What Price Beauty?  There he is, standing waist-deep in the
surf, muscles rippling. Somehow, even as the wind whips at
ocean's edge, his hair is perfect. As the waves crash, he turns
toward you and smiles, his teeth glistening. He approaches you
on the sand, the sea water dripping from his board shorts, his
gaze hypnotic. "Tonight?" he asks. "Now," you reply. Then he
says he'll have to make sure his mother doesn't need a ride to
the mall just yet.  This week we hear from those of you who got
next to that perfect specimen, kind of how Chevy Chase got to
swim with Christie Brinkley in the first Vacation movie. Mostly,
things weren't perfect:  Melanie, 29, Quogue I met him at this
club in the Hamptons. Guido all the way. Tight, feel-y shirt,
black Armani pants huggin' the ass. You could tell from the
shirt, he was ripped. We caught eyes. We start dancing. He gets
some Ecstasy from his friends. He's like, "Can I take my shirt
off?" At this point, what the fuck. I'm wasted. Major six-pack!
Cock diesel! I'm like, I