As the Prince and Aria drove, they talked about the scenery (he was much impressed by the green beauty of the Catskills. His homeland of Oz was famously dry and bushy), their favorite foods (his: cheeseburgers and bourbon; hers: trout freshly pulled from the stream on the estate), and how they liked to spend their free time (he liked to work on the royal farm and had made several films, and she spent a lot of time on the internet). Prince Russell finally could wait no longer and burst forth with the question that was haunting him: "You look so familiar to me, in a very comforting way. Have you ever been to Oz? Have we met before?" But Aria said nothing, merely raising her eyebrows and cocking her head, then turning away to look out her window.

She eventually directed him off the main road onto a smaller one, then off again, onto a gravel lane running through a thick woods. After a mile or so, the trees began to thin and some structures became visible in the distance. Aria’s country estate was simple, with a lovely old log home beside a slightly ramshackle barn, set on what appeared to be at least a hundred acres. In the distance could be seen the lake Aria had mentioned.

"Not a bad spread," said Russ, smiling and unloading their bags from the trunk.

"Thanks, it’s been in my family for years," said Aria as she pushed open the door and led the Prince inside the house. The furnishings in the house weren’t grand but they were comfortable and clean, and the Prince immediately felt at home. Almost everything about Aria seemed familiar and comfortable, as though he had known her or she had known him for a long time. He was both perplexed and excited.

After the Prince made perfect cups of tea to rejuvenate them, Aria checked her watch and suggested that they go for a walk around the lake to stretch their legs after the long car ride, and Russell said, "So long as you don’t go wanderin’ about in traffic again!"

Aria laughed and said, "Not a lot of traffic at the moment, though that may change later on."

"What do ya mean?" the Prince asked, but again Aria just cocked her head and said "C’mon, mate, let’s get a move on!" imitating Russ’ charming accent perfectly. They headed out toward the lake, each of them trying to impress the other by naming trees and birds and shrubs that they passed along the way. The Prince did well, but upstate New York wasn’t his native land, and ultimately he had to concede that Aria’s knowledge of the local flora and fauna exceeded his own.

"Awright, awright," he said, "ya got me! But now you have to come to Oz and we’ll see if you know a baobab from an acacia!"

"Maybe I will come to Oz, maybe we all will" Aria replied, but she turned her face away before the Prince could read her expression or inquire who the "we all" might be, and he was beginning to understand that he was going to have to be patient to get the answers he wanted.

Aria had checked her watch several times as they circled the lake, which Russell thought odd, but he said nothing—hey, this wasn’t Oz, maybe people timed their country strolls here. He’d been known to spend five hours on a horse himself. It was growing dark as they rounded the lake, and the Prince was forced to remark that he was getting hungry. "Oh, I’ve planned a special dinner to commemorate your visit, and it’s about time we get back to enjoy it," said Aria, as she widened her stride and headed back toward the house and barn.

As they neared the house, Russ noticed that rows and rows of cars were parked near the barn and that the barn itself was brightly lit from within. As they got closer, music and laughter could be heard. He turned to Aria and asked, "You expecting some guests?" Instead of answering, Aria took the Prince’s hand in her own and led him toward the barn. As Aria pushed opened the barn door, the laughter stopped and an awed "oooooooh" swept the huge space. Prince Russell stepped into the barn and was stunned by what he saw: women, dozens, maybe even hundreds, of smiling women. At one side, tables were spread with food and drinks. The prince was shocked to see that the tall walls of the barn were covered with photos and paintings and pictures of him. Even more oddly, along one wall were several computer terminals, each displaying his image.

The prince turned in confusion and momentary embarrassment to Aria, who bowed slightly, as did all the ladies in the room. "Prince Russell," Aria said, straightening, "you are a great man—a man worthy of attention and appreciation above all other men. We have been your followers for many years. In the beginning, it was very difficult because, frankly, you were small potatoes and didn’t get much press, despite your transcendent looks and your marvelous skills. But the growth of your talent paralleled the growth of the internet, and the women you see in this room found each other there while in a search of you. We have sought knowledge of all your doings and have entertained and comforted ourselves with talk of your exploits. Without knowing it, you have brought us together, and we honor you for that, as well as for your talent and unmatched physical beauty. You see, the platypus and roo that spoke to you in Oz were two of these women, Petshark and Lulu, who were magically transformed at no small expense by Industrial Light and Magic so that they could help you find us. And I am 4Tune, who was sent to lure you in my own form. Dear Prince, we know you’ve had heartbreak and disappointment, but that need be no more, for we are yours for the taking. You shall never be lonely again."

