It has been difficult being a thirty-year-old lesbian in a conservative law firm, especially when you are simply a staff member and not a partner in the firm. Dark suits are expected, even on the female attorneys. This is not one of those progressive start-ups where individuality is encouraged. This firm has been around for more than one hundred years, and the culture hasn’t changed much from Day One.
None of that history alters the way I feel about certain people that work here; it only affects how I must act in public around those people. Yes, it bothers me to see two young, unmarried lawyers—one male and one female—do their courting in the open while I surreptitiously lust after an attractive woman in the privacy of my office.
For several weeks now, my lust has been directed toward a paralegal ten years older than myself…and married. Of course, Brooke has no clue that I watch every move she makes or that I undress her in my mind while we chat. She has the greatest blonde hair—it’s almost white—styled in a pixie cut and bangs. God, I want to run my fingers through it every time I see her, not to mention where else I want my hands on her.