A Love That Never Dies

"Once," she continued, "he suggested a threesome but that was where I drew the line. I certainly didn't want to share my husband with another woman. I tried to talk to him about that, I wanted to know if he had a particular woman he wanted to include in this threesome, I wanted to make sure that he was happy with me . . . but he acted like I was making a big deal over nothing, so I gave up trying to get him to talk about it. Looking back on it now, I think I know who he wanted to include, and . . . if I had agreed to it, maybe I could have held my marriage together, but . . . if that's what you have to do to hold a marriage together, you don't have a marriage."

She got quiet for a minute and it looked as if she was summoning her strength to continue with the details. "A couple of months later, I decided to surprise him by going to Atlanta for Valentine's Day. I didn't tell him in advance. Stupid, little naïve me. I thought I would just drive to his apartment and wait there to surprise him and we could get a pizza delivered and just spend the evening, uh, you know . . . acting like sex-starved teenagers. Anyway, while I was there, I found a pair of panties that obviously weren't mine. I mean, they were a size 8, for heaven's sake, and I'm a size 4. Anyway, so I asked John and, without missing a beat, he said he'd let a friend borrow the apartment for a 'romantic' interlude and the panties must have been left by the friend's girl. He said it so casually and spontaneously that I just believed it without question. But . . . well, that was the end of his second year of residency and he didn't come back to Gainesville at all during his third year."

She started crying, and I offered her some tissues. "Thanks. I'm sorry. I'm sure I sound like I was pretty stupid but . . .."

"No, no, no. It sounds like you wanted to trust your husband. Marriages are supposed to be built on trust. You certainly don't sound stupid," I reassured her. "In fact, you sound quite bright to me."

"Well, he said he didn't have time to come home because he was the chief resident and it all sounded plausible at the time, but . . . anyway, he finished his residency two years ago and he finally moved back to Gainesville. He started in private practice with an established group and now he's doing very well with his practice, we've got a great house with a pool and a hot tub and sauna, nice cars, but . . . I know sometimes he needs to work long hours and babies don't usually call and schedule an appointment for their delivery, but . . . I started to get suspicious so I started driving by the hospital when he said he had a patient in labor and sometimes his car wasn't there. So, about a month ago, I confronted him and, at first, he got mad but, all of a sudden, he confessed that he had been having an affair with another one of the residents in Atlanta and she had moved to Gainesville and was working with the same practice group, and they were seeing each other again."

"You must have been devastated," I interjected. It felt like a stupid comment for me to make, like, what are the alternatives? She felt elated? She felt vindicated? Obviously, she was devastated, but what else could I say?

"At first, I was pissed off!" she exhorted and then she apologized. "Pardon my French."

"No apology necessary. In fact, I, too, speak French," I offered a small measure of humor to try to break the ugly mood of the conversation.

"Well, I told him to pack a suitcase and get the hell out of that house and don't come back. He left that night and, of course, he's been back to get some more of his stuff and . . . you probably already figured out that he's now living with Doctor Slut. Despite all of that, I've let him spend time with Sally. She's 12 years old now and, for some reason, she idolizes the son of a bitch, but . . . she doesn't understand; after all, why should she?"

She began crying again. "What's wrong with me? Am I ugly? Didn't I do enough to please a man?" she asked. I'm not sure that she wanted an answer to that question, but she paused so long that I thought perhaps she was waiting on a reply, so I gave her an answer.

"I can't see that there's anything wrong with you, Mrs. Easter. You're a beautiful woman. If you weren't my client . . . and if you weren't married, I'd want to go out with you . . . absolutely. And, yeah, it sounds like you would have kept most men happy, so . . . I mean, hell, I'd be happy if any of my girlfriends were that eager to please me, so . . . I don't think it's your fault. Some guys just aren't suited to settling down and being monogamous. You know what? After you get divorced, he'll probably marry Dr. Slut and then cheat on her. And won't that bitch be surprised?"

Connie laughed. "So, you do speak French."

