Disclaimer: The following post may be offensive. Scratch that, it WILL be offensive. If you are a sensitive soul or a reasonable person or a minor, do NOT read on.

Consider yourself duly warned.

I must admit that my name has already been tarnished in office as the desperate one. I have tried my luck on every lady in office albeit with little success. So I have a small paunch, what people call ‘a receding hairline’ is actually just a bad hairstyle and I enjoy onions with my parathas – does that make me virtually un-dateable in office?

It’s as though with my employment contract came an addendum warning them of my lecherousness.

I do occasionally try to wisecrack with the hot single ones careful not be ‘Vishakha-ed’ only to be skillfully rejected.

But with the season of interns around, each summer a hoard of new possibilities arise. Two weeks ago I went to my partner and told her that I needed an intern to make a list of documents for the diligence. In comes Ramona.

She was not just your average Ramona, she was R-A-M-O-N-A.

With sexiness oozing from every inch of her body, I could not help but “help myself” while thinking of her. I fantasized playing with her in the office washroom while the rest of the associates fingered their keyboards.

Queue short introductions and I realized she was fun to be with and I needed some action. And so the rules were set and the battle lines drawn. I was leading a team of two associates and Ramona. I bossed around talking to the in-house counsel and the CA asking for documents and pretending to be busy and important. (Afterall she needed to know who was the real boss).

After a week of talking politics, Dawsons Creek, Indian Idol auditions and indulging in some sexual innuendo-filled flirting, I realized that Friday night was the tipping point. So I casually asked her during the evening coffee break what she was doing later in the night. She told me she was free and clearly indicated that she liked her Martini shaken and not stirred.

Post work I took her to my favorite bar and acted as if everyone around knew me and before I knew it, she was my new laptop. We made love in the cab. We made love in the living room. A few utensils were scattered in the kitchen and the bed looked like it had been through a tsunami.

Finally, I had SEX! Sex with someone from the office (literally)! I had joined the ranks of Bill Clinton.

With two weeks left, we could keep exchanging our bodily chutneys and there were no strings attached.

As I lay there, satisfied and wondering if I should ‘eat at my house’ again or should try ‘eating in office’, she spoke those golden words “So what do you think my chances are for a PPO at Big Law”.

WTF! THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING. I thought I was the player here. I was the stud muffin. I was that alpha male that made women dig me for my awesomeness. My testosterone retreated faster than a baby to a salty nipple. I was played by this intern!

I mumbled a short “ofcourse you do have a chance, you are the smartest intern ever”. I think I almost wept when I took a shower the next day. The next time we tried to hook up, I kissed and left hurriedly. Somehow my manhood couldn’t take that I was gamed by an intern.

She wasn’t the best intern we had, but I still recommended her to the partner purely rating the sex praying she wouldn’t make it. I didn’t add her on Facebook. I am writing this so that I can get it out of my system and feel better. Now I know what ‘sucking’ up to bosses means.

Flings just sound sexy, but they probably never are sexy.

Fellow associates, beware of the cunning intern.

[Dudediligence is a BigLaw certified asshole. He loves his beer, her b88bs and banter. Like DudeDiligence on Facebook, he deserves your love and attention- http://www.facebook.com/DudeDiligence# .  Are you following "Dudediligence1" on Twitter? He can be personally abused at diligencedude at gmail.com. ]