The Keys to My Kingdom

I was drunk.  I was horny.  And I was figuratively charming the pants off of Alicia, a second-year associate who I would consider hot by the standards of our aesthetically challenged profession.  I even convinced the Partner to come hang out (read: open up a tab) after we finished our closing dinner with the client. 

Alicia and I made out once before, and she was always touchy feely around me, so I naturally assumed that it was finally the night we would seal the deal. It was past 2:00 AM, the night was winding down, and when Partner told me to go order the next round, I assumed it would be his last. After all, shouldn’t he be heading home to his wife and kids, leaving me to take advantage of Alicia after her most recent breakup?

But when I turned around to bring over the Patrón shots, I saw what must have been an optical illusion: Her hand on his leg!  To make matters worse, he had taken my place on the two-person couch, leaving me the distant, third-wheel chair, a full coffee table away from my prize.

I wasn’t a math major in college, but I knew enough to be certain that the guy on the couch is 78% more likely to bang the girl than the loser on the chair. 

I weighed my options. I could turn on the charm even more and leave the Partner I work directly under (in a recession) holding his own, or I could meekly slink away and pocket a pretty good blackmail chip.  I love winning, especially when it comes to sex, but sometimes you just have to say age before beauty.

I took my shot without waiting for them to notice my presence. Alicia excused herself to “powder her nose,” and for a second, I thought about doing blow with her in the bathroom and how that would certainly lead to boning back at my place. But as she left, Partner called me over for a quick powwow.

What, you want me to give you condoms too, buddy?

“Matthew, I need your keys.”

“For what?”

I knew what he wanted my keys for. I’m no fucking moron. I just thought by making him verbalize what he wanted, I might talk him out of it.

“I can’t get a hotel on my credit card,” he said.

As much as I hated the thought of him stealing my woman, in a way, I had a newfound respect for him. True lowlifes have to stick together. So I reluctantly handed him the keys to my apartment and stumbled back to the firm to pass out in my office.

I couldn’t get the picture of Partner carrying Alicia across the threshold of my love nest out of my head.  Alicia was one thing. But my apartment was something else.

I love my apartment!  It’s my pleasure pad, and I have put a lot of effort into making sure women think my residence is befitting of a hedge fund guy.  I have no problem telling some women (okay, college girls) that I work on Wall Street because, well, technically M&A at a downtown firm could be interpreted that way.  You see, being a lawyer has some cache. But not enough. And my apartment is my secret weapon. It helps me complete the rich-guy mystique, and the thought of Partner riding my coattails was making me sick.

I always pictured where in my shag palace I would finally get to have Alicia. Would it be in my kitchen or maybe my bathroom? No, the bathroom is better suited for paralegals. For Alicia, it would be sweet and tender lovemaking on my 800-thread count sheets.

Except I wouldn’t be the one banging her there!

God damn it.

My thoughts turned to vengeance.  I plotted how I might run into his wife shopping at Saks and what I might say. Would I completely sell him out and reveal the truth?

No, I believe in guy code. It would have to be something else.

Dare I try to bed his wife? I do have a thing for cougars and had met her once at a Christmas party.  I think I said something witty and she laughed. Was that a sign that she wanted me? Probably.

Finally, there in my “Wall Street” office, I passed out in my suit.

I rushed home at 6:30 to change clothes and rinse the bitter taste of tequila and resentfulness out of my mouth.  My keys waited under the mat as instructed, and with less than 45 minutes to be back at work, I showered and escaped without casting a single glance at my defiled bed. 

When I got back, there was a voicemail from Partner.  He had a new deal he wanted me to work on with him.  I darted for his office, assuming we’d begin with a blood oath of silence, but there was no mention the previous night’s shenanigans—he simply blathered on about the new deal.

Don’t add insult to injury, buddy. Give me the juice! Was it good? Was she a freak? Did she call out my name in the heat of passion? Did she scream for Gary Coleman? Nada? Nothing? No details?

After an hour-long call with the client finally ended, I need to get out of there.

“I’ll go type up my notes.”

