I went to a garden party, Drake Mallard was thoroughly and utterly bored. Stuck in the middle of the St. Canard Botanical Gardens, stranded in a sea of socialites he looked the part, classic casual with a hip twist in a blue shirt and camel sport coat, standing with his weight over one hip, drink in one hand the other arm draped casually at his side with a blank yet pleasant look upon his face as if to say, “Yes, yes, how blasé.” Jean, cornered a few groups away, was nodding yeses but her attention was on her husband.
To reminisce with my old friends.A chance to share old memories,
And play our old songs again.When I got to the garden party,
They all knew my name,But no one recognized me,
I didn't look the same.
Poor guy didn’t even want to come to this event, and frankly she could have done without it but, sigh, business is business. As the group around her chortled over some mundane observation she quickly downed her Zinfandel. “Excuse me gentlemen, I think I’m going to have another.”
Safely out of their field of gravity, she steered herself in Drake’s direction. He shot her a “this is all your fault/get me out of here” look which immediately passed into blank complacency as the vapid vixen next to him prattled on. Jean came up behind him and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. He slowly inhaled taking in the scent of her perfume; glancing at his shoulder he noticed she had polished her nails to match the flowers on her sundress. He turned to her, “ Oh, hello, Dear! Are we available to go sailing with Muffy next month?”
Jean tried not to clench her jaw. He was mimicking the voice of Thurstern Owl III from Pelican’s Island and had probably been using the accent the whole time. Well, she couldn’t blame him; it was better keeping himself amused than drinking himself to a level where the droll conversation would become interesting. “I’m sorry, Muff, but I’m going to steal him away now,” she hooked a finger in the back of his collar.
“You do that. Ta Ta, Drakey!”
“Tah, Tah Muffy. Kisses!”
Jean gave him a quick shove in the back. “What was that!?!” she asked eyebrow raised.
“Oh, you know, this and that, “ he said with the look and voice.
“Cut that out!” He smiled as she stamped her foot down, accidentally sinking the heel of her sandal into the soft ground. “Hey you’re the one who’s always wanted fame and fortune, “ she said while knocking the clump of mud off against a nearby tree.
“Yeah, well not anymore. Garden parties are not my cup of tea, “ he accentuated his point with an outstretched pinky and a tilt of his hand.
“I know,” she said apologizing with her eyes as he put his hands around her waist. She slid them a little lower; taking the lead they glided further down . A look of shock crossed Drake’s eyes, “ Hey you’re not wearing any—“
“Shh, “ she put her index finger to his lips and taking his hand lead him into a nearby hedge maze. “I read something like this once and I always wanted to try it.”
“Reading good, “ he said taking a swig of his gin and tonic before he tossed the glass aside.
They walked for a few minutes till they reached what appeared to be a dead end. Jean stepped into the left corner of the wall and disappeared. Looking more closely Drake noticed the hidden opening; stepping through he found himself in a small ‘room’ carpeted in humble chamomile and wild flowers with a stone bench off on one side.
“Being a major contributor has benefits, you know?” She smiled coyly while undoing the top button of the dress' already revealing neckline.
“Dahling, you are beautiful.”
“Cut that o–“ he silenced her with a long, deep kiss. Lips together, teeth apart, hands searching bodies. She opened his coat; He his hands explored her body more thoroughly and found no sign of any undergarments. She let out a sharp gasp and pressed herself into his hands.
“Wait a minute,” he said sitting her down on the bench. She sat with a hungry expression looking quite unladylike but very womanly with her legs apart elbows supported by knees, chin supported by hand while the other twirled a stray piece of hair. He ceremoniously removed his jacket, removed a small square packet from the inside pocket then rolled up the jacket and place it beside her. With a quick snap of his wrist the square unfurled to a full size cape, which he laid down on the ground like a blanket. “Being a superhero has benefits, you know?” Scooping her up he lay her own on the sheet. She may have initiated this but he was in control now.
Crouched over, half straddling her body he slowly undid the remaining buttons, gingerly knocking the fabric aside to reveal her full breasts and abdomen. She in turn reached up and unbuttoned his shirt. Pressed together they kissed and writhed, feathers catching against each other stirring up slight currents of static electricity. She urged her hips forward but he pushed them back down. “Now, now, would that be proper?” he queried.
“Screw proper.“
A light breeze blew lifting the feathers on the back of his neck, blossoms from a near by cherry tree drifted down and a butterfly floated by. The sweet smell of freshly crushed chamomile mixed with a hint of salt and sex floated in the air...
Fingers loosely laced together they looked up at the deep blue sky and watched a few stray clouds waft by. “Well, “ she said breathlessly, “ that was better than a book.”
“You know, “ he said, “ I might have been wrong about high society.”
But it's all right now.
I learned my lesson well.You see, you can't please everyone,
So you got to please yourself.
Garden Party Written and sung by Ricky Nelson