How would you describe Max Westmore? Enigmatic. Max was a high profile lawyer, the head of her own firm and very good at what she does in the courtroom. Her reputation of being able to stare directly into the eyes of the dependent, making them feel as if she could look into your soul, caused many to reveal their guilt. After answering her carefully worded questions, suddenly, they would find themselves like an insect stuck on a pin, wriggling desperately only to find themselves impaled on their own words. Some of her colleagues nicknamed her "The Spike". Others erroneously referred to her "The Icicle" because of her seemingly cold demeanor in the courtroom. Not one to socialize, Max could be found many a night working late in her office. That was the way Max preferred things.
Not to say that she never went out, she kept a small, but, very close circle of friends. It was well known that Max was 'a woman's woman'. Though she never officially came out, she never denied her preferences. What she abhorred was being labeled. She was not a gay lawyer, a lesbian lawyer or a woman's lawyer. She was a lawyer, just a lawyer.
I first saw Max when I was covering a story for the newspaper I was working for at the time. Average height, ash blonde hair neatly coiffed into a twist, dressed in a tailored suit that accentuated an hourglass figure. She wore smallish dark framed glasses that hid the most incredible blue eyes. In fact, when I had to ask her some questions I found it difficult to look at her, it was like looking into ice blue water encased in glass. She must have thought I was a complete idiot as I stammered my questions. Yet she never indicated otherwise. I think I amused her at the time.
Despite her reputation, Max was very charming and very witty. Both men and women would turn their heads to watch her as she walked past them, oblivious to the disruption she had caused. Yet, behind her cool facade was sadness, something that seemed to run deep. She had tons of money, her own law firm, people who admired her...what was her story? That's what I had to find out.
My name is Carmella Cecilia Castanzo, you can see why I go by C.C. I'm a writer for a Gay/Lesbian magazine that features articles on prominent people in the gay community, and the Max Westmore story was the Holy Grail of stories. Max never granted interviews and only spoke to the press if it involved a major case. I needed to be devious.
I studied as much about the law as I could and enlisted help from a friend who was majoring in Pre-Law. Whenever she was in court I was there to take notes. I made myself visible in all the places an ambitious young law student would frequent. Finally, when I felt the time was right, I approached her. I hoped she wouldn't recognize me. I had changed quite a bit since our last 'meeting'. Handing her my resume', I begged to do my internship with her firm. Promising to work from the ground up, put in over time, be a secretary, anything I could think of short of signing over my first-born. Her firm was the best and I wanted to learn from the best.
She told me under normal circumstances she did not accept interns but if I could present a case the way I presented myself, I had possibilities. I was to report to her office the following Monday, 8:00am sharp. I was in!
Grueling was the best way to describe my duties in a top law firm. I did everything that was asked of me and more. In fact, I started to think about studying law instead of journalism. To Max, I was indispensable, going to court with her, or working late. I enjoyed spending time with her; she was a great boss as well as a teacher. I could see why those around her were very protective of her, which in turn made it more difficult to get any personal information on her. All I could find out was that a few years back she had a torrid love affair with an aspiring model. It ended up very badly, money was stolen, drugs were involved but worst of all, Max's heart was severely broken. The result: Max became a workaholic.
The closer I worked with Max, the more I got to see of her real side. She was totally devoted to her staff, never forgetting a birthday or anniversary. Visiting those who were sick. Suddenly the story didn't seem so important and I too found myself protecting Max from others like me. I also found myself falling in love with her. I knew I was out of her league, but there was always the fantasy.
I would imagine us working late one night, just her and I, researching notes in her loft apartment.
"Are you hungry? We could order out." She would ask.
"Max don't you ever get tired of eating out? How about I cook something for us instead?" I had hoped to show off my culinary skills as well as some others I've acquired.
"Hmmm. A home cooked meal, in my home yet. That would be nice. Okay you're on, but, I'm not really sure what's in the fridge, I tend to buy the basic essentials. You had better check the expiration dates."
"I'll see what I can come up with, in the meantime, why don't you relax. Your still in your suit."
I made my way to the kitchen as Max looked down at herself and laughed.
"I'm a pathetic workaholic aren't I? I think I'll get a quick shower while your making dinner, if you don't mind?"
I told her to go ahead as I was still trying to figure out what to make from the meager rations she had in her fridge and cupboards.
I was just getting ready to serve our dinner when Max came into the kitchen. She was dressed in a black silk kimono and slippers. Her hair that was normally pulled up, was hanging in loose tendrils around her shoulders. She looked heavenly.
"Something smells good." Her voice brought me back to earth.
"It's just an omelet, I threw in some leftovers and added some spices." I put some on her plate and then served myself.
"Well this is a treat for me. How about some wine?" I nodded my approval. She came back to the table with a bottle and two glasses. Sitting down she poured the wine and we both took a sip. "I'm not used to entertaining, it's been a while since I've had a dinner companion, especially one so beautiful."
I felt my face getting flushed and choked out a half audible "Thank You",
"I'm sorry C.C. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." I shifted in my chair a little. "No, no …I'm fine. I…I just thought that you never really noticed me before, like that."
She leaned in and took my hand; I thought I was going to pass out from the sheer thrill.
"How could I not notice such a beautiful face? Dearest C.C. do you know how difficult it has been trying to stay your boss when I would much rather be your lover?"
I looked into those beautiful eyes and cried out, "Oh Max, I have wanted to be with you since I met you, but I never thought that I was good enough for you."
"What?" She reached up and caressed my cheek. "You are my right arm, dear one, without you I'm lost."
I took her hand from my cheek and kissed it. Feeling a new height to my passions that were quickly rising. "Max I will never hurt you the way she did…" She pressed a finger to my lips. "Shhh…that's in the past, let's concentrate on the present."
She leaned in and kissed me, her soft lips on mine made me wetter. My heart began to beat so fast I thought for sure she would feel it as we moved into embrace. Our kisses became more fevered, our tongues meeting like they too were long lost lovers. She pulled back suddenly and said, "Sorry Sweetie, but dinner is going to have to wait, behind that wall is a huge bed and I plan on making love to you on every inch of it, shall we?" She grabbed my hand and led me to the bedroom.
The bedroom itself was exquisite; a huge four-poster bed draped with rich fabrics and pillows of all sizes took over the room. She sat me on the bed and I could recognize the scent of her perfume. The same perfume she wore everyday, the same tantalizing scent that would make me drool when she passed by my desk, or when she would lean in to look over a document with me, I was in Heaven and it smelled great. She walked around the room and lit some candles before turning on the stereo.
"I'll set the mood to help you relax before I undress you. I hope you don't mind a little Puccini."
The room was filled with the heady smell of sandalwood, infusing with the beautiful voices singing of love and passion. I closed my eyes trying to emboss the
whole scene in my memory.
