Sex and the city

Chapter 17 Stay away from married women and enjoy the fun of going into battle in a vacuum
It's not a good idea to visit a bride who's married with a child.As soon as he came back from the suburbs, bad luck visited these Manhattan girls in turn.

Early the morning after returning from Greenwich, the girls eagerly dialed each other's numbers—Sara sprained her ankle while roller skating at four in the morning; It got fucked in the closet and no condoms were used; Kelly did something so absurd that she thought she and Mr. Big were over; and Bella was missing.

bold guy

Miranda had no idea she was going to be so crazy at the party — so crazy that it was “a double Glenn Close” — as she puts it.

"I was just going to go home and get a good night's sleep and get up and work on Sunday"—that's the cool thing about being single and childless.You can even get work done on Sunday.

But Sarah dragged her to a party. "You can meet a lot of useful people there," Sarah said.For her PR firm, Sara never misses an opportunity to hunt down “good guys”—and, of course, those “good guys” often end up being “dateable guys.”

The party was at a very old diamond house on East 64th Street.At the party, several women in their thirties wore black floor-length dresses and their hair was exactly the same color—dyed the same shade of blond.This squad of women in black dresses is always showing up at various rich old men's houses, looking for men at parties, and deliberately pretending that it's not the case.

Sarah disappeared in a flash among the crowd, leaving Miranda standing alone by the bar.She has dark curly hair and looks aggressive in her tight leggings tucked into her boots.

Two girls walked past her.Perhaps the alcohol was hallucinating her—Miranda swears one of the women said something: "This is the woman, Miranda Hobbs, and she's an absolute bitch."

Miranda yelled back, but no one heard: "Yeah, I'm a whore—but I'd rather be a whore than you, honey!" And then she suddenly and inexplicably remembered this long day in the suburbs. In the afternoon, carrot cake topped with low-fat cheese, and that tiny silver fork with a point so sharp it looks like it might pierce the skin at any moment.

Then a man walked straight up to her.He was wearing a well-tailored tailored suit.Oh, and he's not really a man yet, because he doesn't look like he's 35—an age that's a little boy compared to the other powerful older men at the party, but he's trying to be Same as them.

Miranda was asking the waiter to bring her a double shot of vodka and tonic.He asked her, "Are you thirsty?"

"No. I just want to eat steak right now, okay?"

"Then I'll get you one." The man said with a heavy French accent.

"I'll let you figure it out!" she said, walking away.She's had enough of feeling out of place and wants nothing more to do with the party.But she didn't want to go home either, because she was fed up with being alone -- not to mention she was a little drunk now.

"My name is Guy," he said, "and I own a gallery on 79th Street."

She sighed and said, "Well, it's yours."

"Perhaps you've heard of it."

"Listen, Guy..." she said.

"Huh?" he asked eagerly.

"Can your dick reach your ass?"

"Of course," Guy said with a smile on his face, approaching Miranda, and putting his arms around her shoulders.

"Then why don't you go home and fuck yourself!"

"Hey, please!" Guy said, and Miranda was already pulling her hand straight for the stairs, wondering if he was out of his head or if the French were all stupid.She followed her upstairs, because she thought that if a man could remain so calm after being insulted like this, then he shouldn't be a bad person.They came to the master's bedroom, where the bed was covered with a red silk quilt.Guy takes some drugs, and out of nowhere they start kissing.

Guests came to use the bathroom one after another, coming in and out, so they got into the big wardrobe.Antique pine paneling, coats and trousers on hangers, cashmere sweaters and shoes on shelves.Miranda glanced at the label: Savile Row - boring.She turned around and Guy was right behind her clinging to her.They caressed in the dark, Miranda's leggings falling to her feet.He demanded her body frantically and boldly.

"How old?" Kelly asked her on the phone.

"Huge! Still French!" said Miranda.

When it was all over, he said, "Hey honey, better not let my girlfriend know." Before she could say anything, he put his tongue in her mouth.

Then the truth surfaced—Guy was already engaged to his girlfriend and had been living together for two years.He wasn't sure if he wanted to get married, but he was living with her, so what could he do?

Not even Glenn Cross could do anything about it.

The next day, Guy asked for Miranda's phone number and called her to say he still wanted to see her. "Then you must choose," Miranda said.

worried newbert
At noon, Bella's husband, Newbert, called Kelly and asked if she had seen Bella.

"If she's dead, I'll know," Kelly said.

roller skating naive

And then there's Sarah.According to Miranda, she went downstairs drunk to rollerblade at four in the morning.Is there anything more off-putting than a 38-year-old woman still acting like a girl?
But what else could Sarah do?She is 38 years old, unmarried and looking for someone to be with.But as you'll learn from this book, guys only like young girls.Even the women at the bridal shower, although they are much older than Sara now, married themselves before they were 38.And now, maybe the option of getting married no longer belongs to her.So instead of sleeping with him, she rollerblades late at night with a 25-year-old boy.He wanted her, but she was afraid that he would dislike her body.

In the afternoon, Kelly called Sarah. "Hi! Hi hi hi!" Sarah answered the phone.She was lying upright on the sofa.Sarah's apartment is located in a high-rise building on West Second Street. It has one bedroom and one living room. The rooms are small but exquisite. "Oh, I'm... well. Unbelievable, isn't it?" Her tone of effortless relief sounded unnatural. "It's just a broken ankle. The doctors in the emergency room are amazing. Luke is always with me."

