The Walker

No, not at that time of year.

She's nice.

To me at least.

Well, don't let her fool you.

A tiger.

She wears white perhaps the way

other women wear jewelry.

The trophy bride.

You got her come up and...

Viagra!

If all the pricks that have been stuck

into her were sticking out of her,

she'd be a pokey pine.

Ugh, Carl. What an image.

I saw that.

That was a cheat.

Now wait.

Are you calling me a cheat?

I'm not. Come on.

I didn't mean the word pejoratively.

This is Washington after all.

And I happen to be your partner.

Yeah. That too.

Your turn.

She just said no and walked out.

Well how much did you offer?

The rich have such a touching faith

in the efficacy of small funds.

Tennessee Williams said that.

So did I.

That's a beautiful meld you

got going there.

What have you got over there?

Nothing. Really.

My hand is so bare.

Hey, do you wanna take

some of these?

Is that a legal?

Did you notice Candice Howard?

Purple is an acceptable color.

Just not her color.

Not on a dress at least.

I told her it was a wonderful fabric

and she was fortunate to get

so much of it.

Some day her prince will come.

Not before she kisses a lot of frogs.

The city is asking,

What can they be talking about?

Such different women.

What do they have in common?

You, Carl.

Besides that?

Nothing.

They know damn well what

we're talking about.

Them.

- They wish.

Wednesday's canasta

at the Hargrave.

I don't understand these

women today.

God forbid a man

to give them anything!

Have you played?

Yes. I will.

No, I've not thrown down. Here.

Yes, you're

absolutely right, Natalie.

I mean is that enough

to be a wife and a mother?

You've got to stand in a

soup kitchen and wear a suit.

That's the former First Lady.

No politics, girls.

Surrounded by a sea of special

interest, we float above.

Carl Page has crowed.

You want that Jack?

Well, they make it sound

like a coven.

Let them wonder how

much we know.

How much do we know?

Everything.

All the dirt

dished in this great city.

All the human waste

exited by our friends and

fellow human beings.

All of it, sooner or later,

passes through these ears.

This is shit centre, darlings.

Lovely.

Come on, Carl.

Finish that story.

Which story?

John Corring.

And Faye Juliette?

Yes.

Quiet dinner for six in the South

that's like Tenderwood.

'John?', Julia says to her husband.

Why is it you

never f*ck me anymore?

Her tone changes.

Because when you do,

you're so good at it.

The room quiets.

She turns to Jessie,

'Isn't he good at it?'

Jessie and her husband freeze.

Just as the guests

smell danger, Corring says...

Precious lamb, I never f*ck you

because ever since you went

to Jenny Craig...

You're such a little bitty thing

I can't find you under the covers.

Thrilled, Julia had answers,

'You really think I did some good?'

Oh, my goodness.

I heard Corring

throws from the other side.

Really?

He's straight. Believe me.

You're pretty sure?

One thing I can tell is whether a

man is homosexual or not.

Oh, how?

I am the gay 'Wether Vain'.

Little signals you know.

It might be his choice of words...

The way his tie's knotted. Or...

How hard he gets when

he hugs me.

It's your turn.

Stop.

I'll never understand you, Carl.

You luxuriate in the

company of these... Ugh!

You know the damage

those women... Well, no.

Their husbands have done

to the things we care about?

I will f*ck a congressman

to stop nuclear proliferation.

Please, Carl.

Mr. and Mrs. Stanley,

he of the State Department,

opened up to Washington Post.

To see their precious baby

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