I consider myself lucky to have chosen law as a career, the sheer quality and quantity women who surround you is overwhelming. In fact as a student, the prospect of being around women was the single biggest reason to go to law school. Today, as a mid level associate at BigLaw, I again have a wide choice of women and don’t necessarily need to resort to rape like my Delhi brethren.

As an utterly brilliant lawyer consummating mundane M&A transactions, my lawyerly weapons of negotiation, drafting, peoples skills and argument are best visible at end of every transaction – at the Closing. Closings are probably the corporate law’s answer to Hugh Hefner’s Playboy parties – well literally – dress well, gamble with your words, talk pretentious hi funda stuff, have copious amounts of free alcohol at an expensive location and be in the company of beautiful (drunk) women. Women of all kinds, the low-cut-blouse saree clad seductress, the plunging-cleavage-formally-dressed partner, the freshly waxed mini skirt associate.

Last week, after pretending to work for 4 months on a multi jurisdictional M&A transaction, lawyers, bankers and industrialists and such other important people got together for the moment of truth – The Closing. The moment I could finally put a face to all the pretty names which inundated my inbox with emails during the course of the deal. I had spent sleepless nights wondering how each of those women would look, “Facebooked” each name and had imaginary sex almost every woman on the deal.

A dozen odd CP-checklist checks and a few handshakes later, the closing was down to real business – everyone had a glass in their hands (and some lust in my eyes). My roving eyes were spotting for the most healthy kill. The modus operandi was simple – casually walk up, say you had a good time working (pour some wine in her glass), speak of common friends (pour some wine in her glass), talk of how work has been on the up (pour some more wine in her glass), ask her where she stays (vodka shot number 1), ask her if she would like to drink some more at home since the bars would be shut by the time we leave (vodka shot number 2), wink at her and wait for her near your car. Simple as it sounds, its tried tested, crude yet effective.

I wanted to spot Natasha first (that's a name with so much of sex in it), I had already had great imaginary sex with Natasha, well, only until I saw her - she was a few feet taller than me, atleast a quintal heavier than me and there was tandoori chicken lodged in her teeth as she smiled and shook hands (Mayawati meets Dolly Bindra?). I would have to be high on glue, down 10 beers, a dozen shots of tequila down and smoked up Ramaiah on Company Law sized hash bricks to be caught dead in bed with Natasha.

Radhika followed Natasha. Radhika was fine, she was superfine...barring some black fungi sort of growth on her forearms, she was really fine. Such fine things should always be left for connoisseurs, not men like me who are scared of contracting the herpes on their forearms.

The hunt seemed like a dud, not all closings were fun, just because I scored the last time around, does not mean I score each time. I made a hurried trip to the bar, downed a vodka quickie and carried one in my hand and turned around to crash into the most beautiful thing I had seen, spilling some on her pretty red dress. (I already begun vigorous sex sans the foreplay in my head.)

I presented my vodka-soaked hand to her and introduced myself as the Dude. She introduced herself as the senior associate from Big Law-2. Her lipstick matched her dress, her red dress matched her 6 inch heeled Charles & Keith shoes, the blush on her cheek matched every other red on her body. He bosom was round and firm as it should be, she was Sheela of law, the Munni of closings.

In her sexy husky voice she asked me “care for some more vodka?, you seem to have spilled yours”. As I walked with her to the bar she said “I hate these closings, you always end up drinking with old boring men” - That for me was the first sign of interest in sex, standing in front of her was the most brilliant, handsome, young and interesting lawyer god had ever created.

But there was something uncannily familiar about her, but who cares, they say familiarity breeds contempt anyway! She leaned towards me to collect her glass, a deliberate brush of my hands was followed by her deliberate blush.

Just as things seemed to get hotter, my partners popped in and hugged my woman in red (I wonder “Is she a known slut? She seemed to give chest to chest hugs to the world for free”) – My partner exclaims “Ah you two have met, didn’t you guys met at Dhiral's party as well?”, (I feigned ignorance to his words, her voluptuous bottom was too tempting to ignore) my partner then asked her “shall we go home?” (What? All my dreams just crashed. Just because he was my partner, he wasn’t righteous taking away my lady in red by his sheer weight of seniority and I anyway already had mental sex with her, she was mine. And wait, was scoring this woman so easy? What a slut.)

My lady in red replied “Honey, I just was about to suggest that, the kids must have come back from the movie”.

What happened later that night needs no elaboration, I mumbled a “pleased to meet you, you guys make a great couple” and made a dash to my car. I hate the colour red since then... time for some red-emption.

DudeDiligence is a Bombay based lawyer who loves, sex, alcohol and banter. He’s always open to meeting women for drinks or otherwise. He may be contacted at