sure。 That confused expression； those sleepy； stoner green eyes？he hadn？t changed a bit。 But for
once； Nate wasn？t looking back at her at all？ he was staring； mouth agape； atBlair。
？Naked is the new clothed；？ Blair told him matter of factly。 She placed a hand on the fleshy
curve of her hip。 ？Haven？t you heard？？
Blair had known he was around here somewhere； of course； but she hadn？t expected him to
findher。 Their whole relationship had always been about chasing him and trying to pin him
down？she？d kind of wanted to just handcuff him to her bed； and not even in a dirty way； but just
so she could keep track of him and make sure he wasn？t doing something idiotic。 But now he was
here and he？d obviously e looking for them。 Or； judging by the way he was looking at her；
he？d e looking forher。
？Totally；？ Serena confirmed； crossing her arms over her sun…dappled chest。 The fact that Nate
wasn？t looking at her made her feel even more naked。 She？d never clamored for Nate？s attention；
but she？d wanted it。 She？d always wanted it。 Just then Blair lunged for Serena？s elbow； yanking
her in the general direction of Bailey Winter？s pool。
？Wait； where are you going？？ Nate stammered。
Blair held tightly to Serena？s hand as they ran。 ？Get a good look！？ she called behind them as
they pranced up the flagstone path to the screen door。 ？And think about us tonight！？
Don？t worry； he will。
？
newyork。craigslist/groups
Announcing Inaugural Meeting； Song of Myself Literary Salon （Manhattan）
Rejoice； righteous wordsmiths！ We are pleased to announce a new and exclusive literary group in
the grand tradition of the European salons of Gertrude Stein and Edith Sitwell。
We are two humble servants of the written word： one a vaunted young poet and songwriter with a
semi…international reputation； the other a reader and thinker who cherishes Wilde and Proust over
all else。 We are looking for like…minded young men and women who love to read； write； and talk
about reading and writing； and maybe drink a little Chianti or whatever。 Consider the following
statements/questions。 We？ll read every response closely and then send invitations to our inaugural
meeting to a carefully handpicked group of discerning New Yorkers。
1。 Poetry deserves a more central role in the culture today。 There should be an American Poet
Idol show。 Agree or disagree？
2。 What is your favorite word？ What is your least favorite word？ Write a sentence using both at
the same time。 Example： Mayhem。 Snack。 Sitting in the middle of the iridescent…brown cockroach
mayhem； Bonita ate a snack of butterfly wings。
Interested participants should attach a photograph。 We need to make sure you？re not 12。 Or 112。
Looking forward to some inspiring conversation！ （BYOB！）
n？s great escape
？There you are！？
Babs Michaels stood at the cheap Formica counter of her ramshackle kitchen； artfully arranging
slices of cantaloupe on a plate of scrambled eggs and buttery toast。 Nate rubbed at his bloodshot
eyes with the heel of his hand and yawned？ for a second the sight of a very tanned woman
preparing breakfast gave him a weird flashback to when he was a kid。 He used to stumble
downstairs to the kitchen of his Upper East Side town house to find Cecille； his parents？
Barbadian chef； preparing cinnamon wheat toast or a bowl of Irish oatmeal for him before he
headed off to St。 Jude？s in the morning。
But he wasn？t a kid； he didn？t have to go to school any…more； and Babs； in her tissue…thin pale
purple robe； with her tight； leathery skin； was definitely not Cecille。 Besides； he？d already eaten
two strawberry frosted Pop…Tarts at his house in Georgica Pond。
？Morning；？ Nate muttered； watching suspiciously as Babs set the loaded plate on the table；
humming throatily。
？You need a big breakfast today； don？t you； Nate？ All that sweating and straining in the hot sun。？
She sidled over to Nate； placing her cool hand on his right bicep； which was peeking out of his
navy blue Ben Sherman polo。
？R…r…right。？ Nate pulled out of her determined grip； tak…ing a seat at the table。 Hewas kind of
