'To say that he was a great lover – sensual, generous, delightfully inventive – would be gravely understating what he did not only to my body, but for my soul. . . .'
Oh, pardon me. I didn't see you there for a minute. This? I was just reading some of the very kind things a past lover had to say about me in her soon to be public memoirs. That was uncommon swell of the old gal.
The writer, you ask?
Does it really matter? Really.
Well, she was a a pretty well-known TV actress. This exquisite beauty had been seen on the arms of the likes of Gene Barry, Ed " Kookie" Byrnes, Michael Ansara, you know, Cochise, Efram Zimbalist, Jr., Darryl F. Zanuck,Jr. and Tommy James of the Shondells. I had been working for the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, as as janitor, while getting my undergraduate degree from Loyola of Chicago. I was on afternoons from 3PM - 11PM and I was sent over to the Wabash Inn to grab lunch for the engineer, the janitor super, the the security guys and the two other noon shift janitors.
The engineer and everyone else got burgers or clubs, but the janitor super wanted the ribs and they took a while. I killed the clock with a Pepsi and the great artistry of the black dude who worked the charcoal grill. He flipped thick burger patties, cuts of steak, chicken and vegetables like he had twenty people watching the show.
A soft purring voice cooed "Cute."
Still watching the magic of motion and huffing the ambrosial scents , I rejoined, "Cute? He's an artist."
"No, you," purred this alluring piper. She slid onto the bar stool elegantly lifted the straw from my Pepsi and tossed it on the bar. " Where do you work, you pretty thing?"
"OrchstraHallimajaniderded." I drawled to the best of my ability.
"What's your name precious and how old are you?"
" Padickey-nynteen," I cooly admited.
" I could could just . . . eat you up! I insist you be mine!"
In that subjunctive mood we parted company.
Yep, that about sums it up. Yes sir.
I would have liked that she had bought me another Pepsi.