“A party, didn’t you hear? Une orgie. There are these two guys from Brattleboro, doctors I think, who throw these tacky affairs every now and again. There are rules. You have to take your clothes off upon arriving, and there’s only safe sex. Pas des fluids. But the spread is fabulous, so to speak. High tea sandwiches, you know, with cucumbers. Little crab cakes and petite fours even. Ludicrous. Naked antique men standing about worried about dropping crumbs on the equally antique Oriental rug when they’ve just—”
“Do I know these guys?” Bill interrupted, miffed but also relieved that he hadn’t been invited.
“Do you? I wonder. We call them the Honey Bears. I forget why.”