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ZORTHIAN & YALE

Like a flower bending in the breeze
Bend with me, SWAY with ease
When we dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, SWAY with me
Norman Gimbel & Pablo Beltrán Ruiz

Make Our Presence Known On Old Campus.. PHOTOS: Max

Once settled into the Duncan, we hooked up with gonzo grad Jon Carlo Bruttomesso ’04 who had been one of the interns in the Y Annex, our renowned Yale Summer Internship program at BlockStudios. Helene decided to stick around for a while; why go home to boring old Great Neck when you can hang with us at Sex Week at Yale? So we all strolled two blocks down to the gracious Old Campus building where most of the SWAY lectures took place, Linsly-Chittenden Hall, directly across High Street from the notorious Yale Secret Society of Skull and Bones.

In front of Skull and Bones .... .. PHOTO: MAX

During Sex Week at Yale, old Linsly-Chittenden, often shorted to “Linsly-Chit” really lived up to its nickname of “Linsly-Clit.” We slipped into Pure Romance Founder and CEO Patty Brisben’s lecture. Patty introduced a crowded lecture hall of eager Yalies to the pleasures of toys. No, not the kind their parents give them for Christmas. These were SEX toys. A generous multi-millionare mom, Patty gave away numerous large and colorful pleasure appliances; it was a veritable Tupperware party for sex.

Yalies have big balls! .. PHOTO: Jon Carlo Bruttomesso

After the lecture, we slipped out the back and strolled through Old Campus, past McClellan and Connecticut Hall (Yale’s oldest buildings), as several freshman were rolling up a giant snowball. At first, I thought it was the old Yale bladderball. But Jon Carlo reminded me that bladderball was forbidden after a series of drunken mishaps, though a giant frozen dirty snowball seemed at least as dangerous.

Harkness Harkens: Yale's Great Phallic Tower .. PHOTO: Max

The Old Blues (JC and I) took the tourists (Max and Helene) on a mini-tour, putting up posters as we went through Commons, Woolsey Hall, Davies Auditorium, past Scroll and Key (another Secret Society that's wealthier though less infamous than Skull and Bones), and past the old Grove Street Cemetery where I actually had sex a couple of times during my wild and crazy undergrad years. Hiking past the Payne-Whitney Gym, then down Broadway and around York, we realized we were hungry, and what was right in front of our hungry eyes but Morys Temple Bar! Max had been wanting to go to Mory’s ever since I’d told him about the venerable old eating and drinking club. Of course, you can only pass through Mory’s sacred portals if you are a member, but happy coincidence of coincidences, Jon Carlo was a member!

In our cups at Mory's ..... PHOTOS: Max

We filled up on juicy filet mignon, bacon-wrapped scallops, oysters and other good old-fashioned American food, and shared one of Mory’s famous silver-plated, double-handled Loving Cups of Booze, careful not to set it down on the table (penalty is that you have to drink the whole thing). We chose the Blue Cup, brimming with a mysterious “Mory’s Special Recipe” alcoholic brew featuring curacao, champagne and only the bartender knows what else.

Rachel Trudeau,Sabrina Silver, Mariangela Sullivan, Allison Goldberg of Whim 'n Rhythm

But the best part of Mory’s are the singing groups (the Whiffenpoofs being the oldest and most famous) who stroll from table to table, like wandering minstrels, singing for their supper and perhaps a Cup or two. We knew we were in for a treat when we saw the assemblage of 10 lovely ladies, crooning standards around the diners. Jon Carlo, having just graduated with a BA in Music, knew several of them, and informed us that these were the women of Whim ‘n Rhythm, the finest all-female a cappella undergraduate singing group in the country. Then, before we could go two rounds with our Blue Cup, they surrounded our table, singing 'Lady is a Tramp' with perfectly pitched, angelic harmony and a mischievous gleam in their eyes.

With the Ladies of Whim 'n Rhythm at Mory's .. PHOTO: Helene

Often Old Blues buy Cups for their serenaders, but before I could offer the gals a drink, they coaxed me over to a big long table where they had set up Camp Whim ‘n Rhythm, covered with notebooks, textbooks and half-consumed dishes of strawberry shortcake. “We have some questions for you about sex…” the bravest of them began. And from there on, we had one of the most frank and fun discussions about the birds and the bees that has probably ever graced this distinguished eating and drinking club in its century and a half of existence.

Chatting it up with Whim 'n Rhythm .. PHOTO: Helene

This turned out to be great foreplay to my Pleasure Lecture the following day. But more on that later. Before we parted, we agreed to see each other again in LA where Whim 'n Rhythm will be performing at my Speakeasy on May 27th!

Mory's Door .. PHOTO: Helene Weiss Winderbaum

Back at the hotel, we opened the Absente Absinthe. I poured some for Max and Jon Carlo, and took a few sips myself, stopping before the room began to spin. The problem with this stuff is the pleasure of it: It’s delicious, with the taste of sweet anisette, and it’s strong. Very strong. Too strong for JC who went out to get us a bottle of water, then collapsed in his room on the second floor before he could make it to us on the third. It was even too strong for my Max. Just before passing out, he popped the question, “Are we going to have sex?” to which I responded “Yes!” at which point he was zonked cold on the bed, fully clothed and snoring like a schooner in a foggy bay.

Nude Angel overlooking High Street across from Skull and Bones PHOTO: Suzy

It was about 3 am. With no drinking water thanks to Jon’s collapse, and no sex thanks to Max’s, I was suddenly miserable. Compounding my feelings of general torpor was my now-hammering jet lag, my own bilious queasiness from the combo of Blue Cup and Absinthe and an utterly freeform anxiety that something (anything!) would go horribly wrong with my lecture later that evening.

Then it hit me: the solution to all my problems. I know this will sound like a crass commercial for my Sex Week at Yale sponsor, but what can I say, it’s true. I grabbed one of the 50 Doc Johnson Pocket Rockets that I’d brought for the students, slipped under the covers beside my snoring spouse, plunked it right down on my *Linsly-Clit,* and turned it on (thank goddess batteries are included!). Ahhhhh…YES!!…it worked like a charm, and before I knew it, I had joined Max and JC in sweet dreamland.

Other dancers may be on the floor
Dear, but my eyes will see only you
Only you have that magic technique
When we SWAY I go weak…

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S W A Y . W I T H . M E
SeX Week at Yale '06
by Susan Block, Ph.D. '77
IN 5PAGES
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