[STING OF THE WASP] Let's Play Interactive Fiction Together!

x beverly

Just a couple of years your senior, Beverly joined the club a few months before you. This was back in the prime of Pine Meadows, before the computer boom, before the stock market became a playground for anyone with a couple thousand, before peasant blouses and the anti-fur movement; those were the days. Back then, the only thing to do was engage in dramatic rivalries. And what a rivalry you formed. Playful at first, it soon degenerated in to a spat worthy of the Hatfields and McCoys, that is if the two of you were troglodytic mountain folk. After dying down for a couple of years, the rivalry flared up again when you caught her flirting with Frank at one of last year's charity auctions. Normally you would have been happy to have his hands occupied for a few hours, but the insult was too great to ignore.

x beverly's bra

Beverly's chest looks lumpier than usually.

And then...

>west

Garden path
Serving as little more than a junction, the path here leads from the garden in the southwest to the outside dining area in the north and northeast. The club itself lies to the west and the tennis court to the east. To the southeast is the pool, but it is closed for the season.

>North

Outside dining (next to the kitchen)
This is what it's all about: stale food and staler gossip. However, despite all that, the outside dining offered by Pine Meadows is really the only thing that interests you at the club. The tables are full; the place is busy. The members don't seem to be eating all that much though, no doubt saving their appetites for the banquet tonight. To the west is the server's entrance to the kitchen where all manner of food is prepared. The dining area extends to the east, and to the south and southeast are the garden path and tennis court respectively.

A waiter bustles about, tray of wine glasses in hand, trying desperately to keep up with drink orders from demanding patrons.

Oh great, Cecilia Winnecott is here, the most frightfully irritating woman you have ever had the displeasure to meet. You attempt to duck out before she sees you but it's too late.

"Yoohoo, Julia! Over here." As if you could miss her. Her bright fuchsia pantsuit practically sears your retinas. Cissy sashays up to you, her jacket barely able to contain those three Danishes you saw her wolf down this morning.