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Low…class mega…slut townie？
？Alicensed massage therapist； silly！ I can？t believe you didn？t know that。 Anyway； I talked to
these people at this spa in Sag Harbor and they might let me do an actual internship。 You know；
practicing on real people？ I？m so psyched。？ She leaned in across the table and began massaging
Nate？s forearm； using both of her hands and applying a surprising amount of pressure； her long
manicured fingertips scraping his skin like ice scrapers on a car windshield。 ？See？？ she
asked。 ？Doesn？t that feel good？？
It did feel good； sort of； but Nate was much more interested in the view： Tawny was leaning so
far forward that her impressive pear…shaped boobs were totally visible。
？So； um； you？re still in high school； then？？ Nate mumbled； remembering that it was his turn to
say something。 ？I just graduated。？ Saying that felt good。 It made him feel manly。
Oh boy。
？I？m graduating next year；？ she explained； moving her hands from his forearm to his chest；
which was tight from hammering。 ？I can？t wait。 I？m so sick of high school。 I figure I？ll get my
certification； you know； get a house in the Bays。 If you？re good； you can make such awesome cash
from the summer crowd you don？t have to work the rest of the year。 That？s totally my plan： make
a good living mooching off summer people。？ She laughed。
？Cool。？ Nate was having trouble concentrating on what Tawny was saying because her boobs
were practically in his lap。 He？d tuned her out so pletely she sounded kind of like the parents
in a Peanuts cartoon。Wah…wah…wah…wah…wah。 Her lips looked so full and peach…colored and shiny；
and she smelled like vanilla。
He pitched his head forward and lightly kissed her； touching her cheeks gently。 Her mouth tasted
like Diet Coke and some sort of artificial but totally delicious fruit。
After a few moments she giggled and pulled away。 ？We can do that all night； but I want to know
about your plans too；？ she went on； sitting back down and taking his hand。 ？You can tell me all
about it over dinner。？
？Sure； yeah。？ Nate stood and patted his pocket to make sure he？d remembered to bring his wallet。
He wondered if the Oyster Shack accepted platinum American Express。 He licked his lips； which
tasted sort of slick and fruity now themselves and would probably make his beer taste like pi？a
colada。 ？Let？s get something to eat and I？ll tell you my whole master plan。？
Nate Archibald has a master plan？
？Sounds impressive。？ Tawny giggled again as she stood and gathered up her cigarettes； her
lighter； and her gold pleather XOXO clutch with buckles all over it。
？Well； I？m starting Yale in a couple of months？？
？Yale？ Really？ Damn； that？s a good school。？ She linked her arm with Nate？s。 ？And expensive。？
Then again； education is like a Birkin bag？how can you put a price on such things？
b is for betrothed
Blair Waldorf crossed her legs and leaned back in the deep…brown high…backed leather chair。
Lifting the white Spode porcelain teacup to her lips； she took a dainty sip of lukewarm Earl Grey
tea and smiled at Jemima； the salesgirl who was hovering over her。 ？Miss Waldorf；？ Jemima
tittered； handing Blair a small navy blue leather portfolio。 ？Whenever you？re ready。？
Blair opened the book； inside were her black American Express card； a receipt； and a pen； which
she grabbed； signing the dotted line without glancing at it。
？Lovely。 Now； I？ve had your parcels packed up and they？ll be off to Claridge？s shortly。 Can I do
anything else for you？ Fetch a taxi； perhaps？？
？No； thank you。？ She smiled gracefully。 ？I think I？ll walk。？
She had been sitting fortably in a private back room in a new boutique called Kid in West
London for an hour； keeping Jemima； a pretty brunette with terrible teeth； busy fetching every
style of boot they stocked。 As she tried on the twenty…plus pairs of boots； she？d had two cups of
tea； glanced at the new issue of FrenchVogue ； and made a telephone call to Lord Marcus。
Voicemail。 She wondered if he was working； or if he was off with Camilla somewhere； buying
new croquet mallets； or 。。。
Orwhat？
Blair didn？t give up easily and she was determined not to let yesterday get her down。 Maybe
Marcus and Camilla needed to get their cousinly bonding thing out of the way。 They？d
undoubtedly soon tire of each other？s pany。 Besides； Marcus was likely to forget
Camilla？sname when he caught a glimpse of Blair in her new knee…high black python…skin boots
and her new black lace Gossard corset and matching boy shorts； which she planned on modeling
for him that very night in between courses during the champagne…and…chocolate room service
dinner she？d planned。
Tucking the still…warm credit card back into her new Smythson billfold； Blair dropped her wallet
inside the limited…edition hand…painted Goyard bag she？d picked up the day before and walked out
of the store and onto the quiet stretch of Press Street。 She？d been to London only once with her
family； when she was twelve。 They？d stayed at the Langham Hotel just off Regent Street； visited
Old Ben and Buckingham Palace； seen the crown jewels； watched the changing of the guard；
drunk tea； and eaten scones。 As far as she could remember； she？d spent most of the trip listening to
Madonna on her iPod。 But that was London as atourist。 Now that shelived here； things were totally
different。
Everyone said London was gray； overcast； foggy； and depressing； but it had been clear and sunny
all week。 The trees were in full bloom； there were lush gardens on every block； and every building
was ornate and beautiful。 Everyone also said that the English were standoffish； with bad teeth and
thick accents； and although their teeth and accentswere distractions； so far every person Blair had
spoken to had been unfailingly polite。
Of course they had been？she？d only talked to salespeople who worked on mission。
Blair checked her cell again： no messages。 She tossed the phone back into her bag。 She
understood that a gentleman had to pay extra attention to his guest？family was very important to
the English upper class？and Camilla was lovely； really。 She really was。 Even if she did look like a
blond cartoon freakworm。 And Blair understood； really she did。 But she was ready to spice things
up a little； and the more Lord Marcus made her wait； the more fidgety and eager she got。 Maybe
the whole thing was just a ploy to turn her on as much as possible？
Um； maybe。
Strolling down the street in the general direction of her hotel； Blair felt like a cross between Julia
Roberts inPretty Woman ？the scene where she goes shopping in a giant black wide…brimmed hat
and has all the Rodeo Drive salespeople waiting on her hand and foot？and Audrey Hepburn inMy
Fair Lady ； the beautiful Cockney waif who rises from obscurity on the streets of London to
bee the toast of the town。 Except Blair was neither a prostitute nor a waif from the gutter。
Details； details。
She glanced up and down the street； but every store window； every awning； looked familiar。 Had
she really made it toall the stores in the neighborhood？ Finding great clothes in London was easy；
and the exchange rate made it even better。 Blair noticed it the minute she arrived； she had to get
cash for a taxi and was surprised at how many bright； pretty pastel…colored bills she got in
exchange for her boring old U。S。 dollars。 The teller at the bank even gave her a handful of
change？including an oversize penny that was worth two cents； not just one； a funny
hexagon…shaped coin； and a bunch of thick； heavy coins that were worth a whole pound each。 If
the English used coins for the same thing Americans used bills for； clearly this was a place to find
great bargains。 Not that sheneeded to find bargains。
Blair was standing outside of what at first looked like just another West London brick mansion： a
tall； well…lit town house with big； clean windows and blooming flower boxes underneath them。 A
lifetime of shopping had given Blair a sixth sense； she justknew when something good was
lurking nearby。 Through the street…level windows she could see an ornate Chinese v