Selected
It was the party of the season given by the nouveau riche, politically connected, and almost famous celebrating the return of the warmer weather.
The rather sizeable home, painted in pastel yellow and white, replete with palm trees, looked very much like it belonged in the Caribbean, rather than Long Island.
Waiters and waitresses dressed in black and white uniforms carrying trays of food and drink, weaving among the guests barely noticeable to the party goers.
A big band performed in the great room while many of the formally attired men lounged outside by the pool. Eating, drinking and chatting about stocks and bonds while smoking illegal Cuban cigars; they left their wives, daughters and girlfriends to their own devices...shimming and swaying to the music inside the mansion. It was enticing... a lively cha-cha, then a rumba to a merengue.
“Illya would be loving this, the music that is,”Solo thought to himself as he danced with one lovely lady after another. He laughed at that thought, reminding himself the Russian wasn’t a monk, and appreciated a beautiful woman as much as the next man….but he wasn’t that quick to put the moves on just any female.
“You snooze, you lose,” he’d remind Illya, but the words were usually wasted as his partner would just bury his nose in some sort of science journal.
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