Eye-Candy for Breakfast, April 26, 2011
Victor and I meet an acquaintance for breakfast at the Marriott on the corner of Atlantic and A1A in Delray Beach. The guy's an investor, and it's strictly a business meeting--everything on the up and up. We're sitting with our fruit and coffee and talking high finance when the dining room begins to fill with dozens of beautiful young women. They're blond and brunette and some are black, and they are all so damned lovely our meeting grinds to a halt. They enter in groups of two and fours, and join their friends at long tables, and suddenly the Marriott's looking like a sorority club.
One perky young thing next to us is even entertaining her grandmother, the two of them exchanging Easter baskets. The room fills with chatter and high-pitched laughter, and I'm reminded of the parties Stella used to have when she was in high-school. These girls are older, but not by much--early to mid-twenties, and they are all fit and toned and wearing tiny shorts and bikini tops and gauzy little outfits. There's a lot of fake tits and bleached teeth and bright smiles, and Victor, who hasn't missed a meal since he did his two year stint in Angola twenty-two years ago, shoves aside his banana pancakes. "Jesus," he says, "what is this, some kind of modeling thing?"
My guest says, "It's quite a show, isn't it?"
Two beauties plop down on Victor's side of the table, and he gets the story. They're New England Patriot cheerleaders, and they're in Delray Beach to do their annual calendar shoot. Soon we've got five gorgeous young girls sipping orange juice at our table, and Victor's telling stories. He casually mentions that we're planning to take the Stella di Mare down to Lauderdale this afternoon, and the young ladies get all excited. They'd love to go on a boat ride. So guess where I'll be later?