When a Pervert Dies

Posted: April 15, 2015 in Uncategorized

Reblogging for Sexual Assault Awareness Month

Theresa Wiza's Blog

I had been looking for him for nearly 30 years, because I didn’t have the courage to stand up to him when I was only 19. He was a criminal attorney in Chicago who chomped on fat expensive cigars and drove a white caddy. Such a stereotype.

He was also flamboyantly loud and obnoxious. And he was cocky enough to think I would be elated that he wanted to set me up in an apartment, purchase an entire wardrobe for me, pay for my daughter’s education, charge the men $100 (in 1970 that was a lot of money), keep 90% for himself, because after all, if he was paying the bills, $10 per man wasn’t a bad deal for me), and to make his offer even more appealing, he also told me that part of my job was to service him in his office at the law firm each morning.

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