"Luke?"

"It's actually Lucas. He's the cutest, my little friend." She giggled, almost creepily.

"Where did you get your roller skates?"

"Oh, he skated, to that party. Isn't it cute?"

The farce finally came to an end after six weeks.In the meantime, Sara struggled with her PR firm with a limp.She didn't buy accident insurance, and the company's funds became very tight.

Is it better or worse than the married grand dames living in the suburbs?

Who knows.

bella in carlisle
Bella called from Carlisle, talking about a wide receiver for the Miami Dolphins, her husband Newbert in passing, and spaghetti sauce. "I make a great spaghetti sauce," she said. "I'm a good wife." Kelly echoed her.

After Bella came back from the bridal shower, she had a big fight with Newbert, and she ran away from home angrily, and went to Frederick's nightclub by herself.The wide receiver was there too.He kept telling Bella that her husband didn't love her enough. "He loves me, you just don't understand," she explained. "Then I'll love you more than he does," he said.She just smiled and left, booking herself a luxury suite at the Carlyle Hotel."They're going to deliver cocktails to my room, right now," she said.

She said she thought Newbert might be in a bad mood because he had just mailed his novel, or maybe it was because she said she didn't want kids—at least not until his novel sold.By the time she gets pregnant, this life will have to end now.

So why not take advantage of it now!

All roads lead to bar

After the bridal shower, Kelly checked in with Mr. Big on the phone and headed to the Bowery.Samantha Jones is there.She's about 40, a film producer, and one of Kylie's best friends—sometimes.

Buckley, the twenty-five-year-old artist and model fanatic, stuck at Samantha's table uninvited.

"I'd love it if you could come to my apartment," Buckley said, smoothing his blond hair.

Samantha is smoking a Cuban cigar.She flicked the cigarette ash and blew a big puff of smoke straight into Buckley's face. "Of course you will be very happy, but the question is why should I be interested in your broken paintings."

"Of course you don't have to be interested in my paintings," Buckley said, "you just have to be interested in me."

Samantha smirked and said, "I never touch a man under the age of 35. Too inexperienced for my taste."

"Give it a try," Barkley said, "or at least buy me a drink."

"We're leaving," Samantha said. "We've got to find a new meeting place."

Their new stronghold is the Doll's Bar in Lower Manhattan.They couldn't say no to Barkley, so they had to let him follow.Most of the people in that bar were half naked, and it might have been better to have a guy with him, and he'd just smoked weed—they'd just smoked it together in the taxi.

At the door of the bar, Samantha suddenly grabbed Kelly by the arm (she would never do that) and said, "Tell me about Mr. Big. I want to know if he's right for you."

Kelly hesitated for a moment whether to tell her.Because she always does, every time Kelly gleefully throws herself into the arms of a man, she jumps in and questions her choice.After thinking for a while, she answered honestly, "I don't know. He drives me crazy."

Samantha asked again: "But does he know how good you are? Just like me, knowing all the good things about you?"

Kylie thought: "One day, I might sleep with the same guy as her, but definitely not tonight."

The bartender here is a woman. "It's hard to see a woman here," she said, pouring them a free glass of wine.Alcohol is the trigger every time.Buckley has been blah blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
Two girls are dancing on stage.Women, to be precise—big asses with small, saggy breasts.Barkley couldn't help but yelled: "At least I'm better than David Sally! I'm a fucking genius!"

"Yo, did you? Who said that?" Samantha snapped back.

"We're all fucking geniuses!" Kelly said, before going to the bathroom.

She walked through the narrow aisle between the two stages and went downstairs.The gray wooden door to the bathroom wouldn't close and the tiles on the floor were dirty and broken.She thought of Greenwich, marriage, and children.

"I'm not ready for this," she thought secretly.

She went back upstairs, took off her clothes, jumped onto the platform and started dancing.Samantha stared at her and laughed, but when the bartender finally came over and politely told Kelly to go down, she saw that Samantha was silent.

At eight o'clock the next morning, Mr. Big called.He is going to play golf. "What time did you get home yesterday?" He sounded serious. "What have you been doing?"

"Nothing," she said, "to the Bowery, and then to the dolls."

"Really? Did you do anything special there?"

"Drank a lot, a lot, a lot of wine," she said with a smile.

"Nothing else you want to tell me?"

"No, nothing special." Kelly said coquettishly in a little girl's voice, trying to please him, "What about you?"

"Someone called me this morning," he said, "and he said he saw you dancing like crazy in a doll with no underwear on."

"Oh yeah?" she said, "How do they know it's me?"

"they know."

"You're angry?"

"Why didn't you tell me yourself?" he asked.

"Are you angry?"

"I'm really mad because you didn't tell me. How are we going to stay together if you can't even be honest?"

"But how do I know you're trustworthy?" she asked.

"Trust me?" he said, "I'm the one you can count on."

After speaking, he hung up the phone.

Kylie finds a photo of their trip to Jamaica together.They looked so happy at that time, immersed in the joy of knowing each other every moment.She carefully selected all the single pictures of Mr. Big smoking a cigar.She couldn't help but think of falling asleep in his arms.She was used to hugging him from behind, her body pressed against his back tightly.

She wanted to stick them all on a big piece of paper and write "Mr. Big and His Cigar."Write "I miss you" at the top and draw many, many kisses underneath.

She took those pictures and looked at them for a long, long time, but she ended up doing nothing.

(End of this chapter)