Free HOPE FOR CHANGE... But Settle for a Bailout by Bill Orton Page A

him higher in
the chair and turned to December.
    Viewers of the live webcam then saw – but
couldn’t hear – the two women yelling at one another, arms waving.
December shoved the blonde away and soon Lori had December pinned
in the second reclining chair, which was also laid back as far as
it would go. December swung from under Lori’s body and sprung up,
standing and then leaping onto Lori. As the fight continued,
December’s monitor showed the cam-feed and a chat window where
subscribers cheered on the blonde “AngryGirl” and the raven-haired
Miss Milkshakes. December was still topless and Lori – her own
shirt pulled and ripped – pulled off the B-52s and made a move to
slap December, who caught her wrist.
    Larry woke up in the recliner. Lori was
topless, like December. The two were wrestling in the other
recliner. The only sounds the two were making were grunts, each
clearly not ready to stop until victory was theirs. Larry saw the
red light, laid back and closed his eyes again. He smiled.
    .
    Larry woke up in a darkened room, equipment
stacked on side tables, cables carefully coiled. He was covered by
a thin blanket. A pillow was lodged into the area under his left
hip. He got up. December and Lori were each asleep in the
California king, in the master bedroom, both only partly covered by
a sheet. Larry lingered. Lori appeared to be wearing only panties.
December was in a nightshirt. Larry returned to the recliner,
stretched out, moved the pillow and threw the blanket over
himself.
    .
    The sounds of Lori and December jostled
Larry awake.
    “No, I don’t do hotel pools,” said Lori,
with insistence in her voice. “When I am at a pool, it’s to swim…
alone.”
    “You have to do this with me,” said
December. “You have to.”
    Larry rose from the recliner, walked over to
the kitchen counter, and set about to make coffee.
    “You don’t know how many boys dere’s gonna
be,” said December.
    “Again, really,” said Lori. “All the more
reason.”
    “No, you don’t understand.”
    Lori looked at December, and her face seemed
to lose its resistance.
    “Dere’s gonna be so many boys....
Dere are just gonna be... so many. I can’t go out dere alone.
Please,” begged December. “Please, really... please.”
    “I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” said Lori.
    “Oh,” said December, jumping, “I got dat
covered.”
    .
    Though the top and bottom came from
different suits – of the fifteen bikinis December packed – and the
top was designed for a woman whose body was clearly of different
shape and proportion, the promise December made was easily kept, as
Lori – broad shouldered and toned – looked burning hot alongside
the soft glories of Miss Milkshakes, in her candystripes.
    Larry stood in long, baggy trunks. “I’ll be
in the jacuzzi.”
    “You said eleven,” said Lori. “It’s after
eleven.”
    “Dat’s what I told the boys,” said December,
putting on lipstick, and dropping SPF 45 lotion and a bottle of
water into a small tote bag. “Dey’ll wait. Makes for a bigger
entrance.”
    December and Lori walked to the main pool,
one carrying a tote and the other a backpack. Perhaps thirty young
men had gathered at the corner of the pool furthest from the
jacuzzi. December, in a steady voice, said, “Okay, Blondie Girl,
here we go.”
    “No problem,” said Lori.
    In the crowded corner, a single lounger was
empty. Lori put her backpack on the lounger and stood over a teen
on the other side. “We’ll need that. Move!” Lori ordered another
teen to bring four towels. Applause broke out.
    “Me and Blondie need more air,” December
announced, waving at the wrist for the crowd to recede, which,
swiftly they did. “No cameras, sweeties, or the hotel’ll toss
us.”
    Lori pushed the lounger with the backpack
close to December’s and pointed to a glass table. She snapped her
fingers sternly and it moved without a word. She loaded everything
onto it, spread out her towel, and lay flat on