"Oui, oui, I speak that kind of French," I joked. "Well, now that we've had a laugh, we've got to spend a few minutes with something that might be unpleasant for you . . . but we've got to do it. So, here goes. After we serve him with the divorce papers, he'll go get a lawyer and, believe it or not, he will freely confess to his lawyer that he's had an affair. So, after his lawyer hears about that, he'll say, 'John, it's going to be rough trying this case in front of a judge, unless you've got some dirt on her, too, so . . . what kind of dirt is there on Connie? Tell me all the stuff she hopes doesn't get talked about in court.' Connie, if his lawyer is going to hear about it, I need to hear about it . . . and now, not later, not as we're walking in to court for a final hearing. So tell me, Connie, what will John tell his lawyer about you. However embarrassing it is, I need to hear it and I need to hear it now, so don't even think about what you're going to tell me, just start talking."

"Wow, you're brutal, aren't you?" Connie said, probably wanting to stall the conversation.

"Only when I need to be. Now start talking," I replied. "Spill the beans!"

"We both smoked pot a few times when we were freshmen in college. I shoplifted a shirt when I was 14 years old but I never got caught and I've never done anything like that since then. Last year, he wanted to watch me 'do' myself and I know that he took a picture of me with a vibrator inside my . . . you know. We always celebrated my birthday by me getting drunk and letting John have, uh, you know, usually. . . anal sex with me, but I don't think he took any pictures of that. Oh, and the reason John suggested having a threesome was because I told him I had fantasized about it, but when he suggested us doing it for real, I realized it was just a fantasy and nothing that I wanted to do in real life. But, if I had any offers now, I'd fuck somebody senseless just for revenge, even if it meant doing a threesome."

"Wow. It takes a lot of courage to admit those things to a stranger . . . but, the good news is . . . you don't need to worry about any of that stuff. His attorney will never bring up that both of you smoked pot 10 or 11 years ago. You weren't arrested or convicted of a crime so the shoplifting incident isn't admissible. The fantasy thing isn't relevant to anything we need to talk about in court. The birthday sex thing is . . . well it's interesting, for sure, but it would probably be as embarrassing to him as it would be to you, so I wouldn't worry about any of those things being discussed in court. If he brought that picture out in court, he'd get judged pretty harshly for taking the picture and then bringing it out to embarrass you. And, if you're serious about the revenge sex, think twice about it. Unless you're very upfront about what you're doing, it's not very fair to whoever you choose to be your partner and you'll feel lousy about it later on. In fact, you should avoid dating anyone until the case is finished. If we ever need to argue about custody in court, your sex life is an issue that I want to be a non-issue."

"How's a girl supposed to have fun?" Connie asked flirtatiously. Ten minutes earlier, she was talking like she was ready to shoot John and then set him on fire. Then she was telling me all that embarrassing stuff about herself. But, in the space of sixty seconds, she had bounced out of that mood and was talking with me in a way that I thought was openly flirtatious.

"The same way you had fun all those years he was in Atlanta," I said. "I assume that you and that vibrator you told me about have been the best of friends in the past and it may be time to renew the acquaintance." I offered her a sympathetic smile. I realized that my response had probably crossed the line and might have been interpreted as flirting, so I got more serious. "Connie, being a good mom isn't always easy, but it's obvious you're a good mom, so be patient and don't do anything to screw this up, okay?"

After that caveat, I proceeded to advise Connie about no fault divorce, child custody, visitation, child support, alimony, and division of assets and liabilities. We talked about the process of divorce, both the legal process and the psychological process of healing. I suggested a psychologist and a support group.

We talked about my fees. We talked about how often we would need to meet. We talked about likely outcomes for her divorce. All of her questions were answered - I thought.

After she stood to leave, she turned back towards me to pose the proverbial one-more-question. "Do you ever meet a client for dinner, you know, after hours?"

"Come back in and sit down," I instructed her.

