Memoirs of a Legal Courtesan is about my zany, fun, sexy, dangerous, lonely, courageous, and painful life of longing, lust, and love. I hope that men and women who suffer from sex/love addictions, consciously or unconsciously, or know of those who do, will find insights, compassion, humor, hope, healing, and recovery from reading about my journey into wholeness. …
Mid-life crisis gone wild? A remedy for post 9/11 trauma? I began formulating my memoirs somewhere in the midst of my years of legal lust in New York City. Who knew the corporate world of law could offer such a sensual pool to fish from? I was a legal secretary in a highly prestigious law firm from 2002-2006. I worked for the senior partner and enjoyed my sexual liaisons with attorneys, clients, and even the boys in the mail room. As the unofficial social director of the firm, everyone came to my desk for directions to the next fun, after-work event. We worked together, played together, and “sexed” together; one big, happy, legal lump of lust!
I never knew turning 40 would be so much fun. The gals from “Sex and the City” were tame compared to me. I thought my sensual years as a supermodel could never be trumped. Living on fame and fortune in the 80’s was a nightly extravaganza with plenty of sensual liaisons to fuel the ride. Yet here I was in 2002, atop the ethereal twin towers, high and tripping on my drug of lust and “love.”
One of my favorite pastimes at the law firm was torturing Stuart, one of the well-established attorneys. Stuart began flirting with me from day one and the tight gold band on his chubby ring finger was no deterrent to his lustful advances. I was equally attracted to him, chub and all, but I had a firm NO MARRIED MEN policy in my personal file. It just didn’t make sense to be with a man who was unavailable to service me when needed, which was often. Then, of course, there would be the constant lying to camouflage the affair, which I abhorred, as well as the guilt I would surely feel if our affair destroyed their marriage. No thank you.
But, I did so revel in running Stuart up my sensual flag pole by recounting to him all my sexual exploits with other men. Other non-married men, I would reiterate. When my boss was out of town, which was often, Stuart would always come skulking around my desk with his bedroom eyes, expounding upon the “damage” he could do with my body if I would only relax my NO MARRIED MEN policy. One morning I pulled him in close with my soft, kitten voice, whispering the types of sensual attention I so desperately longed for. Then, feeling his heat rising to a boil, I barked out loud in an abrasive tone, “The document you are looking for is not here!” He jumped back like a crocodile lunged at his balls, and his reaction threw me into a laughing fit. “Who was there?” he whispered. I giggled at him, “No one. I just wanted to see you jump!” His grin expressed the amusement of my torture.
By December of 2002, having already dug my heels and claws into some of the other office inhabitants over those nine months, that ole corporate Christmas party rolled around, and with it, my massive bloodlust, waiting to be born. This was my first corporate Christmas party. I had heard they could be boring according to some of the firm cast members. But from others, they said it was the prelude to a night of sexual debauchery. Yum, just my style. The real players would meet up after the official party was over for some wild-side nightcaps. Nine months of mutually lustful incubation, mixed with excessive alcohol beckoned Stuart into my sensual abode. I knew he wouldn’t sleep over because he had to get home to his wife, so I was safe in this regard. But what was not safe was the heat and intense passion we felt for one another.
Hungover the next day and totally guilt-ridden, I understood the pull of a married man. He was starving for some kind of attention that his wife did not give; be it sensual, emotional, spiritual, or intellectual. There was a void that craved deeply to be fulfilled, and I felt Stuart’s intense longing and gratitude that I was able to provide such an oasis. It made me feel all the more wanted. It was hot, very hot, sweet and intense. Shit, I had a problem. I didn’t want to be attached to a married guy! I had just broken one of my cardinal rules, and I didn’t have many.
Stuart’s light office flirting, in the ensuing weeks, became heavy and more serious, more meaningful, and laden with deep desire. It was scaring me. I really did not want to date a married man but my heat for him was growing since our holiday horniness opened way to pent-up passions. I managed to push Stuart away for a couple of months, but the cold, lonely, long nights of winter craved a warm blanket of sensual respite. Sure, I had other men, plenty of them, but I wanted Stuart.
