Here's what I'm envisioning: We start off with some rough foreplay (eye-gouging/asphyxiation/mutual bestiality [MB], etc...) and work our way up. I want you to make me feel like the dirtiest whore on the planet, so we're going to need a pretty big bag of manure and a gallon or so of brine water. From there we experiment with electro-shock treatments on our sensitive areas, paper cuts under our finger and toe nails, and continue with the MB. Then you tie me up with razor wire and splash urine and whale blubber on my face until I pass out. Revive me with an injection of gasoline into my tongue. After that, untie me with wild strokes from a sharpened hacksaw and we'll continue with the MB until something dies. Give me a call. Gertrude (318) 773-6464

Hey, my name's Christopher and your's was Marla. We met 3 days ago at John Barleycorn's. You took me back to your place and I fucked you. We didn't really hit it off, but the thing is, I left my watch - it was a gift from someone special. Maybe you can send it? I've got a P.O Box: 3455 Thanks.

You: an 85-year old, well-dressed man that came into the Nashville Hooters on Fifth St. Me: your cocktail waitress, Candy.I couldn't help but notice you had a respirator and thought I should tell you that I love to play Nurse. Bottom line, I'll ride you until dawn for a piece of the pie. Dig? Give me a call at the Holiday Inn, Room 57. Bring a Notary.

Hello, my name is Ula and I was meant to be delivered last Tuesday to a Mister Ned Webster of West Covina, California. The address given to me was not correct and now I am without means of communication or transport. Please pick me up as soon as possible or I will be deported back. I am staying at the Ukrainian consulate in Downtown Los Angeles. Love, Ula.

This is for a George Mendes (sp?): My wife and I picked you up from the corner of Van Buren and 12th. We took you home so you could have sex with my wife while I watched from the shadows. Thing is, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. Was there a spark between us or I am just crazy? Anyway, I'm having trouble finding you (do you guys have your own specific corner or something?) but can't wait to see you again-whether it's you and my wife again or just us this time. It doesn't matter to me, I'll take you anyway I can get you. Call my cell if you want a hot meal. Larry (602)838-6419

Hey! Yesterday you whistled at me from your Porsche Cabrera while I took my 8-year old son out for a walk and told me that, "the only thing better than being me is doing me." You sound like a nice guy. Give me a call sometime. The name's Gertrude. (318) 773-6464. Looking forward to it.

Oh, boy...this is embarrassing. I met "you" at Steve Winslow's orgy on Saturday night. I'm the 7-incher with a slightly botched circumcision and a purple cock-ring. You were some sort of hole...it was pretty dark and crazy. Man, you were something else! I wish I could give more description but, I mean, we just fit perfectly. I don't know if you're a man or woman or whatever, I just know that you're the one for me. If you felt it too, give me a call at 8182329970.

Hi. I live in the building across from you (Presidential Suites, Tower 1). I see into your window from time to time (don't worry; I'm not a weirdo or anything) and you look like a really special person. Someone I could really grow to care about. BTW: Are you still dating that one guy in the D.A.R.E. t-shirt (boy, did those go out of style five years ago or what?) or are you single, because you've been spending a lot of "alone" time around the apartment? If you're single, wear the red panties with the green Martians on them tomorrow. If you're still dating "Rockstar," go with the black, purple-striped ones.

See you soon,

Kevin

P.S. I play the Mandolin.

Hey Nicole Lafrentz, remember when I told you that I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last girl on Earth? I changed my mind. Freddy (510) 635-7420.

Bonjour, little Lady at the Stardust lounge. I'm the Cat who spilled my drink on your friend and offered to have her dress dry-cleaned (I also told you the joke about Walter Payton and the Vienna Boy's Choir). Turns out, I gave your friend the wrong number because my finances are a little low this month, but I was thinking maybe we could go out for a drink or picnic or maybe just a walk. Give me a call. Ronald (715)866-1221. Don't tell your friend.

To the woman I may or may not have groped at Margie's Tap last night: Can't you fight your own battles? --Steve

P.S. Tell your "date" he'll be hearing from my "lawyer." Sound it out real slow for him.