As soon as she was seated, I started. "Connie, if you weren't my client, and if you weren't married, I would LOVE to have dinner with you. Now, I just met you and I don't know you very well, but my impression is that you're bright, sensitive, caring, energetic, and, obviously, you're beautiful. You're the kind of woman my mother hopes I'll bring home to meet her and dad. . . . You're also the kind of woman my bachelor friends warn me about, the kind of good woman who will steal your heart and make you want to settle down in ignorance-is-blissful monogamy. You might just be the perfect girlfriend for me, but 'you' and 'me' aren't going to become an 'us' for three reasons."

She had a look on her face like a schoolgirl being chastised. Damn, she was cute!

"First," I began, "you are still a married woman and I don't date married women. Period. Not now, not ever, not negotiable. It doesn't matter if you're separated and in the process of a divorce. Not negotiable. I don't live at the corner of Saint Street and Virtue Avenue, but . . . most of the time, I try to do the right thing . . . and dating married women is wrong."

"Second, you're looking for someone for revenge sex and I don't want to be used for that purpose. I'm not accusing you of consciously trying to use me, but . . . listen, I'm sure it would be more fun than a barrel of monkeys, and one day, I may kick myself in the ass for not taking you up your offer, but . . . no."

"Third, and most important, the bar has very strict rules against having sex with clients. You can probably guess what the rule is, right? Well, when the legal representation has ended, the rule stops applying, but until then, the answer is no. Not just 'no,' but 'hell, no!' I have a reputation as being a very ethical lawyer and I'm going to keep my reputation intact. But, I don't want you to feel badly; you're a VERY tempting woman. If I was ever going to break the rule . . . it would be with you . . . or your twin sister. When the case is over and I'm not your lawyer any more . . . and you're not married, and . . . you're not just wanting to get revenge on Dr. Buttface . . . well, we'll see what happens then."

"Finally, just in case you're going to remind me that you only asked about dinner and you never said anything about sex: we are both adults and we both know that if we meet for dinner, after dinner we'll have a few drinks, you'll look at me in a certain way, I'll look back at you the same way, and we'll both be headed down the slippery slope that leads to us having each other for dessert."

Connie looked at me and smiled. "I can tell that you're a great lawyer. And, I hear you . . . and I respect everything you're telling me, even if I don't like the answer, so . . . I hope I'll get a different answer if I ask again when the case is over."

"If you do, and if I'm not dating anyone else monogamously at the time, the answer will be . . . probably, yes." I finished the sentence by giving her a very sly smile.

"Aren't you the sly Mr. Fox?!" Connie said seductively.

"At the present, it's the sly Attorney Fox," I reminded her with a feigned dour expression.

* * *

Over the next six months, I filed Connie's divorce, her husband hired an attorney, we gathered all the required financial disclosures. Doreen and I spent several hours absorbed in John's financial documents. It wasn't unusual for Doreen and me to spend hours working literally side-by-side, but each and every time was somewhat taxing for me. I have always been very strongly attracted to Doreen but I have also always intended to be a very good boy. As I said before, doing the right thing is not always easy, but I've never done anything with Doreen; never held her hand, never kissed her, never tasted her taco, never gave her a poke.

After we reviewed those documents, I called Connie in to the office and showed her the credit card expenditures where John had bought his girlfriend gifts, paid for flowers, weekend motel rooms out of town, meals at nice restaurants, etc. She had been distraught previously but now she was angry and she didn't cry. That was a good sign; it meant that she was progressing through the grieving process and she probably wouldn't get stuck and become obsessed with how she had been wrongly treated.

I deposed Connie's husband and it was fun making him squirm. Connie was right; it looked like she had devoted herself to John and he turned around and took advantage of her. I sent Connie for a psychological evaluation to make sure that there wasn't likely to be any persistent trauma as a result of John's philandering and the divorce. The psychologist said she was rather normal and would probably be okay with the passage of time.

I deposed John's CPA and I deposed the senior partner in his medical practice. I actually had a legitimate purpose in deposing John's superior but I did also revel in the fact that I was making John's life a little bit uncomfortable. Later, I made gestures as if I wanted to depose Dr. Slut. That's the one that always gets their attention. At that point, John's attorney asked me to postpone the deposition while he put together a settlement offer.

