I am an insubordinate little thing. I am a pornographic enigma of what a woman should be. I am a liar, cheat, bandit, heister, prowler and kleptomaniac. I am obsessed with my weapon. My weapon being the gift that god gave me. Helen of Troy has nothing on me. Bringing a man down is my area of expertise. My finesse lies in the movement of my hips. My hips are like a siren song to a mans ears, luring and enticing them. It all comes easy to me. Sometimes it seems as if I were predestined to be a vamp. To be the woman to break up homes and cause other women infinite vexation. I recall the first time I ever manipulated a man besides my father. Let's call him Daniel. Daniel was my 12th grade math instructor. He was far from a looker. I sensed that he was a lonely man, a man who was naive due to the fact that women never paid him any attention. He wore sweaters, not much different than the ones Mr. Roger's had an affinity for. His hair was sparse as were his lips. I never had a knack for arithmetic, but what I did know was one me plus one him equals my advancement in future endeavors. I so desperately needed to pass, otherwise I would have no choice but to repeat senior year or put a hair net on and flip burgers at a fast food joint. Neither one an option. So while all the other girls in class studied hard and did their homework, I made him hard and did zero homework. I had him in the palm of my hands, literally and figuratively. I worked harder than any other dimwit in that class and in the end I had a diploma and he had the notch on his belt. It did not stop there. Once I saw how easy it was to sway men with promises of sex and perversion I adopted it as a career. My next victim, let's call him Mark. A lovely fellow, dumb and horny. A sales associate at Bergdorf Goodman and a wannabe actor. I met him while shopping for La Perla lingerie ( I was going on a trip to Mallorca with Mr. CEO, I will get to him later). I spent quite a while showing him all the items I was interested in, I could tell already that I had him worked up so I went to the fitting room and so conveniently asked him for help fastening my garter. He asked me to dinner, I obliged. I told him all about my lust for designer labels and how hard it is to attain it all. By the next week I was receiving Louboutins, Jean Patou eau de parfums, Hermès leather goods and scarves. I knew that he was swiping them from work ,although it was an unspoken word. A little while after he got busted, called me for bail, I pretended not to know who he was. Did I feel sorry? Not one bit. He was silly, he deserved it. He got an orange jumpsuit and I got gifts in those precious orange Hermès boxes. So now you are probably thinking, what a INSERT EXPLETIVE HERE. You are correct I never deny the fact that I am a Jezebel. While this was all going on I was rendezvousing with MR.CEO. He was my boss at the PR firms third husband. Funny back story, I dated her son to get the job. Set up a sting so he would cheat on me with my gay best friend. He was caught with his ass out literally and I moved up the ladder at work pretty quickly thanks to him. Its amazing what a bottle of Devils Springs, a closeted gay rich boy and a polaroid camera can do for your career. Back to Mr. CEO. I met him at a dinner party that I was invited to on behalf of my monster of a boss. She paid little attention to him, as most prominent Manhattan wives do. I began to conversate with him about stocks, yachts and art. I took interest in the fact that in college he was a free spirit who painted. He confided a lot in me in a very short amount of time. I did not plan on starting up an affair with my higher up's husband, it just, well, fell in my lap so to speak. I was busy running around buying gifts for christmas,when I got side tracked by the rare Audrey Hepburn book in the window of Strand. So I walk in and I see him browsing around. I walked over said hello and noticed he had a worn out copy of Junky by Burroughs. I was impressed. He invited me for sweets at Serendipity. We had a wonderful time and load of things in common. Next thing I know I am at 15 Central Park West, In the penthouse, riding my bosses husband on Pima cotton sheets. It was the beginning of a very lucrative move in my "career". Quite possibly one of the best moves I ever made.