This is what it came down to; where did I go wrong? For nearly three weeks, Jesse had Chris's gracious apartment which happens to be located on the infamous Flamingo Park, a sort of late night gathering place for nameless romanticism. For three weeks he was the name on everyone's lips: "Who is he? Is he married? What an ass!" And, still, he arrived a virgin and left just as chaste. You can walk down the streets and find one den of sin after another, but you will NEVER find a temple to vestal virgins. I kept telling him that virtue carries no weight in this town.
We took some time out in the afternoon for some final shots; even the slave auction left me with a virgin child. I don't think Jesse knows how this reflects on MY reputation. Many, many children have graduated from Mrs. Astor's School of Gutter Refinement. Just look at Leopold; I rescued him from some tulip field when just a scared lamb with a Dutch boy haircut, and he is now roaming Europe like a drunken, sex-crazed vampire. That makes me proud; I just don't know WHAT I am going to do with Jesse.
Still, it was a fun, if hot, afternoon. Andy was particularly popular, and I think that's why I received a surprise call from Jeremy in Bogata; sometimes you just get "the feeling" that mischief is afoot.
Sequins were the order of the day and my own vampire senses detected a bit of rivalry between current Palace star, Tiffany, and past "Queen of The Palace", Amy Rivers. It keeps them on their toes.

And, Lahoma was right. I DO live in a "gay, cocktail, fantasy Lalaland". Why else would the sight of a lipstick lesbian making out with a hairy top in spaghetti straps seem the height of normalcy?