The Paralegal free porn video

I used to be on top of the world. I had a great paying job as a lawyer, a wife and two mistresses, but I screwed the whole thing up. Now, I'm a paralegal, dressed in a skirt and answering to my lawyer wife. I remember when I was a child, there was this Talking Head's song and David Byrne said, "And you may ask yourself how did I get here?" I don't even need to. I know how I went from king of the mountain to a glorified handmaiden. Six months ago I was an associate at Rossum, Divine, Weiss, Paladino and Hart. I was raking in the big bucks doing corporate law. I worked so many hours that my wife never knew when I was at work and when I was out doing my thing. Unfortunately my thing was sleeping with other women. I had one fairly steady mistress, Karen, one of the partner's personal paralegals. She was beautiful and I had money, so we clicked. I bought her everything she wanted and she, in turn, treated me like a king. There was no equality like when I was at home with my wife. This was a girl who was beneath me. This was a girl who needed me. Karen was the girl I controlled. My wife made me feel like an equal; Karen made me feel like a man. Of course two women wasn't enough for me. I always needed a new thrill, a new conquest. Finally, I found the ultimate conquest, Tricia Rossum, the neglected wife of one of the partners at my firm. Part of me thought she would never say a word to him. Part of me thought I was so good she'd never risk us by telling a soul. But of course she did. Then my whole world came crashing down around me. My boss called me in, sat me down and told me that Tricia had told her husband all about our little affair. They'd excuse Karen, but he made it clear I had crossed the line. I was out, fired with a trumped up reason for cause. At first, I didn't think much of the termination. I told my wife they'd canned me because of the economy and she bought it. It seemed logical enough to her. I was sure I'd get another job. I had a great reputation in my field. I was certain that when I went knocking on the doors of my old firms competitors, I'd be turning down offers, but I couldn't have been more wrong. I was persona non grata everywhere. It seems Mr. Rossum told everyone he knew in the field about my exploits with his wife. I knew he was hooked, I just didn't know the extent. I was done in my field. My only shot was starting in another field, so I made applications to those jobs. However, it was no more successful. No one was hiring guys like me. I had my education, but I didn't even have a reference after my termination. Of course, as I lost my independent income, I could no longer provide for Karen, and she left me unceremoniously. I was a one woman man now. Though I hardly felt like a man. I was being taken care of by wife. She paid all the bills. We never needed two incomes, but she worked because she had the education too and expected to use it. She wasn't going to be my dutiful stay at home wife doting on her husband and I knew it when I married her. I didn't know then that I didn't want an equal in marriage, but it's what I got or, more accurately, what I had. My wife grew tired of finding me on the couch, moping about my life. She came over to me that Friday night after another long day of work for her and sat me up. She then said the words that changed my life forever. "Ted, we need to talk?" She said forcefully. "What about," I muttered. "You!" "What about me?" "It's not good for you to sit around here all day wasting your time." "What else am I going to do? Go waste my time somewhere else. I can't get any work, I'm...." "I got you a job," my wife interjected. I stared at her dumbfound for a second before I was able to ask, "Doing what?" "Working as a paralegal down at my firm, a spot just opened up," she said. "I can't do that!" "Why the hell not?" She countered with a hint of rage in her voice. "I've got a law degree, I worked as a lawyer for seven years, I've..." "Yes, but what good does that do if you can't get a job doing it?" She had me. I knew. She knew. I relented and said, "When do I start?" "You start Monday." "Okay," I muttered before turning away from her to hide my humiliation. I'd probably be surrounded by women who wouldn't even think of touching me because I was married to their boss. I'd be a glorified woman. What was I at that moment anyway? I was jobless; I was at the bottom already. I figured it'd be better to be a useful glorified woman than a waste of a man. My train of thought was disrupted when my wife added, "Good, we'll go shopping tomorrow and get you some new clothes." "Why?" "Well you need to meet the dress code," Amy remarked as if it was a matter of fact. "Well, what's the dress code?" I asked. "Normal paralegal stuff." "Which is..." "Skirts, blouses, heels, hosiery, you know how it is." I shouted at that moment. My wording seemed