wedding. The common thread is royalty, or at least nobility. To this day people ask for my title. I tell them I was American born, but the titles stayed in Europe.

The sealskin coat became iconic. If you saw the headless politician skit on Saturday Night Live, that was Francine inside the same coat, wearing heels to keep the fringe from dragging the floor. What I thought was screaming funny was Francine playing me using stilt shoes. The jacket came to her knees and the slacks had to have a meter (39") inseam. Francine moves so well that most people noticed the wig. How could you not see the T-Rex arms?

Regardless, during one spring semester I acquired a nickname and signature fashion piece. What really helped was acquiring the name recognition to go with it. It happened during the Presidential primaries. I must give talk radio its due. A lot of people listen to it, though sometimes I wish they never heard of me.

New Hampshire's first-in-the-nation Presidential primary is a very big deal. Interest starts in earnest around Labor Day the year before. By the voting in January, literally every house in the state will be called by the pollsters, often a dozen times. Since I had been on Sean Hannity's program once, I was on call lists for expert opinion. Between job, research, social functions and my dissertation it was easy to beg off. But, eventually, I was cornered.

They wanted Susan Miller, but she was home sick (she says). She recommended me to be her stand in. Under the circumstances, I could not refuse. I intended to not say anything controversial, but their other expert was a vapid twit. When she cited my family money and challenged my ability to relate to common people, I countered with two summers in Roxbury, part of her hometown Boston. I personally knew many of the people she misquoted and said so. We went at it. A lot of this was lost in commercial time, but some juicy parts went on the air.

My next day was surreal. It was like the summer before when people came just to look at me. Dr. Krelinov cautioned me to use restraint. Susan Miller told me I hit a home run. Elspeth kept laughing all night. She and the twit knew each other for more than a decade, from primary through high school. Elspeth made the grades for Holyoke, but the twit had to settle for Fisher College, "so she could ride her bicycle to class." I called the Residence and asked security to find the twit's cell number, so that Elspeth could rub the salt in.

Whether because of the fight, or some other reason, I was soon getting many requests to comment on air. To make matters worse, the University approved. Purely in self defense, I set out a schedule of times I might be available, then let Elspeth deal with the prioritizing. It never occurred to me to be careful about using my brother's first name.

On the Hannity show the oversight tripped me up. I said, "Sean says..." meaning my brother, not the host of the show. I was very embarrassed, but no one else noticed. It was exactly the kind of thing Sean Hannity might have said. Sean Hannity and Sean my brother are temperamentally similar. Both believe in consistent rules, gun rights, paying bills and butting into someone else's conversation.

Sean Richards is called 'The Bear', partly for his lack of tact. I leave it to you what that says of Sean Hannity. Regardless, I found it very easy to work with Hannity, even though we agreed on almost nothing political. For his part, he comes across as unexpectedly egalitarian. I became a semi-regular Tuesday afternoon guest on his radio program.

Back in my life, such as it was, I was almost ready to propose to Elspeth. She had developed into the perfect aide. In addition to her own studies and research, she did a great deal of work on mine. I needed to track down two or more prior generations of people who had moved from country to city. Since my original work was in Boston, so were most of the leads. Elspeth developed a pattern of returning to Beacon Hill on weekends, by way of some working class neighborhood or retirement home.

In other ways she was generally useful. Many people keep appointment books, or the electronic equivalent. I had Elspeth. If I needed a phone number, Elspeth would get it. If I needed an internet search, Elspeth would do it. If I needed to blow off steam after a trying event, Elspeth would massage my shoulders. She took care of my leather coats and showed every sign of enjoying it. My highest compliment was to say that Christine could not have done it better. All she wanted in return was a hug, a snuggle and an occasional spanking.

All that changed one weekend. School was out between sessions, about when most schools have spring break. I told Sean Hannity's people that I was unavailable for my usual Tuesday slot. Once they found out I was going to drive down to New Jersey, Sean Hannity personally asked me to come in for a television broadcast on the way south. There are problems with being comfortable with someone. One is that they can talk you into doing things you would normally avoid. With a sense of foreboding, I agreed to visit the New York studio and tape a segment.

