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> NEW YEARS EVE
Planning for New Years now made easier than planning for a wedding.





Getting your NYE tickets here is simpler than shopping for shoes. Guaranteed.



by Dr. Smooth

Lazily stretched out on his fine imported Italian couch, Dr. Smooth reaches out and readjusts his vintage rusted fan, so that it redirects the cool air towards his proverbial family jewels. The Montreal heat wave has left him comatose, stripping away all of his primal urges and leaving only his basic needs: food, shelter, clothing, and clubbing.

His eyes close, a slumber slowly creeps up, not because of fatigue, but out of necessity, purely for energy conservation. Then all of a sudden a maddening sound emanates from a funny looking object. The object, under heat exhaustion, is difficult to make out. However, he quickly deduces (after the tenth ring) that the phone is the noisy culprit. Succumbing to this audio torture, he digs into his quantum well and musters up the last of his calories, he picks up the phone…

Dr. Smooth (D.S.): “Hello?”

Trixie (T): “My good Doctor, I hope this heat hasn’t turned your evening into a Blockbuster one?”

D.S: “Not quite.”

T: “Perfect. Tonight, we are going to a Swingers club.”

D.S: “Swingers club, you don’t say?… It has been a while since I’ve done some dancing, but I’m all for it.”

T: “No you fool. A swingers club is a club where couples…ahhh…just bring your wing tips.”

D.S: “Buffing them as we speak!”

The Doctor threw on his pink collared shirt, tight pin stripped pants, and black Dolce Gabbana scarpe. He took a quick glance in the mirror, and saw what he liked, a man who is serious about dancing.

Fast forward to: Trixie and the Doctor at the door of a Swingers Club on St-Laurent Blvd.

Bouncer: “Nice pink shirt, Chico!”

T: “Ha! What about his swanky pants?”

D.S: “I thank both you fashionistas for your clever astuteness, but I would prefer if you leave the sarcasm to me!”

Bouncer: “So now you’re the proprietor of the “sarcastic comment”? Give me a break! It’ll be 10 dollars each!”

D.S: “10 dollars! To DANCE?”

Bouncer: “Whatever you like to call it!”

Trixie sensing the tension build up between Beauty and the Beast; had reacted quickly to the situation by pulling out her Swinger Gold Membership card. The bouncer apologized, but directed a belittling expression at the doctor. The doctor sensed the patronizing stare, and as he walked past the bouncer into his unexpected night of philandering, he muttered the word “biatch”.

He smoothly grabbed Trixie by the hand and parted the hanging drapes covering the entrance; symbolically, these drapes separated the conservative institutions from the hedonistic temples. Immediately as the doctor stepped inside, he knew something was wrong; he couldn’t put his wing tips on it, but had a feeling that he came prepared for the wrong kind of dance! He should have known better, especially since his companion was a sexual deviant, that this was NOT a dance club.

He panned around the room, purely for reconnaissance, and saw three things that indicated that he was at a couples exchange club: (1) old man making out with young woman in her skivvies (2) barmaid wearing see-through lingerie (3) couples making out with couples (4) sexually charged glances being thrown around the room.

The doctor with his newly buffed wingtips, decided to put them to use; he grabbed his deceitful vixen, gave the signal to the DJ, and hit the dance floor hard – salsa would be his means to lure couples in. Eventually an attractive couple joined them at the traditional Spanish mating call, they swapped dance partners, and both Smooth and Trixie had the pair in the sac, so to speak.

Trixie, with her Gold Membership Card, had access to all of the facilities. This is important because according to the law, no couples are to copulate in a public environment, and because the facilities next door are considered to be private, then the real swapping occurs there.

All four of them walked into a small private room that looked like it was decorated by a perverted minimalist. The room had only two furnishings: a massage table under a red light and a high jet powered Jacuzzi.

The girls began to undress each other. The other man removed his clothes, leaving only his cowboy hat, and slowly crawled into the deserted Jacuzzi, thus leaving the doctor alone with the two demoiselles. The situation reeked of a threesome, so the Doctor pulled out his Threesome Etiquette Manifesto and quickly brushed up on his protocol: first things first, wait for the girls to get comfortable.

Woman#1: “Ohhhhhh!!!”

T: “Ohhhhh!!! Doctor and what are you waiting for?”

D.S: “My cue and I just got it! I might have come unprepared, but I can assure you, so will you.”

The Doctor entered into the entanglement of lust, thinking only one thing: I’ve never done it with wing tips before.




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