“Matthew, before you go, there’s just one more thing.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say a word.”

“I know you won’t. I just wanted to let you know, we broke your remote. Sorry.”

Wow, this guy is really asking for it. I turned around so he couldn’t see my seething.

“Also, you’ve got some pretty funny pictures in that album on the coffee table.”

You went through my photos, you stupid motherf&*ker?

I can just picture them having a big laugh at my expense.

Alicia: “Isn’t Matt so cute? He thinks I would bang a midlevel associate who can’t do anything for my career or even get a reservation at La Caverna.”

Partner: “Yeah, he’s a silly boy, but he does have pretty nice Egyptian-cotton sheets. Let’s go make sweet love on those. But first, let’s break his remote control.”

Was I supposed to just stand there and meekly accept his ownership over me?  Or should I test the limits of my newfound power?

“Actually, I just realized, I have a friend I am supposed to meet for drinks after work, can the notes wait until tomorrow?”

Usually, Partner rides me about deadlines.  My excuse was piss poor, so I knew his answer would be telling.

“Take your time. Or, better yet, pull Bergman in on the deal and have him do it.”

I immediately deleted my future memories of banging his wife.

“Oh, I almost forgot, Matthew. You’re a Knicks fan, right?”

Partner opened up his desk and handed me two courtside tickets.

“I forgot.  I’m taking my wife to the opera.”

I suddenly realized there was no way I could be mad at this guy. He’s me ten years from now.

Come to think of it, it’s a pretty good tradeoff.  Or at least one I can live with.  The more times I give him my keys and let him violate the sanctity of my home, the more I get to be an even bigger slacker than I already am and get to pocket courtside Knicks tickets enough to support my image as a big swinging d*ck. 

“Why don’t you take Alicia?”

Did he mean to the game or off his hands?

Matthew Richardson is mergers & acquisitions by day, Unethical & Amoral by moonlight.

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  • Bill Dugan

    Yea, I agree, I also need a boss like this.  I’d much rather have the 2 courtside tickets to an NBA game (even the Knicks).  Only I would NOT take Alicia the night after she was humping that partner.  Broads like this are really good for only one thing (and it’s not to talk about res judicata).  Since the partner just got done doing that, I don’t want to be the guy for sloppy seconds, especially less than 24 hours after he finished off.  Also, how did they break the remote?  Just Where was he trying to operate that thing?

  • Anonymous

    I also would take the tickets.  Even if this woman is viewe as hot now, by the time Alicia or what ever her name is– is a 5th year, she’ll be all f***ed out.  The partners and the associates will all have had their turn and she’ll be totally unattractive, EVEN by law firm standards.  In contrast, taking the tickets ensures a good 2 hours of fun, and the possibility of catching a ball at the game, more than this guy got that nite with Alicia.

  • BL1Y

    First of all, you don’t know they had sex.  You just know they spent the night.  Plenty of girls will hesitate and stop at “everything but.” That would give her leverage over the partner without actually having to sleep with him.  Pretty nice power play on her part.  This would be why he’s passing her off to you; he couldn’t close the deal, so he’s moving on.  If he had sex with her, he’d probably be more protective of his territory and not want to diminish his victory with you making her the next night.  (Unless he thinks you’ll crash and burn, then he probably did have sex with her and just wants to boost his ego with your failure.) But either way, so what?  Would you want her turning you down because you hooked up with someone else after she left?  It’s 2009.  Girls have sex.  Get over it.

  • Ace in the Hole

    Niiiiiiiiiiiice.  Every associate I know would want to work for this guy, and half of the partners would want to be him.  Oh, and BL1Y, if you were the partner and HAD nailed the associate, you’d likely still want Matthew to pick it up from there and distract her.  The last thing you need is for your one nighter to turn into a situation.

  • Wilbur Moore

    My vote is with Dugan.  I don’t want to going down there so soon.  If I took her to the Knicks game (and then home) I’d want to be able to confirm that she had taken MORE than a shower.  Yes, BL1Y, we know women have sex; its just that we don’t want to find evidence of it when we are the repeat business.  Women feel the same way about us.