As usual, I let Elspeth handle the details. I dislike driving in the City, so they agreed to have a car meet us in Connecticut. I had to drive the beater, which irritated me, but what can you do? We were picked up and driven to the studio. I spent an hour in makeup. Rather than have Elspeth doing nothing, I told her to mingle and exchange numbers with some the other aides. I was led to a waiting room somewhere backstage.

That was where I met Ann Coulter. For once, Francine did me a service. Ann Coulter is like a taller, halfway caffeinated version of Francine. Her first words to me were, "So you're the ice bitch from up north. Why has Sean got you on this time?"

Instead of replying, I did my usual deconstruction. Ann Coulter was attractive and knew it, but she was fifty plus and working harder to show well than she used to. She was chewing gum at a manic rate, so it was probably for nicotine. She was brash and pushy, but under it was a fine mind and attack dog instincts. No wonder everyone hated debating her. In fact, her instincts were good enough that she was tracking me.

She said, "Damn. No wonder Sean likes you. You could make a living in Washington, just doing that. Does it always work?"

It had not worked just then, but I did not say so. Instead I told her about meeting Sheila at the airport. Since I was talking about someone iconic, Ann immediately started making connections. First the PDAs came out, then I opened the laptop for a better screen. Before long we were deep into the images from

Civitano's.

Ann knew at least half the people personally.

We talked for an hour before being interrupted. One of Sean Hannity's aides told us that our segment was being bumped for late breaking news. That was cool, since I was enjoying the conversation. Unfortunately, Elspeth came in right behind the aide. She saw Ann Coulter and hissed. In reaction, I did something ill advised.

I said, "Elspeth, be polite or I will not arrange any more sex with Jason Porter."

I instantly knew that the words would keep going and going, like the Eveready bunny. Even Ann Coulter had nothing to say, for a moment. When the moment passed, chaos broke loose. For what had been a quiet waiting room, there were an astonishing number of people present. Everyone wanted to know exactly what I meant, but the most obvious meaning was true. Elspeth had had sex with a national heart throb.

Whatever her other virtues and vices, Ann Coulter is decisive when she wishes to be. In short order the three of us were in a private room. I apologized to Elspeth for the embarrassment. Then I began the long explanation of how Jason Porter came to be a personal friend. I started by showing the cover shot of the catalog. Not surprisingly, Ann had seen it, though not in digital format.

I told her that I had met Mistress Cynthia, who is also in the image, but that the image editor was the important one. To support this, I pulled up the list of Academy Award winners. There, next to

Hard Time,

was the name Sheila Schwartz-Richards. Once again I pulled up images from the reception at

Civitano's.

This time I told Ann to assess the pictures based on composition and framing of the shot.

Not satisfied with her own expertise, Ann summoned a video geek. That was the event that changed everything. In the process of explaining why Jason Porter would be willing to do me a favor, I introduced Elspeth to W. Richard Willingham IV. I am not sure what it is about geeks, but I seem to live knee deep in them.

Ann called him W, in an obvious reference to former President Bush. I asked for his full name—Warner Richard Otis-Willingham IV. Elspeth (Otis-Endicott) jerked when he said it. Time proved that they were related, distantly, by three distinct lines. They were raised in similar circumstances, though in separate cities, so several areas of their lives overlapped. Elspeth looked at Richard Willingham seriously, for the first time since he entered the room.

Ro (from his initials ROW) was impressed with Sheila's work. When discussing technical questions, he was fine. When Ann Coulter asked him a personal or family related question, he was flustered. I asked him to wait a minute while I talked to Ann. Elspeth picked up that I wanted her to stay with Ro. She may have missed that their conversation was the point, not the sidelight.

It took only a few minutes to explain that Sheila had asked Jason to initiate a couple of lifelong lesbians to the bisexual world. Soon things were back to normal. As I collected Elspeth, I told her to get Ro's personal contact information, in case we needed some more background. Sheila calls it her inner yenta. We all have it.

It was not as if Elspeth and Ro fell madly in love and eloped. In fact, they never seriously dated. However, Elspeth did introduce Ro to his cousins in Boston. For her, openly spending time in the company of a male relieved some pressure. Tolerance is the ideal, but rarely the reality. More than that, for Elspeth having a friend—and Ro was a lifelong friend—of the other sex proved enlightening. I think they became friends with benefits, but I never asked.