Anyway, my darling readers, I know, I have been VAR VAR busy, but you know I am on a forced vacay but an evil dictator who won't pay me any benefits of any kind. My professional life is a fight to the finish and I am weary.
Should I enlist the help of an ambulance chaser on a sexual harassment lawsuit for something that happened six years ago? (How long did Anita Hill wait?-And you know what? I totally believed her. That Clarence Thomas is/was/and will always be a pig.) Should I? Is it believable? That a woman would harass another woman? Jealous of my youthful looks and fine body was it fair that I be discarded? Was it fair? No. It was not. But then, some might ask: was it fair my opponent have an ass like an elephant's? I say: we make our own asses!
But you are not here to hear me babble, you're here for your fix.
So let's do it.
Let's get it on, Hilda-style.
I know that some of you wonder: does this stuff REALLY happen?
(in a nutshell: none of your FUCKING business)-what do you think the point of fiction is ANYWAY?!
The mint whoopie pie. I have not yet confessed. I ate it, not once, but twice. And both times I saved the dreadful chocolate frosting for later, licking it all out of the plastic box, using my fingers and the tiny fork they provide.
And then there was Brian, yes, I know you know about him. And you probably wonder how the Captain feels about it. Well, they don't exist on the same plane so it isn't a problem. So shut the fuck up!
Now, for an entirely new plane, or shall I say train(?)of thought.
It was a Tuesday, just a plain ordinary Tuesday, but I had nothing to do, so I wrote to R and asked him point blank about his cute friend K (we had all met at a mutual friend's house). But of course, I liked R as well, so the negotiations would be tricky, at best.
He wrote back that K had been pining over me for the longest time and that I really should give him a little something something.
It turned out that R was free for coffee, so we met up and I was astonished at how much he resembled the Captain.
"Hello," he said. "You look beautiful. Different, I mean, your hair is different."
"Nice save," I smiled. "I curled it this time."
"Well, it looks amazing. Turn around."
So I did.
"Cute. Now have a seat. I got you a rooiboos, no cream, no sugar."
"You know what I like."
"Well, K, for one thing."
"Yes," I said, lighting a cigarette, "K." I put it in my mouth and sucked meaningfully.
"Oh to be that cigarette," R plucked it out of my mouth and took a drag. "that's enough." He put it out and popped a breath mint into my mouth and his.
"Ah, Binaca (TM)!" I said.
"Very funny."
I got up and pranced in a circle and then sat down and primly took a sip of tea. "Delicious!"
"Finish. I want to take you somewhere."
"Uh, all right." I sucked my tea down and we were off! Or as I like to say: promulous!
We walked a few blocks until we came to a parking lot. He drove a red Corvette(TM) and when I saw it, I laughed. "I have a friend who has one of those. He's a Marine too."
"Small world," he opened the car door and helped me in.
"Where are we going?"
"To a small hotel, that we know so well, we're going to hell.."
"Are you drunk?"
"Drunk on life, Hilda. Drunk on you."
"Funny boy!"
He took me to a Hilton. The one up on Aero drive, off Kearny Villa Road. I think it's a Hilton. It's posh.
Inside the hotel there was a bar. The walls were a warm shade of wood and all the tables and chair matched the walls. One would imagine that would be tacky, but somehow, those Hiltonites managed to pull it off.
"Would you like a drink?" He helped me into a chair.
"That would be splendid."
"What would you like?"
"I'll let you order for me. See if you really know me."
"All right."
When the waiter appeared, R ordered me a dirty martini.
"Dirty martini for a dirty girl," I said.
"I got one too, you know."
"Right. Dirty boy." I gazed suggestively at him. Tilting my head, I said to him, "Did you get a room?"
He laughed nervously.
"Did you?"
"I did. What are you going to do about it?"
"Hmm. Well, I probably," I was interrupted by the arrival of the martinis, took a sip, "ah, that's the stuff. Now, I'm going to eat the olive." I took it out and felt the sour vinegar taste upon my tongue and the hardness of the olive against my lips. I bit. Salty ecstasy. "Mmm. Can have yours?"
"No!" He grinned and quickly ate his olive. Then laughed. "We can order more, you know."
"Lo so. Lo se."
We drank.
"Are you hungry?"
"Not really," I said.
"Well, I am!" R flagged the waiter down and ordered a steak.
I watched him eat, occasionally taking small bites off his plate.
"You know you can have your own, you know."
"I know. I just want a few bites, that's all."
When the check came, I was marvelously drunk because after the dirty martini, he had ordered me a mai tai. It was full of fruity pineapply fun.
"Listos?"
"Si."
We got up. He held my hand and then put his arm around me. We went into an elevator and up.
"I LIKE it!" I exclaimed.
"Then you'll love this," he said, kissing me perfectly.
He took me down the hall and unlocked a room. Inside there were two beds.
"Wow, one for me and one for you," I said.
"Very funny," he scooped me up and carried me in and placed me gently on the bed. "I am now going to take your clothes off, Miss Stinson, so speak now, or forever hold your peace."
He removed them and then admired my new bra and panty set. "Pretty."
"I thought you'd like it."
"I do. But of course, you know, it has to come off."
"Of course," I lay back and allowed this.
He kissed me and said, "And now, no more talking."
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
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