Her name is Rio

This is a tale I have always been a little ashamed of yet it was such a great time in my life, I am not ashamed to let you in on it.

I was 18. Wild and young. If there had been any guy with less care for morality, decency and other less important virtues, I wouldn't have given him the time of day. I was too busy with my carefree life.

Nights would find me moving from one club to another, spending 30 minutes at a time in the clutches of a different woman. If I hadn't managed to have my way with her by then, or at least find myself wearing part of her clothing, then I was off to the arms of another.

I changed women as easily as women changed their lipstick. Hell, I changed my lipstick easier than they did. You must remember this was all in the days of Don Johnson and Miami P.D. Blues. I was the most desirable man on the circuit, until she walked into the room.

Her name was Rio, and I first met her on the dance floor at The Sands. I was in Vegas for a weekend of sin, and she had it written all over her. I would say she was wearing less fabric than I had in my fancy white socks. And she seemed to slide into my loafers just as easily.

It was minutes before we found ourselves entwinned on the dance floor, moving as one body. The sweat sizzled as it met, between our bodies. We were soaked in the excitement. Before I knew it, she led me to a dark corner and I thought I had it made. I pulled off my silk shirt, massaged my hair and got ready to show her the best few minutes in her life. And just as I thought she had led me into a secluded room in the back of the club, the lights burst on and I found myself surrounded by a room full of studio execs, a handful of the press, laughing audience members, blushing censors and my agent having a heart attack and Rio, lovely Rio, standing there with a camera taking a picture of my embarassment. She let out a big laugh and said "Welcome to the 90's cheeseball!"

I stood there mortified as the laughs slowly died down, people cleared out of the room, the audience moved on to the other sites to see, and I was left to face my new reality. I was a has-been living in a radically different world. Where it was no longer acceptable to a wild boy, stalking women with a sexual appetite fit for a wolf. No, things are much different now.

And that's why I write this column. Aren't you happy you've read this far?