One day Stuart rushed by my desk and called me into my boss’s office when my boss was out of town. Of course, he was sporting an uncharacteristically aggressive look. I felt something was up. But as soon as he closed the door, the only thing that was up was my dress and down went his head. I did not resist. Little did he know that my boss’s office was the scene to most of my naughty office liaisons. Silly rabbit, tricks are not just for kids. But I pretended like this was terribly taboo of him, and his hard cock revealed the excitement of this risk.
Though I tried my best to resist Stuart in the weeks that followed, I fell to the mercy of our loins on a few more occasions. As it became clear that I was starting to fall for him, and Stuart made it clear he would never leave his wife, I found myself at a difficult crossroads. This tryst would never lead to a monogamous relationship. But, was that what I really wanted? It is what my soul wanted, for sure, yet my loins begged to differ.
Shortly after, I was wooed by a very wealthy client of the firm with large wads of cash, several thousand wads to be exact, and I grew to have an appetite for men with money. FINALLY! I had usually stayed clear of such wealthy men, knowing their money was often used to buy and manipulate. But I had had so many lovers at this point (a good 15-20 rotating at any given time) that I decided I could safely use a few with deep pockets. I didn’t need to feel vulnerable to their control. I was actually the one in control, or rather, my sex/love addiction was in control.
My new found sugar daddy inspired me with a brilliant idea about how to proceed with Stuart. Since Stuart would never divorce and be available to me as my main man, I decided he should no longer be privileged with free visitations. He needed to pay rent. So, at the end of the day, I removed my well-worn G-string panty and put it in an Interoffice Envelope along with a note. However, I had to figure out how to bypass Stuart’s secretary. I knew her well and did not want her to know that I was banging her boss. Of course, some of my office compadres knew of the affair. That was half the fun. That’s it! I’ll get one of my confidants to deliver the envelope to Stuart, personally. Who better than 22-year-old Raul, head of the mail room. Raul, my Dominican stud, had shared a few intimate moments with me, as well. Yes, still robbing the cradle once in a while. Why not? We were both predators and appreciated each other’s skills. I even showed Raul the panty and letter before closing the envelope.
Sitting all day at my desk, feeling my intense heat for you, I wanted you to experience that heat first hand with my moist panty in your stroking hand. I do hope that you will be able to remove my panties again in person. However, that will depend upon your good behavior.
I have decided of late that since our relationship will never lead to marriage, per your admission, I am thus setting myself up for heartache, and wasting my time when I should be looking for a proper suitor. However, if you make it worth my while, I will consider giving you regular visitations.
Attached is a copy of my dental bill for two recent implants. Take care of this bill and I will take great care of you … ;o)
In heated anticipation,
“Oh my God Shantz, you are mad crazy girl!”
Raul’s eyes bugged out of his head as he reeled in nervous laughter. I think I exceeded even his daring. Raul delivered the envelope directly to Stuart as soon as his secretary left for the night. No more than five minutes passed from the time Raul left my sight with the envelope than when Stuart came rushing down the hallway. Quick response. I liked that. I had grown accustomed to Stuart’s gait and had started smiling even before he reached me, knowing he had such a strong response to my package, that he couldn’t wait another moment. At first, his countenance was bright with turn on, and he looked over his shoulder to see if my boss was around. All clear.
“You’re killing me. You know that right?”
Yes, I did know that yet I merely allowed my smile to convey my delight in that power.
Since it was the end of the workday, we had time to discuss my perfectly decent proposal. Stuart’s demeanor became more serious as he explained that he did not make the kind of surplus income to “keep” me. Whether that was true or not, I was relieved that he could not afford to keep me because I could not afford the heartache. I knew that I had way more than just a sexual connection with Stuart and that we would be heading down a treacherous and painful path. I never met with Stuart again in an intimate way. Yet I did so enjoy torturing him from time to time.
Stuart was but one of a multitude of lovers during my years as a legal courtesan. Though there were many, each one of my lovers were like precious pearls that comprised my ever expanding sensual necklace. I never once suspected that I could be hung by my own sensual creations, not until years later. I kept sex rolling like an alcoholic keeps a flask full. When full, all was good. But I made damn sure never to run even close to empty. An addict must always, at all times, keep the object of the addiction close at hand. In my case, I kept all my lovers close at the ready, even some of them that were low on the list. I never knew when a dry spell might occur. I was constantly hunting, fishing, and sharpening my weapons. Starvation was never an option.
*Originally published April 1, 2014
Photo: ©Shanti Patty Owen All Rights Reserved