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All Rights Reserved “Life After Money: Copyright © 1998-2010

            Life After Money                         Part V      Hurricane Spirits & the Halloween Souljacker.             Index Sound Track  Home


My Family-Your Family

The Players:

Alex, Bill & Sweet Loraine

On Sunday morning they gathered not for church but to sip delicious liquors, or quash hangovers with screwdrivers, rusty nails, Bloody Mary’s and for the advanced drinkers only a double of fine tequila chased by a Heineken draft or bottle their scurvy protection jammed through the lip the green acidic taste a welcome nutritional supplement to the intoxicants that had become a necessity of life in this paradise of the east and west.


Whether flamboyant or subdued everyone wanted to be seen. The elderly gentleman and other family men with wives and children arriving from worship service or mass partaking of the elaborate buffet and feast prepared by chefs working since two in the morning, while others chit chatted and maneuvered for a not so chance encounter with a potential client, employer, contact, advisor and or future lover.


The women dressed for success and whatever the hunt dictated, as always, just as mother instructed them. Their lipstick and makeup perfectly applied and complimented with just the right combination of jewelry with emphasis on bracelets or necklaces to bind a conversation and eye to eye contact but not so overtly intrusive as to be considered wanting or desperate except of course for the obligatory attendance of the loud fat trollop with the plunging neckline.


The men other than the rich and famous would accent any look including rough and tumble sporting an open collar and the brisk smell of after shave or cologne complimented with an imitation Rolex or nothing to offer at all but a smile or indifference. Some arrived in tow with a female friend or lover, others invited by male companions as the place to be on a Sunday afternoon easing up to the bar and watching the overhead game while intermittingly scanning the room and deep onto the terrace for the perfect babe while feigning as if looking for an imaginary friend who may suddenly appear after being lost at sea for the last seven years.


The conversation escalated to a low roar as all rooms now packed were catered to by a bevy of male and female servers. Their hustle and bustle in their unisex black slacks, white shirts, black velvet vests buttoned or not later in the afternoon and black clip on bow ties was all business as this was pay day and for many a primary source of income to feed, clothe and put gas in their used cars hidden around back. Their welfare derived primarily through the tipping generosity of their well healed clientele carousing, drinking and feeding on this Sunday as morning slipped quickly into afternoon in this affluent enclave of South Florida.


Not a corner of the room was left unattended where private and intimate conversations were consummated with repetitive caressing and light touching initiated by air kisses so as to appear to any Martian who just came down from outer space assessing the brevity of the human condition their playfulness incorporated all of the emotional sensuality of public intercourse less the actual physical act.


The playful teasing almost always initiated by women left many a man throbbing for relief and eventually when the beer drained to their lower abdomen they were left to hold their baby arm in one hand while hunched over the urinal awaiting the return to normal trajectory and visualizing coach cotter, the bearded woman, or a ham sandwich to expedite a return to a flaccid state when the flow of urine could resume the threat of premature ejaculation barely diverted while the seductress lightly caressing the forearm of a new prospect with her diamond pierced acrylic nails wondering why eventually each had to take a leave for the restroom. Were they gay?


The caste system of India remained progressive regarding  discrimination  compared to the social scene of South Florida where money alone would not elevate ones status to the next higher level but always subordinate to the greatly esteemed and where this very day men and women worked overtime to bond with the one or two social dynamos and keepers of the gate making brief appearances this morning and early afternoon to review the farm team and make recommendations to the board for future juniors willing to plow their time and energy into the next fund raising cause celeb, historical landmark ball or artistic auction event.


 On any given Sunday one or two attendees receive a nod of approval and for this day and the entirety of the next week the newly apprised inductees were floating on cloud nine after receiving the coveted handshake or light squeeze on the shoulder.


A thirty something man named Bill appeared in this public forum for the first time with a well healed socialite named Alex who as the sole breadwinner and investor extraordinaire in their family relationship seemed uncomfortable for Bill; not because she was more powerful than he as he loved to mooch and be compensated with fine foods and an open bar but to be mixing with the rich and powerful whom he loathed.


 My Family Your Family

Lorraine and Bill share an intimate moment

Bill quietly maneuvered to the bar for a drink and opened a tab with an Alex nod from across the room and zeroed in on the Russian model and waitress he flirted with at the entrance politely asking her if she was Ukrainian and she thoughtfully replied: “I’m Russian, You know like a spy in the movies” with a gleam in her eye. He replied well I’m from the FBI and I need to search you! They both laughed and he slowly rejoined Alex who was sipping a mimosa personally delivered by the bartender to her spot on the patio where she was chit chatting with her friends regarding recent art sales at the local gallery.


Later Bill approached Lorraine, preferring Tina, the Russian who is really Ukrainian as Bill suspected. She placed her cocktail tray on the bar and asks the bartender for the key to the employee restroom. He follows her to the back of the kitchen and she keys the door looking both ways and then signals for him to enter. He walks in with her behind him and as she locks the door and turns to him and in a matter of fact way with her arms crossed she says in her husky Russian accent: “So what do you want? This is my big day to make tips. We must be fast” He waves a small baggie of perfectly matured buds in her face but she replies: “I don’t smoke” and turns the key protruding from the lock as if to leave. He says wait and pulls out two crisp one hundred dollar bills from his jeans pocket.


