tentatively to check if the ceiling was high enough for him to jump up and down without hitting
his head。Then he started bouncing around crazily。
？Stop！ Stop！？ Blair shrieked。 She stood up and took Nate？s hands； and they bounced together
like a couple of demented； overgrown kids。
Then Nate stopped bouncing； suddenly serious。 ？So； um； does this mean something？？
Blair held on to his hands； swinging them from side to side。 ？Mean something？？ she asked。 ？As
in； are we back together？？
Nate shrugged his shoulders。 ？Yeah。？
Blair blushed again； more deeply this time。 ？Well； we better be； because I love you too。？ Nate
grinned and took a bouncy step forward so that his chin brushed her forehead。 Blair tipped her
head back。 His gold…flecked green eyes sparkled。 And then he kissed her。
It wasn？t like they had a lot more to say。
n knows a desperate housewife when he sees one
？Nate？ Naaa…te？ Whereare you hiding； my little goose…berry？？
That muffled； far…off cry made the fine sun…bleached hairs on the back of Nate Archibald？s
tanned neck stand straight up。 He？d purposely chosen the dingy but deserted attic of Coach
Michaels？s house for a quick escape from yet another day of indentured servitude in the
not…so…fashionable part of Long Island。
Escape； of course； meaning escape to stoned land。 Inhale THC； exhale CO2。
He took a long drag from the freshly rolled joint and blew a plume of warm； dry smoke out the
small half…window； straining to hear where the voice was ing from。 The voice in question
belonged to Patricia； also known as ？Babs；？ Coach Michaels？s ever…present and usually
sun…bathing…topless…by…the…pool wife。 Nate had been working at the Michaelses？ Hampton Bays
house since graduation？or in his case； semigraduation； since he hadn？t yet received his diploma；
due to a now…infamous Viagra…stealing incident。 And while Babs had always been
friendly？bringing him tall glasses of lemon…infused ice tea as he guided the lawnmower over
Coach？s beloved lawn； urging him to eat a slice of buttery cinnamon toast when he showed up in
the morning； bleary…eyed and ready for work？for the past two days she？d been 。 。 。 well；extra
friendly。 He might have been stoned most of the time； but he was with it enough to notice that
Babs Michaelsdefinitely had a thing for him。
Doesn？t everyone？
Nate paused and focused all his energy on listening to the quiet house； but the only noise he
heard was the pounding of his stoned； nervous heart。 He brought the joint back up to his lips and
paused？maybe the pot was making him paranoid； but he thought he heard something。 It sounded
like footsteps ing closer。
Shit！Nate hastily stubbed the joint out on the rough wooden windowsill； sending a shower of
sparks onto the floor。 Great？not only was he about to get caught smoking a joint on the job； he was
going to burn the fucking house down in the process。 He tucked the roach into his pocket？ no
sense wasting it？and frantically fanned the smoke out the open window。
？Are you up here； Nate？？ Babs？s voice boomed from the bottom of the attic stairwell。 ？Do I
smell something 。 。 。illegal？ You know； I was a teenager once； too？not so long ago！？
Nate was still waving his hands frantically when Babs emerged from the top of the stairs。 A sly
smile spread across her wrinkled； slightly sun…burnished face。 Her dyedred hair was pulled back in
a sloppy ponytail。 A halo of auburn frizz puffed out around her forehead。
？There you are。？ Babs sighed。 ？Didn？t you hear me calling for you？？
Nate shook his head； suddenly very concerned about how stoned he was。
？Well；？ she continued； strolling toward him； past the piles of cardboard boxes and all the old toys
and junk that she and the coach had stored up there。 ？You know what my husband said： while he？s
out of town； you？remine。 ？
？Y…y…yeah；？ stammered Nate。 Coach was away at some lacrosse conference in Maryland for the
week； probably learning new techniques in torturing high school boys。 Nate was suddenly
panicked he hadn？t pletely put out the joint。 Were his pants going to catch fire？
Yikes。
？The thing is； Nate；？ Babs went on； idly tracing the handle…bars of a rusted Schwinn bike that
was hanging from the ceiling； ？I need a hand。 Do me a little favor； will you？？
？？Course。？ he nodded。 ？That？s what I？m here for。？
？Well； this particular favor might be outside of your regular job description；？ she admitted。 ？But
if you？d be so kind as to help me out； maybe I won？t mention anything about the fact that my attic
smells like a Grateful Dead concert。 What do you say？？
What can you say to blackmail？
？I？m 。 。 。 I？m sorry；？ Nate stumbled。 ？It won？t happen again。？
Babs laughed。 ？You can？t possibly expect me to believe that。？ She smiled； pushing past the
upside…down bike toward Nate； who was still hunched by the window。 ？But never mind。 I need a
hand； and you？ve got two。？ She took his now…callused hands in hers； examining them。 ？Two very
capable； strong hands。？
Nate wondered if he shouldn？t warn Coach that his kids might not look like him for a reason：
Babs had probably bagged every grocery boy who？d bagged her groceries！
？What can I do for you？？ he asked； trying to sound cheerfully polite； although he heard his voice
warble in pure stoned terror。
Babs dropped his hands and undid the top button on her pink cotton shirt。 ？I decided to get a little
surprise for the coach。？ She undid another button。
？I see；？ Nate replied evenly。 And he did see： some very impressive cleavage； and nary a tan line；