nonsensical to me, and apparently to Amy too. She asked me to clarify and I screamed, "I can't do that!" "Why the hell not?" "Because I'm not a girl. I can't prance around like a..." "Like a what?" "You know!" Amy lost her patience with me then. She read me the riot act, "You're no better than anyone, little man. You've been moping around this house for months, jobless and beaten. I don't care if you're wearing a tutu! You are getting a damn job! I'm tired of carrying you. I'm tired of carrying the load alone. You're useless around the house. It's time for you to finally do something." I put down my head and nodded. I told her, "I understand. I'll do it for you. You're right." Amy smiled and said, "Good," before she turned and walked away. I was a beaten man who was about to be in skirts. I stared at the floor for a few moments while my wife moved into the bathroom. As she showered, I was left to think. What the hell had I agreed to? What could she possibly think of her husband prancing around in a skirt and heels in her office? I would never be a man in her eyes again! I knew then that I had to back out. I waited for her in bed. She came in dressed in a robe. Her weariness was clear on her face. I wanted to make my stand, but knew I was no in position to. She was a working girl, and I was, well, I was a cheating bastard that had screwed everything up. I knew that going through with her plan could end us, but it was her plan and she deserved to have me follow it. She was the breadwinner, so for all intents and purposes, she was the man of the house, and I owed her deference. Amy drifted to sleep quickly that night. I tossed and turned and tried to think of a way out my situation. The next morning came upon me suddenly. I was tired when my wife got out of the bed. I had barely slept while she had rested comfortably. I got up and ate breakfast and waited for my wife to tell me when we were going out to execute my masculinity. Shortly after lunch, Amy walked over and said, "We're going to the store in a half-hour, so go get ready." I noticed there was no choice involved. She was clearly in control. She knew I was in no position to refuse her. I got ready and waited to leave. Amy drove us down to a little boutique that she liked to shop at. When we got there, we walked into the store and straight towards a closed door. Amy knocked on the door and a young woman smiled and let us in. Amy told me we were in a private fitting room, reserved for the shop's best customers. I was hardly surprised that my wife was one of them. Amy talked with the young girl named, Crystal. She was a cute girl. The kind of girl I'd normally go for. Pretty and perky and about to see me at my most humiliatingly emasculated. Crystal came over and sized me. She got my waist and hip measurements and took down the measurements of a standard C-cup on my type of medium built frame. She measured my feet and height. Then I heard Amy tell her what she wanted. I didn't hear it exactly, but I wasn't shocked by what Crystal came back in with. Crystal came back with 10 skirt suits that were black, grey, blue, purple, cream, or dark colored with pinstripes. She also had a collection of about 20 blouses, some frilled, and others silk, all unmistakably feminine. I tried on the blouses and suits over them. All of the clothes met with Amy's approval, which meant she was buying them for me. My opinion did not matter. I noticed that my wife picked out my undergarments. The bras and hosiery was not unlike the ones that she bought. It seemed like she was trying to remake me in her own image. Not that I was in any position to object to that. The final thing I had to try on was the shoes. All 20 pairs of heeled shoes of various colors. Every one of which Amy and Crystal made me stumble around the room in to show that they fit. I was thankful that Amy bought me one pair of flats. Amy made me put on a pair of black tights she bought me. She showed me how to put them on without causing a run. She then put a black bra on me and stuffed it. Then she made me put on the black skirt suit and a pink blouse. Finally, I put on the leopard skin patterned flats she bought me at her direction. Crystal stared down at me smugly. She smiled and said, "You look very pretty, dear, but I think we can do a little better with you." I shivered, and Crystal started playing with my slightly long hair and placed hairclips in it. I watched as she made it look like a short girl's haircut. Amy then took out her makeup and started applying it to my face. I watched in quiet horror as my boyish good looks turned into normal girlishness. I had to admit it, Amy did a great job. I was not the best looking woman I'd ever seen, but then again I wasn't the worst. I'd say I was pretty middle of the road, which I thought was pretty good for a guy. I stared in the mirror as Amy paid the woman for what she