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The year is 1991 and I am a 35 year old guy working at a prestigious office furniture dealership in New York City. Got married six years ago to the girl of my dreams, a thoroughbred aristocrat from Cambridge, England...daughter of a baronet and a medical doctor...an English DO. Astra is every man's dream, tall and elegant, sophisticated and brilliant, cultured and very posh...but more than that, she looks like an angel, creamy complexion, soft eyes, eternal smile on wide luscious lips, a big upright bust on a slender athletic frame, and five feet ten inches tall. She is one of those rare women who is stunning but doesn't know it, is smart but doesn't make others uncomfortable...a lady in public and a temptress in the bedroom.
Our first child was born early last year and Astra tore badly upon birth, our lovemaking put on a back burner ever since. I have not pressed her for sex and bide my time to permit her to heal physically and regain her libido emotionally. I am a great husband, attentive, loyal, loving, and currently making a huge income.
I have lived five lives, and if you believe as the Hindu's do, I have probably had my soul recycled a dozen times. I have my Ph.D. in 19th century English lit as well as two other lesser degrees. I fell into this business by accident and am way over educated and qualified, but that is also a big part of my success. I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, the son of highly accomplished parents. I travelled the world and did well at school. I have no fear of reaching out to corporate CEO's to open a dialogue, gain their trust, design their space and make the sale. To this end I have a huge following and almost never cold call. Clients seek out my expertise and the pleasure and confidence in doing business with me.
The managers of my organization have been invited by our primary manufacturer, Steelcase, to take a four day symposium at Disneyworld of all places. I book my own room, fully paid, and buy an additional ticket for my wife and one year old. I extend my visit to an entire week, the final three days at my own expense. At the last moment, Francesca gets an ear infection and mother and daughter cancel. This will be my first trip without them and I am forced to stay the entire week as cancelling costs more than staying. Well, it is the Polynesian Hotel and Disney, after all. Why should I regret the joy of a short vacation?
There are literally about three hundred of us from all over the country at this event and I sit through the rather dull lectures and go out at night for dinner with friends. I realize that Disney is not so great as a single...no point in whooping it up on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride without a date or a child in tow. I therefore do not visit the park and just use the hotel and facilities.
The final evening of the four day fete, we are invited to Pleasure Island, the adult venue on the grounds with several nightclubs, discos, comedy clubs and bars. My friends, most of whom think me a pompous married asshole who never stops praising my wife and the institution of marriage, are determined to get me drunk and in trouble this final night. Few, except upper management are staying additional days at the hotel so this is the final night for most.
A couple of cocktails and several beers later I am standing before a revolving dance floor, strobe lights aflickering, music pounding, my suit and tie too hot for this environment. I don't normally drink so much and I am definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol. I steady myself and my six foot frame by holding on to a balustrade at the dance floor's edge and watch the dancing from a short distance. My eyes are not quite focused on anything, but suddenly I am aware that there are a lot of good looking women about, especially on that dance floor. I focus.

It takes about a minute for the floor to turn full circle and those who catch my eye to swing before my gaze once again. Everyone seems to have a date or at least a dance partner. I am not available, so am not looking with an eye to attract anybody, but as I am Italian, my eyes have lives of their own and I watch the T