She turns and grabs the cash pulls her dress up and stuffs the cash in her panties. She drops her dress back down to his bewilderment and says again in her best Russian: “I only have time for tit sex on the first date so take it or leave it.” He shrugs and then unzips his pants as she opens her blouse and pulls both breasts from inside her bra cups and squats in front of him careful not to touch the floor. Things aren’t working out so well as Bill sporting a huge hangover from the night prior is having a having hard time maintaining an erection so Tina takes matters into her own hands and grabs Mr. Happy with one hand while reaching under her dress with the other to retrieve an individually wrapped Trojan rubber.


 She tears the corner of the packet apart with her teeth and then places the rubber over the tip of his giggle stick and sucks like she is pulling a tennis ball through a garden hose. He climaxes in seconds and she stands up zips his pants playfully pulls on his shirt collar and says now go home to mama then reaches in his pocket and retrieves the packet of buds.


He quietly protests but she puts a single finger over his mouth and says: “I will see you again.” She turns facing the mirror applies new lipstick, runs her fingers through her hair and then disappears out the door into the hustle and bustle of a now packed house where the clanking of dishes, stressed voices and steam releases of the Hobart dishwasher in the next room and submarine like precision reciting of meal orders in the kitchen indicates to Bill that this place is really hopping. He ducks back into the employee restroom to take a quick hit from one of the perfectly rolled joints in his cigarette case named Marijuana Girl and then works his way through the crowd his perception of time now slowing and the appearance of people now emulating whatever state of psychosis generated from deep inside his mind including viewing the bartender and patrons as if from fifty years ago in black and white and then the bartender suddenly extending his arms toward Bill transformed now to the person of  Sammy Hagar, then the Philly Phanatic appearing to administer a noogie to someone who appeared to be former President George W. Bush and then the Philly Phanatic dancing on the bar with several baseball babes as if the bar was transformed to a dugout with the patrons standing in the background now fans enjoying an afternoon at the park with Bill’s enemies in the dugout below in Philly Hell. Bill thought to himself, what was that joke he heard in New Orleans about Philadelphia? Oh! Yeah. The second prize in a contest was two weeks in Philadelphia, and first prize was one week.


The music is loud and the place is really jammed as Bill finally negotiates his way to the patio where Alex is seated at a table with her hand on the chair next to hers. They exchange smiles and he sits down next to her. In his marijuana intoxication he looks deeply into the face of Alex who is laughing with her brood of peers seated and standing around the circular table at the edge of the deck and overlooking the beach and ocean; the breeze cleansing his clothing of the lingering effects and toxicity of the burn. Sailboats fade and re-appear on the distant horizon like a video loop some seeming to emerge seaside from deep inside the everglades from a bygone period. He visualizes her as Joan Collins. He just stares at her until she feels his sight energy and turns and says: “What?” Then she leans into him and whispers in his ear. “I smell sex: “Bill did you have sex with the waitress?”


He slumps in his chair and Alex beckons a passing waiter. Please a round of your best tequila for everyone on the deck. Make ours a double with all the fixings the lime and salt bring the house as Alex beckons in her subtle British accent. A corps of waiters serves each and every guest who holding their drinks awaiting the signal from Alex who stands and shouts to the crowd:  “today my boy had sex with one of the waitresses in the bathroom. Someone’s no longer a Virgin!”  Some guy in the back yells:  “Which one!”  The crowd laughs and a burly guy with ink up and down both arms shouts:


“You mean the virgin” his girlfriend slugs him in the chest, and an instant reply from somewhere deep in the crowd: “No which waitress” the crowd erupts in laughter and song and someone else chants:


“Hip Hip Hooray!” and every person except Bill drinks their complimentary shot with the accompanying grimaces of taking hard liquor especially tequila straight. Someone else yells:  “I have seen the light” and “all hail Alex.”  The party and the private and public conversations return to their normal excessive decibels and Alex says: “what’s wrong darling? Now be a good boy drink up and sit up, slumping like that is bad for your posture.”  Bill throws back his shot and his Michoacan harvested Marijuana high is complimented by an equally toxic Tequila rush.


The party is in full swing this Sunday afternoon as the sun slips slowly across the high western sky now radiating on the ocean just to the east of the patio. Nearly everyone including the wait staff is wearing sun glasses to temper the brightness of another perfect Miami Sunday. The blaring music and endless servings of food, beer, wine and liquor  with the occasional ten dollar tip for a pack of Marlboro Red flip top or a Cuban cigar presented on a velvet tray by cigarette girl who really does smoke both in appearance and habit all combined perpetuate the belief that all is well for those who fled New York or the Northeast and the endless cycle of taxes to enhance their standard of living by at least the value of the state income tax they are no longer required to pay for this wonderfully decadent lifestyle and climate the affirmation requiring nothing more than the warm feel of the sun on your face and the affluent feel of people making plans, bantering new business ideas and shaking hands or hugging after meeting only hours prior now caught up in the euphoria of the moment in the presence of an exhilarating introduction to their new best friend.


7. Genesis-Greatest Hits-1999.5

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