had selected for me. "Okay, honey, it's time to go?" I heard Amy say. "All right, let me just get changed..." "No. No. We tossed your clothes while you were staring in the mirror. Anyway, dear, you need to get your first public outing out of the way." "Now?" I said with my horror clear in the single word. "It's time to pop your cherry," she said, prompting Crystal to smile. I stood up, wanting to get out of there. I took some of the bags from my wife and headed for the door. I heard Crystal say from behind me, "You girls have a good time." Amy made me turn and thank her. I blushed like a little girl. I remember stepping out of that room. It was my first moments as a woman in the world. No one looked my way. The women shopping at the store hadn't a clue of what I really was. It was a relief and a cause for concern. If I was so passable as a woman, what the hell was I as a man? I followed my wife to the car as I debated the merits of my masculinity in my head. We put the bags in the trunk and then she drove us out of the parking lot. On the way home, I noticed she took a wrong turn. I asked her what was going on, but she didn't respond. She pulled into a parking lot in front of a strip-mall. As we parked, she pointed to a shop. It was a salon. I cringed immediately. I didn't think anyone would know who or what I really was, but I didn't want to know what she was planning for me. Amy walked up to the receptionist and said, "Amy and Mary Walsh, we have an appointment." "Oh, yes here you are. A cut and mani/pedi for Amy and extensions and manicure for Mary." I was scared at that moment. She was really going to change me, and I couldn't do a thing about it. I was taken over to a chair and a man came out and made my short hair into a long mane. Amy would come by and remark on what I could do with longer hair from time to time. When the extensions were finished, my hair was washed and colored. I felt like as show dog being dressed up according to my master's desires. Everything was done according to what Amy wanted. While my hair was being colored, they got to work on my fingernails. More fake things were being added to my body. This little Korean woman applied these French manicured nails that protruded beyond my finger tips. She was talking to some other woman in Korean. I don't know what they were saying, but more than a few times she glanced at me as they snickered. I wondered what they were saying, but I kept my mouth shut. Then, they paused on my nails to wash my hair again to get the dye out. Finally, after they finished up on my nails, we got out of there and Amy took me home. She knew I was unhappy about the salon, but did not make any apologies for the trip. Shortly after we ate dinner, she told me my name. I was hired under the name, Mary Comstock. That was why she put my appointment under the name Mary. I went to bed early that night before Amy was ready for bed. I didn't want my wife to see my tears of self-pity. The following day, Amy put me through female boot camp. First she clear the canvass she referred to my body as. She took out wax and began to remove my hair. The first rip was the most painful thing I have ever experienced. It was way worse than catching my junking in my zipper. The sting of the ripping. I still cringe every time. I tried to hide my pain while Amy worked her way down my legs with the wax. I smiled as tears came to my eyes as she ripped away at my hair. Amy smirked a few times at me while she did it. She knew the pain I was in. I wondered if she was enjoying. She then put on makeup, and made me follow her actions, act by act. First it was eyeliner, then mascara, then lipstick, then blush. I put on my padded bra and buttoned a blouse over it. I put on a pair of navy blue tights as Amy showed me by rolling them down, stepping into them, and then bringing them up my legs that Amy had made smooth. I stepped into my skirt with both legs as Amy said I should after laughing at me as I tried to put in on first one leg at a time like pants. I really don't know what I was thinking. I guess it was habit. I then set about brushing my hair. A 100 brushes and Amy told me I was lucky my hair was straight. I could only imagine what I would have to do if my hair was curly. How much longer could it have taken? Finally, I put on a pair of white and navy blue pumps. My balance wasn't good on the two inch heels, but I thought I had it down on the first two steps, until I tripped on the third. Amy laughed at my frustrated attempt to struggle against my tight skirt by trying to take a long, masculine stride. It was not to be. The skirt reduced me to small steps and the heels made them deliberate ones. This wasn't like strolling along in a pair of man's shoes, there was effort involved in this. I couldn't believe it because it always seemed effortless when I saw girls do it. Amy had me walking a straight