I have three passions in life: making food, music and love. There is no implicit prioritization to that list, and sometimes the three take turns rotating in primacy in my life. The only common theme I can identify for all three is that they involve an improvisational element. One has to take in the ingredients, what's in the air, the time of day, the mood, and synthesize it into something coherent. Of course, can take the sad attitude that all three can be scripted: recipes, sheet music and instruction manuals, but for me, the improvisational element is critical. It's life.
My good friend, Beatrice, who goes by the nickname Honey Bea, decided to hold an orgy at her apartment. Bea has what I would call an amazing sense of hostessing, if that is a word, and set this party up way in advance. Although I don't like to be labeled by the moniker "gourmet", I love to cook, and Bea invited me to provide for the guests.
Well in advance of the party, Bea setup a web site for the invited guests to the orgy, who she had carefully screened for compatibilities, and with some eye toward diversity of tastes. On the web site, the invitees could post their favorite fantasies. There were the typical fantasies one might expect. From the men came the two-women-on-one-men, or, better still, the cunnilingus contest. This last one was where they line up five or six women and then give their oral talents a try. The women had some "tied-up" fantasies, some feather boa type deals. Although I have to confess to some fantasies along the line that were listed by the other guests, I felt obliged to be a non-conformist, or somehow unique, so I could stand out from the crowd of the eager males.
I recalled reading somewhere that Jelly Roll Morton got his start playing piano in a New Orleans whore-house. Evidently he got to look through a peep-hole at the "executive suite" in the brothel and improvised his music to the rhythm of the moment. Harry Truman, our beloved president had confessed to a fantasy of being the piano player in a brother. Well, I thought this was a capital idea and contributed to the "fantasy" list my own fantasy of being a musician in a whore-house.
Bea, being the gracious hostess, invited me to bring my instruments and try it out.
A word is in order about the guest list, I suppose, although I will introduce them to the reader in good time, as part of the arrival ceremonies. There was a distinct, but subtle religious slant to the list. Rajeev was a Hindu devotee of a well regarded guru. He had done much of the enlightenment work, and was well versed in the Vedic scriptures. At some point, however, his guru regarded him as too austere in his background. Typically, when one renounces desire, the implication is that one had experienced desire, yet Rajeev evidently had never had much of a worldly background, and hence really had nothing to renounce. In a sense, Rajeev was making a backward pilgrimage, leaving enlightenment and entering the world of desire. This trip had been completely sanctioned by his guru.
Another interesting fellow is Sean, a lapsed Roman Catholic Priest. Sean is about 50, and followed his religious desires into the clergy, but, like Rajeev, found it unsatisfying. He spent the majority of his time in Manila in a few parishes. But, since he couldn't take the celibacy, he decided to renounce his vows and was clearly making up for lost time. When he returned to the U.S., he managed to use the internet to acquire a vast stable of women, whom he regularly screwed with a clear abandon. In a way, it's a shame to imagine his libido being bottled up for so long in Manila, but life has its ironies.
Bea herself was fascinating. She was just getting out of an icky marriage and is a high powered executive. The end of her marriage somehow triggered her libido to the point where she must've screwed half the males in the metropolitan Philadelphia area.
Bea had also invited Anita, an accomplished violinist, a swinging couple, Dave and Betsy, a student nurse, Kimmy.
My name is Dan, and coincidently, there was also another "Dan" in the guest list. He said he had been in the CIA and had a distinct dark side that I couldn't comprehend. By the end of the party, I'd labeled him the "Anti-Dan", since his personality seemed to be in direct opposition to mine.
The day of the party arrived, and I decided to make gourmet pizzas, more or less to order. This was in accord with my "improvisational" concept. I had many different toppings to offer - prosciutto, mushrooms, leeks, smoked salmon, capers, onions, etc. I also brought many cheeses, chevre, fontina, mozzarella and gruyere.
I must've looked a sight as I went through the lobby of the apartment building. I was packing a banjo in a loose sack, my guitar and a box full of pizza fixings. Somehow I managed to make it up to the 16th floor, and rang the buzzer.
Bea opened the door, and escorted me in. She was wearing a full length sari. Sean was also there, helping out with the preparations. I had deliberately arrived a bit early so I could attend to some of the sous-chefing work. I roasted some pine-nuts, sautéed the mushrooms, and rolled out two of the pizza dough balls into a pan.
