Sex and the city

Chapter 35 Aspen (1)
Kelly was on her way to Aspen.She flew in the Learjet and wore the white mink coat and white patent leather boots over a very short little dress that Mr. Big had given her.Kylie thought that was the way to dress for a private jet; but it wasn't.Her fellow passengers, the owners of the private jet, all wore embroidered sweaters and jeans, and the most timely snow boots—what a smart choice.Kelly, still hungover, was helped out by the pilot when the plane stopped in Lincoln, Nebraska, to refuel.It was warm, and Kelly was wrapped in a heavy mink coat, wearing sunglasses, and smoking a cigarette in a daze.Outside the window is the endless golden field.

Mr Big was waiting for her at the airport in Aspen.He was wearing a cool brown suede jacket and matching hat, and he was sitting outside smoking a cigar.As he walked across the tarmac, the first thing he said to Kelly was, "Your flight is late. I'm freezing to death."

"Then why don't you wait inside?" Kelly asked.They drive through cute little towns that look like little toy towns that kids put under their Christmas trees.Kelly pressed her forehead and sighed, "I'm going to take a break. Maybe I should eat something healthy."

At the same time, Stanford Blatch was in Aspen, on another private jet.He's with his hair baby Suzanne Martin.After the last Liva Weld party, he went to Suzanne and said, "I want to start over. We're so good, why don't you think about getting married. Then I can inherit my family's property. Our money plus Get up, enough for us to live the life we ​​want."

Suzanne is a 40-year-old sculptor with extravagant make-up and heavy jewelry.She never felt that she would get married like a normal person. "Sleeping in separate beds?" she asked.

"Of course," Stanford said.

Skip Johnson came on a regular flight, but he used his miles to upgrade to first class.His parents were with him, as were his two younger sisters. "This is ridiculous, I need to find a girlfriend soon," he thought to himself.He imagined which lucky woman would be his favorite.He likes older mature women, maybe thirty to thirty-five years old; smart enough, pretty enough, interesting enough to keep him interested in her.What he learned last year was that girls his age were too boring.They all looked at him with admiration, which Skip thought was downright scary.

Mr. Big is about to teach Kelly how to ski.He had bought her a ski jacket, ski gloves, a ski hat, thermal underwear, and a tiny thermometer that clipped on to the glove—the last one Kelly begged him to buy.Mr. Big didn't want to buy it until Kelly pouted and got angry.And the exchange was a blowjob—even though the thermometer only cost four bucks.In the villa they rented, Mr. Big helped Kelly zip up her ski jacket. Kelly stretched out her hands obediently, and asked Mr. Big to help her put on her gloves.Finally, Mr. Big pinned the mini thermometer to her glove.Kelly said, "It's so cold out, you'll be glad we have this." Mr. Big smiled and kissed her.

Mr. Big is smoking a cigar while talking on the phone in the ski lift.At the top of the hill, he followed Kelly to make sure no one ran into her. "You'll be fine," he told Kelly, and slid down slowly protecting her.Finally at the bottom of the hill, Kelly squinted and watched from a distance as Mr. Big masterfully surpassed those professional-level people.

Back at the villa in the evening, they went for a massage together and soaked in the hot spring.At night, as they lay together in bed, Mr. Big said, "We're very close now, aren't we?"

"Well, of course," Kelly said.

"Remember when you used to always say we needed to be closer? But it's been a long time since you said that."

Kelly closed her eyes, feeling that she could never have been happier.

"I'm looking at the fins"

Stanford Bratch was strolling along the trails in Aspen, wearing pony-skin ski boots, wielding binoculars, going back to the hotel to have lunch with Susannah.Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice yelling: "Stanford!" followed by: "Be careful!" Stanford dodged and jumped behind the snowdrift, turning around and seeing Skip charging straight towards him. "Skip?" he said.

"It's nice to bump into friends on vacation, isn't it?" Skip said.His ski suit looked like what a Boy Scout would wear in a snowstorm—a heavy, scruffy yellow ski jacket with earflaps sticking out of the hood.

"Well, it depends on who the friend is and how they bumped into each other..." Stanford replied.

Skip looked curiously at Stanford's telescope and said, "I didn't even know you liked watching birds."

"I'm not looking at the birds, I'm looking at the fins," Stanford said. "Look at the private jets so I know which one to buy."

"You want to buy a private jet?" Skip asked in disbelief.

"Well, soon," Stanford said, "I'm thinking about getting married, so I'm going to make preparations for my wife's future travel."

"your wife?"

"Yeah, Skip," Stanford said calmly, "I'm actually going to have dinner with her right now. Would you like to meet her?"

"I can't believe it," Skip said. "Look," he said as he took off his skis, "I've caught three girls, why don't you have fun?"

Stanford looked at him sympathetically and said, "Dear Skip, why do you have to be 'straight'?"

Kelly and Mr. Big are heading to Pine Cove for a romantic dinner.They drove through the mountains and took a horse-drawn sleigh to the restaurant.The sky is deep and pure dark black, and Mr. Big pointed out the constellations to Kelly and told stories about his childhood.He grew up poor, had to drop out of school to work when he was 13, and later enlisted in the Air Force.

They pulled out their Polaroids and took pictures of each other in the restaurant.They opened a bottle of red wine and sipped slowly, holding hands throughout.Kelly seemed a little drunk. "Listen," she began, "I want to ask you something."

"Ask," said Mr. Bigger.

"You remember the beginning of summer? When we were together for two months, you suddenly said you wanted to date someone else."

"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Big carefully.

"Didn't you hang out with that model after that? After you were together for a week, we met on the street one day, and you treated me so badly, and I yelled at you, and we were right there in Poway There was a fight outside the bar."