line in heels, pivoting, it was difficult. I was discouraged. Amy tried to buck me up by saying I was making good progress and had some female mannerisms. That didn't really make feel any better about myself. I liked to think of myself as an alpha male, so the whole 'you've got some girlish things about you' thing my wife was telling me didn't sit too well with me at the time. I worked on my mannerisms with her. I was told to use my hands more and to sit cross legged or with my legs together. I did it. It wasn't hard to do, but I found myself with my legs apart as I grew more comfortable. I knew that I had to keep aware of myself. I had to make it second nature to sit like a woman. She worked on my vocal patterns and made me practice all day speaking in a higher and breathier voice with a slight southern accent to hide the maleness of my voice. I was told to treat it as a character. I did. I couldn't break character. It was hard; I knew I had to keep on my guard all the time. I couldn't slip and expose myself. As the day went on, it was easier. By nightfall, I began to feel I was becoming this fictional Mary Comstock. I knew I could only project Mary; Ted had to remain hidden at all costs. The next day I woke up early to get ready. I did my makeup and hair. I couldn't believe how long it felt like it took to do. It was made worse by my knowledge that I could expect to do it for the foreseeable future. Amy drove me to the office that morning. I always drove us, but I was more comfortable letting her drive since she had practice driving in heels. She led me into the firm's offices in the building. She practically hand delivered me to the HR lady. The HR lady made me sign a few documents before she brought me out and introduced me around the office. No one seemed to suspect I was anything more than another paralegal. I was relieved to say the least. I was sat in an office spot with about nine other paralegals. The girls were all nice to me, but I was the low man on the totem poll. I fetched a few cups of coffee for the lawyers and for some of the paralegals. I figured it would be useful to be kind to them in hopes that they could help me out in my new position. I didn't intend to be among them for long. I was sure I would find a job as a lawyer somewhere, but there was no use in making my situation any more unpleasant than it was. I figured if I was little Mary Sunshine at my job, I would get treated better. The girls had their little office gossip to share. I listened in and exchanged what I heard around when I was walking around the office delivering things to the attorneys. I heard nothing about my wife from the girls and that made me happy. There was no talk of an unhappy marriage or revenge so that was a relief. The girls talked about movies, celebrities, and reality television shows. I bluffed my way through it a first, but I used the internet to educate myself on it, and I was able to eventually stand my ground with them. I had to because the men didn't care for my opinion about 'guy stuff.' As I brought back a drink I fetched for one of the lawyers, he was talking with another about baseball. I loved baseball. I knew more than those idiots did about it. I chimed in with my take on a recent game. All I got was patronizing looks and a that's nice girl type of brush off as if I was out of my league talking about sports. Despite being frozen out of guy talk, I got along with the attorneys at the place. I had never taken any interest in my wife's work and had never met her coworkers before. They were nice to me and all the other girls. They weren't trying to sleep with any of us; that helped me. I think there was some unwritten policy against in the firm. At least that's what the other girls told me. Maybe they were just rationalizing why none of the guys asked us out. Any way, the belief in the existence of that policy helped my confidence in my looks and helped the other girl's. I did good work. I wasn't surprised about that. I knew what were good sources and what weren't. I knew how to whittle it down for them. I first found it demeaning to bring them cups of coffee or pick up their lunches every once in a while, but I began to realize it was more productive for me to do it for them rather than have them waste their more valuable time with it. I was support staff. I had to accept my role for the time being, and I did. My life at home was changing too. Every day I worked at the office, I felt I was becoming more and more the lady of the house. I felt the urge to take care of Amy as the main breadwinner. She was paying the bills, and I felt she should not be troubled with trivial stuff around the house. It was my way of feeling that I was finally pulling my weight again. After that first day at work, I started taking my own car. I was more often than not getting out of work well before her. She was working long