Last night at dinner my good friend S. told me that the supermodel I’ve had a long-term fascination with is a swinger. “I know,” I said.
I mentioned some of the rumors that have emerged about her in the last couple of years. “But she’s always had that bad-girl mystique,” I said. Which of course is why I like her. “There’s always been this quality of taboo associated with her.” Pop culture doesn’t have a lot of really good bad girls — just out-of-control party girls who dress questionably and get sloppy-wasted and flash their privates in unflattering lighting. It’s not the same thing. So thank the gods this one never tried to go mainstream or start her own talk show.
But S. quickly established that he wasn’t talking about anything so mundane as mere drug-fueled threesomes. “I was at a bar the other night,” he said, “and I overheard the woman next to me talking to her friend about [this model] and these ‘dodgy parties’ she likes to go to. I started talking to her” — S. is the Michael Jordan of people skills in a way that makes me shake my head in awe, and is constantly drawing strangers into engaging conversation, whether it’s the normal dude sitting next to him or, in a couple of cases, famous beautiful people who have invited him out afterward — “and this woman turned out to be — by the way, isn’t ‘dodgy’ a good word?”
“A really good word,” I agreed.
“It just gets at the nature of the thing in such a sharp way — ‘dodgy’. This woman turned out to be [the model’s] PR agent. And she was saying how there’s this highly exclusive swingers organization that throws parties around the world, and it draws its members from an elite group– you have to be fit and beautiful to be accepted, and the men also have to be successful and sophisticated and perfectly mannered.”
“So everyone at these parties is gorgeous?”
“Everyone. Especially the women. They require lots of photos and screen everyone very carefully. The parties are strictly private and invitation-only. And so [the supermodel] is really into this, supposedly, and goes to a lot of these events.” He was thoughtful for a moment. “Hell, I’d go just for the off chance of running into her.”
He gave me the URL of the organization’s website and of course I checked it out. But all the screen showed was the organization’s name in discreet, elegant cursive and a message in very small print:For information on our upcoming productions, contact [email address].