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

her belly, showing a
body with no fat, no lost muscle, no imperfection, no surrender, no
suggestion of decline or reason to despair of it.
    “You got something to show, Blondie,” said
December, as she straddled Lori’s ass, took out a bottle of
sunscreen and began working it into Lori’s back, leaning deep to
get the arms and shoulders, her 32FFs heavy in her top, swinging,
brushing across Lori, mooshing into Lori, as December breathed
slowly and took her time. “Legs? or flip?”
    December became the back-facing cowgirl,
creaming Lori’s incredibly toned legs, as the young men watched in
silence. From the far corner of the massive main pool, Larry van
der Bix’s view from the jacuzzi was both distant and blocked by
more-than-could-be-counted cave boys, packed tightly like guilty
observers at a gang-rape crime scene. Lori’s front was as
incredibly tight, toned and pliant to December’s fingers as the
backside. Deep breathing could be heard as December’s hands slid
across Lori’s body, her fingers briefly disappearing under the
waistband or top.
    Lori sat upright, holding the strings to her
top, which December tied. Lori looked to December. “Is it your
turn?” The question was met by a cheer.
    .
    When Larry returned to the Presidential
suite, he was greeted by a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door
handle. Sliding his key card, the door would not open due to a
latch thrown from inside. Larry knocked. He heard December’s voice.
“Hunny, could you come back in a little while?”
    Larry went to the coffee shop.
    .
    Lori and December, each smiling and laughing
easily, found Larry at the restaurant, and sat down. Soon, all
three had coffee.
    “I feel like some f-o-o-d-!” said December.
A waiter approached with three menus and, seeing one on the table,
set down two. December immediately offered, “Oh, we’re definitely
ready.”
    Lori casually picked up a menu and scanned
the pages.
    “I’d like the filet mignon,” said December.
“The twelve ounce.” She ordered a chopped salad, with oil and
vinegar. “I like the watermelon lemonade, but it’s so big....” Lori
suggested they each order club soda, and one lemonade between them,
so they can make watermelon spritzers. December added a club soda
with her lemonade.
    Lori closed the menu. “I’m going breakfast,”
she said, ordering a Mediterranean veggie omelet, with tomatoes as
the side, a club soda, and a bran muffin.
    Larry began reciting his ranch hand
breakfast order of the previous day, but stopped. “No,” he said,
“no, I’ll have… the baseball-cut top sirloin and eggs. And cottage
cheese?”
    “Absolutely,” said the waiter.
    “Can you check that it is the full cottage
cheese? Not the one-percent or non-fat.”
    “I’ll check on that.” The waiter looked up
from writing. “Any starch?”
    “Belgian waffles?”
    “For this table, anything,” said the waiter,
whose clean-cut good looks and slight sunburn suggested his having
been at the pool earlier.
    .
    “The reviews are in,” said December, to
Lori. “Fans want more of you and me fighting.”
    Lori drank her coffee. “I’ll wrestle. That’s
fine.”
    “No, baby,” said December, “they like the
slapping and pushing.”
    Lori put her mug down. “After making sure my
friend is alive, yeh, I could slap, but, hey, I don’t fight unless
I’m in a fight… and I don’t go looking for fights.”
    “No, you have to,” said December. “The fans
can always tell.”
    Lori poured lemonade into her club soda and
set the tall glass back near December. “I don’t do things for
fans,” said Lori, sipping. “I’m not some WWE actress.”
    The waiter approached and leaned toward
Larry, while eyeing December and Lori.
    “The cottage cheese is non-fat.”
    “Skip it then,” said Larry. “Nonfat’s just
texture.” The waiter left.
    “Won’t’chu do it for me, baby?” cooed
December.
    “Dee, why would I slap you?”
    “Oh,” said December, in a huff,