hours. I started to use my extra hours to clean the house. I got to making dinner every night and had it ready for when she came home. I even learned how to cook a few things I knew she loved. As I fell into a more traditional woman's role in the home, I even found myself wearing progressively more girly clothing at home. I started out in a t-shirt and jeans when I was cleaning the house, but soon I found myself in the light blue tracksuit Amy bought me to lounge around in. I didn't think anything of until I eventually realized I was cleaning the home in a housedress. It was not a pleasant realization that I was becoming my mother. I know many women fear it, but I was a man. At least I still thought I was. It didn't help that Amy had taken to calling me girl in an effort to be cute. I still hoped I was a man. I knew I used to be, but I wasn't sure what I was anymore. I knew I kept catching myself thinking of my coworkers as the other girls. If I was thinking of myself one of the girls, I wondered what Amy thought. Anyway, Amy loved my taking on a more traditionally womanish role. I was doing her errands to save her time. I was picking up her dry cleaning on my way home, I was grocery shopping. I was doing all this and other shopping for her as well all while dressed as a woman. That was my life. I was dressed as a woman every waking hour. My nails and hair kind of prevented me from going out in men's clothing without getting any glances. I was also giving Amy more attention than I had since we were dating. I was asking how her day was. I was actually listening to her answer. We actually had a relationship based on communication again. I found myself trying to meet her needs. I even found myself doing the unimaginable. I went down on her, and she did not return the favor. She just thanked me and went to bed. Then it happened again, and again. It was all about her needs and wants, and I was enabling it. Meanwhile, I had kept trying to get an interview for a job as a lawyer, but it was not fruitful. I sent resumes, but all I got in return was no reply. I called up some of the firms trying to show some initiative, but all I got was impolite brush-offs that I wasn't what they were looking for. I tried not to take it personally, but one secretary I spoke to words stuck with me. As I said who I was she snickered. At first I figured that Mr. Rossum had gotten to the firm, but that was not it seemed to be. She said to me, "I'm sorry, Sis, you're not what we are looking for at the moment." I was dumbfounded as she hung up. Had my voice really become that womanly that she thought I was a woman. I was sure she said sis, not sir, sis like I was a feminist sister in arms. That pretty much ended my job search. I could take rejection, but I couldn't take people linking my name to what they thought was a girl. I may have had nothing important, but I still had my reputation as a man's man. I couldn't help wanting to keep that reputation from being diminished by the girlish creature I had become. Besides, I had accumulated to my new position and got great reviews from everyone at work. All the lawyers, including Amy, complemented my work. About two weeks into my job, one of the partners pulled me aside. Mr. Henry said he needed a paralegal to come with him while he talked business with a lawyer representing someone we were suing. I was fine with it, not like I thought I had the choice to tell him I wouldn't go anyway. I asked, "So where are we meeting him?" "Scores." My face dropped as the name of the strip club I once frequented reached my ears. Mr. Henry read my displeasure and said, "I know you girls don't like to go to those places, but it's business. It's where Louie wants to hash out a deal. Please don't take any offense by it. "I don't," I said. Mr. Henry responded. "Good, girl. Now, please know that I personally oppose strip clubs. They're demeaning to women everywhere." I smiled as if I believed him. I knew his reputation. The dirty old man probably requested the meeting spot just like I used to. I headed down to Scores! with Mr. Henry and an associate named Mr. White. Mr. Henry paid my cover charge and his own. I smiled knowingly as the bouncer was on a first name basis with Mr. Henry. We sat at a table and awaited the opposition. I caught Mr. Henry's eyes darting lustily at the women on the pole. I couldn't blame him. They were hot. I had to consciously remember that I was a woman. My little guy was fighting against the gaffe that Amy bought me. He wanted to come out, but he was restricted to between my legs. I thought back to the dozens of times I put dollar bills in that stripper's g-string. She wasn't the one I was concerned with. I was concerned with Krystal, my favorite girl to get a lap dance from. She was looking in my direction. I wondered if she recognized me. That would be just what I needed to be exposed as a