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Baklava on the 7th Fleet...

Romance has never been an easy thing for me. I am a big, beeyoootiful woman with lots of passion, and a tremendous capacity for...pleasure. I've often left men broken. Oops. I don't mean that the way it sounds. Ummm...actually, maybe I do.

I have always had a fondness for sailors. It's more than the bell-bottoms--cause let's face it--if that's all I wanted, Sonny Bono started wearing them before Cher ever hit puberty. The sailor thing is...an attitude...it's that "I've got my undies in a twist & up my butt-crack" bow-legged swagger that they wander around port cities with...it's the lusty look in their eyes whenever they see a beautiful woman, or a body of water--or a big beeyoootiful woman's body rippling in the waves. Maybe that's why so many of them are drawn to big, fat beauties like yours truly. We move like the ocean...rippling with passion. The tide comes in.....and the tide goes out...hehehe. In and out...out and in. Oh, my!

Sailors long for women who can emulate their mistress, the sea upon which they float. It gives them the feeling they can drop anchor and while the motion beneath them continues, they are still safely in port--if ya know what I mean ;-)

Springtime is special for me, because that's when the fleet's in. New Yawk harbor is filled with ships from all over the world, and those ships are full of sailors, young and old alike, looking for the adventure of a lifetime. Some will find me, some will not...they only have a week, after all!

Since this is an international event, I feel it is my duty as an American citizen to meet and grope--er, greet as many of Neptune's sons as is possible. I watch the Channel 2 News and wait for Morry Alter, ace reporter (be still my heart!) to announce the beginning of Fleet Week. Personally, I have a few things I'd like to announce to Morry Alter...but later for that! Anyway, I dress up in something low cut--and it must be low-cut, because I don't have a lot of cleavage, and at my age, the duct tape is painful to remove. Anyhoo...

Last spring, I was converged upon by several sailors within seconds of my arrival at the docks. It was the usual thing--autographs, them wanting to touch my bosom and worship me...Not every woman is equipped to handle this, or be handled like this, you know. Some of them even had my picture for me to autograph--from when I modeled for the packaging of those rubbers with the honey-flavored lube. It was called "Honey Lust Prophylactics, the safe way to show you have good taste, and taste good, too!" but they quickly became known as Baklava's Raincoats and Baklava's Slicker's. I was surprised, but the truth is, it's a privilege to become a pop culture icon. Listen, it could've been worse...I almost signed a contract to do commercials for Monistat 7! I shudder to think what people--women especially--would've been asking me to sign for them!

So, there we were, me and dozens of admiring sailors from around the world standing on the docks when George, a seaman from Portugal whispers to me, "Baklava, I must have you. I want to marry with you."

Of course, I hear this kind of thing all the time, so I am tactful because I don't want to hurt his feelings, and I say to him..."Georgie, dahling...I can't marry you because I am on the verge of stardom. I have to save myself to throw at producers and directors and the delivery guy from Domino's Pizza. If I can't be faithful to you, I cannot be your wife. Besides, I have laundry to do."

Yes, he was crushed...but a few days later, I introduced him to Corky, the street lady who sells used bottle caps on the southeast corner near my building, and they were married before the week was out. It was a whirlwind romance. He bought her a new shopping cart, to which they tied old shoes and streamers (a wedding gift from the bag lady on the other corner) and apparently, the fact that neither spoke the other's language was an obstacle. George still wanted me, but he was a mensch. He understood that we could never be together, and he settled for the first woman who would settle for him. Better her than me! In my book, that's a happy ending!

So, the reason I'm telling this all to you is so you'll maybe consider coming down to the docks next year during Fleet Week. There are many beautiful men from all over the world who long for companionship--male, female, animal, vegetable and battery operated. You will never be Baklava Schwartz, but there's probably somebody out there for you. Besides, that old Liza Minnelli song about "traveling 'round the world to meet the guy next door" has some truth to it. I met someone during this year's Fleet Week (big surprise, right?) and he's from Bogota--not Bogota, Columbia...but New Jersey, of all places! I can't go into details because of some pending litigation, but as soon as that's cleared up... Baklava will reveal all!

Please note: All written materials, artwork and photos on this site are copyrighted 1998, Susan Mason, and may not be reproduced, copied and/or altered for any purpose
without the expressed written permission of the author.

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