name="The Equalizer" by A. R. Gregory

The Equalizer

I gave Ms. Williams a baffled glance. A walk-in, she said? Some woman claiming to be an inventor asking for me? McHenry, Lerner & Planck, the patent law firm I practiced at, serviced a raft of large corporations, each with teeming research and development departments generating steady streams of high-tech innovations. An up-and-coming associate like me hardly had the time or the inclination to chat with any Tom, Dick, or Harriet with a better mousetrap.

So my matronly assistant would have normally turned such an unannounced interloper away. But after my recent divorce, Ms. Williams, who had never been fond of my ex-wife, seemed intent on looking after my best interests. How many times had she told me I needed to get out more, meet new and interesting people? Ms. Williams added in a hushed voice, “Her name is Laura Clix. She says she’s an engineer with NASA, though she isn’t here on NASA business.” With a knowing smile Ms. Williams added, “You might want to see her, Mr. Sanders.”

My impulse was to bark an impatient “not now” and continue examining the technical drawings sprawled across my desk. But when I gave Ms. Williams another irritated glance, her smile seemed even more knowing.

What was going on? A NASA engineer, but not here on NASA business? With a frustrated sigh I doffed my brass-rimmed reading glasses and wearily hoisted myself from my chair. But when I trudged to my cracked office door and peeked out into the lobby... Thank you, Ms. Williams! My competent assistant had proven she knew exactly what I needed.

Laura Clix sat primly waiting on a sofa with what appeared to be a shoebox resting on her lap. As I watched her glance about at the lobby’s ornate furniture and rich mahogany paneling, I had to pause to catch my breath. What a delightful face! Large, blue-green eyes, delicately crafted nose, tranquil lips. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and as fresh and healthy as they come. I was thirty-eight at the time and already well on my way to becoming a partner in the firm. Don’t women prefer older, more accomplished men?

Once I got past her face, Laura Clix looked just as one would expect a neat, young, female NASA engineer to look. Her nut-brown hair was tied in a trim, professional bun, and she wore a crisp, buttoned-down, long-sleeve shirt, pressed slacks, and sensible patent pumps. But even with nothing revealing or formfitting about her attire, her slender yet shapely form was obvious.

I asked Ms. Williams to see her into my office, then I returned to my desk while adjusting my tie, smoothing my hair, tugging at my shirtsleeves. Before sitting down, I brushed the drawings I’d been studying aside and hastily spruced up my desktop.
A moment later Ms. Williams conducted the young woman into my office and introduced us with respective nods, “Ms. Laura Clix, Mr. Arthur Sanders.” Then my trusty assistant backed out of my office and eased the door shut behind her. Thank you again, Ms. Williams!

I casually stepped around my desk to greet the glowing beauty. “Well, Ms. Clix, what can I do for you today?”

She set her shoebox down on my desktop, then gingerly offered me her small hand.

“Just call me Laura, okay?”

I smiled to make her feel more comfortable as I clasped her hand with firm manly restraint. “Certainly — Laura. And you can call me Art.”

“Okay — Art.” She smiled meekly. “I’ve heard that you’re an excellent patent attorney. That’s why I’m here.”

“And I hear you’re an engineer, at NASA even.” An exceptionally well-crafted engineer too, but I was careful not to let my gaze drift lower than hers.

“Yes, I design biosensors for life support systems for NASA.”

“Hmm, biosensors, life support.” I pursed my lips and nodded, then authoritatively folded my arms across my chest as I contemplated the homework I would have to do to become conversant in those technologies.

My tentativeness must have been obvious, because Laura frowned, then bit her lip.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I mentioned that. My work at NASA has nothing to do with my invention.” Her eyes drifted toward her shoebox. Her voice grew even more timid. “I, uh — I don’t think NASA would want anything to do with what I’ve invented.”

I noticed the blush that accompanied her intriguing admission. I must admit, now I was as fascinated by her invention as I was with its beautiful inventor. My curiosity was growing exponentially. What might lurk inside the very ordinary-looking shoebox she had just set on my desk?

Laura paused. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then back again, before she spoke. “You see, I developed it at home, in my garage workshop. Tested it there too — well, the testing was mostly in my bedroom. Now that I know it works, I’m ready to patent it. But first I want your opinion, not about how well it will sell, but about its impact — on society.”

“It’s impact?” I stroked my chin. This sounded like the grandiose pretensions of every first-time inventor. But unlike every inventor I’d met, Laura Clix seemed reluctant to cut to the chase, to blurt out just what her world-changing invention was. And tested it in her bedroom, she said? I looked her square in the eye, striving to keep any hint of condescension from creeping into my voice. “And your invention is...”

She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. “I call it — the Equalizer.”

“Interesting.” I nodded gravely. “Let’s talk about the Equalizer then.” I stepped aside and gestured toward the comfortable armchair stationed before my desk, then watched breathlessly as she nestled into its plush upholstery. The rock of her hips, arch of her back, sway of her chest! I retreated behind my desk, doubtful that Laura’s mysterious invention could pique my interest as much as its winsome inventor already had.