cross-dresser at Strip bar. As she was walking over to our table, the opposition showed. It was the esteemed Mr. Kritikos. I smiled politely as I stood to greet him and sat back down. Krystal reached us not long after. I put my head down ashamed. I figured I was about to be exposed, but she just offered the boys a lap dance. They politely refused. It was business they said. I was relieved to know that I was just another face in the crowd to her. I guess it was pretty stupid to think she'd recognize me. She probably danced to thousand's of men. I was just one, horny, desperate loser among the scores of other men that had passed through. I wasn't just one of them to Mr. Kritikos. I realized my role there quickly. Mr. Kritikos probably requested Scores! He was just like Mr. Henry, a dirty old man who got his kicks leering at young women. Unfortunately, in his eyes I was one of them. I felt him rubbing his foot on my leg. At least he took of his shoe because if that man had caused a run in my pantyhose I would have slapped him. He was handsome, but he was loathsome. He wasn't the toady looking Mr. Henry. He had something attractive about him. Something that made my ever increasing female side realize his appeal to women. I knew that women probably threw themselves at him in the way that Mr. Henry could only wish and I could only recall. There was Mr. Kritikos, everything I was on the path to become before I threw it all away on the wrong girl. If he knew he was trying to pick up a chick with a dick he'd probably lose it all too. The ole boys club doesn't care much for fags. Mr. Henry and Mr. White paid no attention to me. I was an pretty ornament there just like the strippers to help disarm Mr. Kritikos. After two hours of feeling Mr. Kritikos occasional touch of my leg and the lustful look in his eyes, my bosses struck a deal with him. It seemed favorable to our side so that made me happy. Almost as happy as the knowledge that we could leave. As we left Mr. Kritikos shook my bosses' hands before he embraced me. He pressed his body up against mine. I could feel the erection in his pants. I wanted to puke. I had done the same thing to women. He let me go and asked, if I'd like to do dinner sometime. I politely refused explaining that I had a boyfriend. He countered that he had a wife, and asked, "Why should it stop either of us?" Now, I was really sick to my stomach. I was this disgusting creature before me. He was who I was, just two decades older. I fought my urge to bitch slap him, and thanked him for his interest in me, but I explained I was a faithful girl. I figured one more lie couldn't hurt. Mr. Kritikos nodded understandingly and I was sent of to the other men with a slight pat on the behind. Mr. White looked alarmed, but laughed as if to implicitly say don't sue us for sexual harassment. Mr. Henry didn't see anything wrong with it. I knew there was. I knew there was when I was a guy, but that was my generation though. I wasn't bringing a lawsuit though. What would I say I dressed as a girl, but I'm a guy, and this guy manhandled me because I looked like a girl. Yah, that would be the kind of press I wanted! A little over a week later, another paralegal was joining the staff. I was eager to meet her. I knew I wouldn't know any new lawyer brought in because it wasn't my field, but there was no such guarantee that I wouldn't know the paralegal. My heart nearly stopped when I saw the new paralegal's face. It was Karen, my former mistress. I thought to my self, 'Did my wife know, or was she not involved in this?' I kept wondering. I wondered if she didn't know but wanted to humiliate me by hiring someone from my old job. Anyway, I wasn't in a position to wonder for long. The HR lady walked over to us and said, "This is Karen, she's 8 years of experience as a paralegal, that's more than all you girls except Sheri. As such, we have given her a position as one of our coordinating secretaries who will make sure you girls are optimally used." Karen personally introduced herself to all the girls before she said a word to me. She smiled as she looked me in the eye, "So Mr. Rossum really did a number on you!" "Please, Karen, keep that quiet." "Why don't you tell me what happened?" I told her everything, from when I was fired, to when I couldn't get a job, to when my wife got me a job as an office girl. She soaked it all in with a smile and said, "I have to tell you I'm impressed." "Why?" I managed to ask in spite of my humiliation. "You've really taken to this role. I heard great things about you. You're really working out. I guess I shouldn't' be surprised. You were a good lawyer, so I guess you'd have to make an excellent paralegal. I just wouldn't have guessed?" "Guessed what?" "That your legs would look so good in a skirt, girl." "Thanks," I managed to say, blushing like a school girl. She smirked at my response and