Naughty, Naughty

Salacious, illicit, and juvenile delinquent.

Some second- and third-hand, others direct and first-hand.

Location: the East End, chez The Savior. Memorial Day weekend.

First the salacious. Just as we were sitting down to Saturday evening dinner, Protege cruised in with a woman and a man, introduced us all around. An attractive couple in their late 30s or early 40s, she was blond-ed, wearing a diaphanous cover-up over some small under-items, preternaturally slender, tanned. He was wearing a sheer-ish floral shirt, very Caribbean Island-style (both of them, in truth), tall-ish, salt-and-pepper hair, he mentioned something about being a doctor, and now he is into alternative medicine therapies, etc.

Protege was energized, as he is, ever the animated raconteur, quick with the simile.

We found out the next day that the three of them had just had sex - together - just before they rolled over to The Savior's. Something about crossed swords. Well alrighty then.

Now that I think of it, they were all glow-y.

The next day, according to The Savior, Protege phoned. The Savior was with clients. Perhaps everyone could hear what Protege was saying: "Hey. I need your cock. In thirty minutes. Can you be there? Its a three-way. The girl is waiting."

The Savior barked, "Sorry. Wrong number," and hung up in a hurry.

Then the illicit. Sunday night, we got a little buzzed - again, the slight amount of which would get no one arrested in Denver. But what a lovely buzzzzzzz. At East Hampton Point, we hung with The Tennis Pros. Oh, so pretty, professional athletes, and just all-around nice guys. Surefire way to get my attention - as much as was available, given the brain haze.

Dear Liz Taylor Jr. could not handle it - she was too high. So Surfer Girl and her best gal-pal Ultimate Fighting Champion, motorcycle road-racer, took my key, and took Liz back to The Savior's.

We carried on with The Tennis Pros, a couple of rounds of backgammon, plus a party favor or five, before The Savior drove us, Datomantrix and me, back to his house.

Now, the juvenile delinquent. As we walked up to the front door, Datomantrix glanced through the front window, and said, "What the...?" The dining room chairs were on top of the dining table, Poltergeist style.

Surfer Girl had put Liz to bed, and then she and the Ultimate Fighter babe pranked the house. Huge. Mad creative genius pranked. Datomantrix and I doubled over and laughed so hard, that we cried. I had periodic giggle fits for two days afterward. Here's an inventory:

• Dining chairs on dining table.
• Sofa sectionals pulled away from the walls, repositioned on the diagonal, facing each other.
• Contents of kitchen drawers switched to other kitchen drawers. (Utensils are where?)
• Same with contents of kitchen cabinets. (Wine glasses there?)
• Other counter-top kitchen items switched locations (The toaster is there? And plugged in too?)
• The coffee table, now diagonal, between the sofa sectionals was missing its stack of magazines.
• Two condoms, blown up, on The Savior's bed.
• The magazines were in The Savior's bed, under the covers. (We missed that.)
• The Savior's toilet was plastic-wrapped (We missed that too).
• The Savior's Ultimate Fighting Championship cap was taken ransom - a note left in its place: "I have your UFC hat. If you ever want to see it again, you will pay $10,000." And she left her number. How thoughtful.

How freakin' hilarious.

The Savior went off to stay at his other home in Bridgehampton. Good thing. We busted butt the next day, putting everything back in its almost original spot(s). Heck, we couldn't remember them all.

I believe the UFC hat is enroute for a reunion with its rightful owner, the ransom forfeited.

All will be well.

And I'm headed back out tomorrow morning - with Monsieur and Hot Momma this time. Now then, what about that tennis pro?

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[Kim]

Just when I thought that Winter in Melbourne couldn't seem any more boring...