This was not my idea. It was not suppose to happen. Yet, here I am, in an apartment, my penthouse, full of models, or rather, half full of models, and the rest are random people seemingly off the street. Most of which are desperate to be noticed in their revealing costumes. The scary thing is that it’s not just girls.
I just walked by a guy that was wearing nothing but a fur jock strap and climbing boots.
I need therapy.
Damn models. They are just so beautiful. One wink and they had me convinced. Harmless little get together my ass. I thought I was going to have a Halloween of six or so models in my penthouse. At least I bought enough alcohol.
Instead of strip poker and body shots I have to deal with barfing pirate skanks, like last Halloween, and the two Halloweens before that. Not to mention avoiding the guys that have similar costumes to Mr. Furry Schlong Mountain Man. It just makes it worse that they have bodies chiseled by Aphrodite. What a Grecian ho.
Whereas I have a very classy outfit for what I thought was going to be a classy evening. I wore my Dior suit with Armani shoes, to make it a costume I added a big gift tag that says: TO: Beautiful Ladies FROM: God. Those models didn’t even tell me about the masquerade theme that they had chosen. So I am the schmuck of a host that doesn’t even have a drawn on mask.
This Halloween sucks. Who puts a party ad in the classifieds?
Tickets! People have tickets, that means they had to pay.
They were going to charge people to come to my penthouse, and drink booze I paid for, eat my food, and not tell me, or give me any of the profits!
Daniela Cicarelli. Where is that Brazilian sun goddess who thinks she can dupe Michael Verscosian? There, in the corner. Now see, she is adorned in the semi-classy dress I wanted to see. We are not teenagers anymore, we do not need to run around practically naked to show our bodies; on the other hand, I wouldn’t want to see these lovely people in flannel nighties. She is stunning. Venetian looking mask, with a matching flapper dress, hair parted heavily to the right, her curls flowing down like ribbon from heaven.
“Daniela, we need to talk about this party.”
She reaches her delicate hand, and grabs the gift tag.
“Gift from God eh? We will just see about that.”
Oh I can feel my insides melt…again.