seemed to revel in the way I seemed to be twisting in the wind before her. "You're welcome. Now, get back to work. We're not paying you to sit around here gossiping about your life and doing nothing of value, missy." "Yes, Ma'am," I said instinctively. I almost bit my tongue as I said it. I was calling my ex Ma'am in addition to my wife. How had I sunk so low? I was her superior, now I was her inferior. I was my wife's equal now I was beneath her. I was below all of the women in my recent life. A week passed before I thought that my wife may have found about my affair with Karen. I was doing my normal research work for one of the attorneys as Karen ordered me to do that day. While I was collecting information for the attorney to form an argument from, I heard Karen laugh. I turned and saw her next to Amy, who was smirking. At that moment, I began to wonder if my new life was nothing but a ruse meant to amuse them, but they quickly separated. I figured it was not about me. It was probably something unrelated. I continued to work until lunch time, when Amy called me into her office. Amy sat me down at her desk as she shut the door. She sat behind it in her large, executive chair while I sat on her smaller guest chair. With my knees close together, I perched myself on the edge of the chair. I knew she was my wife, but I had just gotten used to not being comfortable sitting across from the attorneys. I always felt inferior ever since becoming a legal secretary. But that was not what was bothering me then. My man-woman's intuition was warning me that something was amiss. Amy smiled at me and said, "I know about Karen." I could feel my face fall white. My stomach plummeted. I tried to play dumb and said, "Know what?" Amy shook her head, laughed and said, "That you had an affair with her." I gave up at that moment and asked, "She told you?" "No. Your old boss called and told me you were sleeping with her and his wife." "When did he do..." "The day before he fired you." "Listen, Amy, I can...." "You can't explain," she said firmly in a calm voice. Her face was and voice had a no-nonsense feel to it. I tried to crack it and said, "You're right I'm so sorry. If I could...." "You would have done it again, if you didn't know how it'd all turn out. You're a dog. I always suspected it. I was never as blind as you thought." "I should have known that..." "Yes. You should have!" She interjected. She was right about me. I was a dog. I was like Mr. Kritikos. I was like Mr. Henry. I would sleep with anything in a skirt with breasts. "I have to ask..." I said. "Go on." "Why didn't you divorce me if you knew?" "I'm not a quitter. You know that. You also know I always felt that a good woman can change a man, and I feel I did." As I crossed my legs and felt the soft embrace of my tights on my hairless skin I couldn't help but nod in agreement with her assessment. I was changed. I wasn't a man anymore. I only had one woman in my life and no prospects for another. It's not like there's a wall of women looking to score with men dressed as women so they can work in a law firm as a paralegal. I might be able to attract a man, but that's not really the point of where I'm going with this hear. She continued, "I've kept you here. I've monitored you, and I have to say I see real improvement!" "How?" "Well, I've seen improvement in your behavior. You're far more devoted to me. As far as keeping you here, I took some pictures of you recently and sent them to your prospective employers. The HR girl used your real Social Security number and name too, but that's just between me and her and anyone who looks at your work history." My eyes bugged out. I realized why I was getting those brush offs and snickers. They knew. That secretary knew. I wasn't her sister in arms; I was a sissy to her. Amy had rendered me unemployable in a large chunk of the local job market. I felt betrayed; as I'm sure she must have when her fears about me were confirmed. I asked somewhat hopefully, "You want me here?" "Yes," she replied with sincerity. That was a relief. Our prenuptial agreement gave 75 percent of marital assets to the spouse that did not cheat if adultery was the cause of the split. I could start anew with 25 percent of our assets. It would be easy, but I knew she'd drag it out if I betrayed her again by leaving her. It'd be on the public record for employers to find on back ground checks that I'd been prancing around as a secretary beneath her. I was trapped. She had me right where she wanted me. I was a paralegal now, not a lawyer. That stage of my life had passed. She broke the silence between us. She said, "I like having you around. I can watch you and make sure that you don't stray. Not that you would anyway. I mean it's not like there's a long list of women dying to be with someone like...Well, let's just say now I know you're all mine and I'm all you got."