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Sherrie Finds Legal Loopholes
By Eve Adorer
Chapter 1 – The Liberal Lawyer
My name is Sherrie Nathan. I am a lawyer; a criminal lawyer; a defence lawyer and, yes, I have heard all the jokes about the similarity of the sound of my name with another far better known but, in his case, entirely fictional American defence lawyer.
I am thirty now. The story I have to tell you, the story all my friends ask me to tell over and over, is about what happened to me when I was just twenty-five and a complete know-nothing first time defending barrister in a court of law in a foreign land.
I am proud of my ability and feel no shame for what happened. A lawyer has to learn her craft. Apart from that one event, my record is second to none. Is it because I am a girl that people only want to hear of that one failure? Is it because I am a coloured girl that they enjoy it all the more? I have had to rise above petty jealousy and race discrimination to get where I am……………but I must not indulge my anger, you, I know, will understand and take my side.
You need to know more about me to understand my side of the story; especially if you have heard the version of my ex live-in girlfriend Hannah ***** whom I still love despite her bad mouthing me. It was Hannah I defended in court that day……..but once more I am starting at the end and setting a bad example, most unlike the cool calm logical and ordered lawyer I was and still usually am.
To set the scene, I must start with the jealousies. First and foremost, I am a girl with a brain. I studied law at C******** England, and passed out accepted as having been the brightest student of the decade. I went into the apprenticeship style practice that the English legal structure demands and rocketed through to become a junior barrister. And there, though I was only twenty-five, my career seemed to have stopped.
The second jealousy was my beauty. Any girl who succeeds is accused of using her body strategically to gain favour. A five-foot-six-inch 38E-22-36 English / Japanese / Afro-Caribbean curly lower-back length brown haired brown eyed “stunner”, as I have been incredibly pleased to hear some men refer to me, has more of such jealous talk behind her back than most.
As a girl at school, I had always been particularly conscious of my breasts. I knew that, compared with other girls of the same age, I was huge. As is the cruel way between children, the other girls, who called me “Tittyanna” behind my back, made me very self-conscious about my enormous chest. And then there was the way a once loved and trusted uncle began to look at me……..
But by the time I had reached sixteen, I fully realised that jealousy had been the cause of the past cruelty of my peers. I also began to appreciate I possessed two beautiful assets that would guarantee the adoration of men. For many a lovely man, a girl could never have too big a chest it seemed. I love men: adore girls.
At sixteen I was yet to discover too, my real sexual orientation. When we met later in our teens, one girl who had been particularly nasty to me when we were both children at school together, clearly longed to get her hands down my cleavage. What joy it was to be adored by her, to deny her, to realise the power of my beauty and the beauty of my stupendously huge firm breasts in particular………
Why should I not know that I am beautiful? Why should I not be proud of my beauty? Why should I not dress to show my lovely legs and superbly huge firm breasts? There is nothing, but nothing in the world as beautiful as a beautiful girl. A beautiful girl is heaven-on-earth. Why should I not be proud to be living breathing talking walking heaven?
The third jealousy I have always had to overcome, is racism. I have never ever used my charms for the gain I am accused of using them for. And I can never understand how supposedly liberal minded people can “sympathise” on the one hand with my being held back because I am one-third negro, whilst on the other hand accusing me of bedding other men to get to the top of my profession. And yet I suspect I do know why in fact. It is because they wanted me for my body and did not then know, as I had always hitherto kept it secret, that I was and still am almost purely a girl's girl.
To work as hard as I had to get to the top, even with my brainpower, you do not have much time to think about sex. And, yes, I admit it right now, when I experienced that event in the country now called ****** I was still, at twenty-five, a virgin.
I am sorry if all this sounds so angry; that is not the real me. It I just that I feel the need to put my case to you fully and forcefully, even though I trust you to have the right reaction to this. I just know that the lascivious view of my experience is not the one you will take. You are my judge and jury.
At the end of this report I would only ask you to ask yourself if what happened to me was as entirely right and proper as I consider it to have been. I was fairly tried, fairly judged and justly and properly punished. That is my view now, just as it was my view at the time of the event. And that, I fully and firmly believe, will be your view too when I have finished putting my case to you.
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