"I thought you'd never talk to me again."

"I just want to know," Kelly said, "what would you do if you were me?"

"I guess I won't talk to you."

"Is that what you think in your heart?" Kelly asked, "Do you want me to disappear?"

"How come," said Mr. Bigger, "I wish you were here with me, I wished you were waiting for me. It's just that I was a little confused then."

"But you might really leave me then."

"I don't want you to go. It's probably because, I don't know, maybe it's a test," Mr. Bigger said.

"test?"

"See if you really like me. You like me enough to stay for me."

"But you really hurt me," Kelly said, "how could you have the heart to do that to me? I'll never forget that hurt...you know?"

"Well, I know, baby. I'm sorry," he said.

When they got home, they heard a message on the answering machine from a showbiz friend named Rock Gibratt. "I'm here, too," he said, "with Taylor Kidd. You're going to like him."

"Taylor Kidd? The actor?" Mr. Big asked.

"I guess so," Kelly said, pretending to be indifferent.

Prometheus bound
"It feels so good!" Stanford said.He and Suzanne sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace.Suzanne wore a black satin cheongsam, which made her figure even more beautiful. Her slender fingers held the cigarette elegantly, her nails were carefully manicured and dyed bright red.

"Thank you, dear," Susannah said.

"You would be the perfect wife, you know?" Stanford said. "It's hard for me to imagine why you wouldn't get married."

“Straight men bore me,” Suzanne said. “It doesn’t matter who they are. It’s all good at first, and then they demand more and more and you have to satisfy them, but then You lost your life."

"I'm not going to be like that," Stanford said. "It's perfect."

"I'm going to bed," Susannah said, standing up. "I want to get up early and go skiing tomorrow morning. Are you sure you won't come tomorrow?"

"To the top? I'm not going," Stanford said, "but you have to promise me one thing, we're going to be like tonight tomorrow night."

"The rice you cook is definitely professional. Where did you learn it?"

"Barry."

Stanford stood up and said, "Good night, honey."

"Good night," Susannah said.Stanford approached her and kissed her gently on the cheek. "See you tomorrow," he said, and waved.

A few minutes later, Stanford also returned to the room.But instead of going to bed, he turned on his computer and checked his email.As he had hoped, he had a new email.He grabbed the phone and hailed a taxi, then stood by the window and waited.

When the taxi arrived, he jumped up and slipped out of the villa quietly. "Caribou Club," he ordered the driver.

And what followed seemed like a nightmare for Stanford.The taxi dropped him off on a cobblestone lane in the center of town.Stanford walks along narrow alleys lined with small shops.He pushed open a door and went down the stairs.A blonde woman stands in the foreground.She looked about 40 years old, but facial plastic surgery and breast augmentation surgery made her look five years younger.

"I'm here to meet a man," Stanford said, "but I don't know his name."

The woman looked at him suspiciously.

"I'm Stanford Bratch, screenwriter." He introduced himself.

"So?" she asked.

Stanford smiled and said, "Have you seen Fashion Victim?"

"Oh my God!" said the woman, "I love that movie! Did you write it?"

"Exactly."

"So what have you been writing lately?" She asked with interest.

"I wanted to write about plastic surgery, and about people who've had it too many times..." he said.

"My God, let me tell you," she said, "a good friend of mine is..."

"I saw my friend." Stanford interrupted her.

In one corner, two men and a woman were drinking and laughing.Stanford walked over to them.The man in the middle looked up at him.The man was in his late 40s, tanned and bleached.Stanford could tell he had had his nose and cheekbones reworked, and presumably a hair transplant. "Hercules?" Stanford asked.

"It's me," the man said.

"I am Prometheus."

The girl looked back and forth between the two men, and asked in confusion, "Hercules? Prometheus? What are you talking about?" Her nasal voice made people feel disgusted, and she was wearing a Cheap shaggy powder coat. "Using my grandma as a rag would flatter it," Stanford thought, deciding to treat her like air.

"You don't look like Prometheus at all." That Hercules looked up and down Stanford's long hair and stylish attire.

"Are you going to invite me to sit down for a drink, or are you going to keep making fun of me like this?" Stanford asked bluntly.

"I think we should just call you like that," another man said curtly, "Who the hell are you?"

"I met on the Internet, another idiot." Hercules said slowly, sipping his drink.

"Let's be each other," Stanford said.

"My God! I don't even know how to use a computer," the girl interjected.

"Every man who comes to Aspen is my target," Hercules said. "The choice is mine, and you're out."

"It doesn't matter, at least I know which plastic surgery is the same as disfigurement," Stanford said calmly, "It's really pitiful that others can only remember your failed plastic surgery instead of you." He smiled slightly and added: "Sir, I wish you a good evening!"

Can you keep a secret?
Kelly and Mr. Big met Rock Gibratt and Taylor Kidd while they were having lunch in Litonnell.

Taylor Kidd saw them first.He's not as handsome as Mr. Big, but he's pretty cool.A sharp face, a slender figure, and blond hair. "Wow." Kelly's eyes were immediately attracted.

Mr. Big said hello to Locke: "Hey, buddy." He was smoking a cigar, patted Locke on the back, and shook hands with him.

"I'm still looking for you," Locke said. "Have you seen Taylor Kidd?"

"Not yet," said Mr. Bigger, "but I've seen your movie. When's your character going to get that girl?" They laughed together and took their seats.

"Big was just 'accounted on' by the Mounties," Kelly said, "for smoking cigars in the cable car all the time."

"Yeah, my God!" said Mr. Big. "I smoked cigars in the lift every day, and every day the girl told me I couldn't smoke. I told her it wouldn't light." He told Taylor said.

"Cuban?" Tyler asked.

"Yes."

(End of this chapter)