Babes Flee Land of Wives for Night of Topless Fun

Belle at the Carlyle

Belle calls from the Carlyle. Mentions something about a wide receiver from the Miami Dolphins. At Frederick’s. Mentions something about her husband Newbert and some spaghetti sauce. “I make great spaghetti sauce,” she says. “I’m a great wife.” I agree.

Anyway, after she got home from the bridal shower, she and Newbert had a fight. Belle ran away, went to Frederick’s, the nightclub. The wide receiver was at Frederick’s. He kept telling her that her husband didn’t love her enough. “He does. You don’t understand,” she said. “I’d love you more,” he said. She laughed, ran away again, booked herself a suite in the Carlyle. She tells me “Cocktails are being served. Now.”

She says she thinks maybe Newbert is upset because he’s just sent out his novel. She thinks maybe Newbert is upset because she doesn’t want to have kids. Not until he sells his novel. When she gets pregnant, it will all be over. So better to have a good time now.

All Roads Lead to Baby Doll

After the bridal shower, and after checking in on the phone with her new boyfriend, Mr. Big, Carrie went to Bowery Bar. Samantha Jones, the 40-ish movie producer was there. Carrie’s best friend. Sometimes.

Barkley, the 25-year-old up-and-coming artist and model-chaser, had inserted himself at Samantha’s table.

“I’d love it if you’d stop by my loft sometime,” Barkley said.

Samantha was smoking a Cuban cigar. “I’ll bet you would.”

“Well, you don’t have to like my paintings,” Barkley said. “You could just like me.”

“We’re leaving,” Samantha said. “We have to find a new hangout.”

They found one. The Baby Doll Lounge. Strip joint in TriBeCa. They smoked in the cab, and when they got out at the Baby Doll Lounge, Sam grabbed Carrie’s arm (Sam almost never did stuff like that) and said, “I really want to know about Mr. Big. I’m not sure he’s the right man for you.”

Carrie had to think about whether she wanted to answer or not, because it was always like this between her and Sam. Just when she was happy with a man, Sam would come along and insert those doubts, like driving a crowbar between two pieces of wood. She said, “I don’t know. I think I’m crazy about him.”

Sam said, “But does he really know how great you are? How great I think you are?”

Carrie thought, “Someday, Sam and I will sleep with the same man at once, but not tonight.”

The bartender, a woman, came over and said, “It’s so nice to see women in here again.” Two girls were dancing on the stage. They didn’t look so good—small saggy breasts and big bottoms.

Carrie went to the bathroom. You had to walk through a tiny slot in between the two stages, and then downstairs. The bathroom had a gray wooden door that wouldn’t shut properly, and broken tiles. She thought about Greenwich. Marriage. Kids.

“I’m not ready,” she thought.