15
Brad
Of course I did not do as she asked. Not immediately anyway. I gave a dinner party in her honor instead. Actually two.
The first was held at my Manhattan apartment.
I told Lynn that it would be formal, so she should dress accordingly, except of course that she was to be naked beneath her dress. I also told her that the guest list would include several people of sufficient celebrity that she would know them, though not personally. In any event the dinner was, I said, simply a way of reciprocating previous invitations.
The table seats twenty.
Looking like the Goodyear blimp in a tuxedo, I was at the head of the table. Looking as pure as Botticelli's Venus Rising From the Sea, wearing a peach colored silk Versace sheath, which left her lovely shoulders bare, Lynn sat at the other end.
On her immediate left was a National Book Award winning female novelist; to her right was one of the better known major network Washington correspondents, who had let a rival cover a Presidential visit to the Middle East rather than miss one of my dinners.
Other guests included the ambassador to the United Nations from an important European nation; two movie directors; several members, both male and female, of families which have had money long enough to qualify as 'old' by New York standards; this year's sensation at the Metropolitan Opera (female); and a recently elected member of the NBA Hall of Fame. All the others were equally accomplished in their own fields, but did not share public fame. Obviously I cannot identify any of them more specifically.
Only with difficulty had I resisted the persistent entreaties of various society reporters to cover the event once the guest list leaked out.
Bernard, my chef, exceeded even his usual incomparable standard,
and the meal--from the caviar through the medallion of pheasant heart sauteed over a nest of Balinese lemon grass--was exquisite, if I say so myself. I do, but so did the guests.
The conversation was a rare blend of intelligence and wit as fine as the wines.
Although we were too far apart to speak together, from time to time, Lynn's eyes met mine. She seemed to be enjoying herself exceedingly.
A slight lull came over the table as the servants--I never use that odious neologism 'servers'--cleared away the last dishes.
My comment, "I trust that all of you are ready for dessert," received a murmur of general and eager agreement.
Raising my hand toward her in what I hoped was a gallant gesture, I said, "Perhaps, Lynn, you will be so kind as to come here to assist me."
