Rourke and Marietta found themselves seated at an extremely fancy party in the upper west side of Detroit. How did they find themselves there? It was a combination of knowing exactly where they were and a very hand taxi driver who knew the lay of the land fairly well. This party was FANCY. I'm talking white tablecloth and French waiters fancy. It had all the food you can imagine so I don't need to go into any sort of detail here and all of the important people in the mafia community were there. It saves me time in having to describe all the people name by name.

As it was customary in Detroit, Marietta was seated at the head of the main table. She liked to be able to observe the entire room before she would speak. Marietta was what was most commonly referred to as a "people watcher." Every night from her bedroom window, Marietta would turn her telescope towards the street in hopes of seeing something interesting. She frequently tried to use her telescope to look into the windows of nearby buildings, but usually others spotted her and called her a Peeping Tom.

Rourke turned and spoke to Pervy McPerverson (aka Marietta):

This is a rather fancy party, wouldn't you agree?

Marietta nodded her head, raised her pinky, and spoke back:

"I do believe that this party is fairly fancy, indeed. Care for some caviar?"

Marietta slid some caviar over to Rourke. He spread it on a cracker and devoured it. Life was GREAT. Rourke spoke to Marietta:

Life is great!

Marietta was so glad that the part was so fancy. We're talking crystal chandelier fancy, people. Straightening her shoulders regally she sat up further in her chair and lifted one of her white, satin gloved arms into the air and waved it at the gathered mobsters at the table as if she were a Queen of some sorts. Maybe she was, you could never really tell with the blond woman.

"I want to thank you all for appearing here today. Every day our business is filled with death and destruction, grit and grime. Nothing pleases me more than to see us all gather around and celebrate us- the be alls and end alls of organized crime. I would like us all to raise our glasses in a toast..."

And with that Marietta flashed a large smile at the men and women as she lifted her wine glass. Glaring at Rourke out of the corner of her eye, he stopped stuffing his fat chops with caviar and raised his glass as well. Impolite fuck he was.

"...to us! Yay for us being so damn great. Huzzah!"

A round of 'huzzahs' echoed across the table and people clinked their wine glasses together for good health, fortune and bullet aim. Marietta nodded her head graciously before watching as one of the notable Chicago women (not naming names Kizzy) stood from the table and sashayed her hips as she walked towards the restroom.

Turning to Rourke, the Godmother pouted and sat down her glass of wine.

"My ass looks that nice, right?"

Rourke daintily nibbled on his caviar-covered cracker. DAINTILY. Marietta said a few words and Rourke basically ignored them until he noticed a familiar woman stand up and walk towards the water closet. He thought he recognized the woman, but knew that he would be able to identify ANY woman easier by the less clothes she had on herself. Rourke continued to take tiny bites of his cracker as Marietta gave a massive frowny face in his direction. She whined towards him:

"My assssssssssssssss looks that niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice, riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight?"

Rourke knew there was no good answer to this question. If he said "yes," then Marietta would know of his affairs with other women from the various cities and his natural expertise at examining the derrières of other females. If he said "no," Marietta would easily be offended. She was a proud woman and hated to acknowledge any instances where a female might be considered "prettier" or "less slutty" than she (although very few instances happened in either case). Rumor was Marietta once shot a woman over a pair of shoes. Fact was Rourke had once engaged in sexual relations with a woman over a pair of shoes. He did not, however, inhale. Marietta clearly wanted an answer from Rourke as she spoke:

"Rooooooooooooooooooooooooourke I cleaaaaaaaaaaaaaarly waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaant an aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanswer."

Rourke looked around nervously and picked up a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter. He took a sip and responded:

Glksaodi lkjfewjaojgo aworkjewoajrek.

His mouth was full of champagne. Clearly I hope you all picked up on this, but I'm inviting you all into my story-telling web. He responded again:

Blwefkj mendfkj JUBBLY JUBBLY.

Marietta looked at him quizzically. Rourke hoped this would help him dodge any further questions. It wasn't a fullproof plan, however, as he quickly needed to use the bathroom. He excused himself from his seat and hoped he might meet that mystery woman from earlier over near the water closet.

Rourke scanned the room for Kates. He was itching to see those melons up close and personal. He grabbed a nearby waiter:

Excuse me sir, can you point me to where Kates will be seating?

The waiter responded:

"Sir, you clearly said earlier 'and all of the important people in the mafia community were there.' Clearly Kates wasn't invited."

Rourke nodded appropriately. He thanked the man:

Thank you. That makes perfect sense.

As Kizzy made her way to the bathroom, she glanced back at the sound of Marietta's voice saying the words "nice" and "ass". As suspected, the Godmother's eyes were trained on her own firm, proud buttocks as they moved beneath her slinky dress, causing a slight flush to enter the younger woman's cheeks. She hurried quickly to the bathroom, mildly wondering if Marietta would care to join her and VelmaKelly some night...she didn't even know the Godmother swung that way. As she pushed open the restroom door, she took a deep breath and nodded to the bathroom attendant with a smile.

She felt heartbroken. Never before had Rourke said such cruel, horrid words to her. Sure, she hadn't understood a damn one of them, but she felt the sting nonetheless as he gargled his champagne like he might gargle upon Gabriel's precious family heirlooms and jewels. And then to make matters worse he simply stood and walked away from the table. Just like that. Not even an "asjgkhasklg" in goodbye.

