Links to pics of Woods playboy stint in here but appear to have disappeared
http:// underneaththeirrobes.blogs.com/main/2004/07/_general_commen.html
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The Hot. Kimba M. Wood (S.D.N.Y.)
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Judge Wood, 60, is "a hottie intellectually as well as otherwise," writes one reader. For present purposes, UTR is more interested in the "otherwise" part! And Judge Wood – whose résumé includes Playboy bunny training in London, before she entered Harvard Law School – certainly has the hottie credentials to back up this claim. Further coverage of Judge Wood's all-too-brief stint as a bunny is available here, here, here, and here ("Kimba Wood became a federal judge after she could not make it as a Playboy bunny").
Judge Wood is one of the few federal judicial celebrities who is also a celebrity outside the courthouse. Over the years, her name has appeared in boldface type in several New York tabloids, one of which infamously dubbed her the "Love Judge," based on her alleged affair with the high-flying, obscenely wealthy, then-married Wall Street financier Frank Richardson III. (Judge Wood was also married at the time, to Time magazine writer Michael Kramer.) For a description of Judge Wood, UTR will now quote from Richardson's diary, which was brought to light during his nasty divorce from socialite Nancy Richardson. (Yes, Article III Groupie realizes that large block quotations can be intimidating. But trust her–this is worth it!)
March 3, 1995: Lunch Kimba - Arqua. She tells me how close she is to breaking in her marriage. She is one year behind me. She says she wants to meet for dinner when [her husband] Michael [Kramer] and son are on Spring Break.
[Undated]: A week ago Friday, I called KMW. She seemed eager to meet. We planned lunch Monday. She said she was free Wed & Friday. I asked her for dinner Wed. night. We talked til 11. She is interested in every plane of being. I was really snowed and I knew she was getting there, too. Friday she picked a restaurant in SoHo . . . We sat facing each other on a banquet [sic]. She leaned toward me beaming. I love that picture [of] the black hair around her pearl white skin, the misty green eyes. The next morning, I said I was going horse riding. I met her and drove to her country home in Sheffield (Conn.). Absolutely charming and of great character. We had lunch, built a fire, put on music and spent as beautiful an eight hours as I have spent in my life. She is absolutely wonderful, very intelligent, a complete woman and person and able to give love wonderfully and freely.
April 3, 1995: I called her and asked what she was doing for lunch. I said what else matters. She said nothing. She was so beautiful, more than I remembered. I spent Sunday just realizing how deep the madness of loving her went. . . . She said she was wild when I touched her hands at Lutece. She said . . . I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU.
April 9, 1995: I am full of joy of being free of NR [wife Nancy Richardson]. Words can hardly describe the wonderful feeling I feel I have my future back. . . . Kimba that's something else . . . [I'm] wild, wild, wild about her. Overwhelmed. No sense of reserve . . . intoxicated by her body.
April 11, 1995: I awoke at about 5 a.m. - wide awake immediately. The first thoughts come flooding I am free. I never have to worry about NR again. Then I remember Kimba. Each day I realize that I am closer to a completely new life totally absorbed by her.
April 12, 1995: I have with such deliciousness rethought every moment with Kimba. She told me she was in a daze at Lutece. "I was just amazed at what you are." . . . When I first took her head and kissed her lips. . . . How she stiffened and gave slowly, but inexorably.
April 15, 1995: Kimba is today or tomorrow telling Michael she is going to leave him.
[Undated]: She is [a] very passionate and very sexual woman . . .
April 16, 1995: Kimba from pay phone. She told Michael she wanted out yesterday at 10 p.m. He accepted it. I guess any man would, based on the nonexistence of the relationship.
May 14, 1995: Kimba and I not seeing each other, but talking several times a day. The madness of crazed love . . .
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