Friday Night - Location undisclosed - About 1:40 am

Armani leather jacket, check. Rolex Daytona, check. Keys?

Where the hell are the damn keys!

I scan the penthouse, with it's nouveau-rich Kreiss decor, and can't see the keys anywhere. They're not hanging up with the other keys. They're no longer on the turtle-shelled counter, where I thought I left them. Suddenly Julee appears in front of me, her hand in the air dangling the keys to my new Lamborghini. Julee is 5'11 and has the most gorgeous, most perfectly proportioned long legs, I've had the pleasure of inspecting really close up for flaws. Her sandy gold blond hair complements her golden tanned skin. Her jawbone is defined and right now it's quite clear there is not an ounce of fat on it. High raised cheek bones, unusually exotic light brown eyes that one can drown in if one is not careful and her sculpted arms and pretty fingers all work together to complete the package. And right now she is completely naked except for a white dress shirt I have kept here in her closet for the past two months. Physically, she's a 10 - maybe even an 11 if they gave them out. However...

"Looking for these a--hole?"

I reach for the keys and she jerks them away.

"C'mon Julee, give me the keys...please."

"F--- you. Come get them."

Julee takes the keys and does something I have never seen any woman do before, young or old.

"Julee, I explained why we can't get married. I like you, you know that - but we're following two different paths. You know it as well as I do. We would be divorced before our first anniversary."

"Bull--it! Who is she! Who is this f---ing sl-t you are scr--ing!"

"There's no one. You're absolutely beautiful, you know that."

It's not working. She's getting a scary look in her eye and her jaw is jutting out even more than it did when I first saw her working it during a photo shoot for French Vogue last summer.

"Ok. It's me. I'm not able to commit. I'm a commit-o-phobic a--hole. Is that what you want to hear? You're beautiful. You must be one of the most beautiful women on Earth right now. It's not about you. It's me. I'm no amateur at this either. I've dodged bullets before, but none as shapely as you. I need help. Maybe after a few months of therapy things will look different. I don't know."

She approaches me and gazes into my eyes. She's trying to read me.

Slap.

"Ok. That really hurt."

Slap.

"Hey..really...cut it...Argghh!"

The knee to the groin really catches me unprepared and I'm bowled over in pain. I'm getting too old for this type of abuse.

"Who the f--- is she?"

Trying to think when one is feeling mind-distracting pain is not easy. But I need to come up with something - anything. I think of Jimmy Neutron and hope to have a brain blast.

"Ok. You don't know her. She's not a model. She's an actress. She's all that and more. She's working on a film that may bring her to the big time. Honestly... I still can't make up my mind between the two of you and was just trying to buy myself more time...you know you really didn't have to do that...that could do permanent damage."

"I hope it did. Get out."

I pause for a moment, put on a contrite and hurt look before I speak.

"Uh...how about the keys?"

"I'm keeping the car. It's mine now. You owe me that much and more."

At this point, I'm inclined to agree with her. I knew the first time I went out with her that this was not going to last. I was the --stard who ploughed into this relationship for all the wrong reasons. But I'm a guy...it's programmed into my genes.

"Ok. Keep it. I'll mail you the pink slip. I'm sorry."

She looks at me and I suddenly see she is about to cry. God, I hate this emotional stuff, it hurts far more than the knee to the groin. I look at her there, her chest heaving with each breath, like any healthy male's living, breathing fantasy. The tears welling up in the corner of her eyes only make her seem more vulnerable and yes...inviting. One part of me wants to race and embrace her, apologizing for everything. Yet another voice, the smart one, says now is the time to exit...right now, before things get worse.

I listen to the smart voice.

I walk out the door. I walk over to the elevator and push the down button. As I wait for the elevator, I can look out the glass walls which look over the city. A billion lights below, twinkling under the blanket of night. The elevator arrives and the operator looks at me.

"Going down sir?"

"Yes."

I feel bad. I really do. I wonder if I had been different I would not be here, in my present situation. I start replaying the last few minutes iun my mind, thinking about what I should have said, things I should have done.

Yes, I know I shouldn't feel that bad - but I do...

...I waited a whole g--damned year for that car to clear customs and get DOT approval. I'm not going to find another like it on this continent.

;-)

In one night I have lost two stunning exotics.