Naturally, Marietta was outraged beyond belief. Where the hell was he going? She would stab him in the groin for this one. The Godmother moved to stand from her chair, immediately hesitating and dropping back into her seat. Oi, what a pickle she was in. Miss Rossi was a woman who prided herself on having a very good social reputation and standing. If she were to murder her Right Hand and lover in front of some of the best and brightest mobsters in America, it would hit the underground tabloids faster than she could say "oh balls, did I do that?". It would, at the very least, ruin her for a day or two. And who knows what she could do with those two days?

Arranging her face into a bright, happy, doe-eyed look, she curled the corners of her mouth into a large smile. She was going to follow Rourke, kick him in the balls, warn him about the beating he would receive later, and no one else would be any the wiser that anything had happened at all... thus leaving her rep intact. Standing up from her seat she quickly, and narcissistic...all...ly...ish, grabbed a soup spoon and examined her reflection in it. Perfect. Nodding towards the table and waving her hand, indicating they should continue their conversation, she dismissed herself from the table. The Godfather of New Orleans, Death-Knight, tried to catch her eye, but Marietta merely held up one finger and mouthed "one minute" before disappearing into the back hall.

She needed to find the restroom... where she somehow had a feeling Rourke would be.

WAS ROURKE IN THE BATHROOM? WHAT WOULD HAPPEN TO KIZZY IF HE WAS? WILL MARIETTA EVER JOIN THE CHICAGO WOMEN FOR A ONE NIGHT STAND? STAY TUNED.

Rourke was in the restroom shooting the shit with the bathroom attendant. I mean seriously, imagine Rourke's initial surprise when he found out that Esham was manning the lotion and the hand towels tonight. The two old friends got to chatting while Esham shined Rourke's shoes with a good spit and polish. He liked to use his tongue for good measure. Rourke tipped Esham a shiny dime and walked back outside. Seeing how no one was watching, he pushed his way into the ladies room and tried to find that mystery woman from before.

The ladies room was fairly clean. Rourke expected this. GabrielMancini was a magician with a mop and bucket. He was also a magician on the side with card tricks and rabbits out of hats. Gabriel liked to use it to impress local women, but more often than not they were disgusted by his lewd behavior. Rourke chuckled under his breath:

Ha ha ha. I'm so funny.

Rourke looked around for the mystery woman from before and saw no one but Kizzy standing there. Rourke walked up to her and asked for her assistance in locating the buttocks he saw earlier:

Excuse me miss, have you seen a woman in here with an ass that won't quit? A behind that makes men drop to their knees and quiver for fear of sexy reprisal? TELL ME KIZZY....HAVE YOU SEEN HER?

Kizzy said nothing, but turned around slowly. As she moved, Rourke felt the ground tremble below his feet and a light shone down from the heavens upon her glorious figure. Rourke knew at this moment he had found his personal holy grail, his own ark of the covenant. Rourke at this time was the sole purveyor of Kizzy's ass. Just as quickly as she turned back to him, the rumbling subsided and the light disappeared. Rourke did not care. He approached Kizzy and gave her a peck on the cheek. He pulled a flower from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. He spoke softly:

My dear, I would like to discuss your wares further in my personal office in the castle.

He showed her a hastily-drawn crayon picture of his office. It said "ROURKE'S OFFIS" at the top and the R's were backwards. He was very pleased of his handiwork and continued to speak.

I'm very interested in what you're containing there, most specifically, an ass like a shelf.

Rourke didn't understand the phrase, but apparently it meant that it was "good" or "choice" or even "top quality." Kizzy nodded at Rourke and the two began an intimate embrace. Somewhere Marietta's heart shattered into a million pieces. Rourke hoped that GabrielMancini would be there shortly to clean up. He was the janitor.

Kizzy stared at Rourke as she entered the bathroom. Upon seeing her, he immediately accosted her, babbling something about an ass that wouldn't stop or some such. Disgusted by the man's abrupt manner and the fact that he spat as he talked, Kizzy turned to leave--her restroom needs could be put on hold. Suddenly, Rourke put his hand on her shoulder, staring at her bottom and drooling slightly. She twisted around to give him a deathly glare. He ignored her, pushing a crudely drawn picture and a plastic flower into her hand and telling her to join him in his office. Or offis, whatever that was. She gave him a strange look and shook her head, but the poor lustsick man clasped her to him, causing her to struggle away from him, crying for help.

Esham, done polishing and leaning against the sink shining his nails, stopped as he heard screams and cries for help from the bathroom next door. He made his way out of the men's restroom and walked into the women's restroom. Shocked at the sight before him, he whistled loudly, and jingled his key ring at Rourke, knowing it would instantly distract him long enough for Kizzy to escape.

TM walks in brushing a spec of dust (coke) off his suit. He takes a look around admiring the wallpaper and the tone the lighting sets on the room. Walking over to one of the tables he takes a glass of champagne bringing it to his lips he sips on it slowly looking at the other people in the room smiling at them in turn. TM calls over Francois the waiter taking a small plate of h'orderves he munches on them looking around thinking to himself. "Interesting party well at least the food and booze is free"

Alone in her office, Kates flips through the piles of paper on her desk. Business plans. Ideas to improve efficiency in the crew. Personal correspondence. Business correspondence. There was so much work to be done. If only there was some way she could be called out of her office and into the bright, shining night to some sort of fancy party. But she knew, even though her breasts were exquisite, that she was hardly important enough to warrant an invitation. Besides, she knew that since the pregnancy she'd lost some of her sex appeal. For 1.8 seconds, she stared wistfully at the phone before returning to her dreary paperwork.