More than a dozen years later I find out she was right about
the housing director her handlers sent to bring down, she being Motahari
determined to do her best to ferret out a man only recently forced to retire
when others discovered he had embezzled, all her night time calls filled with her
voluptuous voice, all her worming her way into the trust of powerful men behind
the scenes, for naught, when the proof she sought was kept secret in the vault
of his head. She was right, even if at the time she didn’t know why or what he
had done, only that her team needed her to bring him down, and only later,
after she had moved on to new ambitions, a new career, did he get sloppy enough
to reveal himself, and quietly resigned to keep from scandal. She was right,
and only now, after I learn the truth do I realize how much I had misjudged
her, her Motahari instincts bringing powerful men (and lesser men like me) to
their knees.
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