Along the way, there were a few more conferences with Connie . . . but always in the office, always during normal business hours. On one occasion, Connie brought Sally with her. I met Sally in the reception area and had her wait there while I spoke with her mother. Sally was almost a clone of Connie and was obviously destined to become a bright and beautiful temptress to the next generation of men.

Throughout the representation, Connie never again suggested any meetings after hours and I was glad that matter had been resolved at the outset. Here's a little bit of the wisdom that I have gleaned from 39 years of life: the best way to respond to temptation is to avoid it. I know most people understand that, but in some situations, it helps to be reminded of the obvious.

On every occasion that we met, Connie was dressed to impress, always appropriate to the circumstances and never overly suggestive. She was pleasant and I heard very few complaints about her spouse like those that I normally hear in divorce cases. She smiled often, we had lots of eye contact, and there were a few moments when I felt that my resolve might begin to weaken.

Connie was not demanding or unreasonable in her expectations and she didn't try to use more of my time than had been allotted for our meeting. In short, she was an ideal client, and she was always a subtly provocative woman. She was a testament to the power of a woman to pique the interest of a man without lewdly showing any hint of her private treasures. I was determined to follow my own rules, but I had decided that I would want to date Connie when our case was concluded. I hoped that she would still be interested in me.

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

At last, we had a court-ordered mediation conference. We had already been in negotiations but had not finalized a deal, so I expected that we would complete the process at mediation. Connie had sacrificed dearly for John to advance to his present position but placing a value on her contribution involved some assumptions and some amount of speculation. We had plenty to argue about but we all knew there was no way John would be able to avoid the wrath of a trial judge after he or she heard the testimony about his adulterous affair and the testimony about the significant sacrifices Connie had made for his benefit. We also profited from the fact that Gainesville is a small town and news about the divorce would circulate in the professional community. It wouldn't look very good to his colleagues . . . even if many of them were hypocrites and engaged in the same behaviors.

Ultimately, John caved in and agreed to a generous settlement: he gave Connie the marital home, he would make all house payments until Sally graduated from college, he would pay substantial amounts for child support and, in lieu of alimony, John would pay Connie a lump sum of $500,000 in installments of $50,000 per year for ten years.

Connie was delighted with the settlement and, the following day, she had flowers delivered to my office. I have received gifts from clients a few times but I have never - not before or since - received flowers from a client. I expected Connie to renew the dinner invitation which she had extended at our first meeting, but she didn't. Not then. We still had to make an appearance in court to get the divorce finalized and entered by the court. It was just a formality but an absolutely essential part of the process.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

We went to court and saw Judge Thomas in chambers. Connie was dressed impeccably and she was very, very attractive. She looked like a woman with lots of class and it's a look that low-class and no-class women cannot fake.

It was a very brief hearing and we stopped to talk for a few minutes afterwards. I reminded Connie of a few of the details about how the financial arrangements would work. I also told her that my expectation was that she and John would not return to court to fight about anything and she would probably not continue to need my services.

"So, this is it?" she asked, pretending to be overcome with sadness.

"That's right," I responded nonchalantly. I knew what she was going to say next.

"So, that means you can pick me up for dinner around 7:00 tomorrow, okay? Obviously, you know my address and it should be easy for you to find."

"Whoa! Are you asking me to dinner?" I paused for dramatic effect, because any good lawyer knows the value of a good, uncomfortable pause. "Don't you think that's rather forward?" I asked in a voice that pretended to be insulted. "You know, I'm kind of a traditional guy and . . . you're a traditional lady, and . . . you know the guy is supposed to do the asking!"

"Okay. So, are you going to ask me to dinner tomorrow night?" she asked.

I really wanted to be with this woman but something inside of me didn't like her thinking that she was in control of the situation. "I'll think about it. I've got your phone number if I want to ask," I answered with a smile. If I was going to have any relationship with Connie, I wanted to have some ground rules established, and I didn't want to begin with her thinking that she owned me.

Connie looked somewhat crestfallen. "It's over now and I thought . . ." she began, but I interrupted her.