Prince Russell was at a loss for words. Astonished, he began to move through the room, gently touching the women he passed and slowly shaking his head at his good fortune. The ladies, who had been preparing for years for this very moment (and all the moments with him that would follow), spoke their names as his marveling fingers brushed their arms, their cheeks, their hands: "Apple," "Lulu," "Petshark," "Priscilla," "Kath," "Katrina," "Cathy," "Sin" (he raised his eyebrows in interest at this name), "Torrid," "Cleo," "Anette," "Fan," "Desiree," "Cutie," "Babe," "Meryl," "Amy," "Emma," "Anne Sofie," "Lavinia," "Doodster," "Pachabel," "Papeek." . . .

"Papeek?" the Prince thought. "Why’s that sound so bloody familiar?" Just then, as Russell touched her, Papeek squealed in delight, sounding much like a mouse, and fell to the floor giggling. "So that’s what the storekeeper meant by ‘papeeking’ mice," he thought, "not a bad thing at all! Delightful actually! But what’s ‘eer’?" The Prince was soon to find out.

As he neared the back of the barn, Russell’s fingers brushed an arm that surprised him a bit since it was rather hard and hairy. "Hair—eer?" he thought. "The old storekeeper thought I’d be upset to miss out on this one, huh? Crazy old man." Not every woman in the barn had been model-pretty, but the Prince thought them all captivating because of the adoration in their faces and the fun-loving natures he could tell they all possessed. Not to mention the lusty thoughts they inspired. This arm, however, was cause for concern, which only grew when its owner announced her name in a deep voice as "Devin."

The Prince stopped. "No offense, Devin," he said, leaning in discreetly, "but are you getting hormone treatments?"

"No," Devin laughed, "I’m a man."

"A bloke?" Russell said, then his eyebrows lifted playfully and he leaned farther in. "Are ya gay then?"

"Nope, not gay either."

"Then what’re ya doin’ here if you’re a straight bloke?" The Prince inquired.

A little of the smile went out of Devin’s voice as he responded, "I’m here because I also admire you. I think you have enormous talent."

The Prince raised his eyebrows and laughed and said, "Well, mate, I’m flattered that you think that way, but ya know, you’re really not my type, so you can hit the road."

"But I think you’re the greatest there is and I’m here to honor you," Devin responded.

The Prince raised his chin and lowered his voice, "Mate, I’m honored, but this is no place for you, so please, go—you’re makin’ me uncomfortable."

"I don’t care if I make people uncomfortable," Devin stubbornly insisted. "I kinda like to do that."

The Prince shook his head, said "Ya just don’t get it, do ya? That’s not cool, mate—not cool at all," and with that he pummeled Devin into a smallish puddle of applesauce, which, with the help of the dirt that Lavinia kicked onto it, was quickly absorbed into the floor. A few of the women let out a happy yell, and out of the hayloft jumped Glynnie and Filly, lovers of the Prince who had been in self-imposed exile. They landed in the dirt near Russell’s feet, probably right on top of Devin in fact, and the prince helped them up.

"Oh Prince," said Glynnie, as she kissed his hand, "thank you for ridding us of that pestilence."

Brushing the dirt from her jeans, Filly was more blunt: "Somebody had to do it, and you were the man for the job, Russ baby," and she kissed him hard on the mouth and thrust a beer into his hand.

Needless to say, the ice was broken at this point, and with whoops of joy, the party began. Lulu, who had climbed into the hayloft, now jumped out directly onto the Prince and began to tie him up with a rope she had brought along for just this purpose. (She’d been talking about this rope for years, but no one had believed it really existed.) Cleo and Priscilla and Apple quickly began stripping the Prince of his garments, and instead of resisting, he just lay back giggling. 4Tune came forth with melted chocolate and edible body paint and honey and began distributing the lickable goo liberally over the Prince’s lovely restrained body. Soon others were "assisting." Petshark tried cooling the group down with a splash of water, but to no avail. Spirits were high because at last Prince Russell was here, and all the women knew their turns with him would come sooner or later. This sort of thing was going to go on for a long, long time. And from his spot on the floor, tied up, covered in honey, and crawling with women, Russell laughed, "This beats the bloody hell out of those Hollywood parties! Now I am sweet as a biscuit!"

Filly