Julie & Julia, The Lovely Bones, and the Devil Wears Prada

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

The House That Porn Paid For

My delicate powder blue, vintage inspired dress started to feel constricting.  I tugged at the neck.  Then started itching my arms.  I wanted to ripe it off.  A large herd of women with amazon legs and large plastic breasts were smothering me.  I was a nun in a crowd of scantily clad, bleached haired twenty somethings.

This party was my cousins idea.  "A chance to get out and mingle with the local Vegas community" she casually mentioned, but neglected the part that this community happened to be in the porn industry.

The owner of the house stood at the bottom of a sweeping staircase with a few women embracing his arms.  He was a modern day Hugh Hefner.  No one could really say exactly what he did in the porn industry, but being that he was a mere five foot four, I was guessing he was a distributor rather than a participant.

This was quite the house, with views of the Vegas lights, marble floors, and all the bells and whistles one could ever hope for.

Many of the guests clustered around the indoor basketball court, golf screen, bowling alley, dance floor, or hot tub.  I was half expecting to hear cheesy "porn" music pouring out of the speakers, but noticed a DJ spinning at his station on the dance floor. I walked over to the buffet impressed, but then I saw a spread of "Donnettes" on the table, imaging this would be something the photography crew would eat during a shooting break.  I knew a man had picked out the assortment of powdered, glazed, and chocolate Donnettes. Cheap and easy, just like the crowd.

Powder sugar coated the sides of my mouth as I snacked and watched people get in and out of the pool.  It seemed the more people drank the more clothes would come off. I started to scratch at my high collared dress again.

People would go into a room for awhile and a few would come out, then two more would go in, odd behavior.  I wanted to leave.

Around four am I was becoming deliriously tired. I had already attempted the "I'm tired, let's go" phrase, several times to my cousin, but each time she skillfully ignored me. This time I casually walked up and yanked the golf club out of her hand, threw it across the floor, and said. "It's time to go."

Leaving gaping mouths and a screen full of green grass and sand traps.

With my wild hair and smeared mascara, I was convincing.

I dragged my cousin and her boyfriend to the car. We were short some pants, shoes, keys, and phones.

"If it's not on you at this moment it ain't coming with you." I repeated loudly like a patient flight attendant, pointing to the door.

Shoving them into the car, I forgot I had no idea where I was going, I accidentally drove a half an hour the wrong way, ending up in the Vegas desert.  I was tempted to leave their limp bodies, but I figured that wouldn't be very nice.

Finally finding my bed, and leaving my friends like two year olds asleep in the car, I peeled off my dress, grateful I didn't have an "audience"and fell asleep.

Vegas, cheap and easy......but always unexpectedly entertaining.

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