Another thing I’ve learned in my
short time here is that you can tell a lot about a woman by the way she tends
her garden. Back home, there wasn’t much variety, and
topiary designs were saved for special occasions. Here the grooming is used as a form of
self-expression, and it also speaks volumes of their emotional and mental
state. I have collected much data and am
able to spot a prickly patch of bramble from a hundred paces and thus take the
necessary precautionary and evasive measures.
This is not to say that I prefer “Huntington Gardens” over “Washington
Square Park,” I just want to be properly outfitted as I head out on safari.
Speaking of which, the other
evening I was invited to the most interesting soiree…
The invitation said “Black Tie”
so I thought I was going to have to regretfully decline. Lucky for me, I found an old tuxedo at a
thrift store. It was a little threadbare
and the pants were too long, but it wasn’t half bad. I darkened the worn spots
with some shoe polish and hemmed the pants, and hoped the lighting would be
dim. As for shoes, I tried to play it
cool with some well-worn Jack Purcell’s.
“Nice shoes” was the first thing
anybody said to me after 20 minutes of milling about the grounds trying to look
as if I’d actually been invited to the event.
I think it was the blonde from Gossip Girl walking in the direction of
the pool while trying to remove her dress.
The “estate” was tremendous in size and the grounds were impeccably
groomed, but it seemed to lack heart. It
made me miss the old homestead, but the pool full of nude women snapped me out
of my brief melancholy mood.
I plowed through six Jack Daniels
before they called us to dinner. I was
seated between a lovely woman and an unmemorable gent. The woman had lovely, dark eyes, jet-black
hair, and a décolleté dress.
It took me five minutes and
another Jack Daniels to place her familiar face…1999, Kentucky Derby,
Millionaire’s Row…Charismatic won, the crowd climaxed with us. She was the great granddaughter of the King of
some now nonexistent eastern-block country.
We chatted and poked at the overcooked chicken and broccoli. Dinner was a blur and before we knew it, we
were being ushered to our theatre seats.
“Thank you all for coming.
Tonight we are featuring the 1978 erotic classic Debbie Does Dallas, starring Bambi Woods. The film has been painstakingly restored
using cutting-edge, digital technology.
You will witness a picture of unmatched depth and clarity. We’re excited to preview this new technology
and will be open to answering any of your questions after the film. Please enjoy.”
I looked over at my
companion. She smiled and grabbed my
crotch.
It had been a long time since I
had seen the movie and the “restored” version now looked as if it had been shot
on an iPhone using some sort of retro filter.
It was arty and the picture was truly clear, but that much clarity is
simply unnecessary for porn of any vintage.
Three important observations I made while watching the film: People in
black-tie attire squirm around a lot while watching porn, people were a lot
hairier in the seventies than they are now, and the actors cuddled after
climax. I wondered if we’d ever return
to those sweet and innocent times.
I felt another tug at my pants,
but this time it was coming from the side opposite my companion. My leggy, blonde friend from earlier was
playing tongue hockey with the unmemorable gent while groping in my general
direction. As flattered as I was, I
declined the invitation and led my dinner companion out of the bowels of the
castle and down the path to my waiting Schwinn.
“I have a car waiting for me if
you’d prefer,” she said.
“Nah, I’d rather get some fresh
air.”
She climbed on the handlebars and
we rode quietly to her home, the smell of night-blooming jasmine floating heavy
in the balmy night air. I walked her to
the front door anticipating a peck on the cheek at most, but in a matter of
minutes I was being worked like a rented mule.
In the morning, I was awakened by
the sound of songbirds and the smell of strong coffee. She made brie, ham, and marmalade sandwiches
that we ate a small table in her well-tended garden.
I get a bit home sick now and
again, but I’ve found that the best way to get over one life is to find another…much like with women."