A guy develops considerable spatial visualization skills from contemplating the schematics and exploded diagrams that accompany patent applications. Standing behind my desk, gazing down at Laura Clix, how could I not envision the delectable parts that lay hidden beneath her subdued attire? Thanks to my recent divorce, I’d been devoid of regular female companionship. I couldn’t help but imagine having dinner with Laura at a fine restaurant, partaking of what the wonders of candlelight and jewelry and décolletage could work with this young NASA engineer, the sparkle in her eyes, the glowing swell of her bosom, her every trace of shyness vanished.
But the innocent, all-business way she stared up at me — it dawned on me I was still standing, still lost in eyeing her — zapped me out of my daydream.

I sat down at my desk. “So, uh, yes — the Equalizer.” I nervously fingered the knot of my tie as I peered at the shoebox resting before my eyes. “Perhaps an appropriate trade name, but the title of a patent application requires something more descriptive of its category and function. So tell me, what does the Equalizer do?”

Laura squirmed in her chair. She glanced about as if wary of being overheard. “I don’t want to be — indelicate, okay. Let’s just say it remedies the imbalance... the, uh, the male/female imbalance.”

“Hmm.” I paused a moment, trying to hide my mushrooming curiosity. “What ‘imbalance’ is that exactly? And how does your invention ‘remedy’ it?”
Laura took another deep breath. “Yes, you do have to have a good understanding of my invention before you can write the patent claims, then argue them before an examiner.”

Good. She had a grasp of the patent process. I smiled approvingly, gave her a nod of encouragement. “That’s right. As your patent attorney I would need a sound understanding of your invention. And I’d have to do a thorough search of the prior art to make sure your idea is novel and patentable.”

“I’ve already checked the patent office archives online. There’s nothing like the Equalizer out there, and I’m sure nothing that works as well.”

That last assertion intrigued me even more. I leaned forward to invite her confidence.

“So, Laura, this imbalance you speak of, the thing your invention remedies?” I held my breath in anticipation.

She took another long breath and stared into my eyes. “The imbalance is in — well, you know, the time it takes men and women to become sexually aroused.”
I nearly snorted. A tall order. Embarrassing bedroom scenes from my former marriage crowded my mind. Then it hit me, what a sucker I’d been. What a fool! This was all a joke, and I was the gullible butt of it. A guy who writes patent claims for a living is used to anticipating every possibility, and that was the only possible explanation. Laura Clix — what, her stage name? — was a strip-o-gram, for Christ’s sake, or some equally bawdy variation thereof. One of my wily colleagues must have hired her. It was the kind of prank Jake Bechman, the office clown, would pull, but that fat fuck was on vacation in the Bahamas now. So who then? And why? It wasn’t my fortieth birthday yet, nor was there anything else about today that would merit such jocular commemoration. It was just another Thursday afternoon at McHenry, Lerner & Planck. So why?

I was embarrassed, to say the least. Buying into this stripper or whatever she was, this “Laura Clix,” and for as long as I had? But I had to give the young woman credit, she was good. She’d played me for a real fool, all right. Of course I’d realized from the beginning her looks were too good to be true, yet how cleverly she’d lured me into believing her act. Really, the timid but strikingly beautiful NASA engineer? And pushing her titillating invention? If she stripped as well as she could act, I was in for quite a treat. What a laugh whoever was behind her would have. Was even Ms. Williams, my trusted assistant, in it?

“Okay.” I sighed as if I’d finally tired of playing along, as if I’d seen through her from the beginning. “I’m ready for anything, ‘Laura.’ Go ahead, open your ‘box’ now.” I sniggered at my crude double entendre. “If you’d like to do your dance on top of my desk, it’s all yours. While you’re at it, I’d love to hear who put you up to this.” I smirked and gave her a wink.

Laura’s jaw dropped. Her cheeks turned ashen, then crimson. “Wha — what?”
Then it hit me like a wrecking ball. My ex-wife! She was the one behind this. What was it “Laura” had said? Imbalance? The imbalance in the time it takes men and women to become sexually aroused? I felt chilled trickles under my arms. The bitch! Hadn’t that been her favorite slander during our contentious divorce? She’d relished confiding in our mutual friends about my callous haste and her fake orgasms, the only kind of orgasm she claimed she’d had with me, only kind she could have with me. The frigid witch!

“Give it up.” I clenched my teeth and my fists. I glared at Laura. “Who hired you?”

Her eyes widened. She jolted back in her chair. “No, please, there’s been a misunderstanding.” She shook her head, wrung her hands. “I’m only here about my invention. About patenting it. That’s all.” She patted desperately at the air. “Please, if you’re uncomfortable with it, I understand. I do.” She hung her head. “I’m so sorry. I’ll go now, just go. I promise I’ll never bother you again.”

Her eyes were brimming with fear and hurt. Damn, she was good! She even trembled, not wavering in the slightest from her role. Now my resolve was faltering. Could she be for real? I felt like a fool all over again. I, the hard-nosed patent attorney, didn’t know what to think. Finding out what was in that shoebox sitting on my desktop seemed the only way. Would one of those stupid coiled party snakes jump out at me as soon as I opened it? At this point that would even be a relief. Or could there be a real invention in it, something Laura Clix, a genuine NASA engineer, actually wanted to patent?

With as much dignity as I could muster, I tilted my hand toward her shoebox. “I beg your pardon for any misunderstanding. By all means, show me your invention.” I hoped my tone could pass as either sincere or snide....