  • BL1Y

    Holy crap, Wilbur, what are you expecting to find, the condom?

  • A Man Who Knows

    @ BL1Y,
    You wrote:
    “First of all, you don’t know they had sex. You just know they spent the night. Plenty of girls will hesitate and stop at “everything but.”
    Dude, maybe that happens to you.
    Try not to be so literal outside of your legal work. You might actually get laid or keep a girlfriend.

  • Wilbur Moore

    Unless she’s got a cathedral down there, it’s unlikely that you’d find a condom, but there are telltale signs that linger in a woman until she fully douches.  I don’t visit down there until a woman is fresh.

  • anon

    Just F*** her.
    Also how is it hard to be like this partner? all he seems to do is have pair… have the other partners not fully descended?

  • Anonymous

    I don’t think you visit down there—period.
    Wow, you’re lame.

  • BL1Y

    It pains me to see all you amateurs give tips about women.  Clearly none of you are in the big leagues.  Until you are, keep your trap shut.

  • Schaddenfreude

    Priceless. Just priceless. You should have picked up some other desperate chick at the bar when he left and banged her in his office. Sorry Partner, I broke your shredder with the bartender’s ass.

  • Miserable Associate

    Why couldn’t the partner just get cash from an ATM and pay the hotel? Smells like bs to me. There’s no way a partner would do that and then hand her off the next day.

  • Mr. Clean

    For 1 thing, ATM limits are $300/day.  And that might not even cover the room alone.  More importantly, given the sexual romp, most hotels want plastic (i.e. the credit card) to cover unexpected room damage and cleaning up after a 2 drunk heterosexual lawyers mate.  We already know they ruined the associate’s remote control, possibly inserting it where it did NOT belong.  I’m sure they would have done a lot more damage to a hotel room.  For all we know, the partner might have broken off/impaled himself/her on the bedposts, done other unspeakable things with the remote.  By having the credit card “ON FILE” room damage as well as extra cleaning charges can be assessed long after the partner is gone.

  • BitterBanker

    I wasn’t a math major in college, but I knew enough to be certain that the guy on the couch is 78% more likely to bang the girl than the loser on the chair.
    Partner: “Yeah, he’s a silly boy, but he does have pretty nice Egyptian cotton sheets. Let’s go make sweet love on those. But first, let’s break his remote control.”
    Did he mean to the game or off his hands?

  • BD

    What kind of CHUMP would give up that easily?  I don’t care if the guy is a partner, that is embarrasing.

  • BL1Y

    Simple math; there are more hot girls than you have bosses.  Gibbitaway, gibbitaway, gibbitaway now.

  • Miserable Associate

    Mr Clean: “ATM limits are 300/day”…yeah maybe if you work at CVS. Most real men don’t have limits on their ATM cards, at least those of us that have been to Vegas. If this Partner was a real man he would have gotten the cash from the ATM and checked into some dump to defile this floozy.

  • daily reader

    This article fits the old story of where does the big bear sit?  Where ever he wants, so says the big bear.  Your house or mine and I think it is yours Mr Associate.

  • Senior Associate

    This article is a wonderful piece of fiction.  The dead giveaway is that he didn’t spell Saks correctly and no partner in his right mind would ever have sex with a second year associate at his office.  Partners don’t eat where they shit and are generally risk-adverse.

  • Bruce

    Surprised the associate didn’t use his footwork to box out the partner

  • Anonymous

    There is nothing wrong with a partner F****ing an associate; as long as both voluntarily consent, what difference does it make?

  • James Kunstler

    You are the fucking man.
    James Kunstler

  • Andrew

    I don’t buy this story for a second. Get back to work and stop daydreaming.

  • Charles

    The worst part is he is daydreaming about his boss having sex with his associate.

  • miserable associate

    I buy it, he’s obviously not bragging or anything, why would someone daydream about their partner banging a chick, that’s just weird.

  • NCLawyer

    Sounds 100% true