I waltzed into World before dusk on Saturday. True to form, a dusky beauty at the bar immediately caught my eye; but she was draped in a towel, and her body language suggested that for now she needed space. I turned my attention to the room.

Several girls approached politely, one by one. I spoke briefly with each, explaining that I had just arrived and wanted to get my bearings but looked forward to speaking again later. All took this gentle rebuff in good humor. One, a Hungarian named Hannah, graciously offered a tour of the facilities in light of my virgin status, so off we went, over the river and through the woods, down the stairs and around the pool… It was all I could do to keep my obvious interest at bay, but I was determined to size up the room before throwing down. At tour’s end, I promised Hannah I’d get back to her.

Needless to say, I did indeed get back to her. We lounged on a lounge for a bit, conversatin’ and kissin’, before retiring to what she described as “the best room.” Its primary distinction seemed to be mirrors around the perimeter.

Hannah was young and fair of complexion, about 5’5” and 105, not an ounce of fat on her fine young frame. She was pretty and perky, nice skin with no makeup, hair pulled back in a ponytail. I found her more seductive with her auburn tresses freed, but she complained that it got in her way. The quintessential B-cup sorority sophomore, Hannah was probably about that experienced – BBBJ was enthusiastic but unenlightened, and she started strong but seemed to gradually become transfixed by her reflection, which I found a distraction. Her flat “we have 5 minutes” announcement (is it in yet?) belied her early enthusiasm.

(Parenthetically, Hannah scores as my record for the longest name that spells the same backwards. If I’d brought along Anna, Ava, Nan and Eve, we could’ a had a swell palindrome party.)

All in all, I’m not complaining. While I’ve never subscribed to Randy Bachman’s contention that any lovin’s good lovin’, I took what I could get.


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