hungry； and the plate of scrambled eggs and lightly browned toast looked sort of tempting； but
even in his early morning stupor； Nate could see where this was headed。 He？d start eating； Babs
would pour him more orange juice she？d just made from the can； ask him to rub more ointment on
her tattoo； then suggest that maybe they should take a soak together in the hot tub that Coach
never stopped talking about。 And before he knew it； she？d handcuff him to her bed and rub the
slimy leftover cantaloupe slices over his naked body or something。
The way to a man？s heart is said to be through his stomach。
The thought of being naked in bed with Babs made Nate pletely nauseated； but he could still
feel a certain longing in the pit of his stomach。 It definitely wasn？t for Babs fluttering around in a
purple nylon robe that was barely long enough to cover her half…fit； half…middle…aged…flabby ass；
though。 It had more to do with the memory of Blair； wearing only the lightest sheen of sweat and
lotion； grinning at him naughtily when he discovered her the day before in his extremely gay
neighbor？s yard。 He？d seen her naked lots of times； but standing there in the broad daylight； her
delicate shoulders a little browner that the rest of her； she？d never looked more beautiful。 He？d
spotted the tiny familiar apple…shaped birthmark on her hip and had had to will himself not to grab
her and kiss it。
？What？s the matter； hon？？ Babs wondered； stepping behind his chair and leaning over him so
that her weirdly hard boobs were sort of rubbing against his upper back。 ？You？re not hungry this
morning？？
Bursting out of his chair as if he？d been electrocuted； Nate？s voice came out much more loudly
than he？d planned： ？You know； I should； um； well； I need to make a telephone call。？
？A phone call？
？Yeah。？ He blushed deeply。 ？Is that okay？ I mean； can I have your permission？ I know I？m
technically on the job and all。？
？You don？t needmy permission；？ she whispered。 ？There？s nothing I would ever forbid you to do；
Nate。Nothing。 ？
？Thanks！？ He practically sprinted out of the kitchen and onto the back deck。 Fumbling in the
deep pocket of his cargo shorts for his Motorola Pebl； he started scrolling through his address
book and quickly dialed the first entry： Anthony Avuldsen； his lacrosse teammate and the guy
who？d already saved him once that summer； when he？d found him…self entangled in a plicated
romance with a hot townie chick who？d turned out to be more trouble than she was worth。
Don？t they all？
Nate was on the verge of hanging up after five rings； when Anthony answered with a friendly；
exaggerated shout。 ？Whassup？？
？Dude。Where are you？？
？On my way to the beach；？ Anthony yelled over the car stereo； blasting AC/DC？s ？Back in Black？
so loud that his phone shook。 ？Can you hang out？？
Nate stared out at the small； shimmering； rectangular…shaped pool and the slightly overgrown
lawn beyond it。 The idea of mowing that grass made him want to cry； the thought of turning
around and going back into that house and getting molested by Babs made him want to hurl。
Talk about a rock and a hard place。
？Hang out；？ Nate repeated slowly。 ？Yeah； let？s do that。 I？m at Coach？s place in the Bays。 Pick
me up？？
？Pick you up？？ screamed Anthony。 ？Cool； yeah； what…ever。 Give me ten minutes。？
Nate shoved the phone back into his pocket and inhaled deeply； steeling his nerves。
？Everything okay？？ Babs opened the sliding glass porch door and trotted outside。 Her purple
robe had e undone and was hanging off her shoulders like a cape； revealing her plicated；
lacy； animal…print underthings。 They reminded Nate of the kind of bathing suit his eccentric
French now…dead grandmother had worn during a family trip to the Turks and Caicos when he was
a kid。
Oh； how alluring！
？I？m actually not feeling that well。？ He wasn？t even lying； really； since the thought of what
might happen if he didn？t get out of there made him feel totally queasy。Wincing in pain？ but
t