thanks to her after…noon regimen of topless sunbathing。
Nice。
？I decided to get a little tattoo。？ She giggled； undoing the last button on her shirt and letting it
slide off her shoulders and onto the floor。 ？Just a little something for the coach to discover when
he gets home。？
？Great。？ He nodded。Eye contact； eye contact； eye contact。
？But I？ve got to take special care of it；？ she whispered huskily； turning her back to Nate to reveal
a tiny tattoo of a butterfly； its green wings spread across the burnished leather of her lower
back。 ？But I just can？t seem to reach it；？ she continued。 ？My tattoo artist； Matty？ He said I have to
rub this ointment on it every couple of hours。？
Nate studied the tattoo； trying desperately to clear his head。 What was he supposed to do in this
situation？ Babs was okay； but up close her skin looked kind of like a beat…up old baseball glove；
and her perfume smelled like the soap in a gas station bathroom。
No wonder Coach Michaels needed that Viagra。
Speaking of him： he？d kick Nate？s ass； and not just figuratively； if he knew that his wife had
taken her top off in Nate？s presence。 On the other hand； if he didn？t rub Babs with ointment she？d
tell Coach Michaels he？d been smoking pot on the job。 The coach probably wouldn？t give Nate
his diploma at the end of the summer； which would mean no more Yale； and basically his whole
entire life would be fucked up。
His choices were slightly limited。
？Where？s the ointment？？ he asked Babs； closing his eyes as he dabbed it on。 He searched his
stoned brain for something nonsexual to talk about。 ？Um； after this I gotta get that mower out of
the sun； otherwise she might blow。 I don？t want to start any fires。？
Too late； honey。Too late。
==================================
ABC Amber LIT Converter v2。02
==================================
Disclaimer： All the real names of places； people； and events have been altered or abbreviated to
protect the innocent。 Namely； me。
hey people！
Isn？t fate funny？ You think you？ve got some control over things； you think you？re in charge of
life； but really； e on？we？re all just at the mercy of the universe。 I mean； we all read our
horoscopes； don？t we？ And we all know there are some people who are just 。 。 。 connected。 It
doesn？t always make sense； but it？s not worth fighting。 So I？m happy to report an early…bird
sighting：B slipping out of the van der Woodsens？ master bedroom to grab a fresh bottle of water；
wearingN ？s olive green polo （and nothing else）。 It？s just fate； people。 Get used to it。
The postparty e…mails are starting to trickle in； and it seems the big blowout was every bit as
eventful as a Costume Institute gala。 Minus the gowns？or any clothes whatsoever。 But the thing
everyone？s talking about is the birthday girl and the boy who must？ve been her present。 。 。 。 So；
my faithful readers； I？ve got a poll for you：
You bump into an old flame。 What do you do？
a） Adopt a vaguely Russian accent and go straight for the vodka。
b） Make out with the nearest quasicutie？nothing like a new flame to make him jealous。
c） Reminisce about old times 。 。 。 and then show him all your new tricks。
d） CallS and ask for advice？she？s been there； done all of the above！
That？s right： It seems that not only didN andB do some reuniting； butS got reacquainted with an
old friend；H 。 Or more than a friend？ He was seen carrying her into her bedroom just before
daybreak。 A。 How sweet！ Now give me the dirt。 Who is he and what？s the story？ I？m dying
for answers； and I know you are too！
your e…mail
Q：？
Dear GG；
？
Just a response to your APB： I totally just spotted a vintage roadster while I was out for my
morning run。 It was parked in a long white gravel driveway and it looked like there were people
sleeping in it together！ Ew！
？
？5K
A：？
Dear 5K；
？
Congrats on sticking to your morning regimen； and thanks for the hot tip。 But as usual； I？m way
ahead of the game。 The errant threesome has been located and I？m all boned up on what？s going
on。 Let？s just hope your sleeping beauties wake up before they return！
？
？GG
a little friendly advice
As city dwellers； we？re used to waking up in our own beds。 You can party anywhere； all night
long； and a taxi is just waiting to whisk you back to your penthouse or town house。 But it？s
different in the country。 Everyone just 。 。 。sleeps over。 I know； I know。 It sounds a little grody？
waking up in some unfamiliar house； very likely with some unfamiliar hookup drooling on your
skirt。 And yes； it can be awkward seeing everyone in the unforgiving light； without the benefit of
booze…goggles。 But I？m in the giving mood； （hello； when am I not？）； and I？ve got some
advice。 。 。 。
five morning…after pointers
1） Country houses have the nicest bathrooms。 Take a nice steam and feel free to bring a friend。
The shower？s big enough for two； and sharing is caring！
2） Yes； you look like a mess。 So feel free to go ahead and borrow something from the host。 But if
you take some undies； just keep ？em。 It？ll be our secret。
3） Head hurts？ Gather up the leftover champagne for mimosas； and slip a little Kahl？a into the
French…press。 It might just get the party restarted。
4） Help yourself to the lady of the house？s beauty products。 Mommies always have the very best
eye cream。
5） Still not feeling any better？ There may still be some prescription…strength Motrin leftover from
Granny？s fall。 Hey； hangovershurt ！
Okay； kids； time for me to take my own advice and follow it up with a little dip in