First, a little background, and the moral of the story up front: when it comes to planning a trip to the Ranch, despite all your schemin’ and dreamin’, you just never know what treasure you might find by accident! Three months ago, there I was at the Ranch, nuzzling with Anna Suvari in the parlor, you know, getting frisky, telling her how great it was to see snow on more of the mountains than just the tops from the air, when this adorable, petite brunette bunny brightly pads by in plain T-shirt and panties (my kinda girl!) and then just as quickly disappears, flitting behind a doorway like a sparrow. Now, I’ve been grazing this message board since autumn, and this particular hottie was completely unfamiliar to me. “Who was that?!” I asked Anna (confident she wouldn’t find it discourteous; our zesty rapport goes way back, to ... uh ... October). “Keely” was her answer. She was just saying a word, of course, but amidst the dim light and plush red, it was like a juicy secret. (Of course, having it whispered by someone with whom you would be naked soon helped in that respect.) I repeated the name in my mind, saving it to hard drive. “Keely.” (For anyone who’s wondering: dumping my date in that instant would have been so wrong for so many reasons.) As it turns out, it WAS sort of a juicy secret, one that I’m now blabbing all over town -- with Keely’s permission, which might surprise some folks. This is her first “review.” Anyone who knows the board and the bunnybabes page can see that Keely signed on about a year ago, but has remained in the shadow of the shadows. Elusive. Unadvertised. No pictures anywhere, not a single message posted until recently. So when she innocently popped up in a photo (just a couple weeks after I’d returned home, sufficiently Suvarified, yet without meeting Keely) she sent a little shock wave through the membership. It was still February, you see, and a few of the bunnies made an anatomically correct snowman (except for the penis being at knee level; “it wouldn’t stay on anywhere else,” Keely would later protest), and took a few poses with it. So here was my second sighting of this rare, pretty bird ... sporting a pure white downy jacket, smart white/plaid scarf, pure white snowflakes in her luscious long hair, and that sweet-yet-mischievous smile I would come to know up close. It was as if this skittish bunnybird had come out of midwinter hiding, and was now happily cavorting in the snow. (Was Keely kneeling the key?) I was captivated. Again. Desire driven by intrigue, mystery, playfulness and uncommon beauty. Hard drive spinning again. (By the way, a couple more pictures have just popped up, and not so innocently this time! See “Felicia’s Panty Dropping Champagne Birthday Party” in the General Forum.) Two of my grandparents were bird watchers. I remember them getting up insanely early and going out with binoculars and a thermos of coffee, stopping first at a bakery to buy fresh, soft cookies. I was with them the day they spotted a pileated woodpecker, and was reminded of that thrill and pleasure when I saw Keely’s very first post, coming some weeks later (with e-mail address + pretty pic). Planning was already underway for a mid-May romp out West. I wrote to her immediately. I also wrote to Anna, relating the urge I felt to ... uh ... diversify my portfolio, and the gratitude I hoped to show her for an introduction. Of course she cheerfully complied, but I felt I had to ask (perhaps not for the reasons you’d think; I’d ask Anna if the sky was blue just to watch her say “yes”). Gradually, there came more Keely Bird appearances. Eight posts to date (whups; nine as I’m writing this). One signature pic became two. When Keely wrote me back, warmly and enthusiastically, the morning I was preparing to leave, I knew that Spring was unfolding quickly. This was a couple weeks ago. Mating season. Birds were flying North. I was flying West. Snow was melting. Time to mess around with this whole pure white business. I didn’t get laid until I was 25, and it was Prom Night in America. Grrrrrr. I confirmed our appointment. I’d called Anna to let her know my connecting flight was delayed 2 hours, but she was right there in the parlor when I arrived. We got caught up on this and that, and without even trying she was soothing my nervousness about meeting a new bunny. I also reassured her that no matter what happened next, I had distinct plans for her the following evening. Once I was ready, she went to fetch the enchanting, elusive Keely. That’s when I realized there had been a drum roll going on inside me, building for days, which was now ramping up to the cymbal crash. Here they come. “I’d like you to meet Kee---” OMG [where G = Goddess]. The crash was a loud one, and I think for a few seconds, electricity was rerouted through the walls and the floor. She was every bit the knockout I’d seen so briefly three months earlier, and then some. There was the sweet face, luscious hair and tiny smile. Smokin’ hot bod, sure. Evocative, catlike eyes, chasing my bird metaphor out the window. Ahh, forget the bird metaphor, ‘cuz she was also cute as a bug. I mean, off-the-charts cute. Girly, glittery, red-hued T-shirt, and tasty-lookin’, tastefully frilly undies again. Lord, Goddess, whomever, take me now. Were I able to form any coherent thoughts, one of them might have been: “this...I believe...is what guys from Jersey...would call a Tomato.” Ripe, juicy, taut, ready to gush. Good call, New Jersey. But instead I was flat and mute, like one of those emoticons folks use on the board when words fail them. The green one, I guess. Once the planet started rotating again and I was able to properly assemble nouns and verbs, I got her a sugar-free Red Bull, and myself and Anna something too, and soon it came as only a brief surprise that Keely appeared to be just as quiet and coy as her public persona (or the lack thereof). Just because she’s, uh, revealing more of herself these days doesn’t mean her Age of Innocence is over. As one might imagine, a major draw for Keely is a classic “sweet ‘n’ innocent” vibe, which she serves up to perfection ... but is it natural, or keenly measured? Probably both. That knowing, impish smile betrays her, I think ... in the best way. Don’t get me wrong; I love me a shameless, out-there, adventuresome rabbit, but it’s also fun to have a little mystery, to do a little work. With Keely, you have to scratch the surface a little -- not an unwelcome task in the least! It was fun, sexy, and besides, the whole time, you’re fully aware there are other sides to her you might see if you only take the plunge. I started moving toward the deep end. In the meantime, I was also pleased to meet enticing newbies Barbie Bentley and Cheyenne Capri (there I go, saving names to hard drive again). Keely and I maintained a flirtatiously respectable distance, and there was just general chitchat going on in the parlor when “Daddy D” strolled in from the foyer. Anna was kind enough to introduce me to him, too. Nice fella, and a generous host. He didn’t seem the least bit offended when I excused myself shortly for some quality pillow talk with Keely Bug. I imagine Mr. Hof is someone who understands the redemptive power of embracing one’s inner adolescent every now and then. Thanks, Dennis. Negotiating with Keely was as supple and smooth as her body and skin. Like I said, you might have to scratch the surface a bit with this delightfully demure girl. Tell ‘er what you want. At the outset, I mentioned the importance of a certain erogenous zone, and that’s all it took. She launched right into a story about a recent night, when she and another gal teased some lucky fella the same way. Maybe some guys wouldn’t want to hear it, but I was riveted, instantly thrilled with my choice, and the slow road I took to get to her. My patience and presence in the woods. The point is, at just the right time, “sweet & innocent” fell right to the floor and slid out the door. Well, innocent, anyway. She stayed sweet. But the kid gloves were off, and so were Keely ‘n’ me. She was magically delicious, with a wonderful, knowing and loving touch. Our time together couldn’t have been better. She even has little wings. _______________________________ P.S.: the working title for this Ranch Report was “Keely Spice Cake with a Warm Suvari Swirl.” As it turned out, Keely stole the story -- little pixie that she is -- but just to add the icing: as promised, the next night with Anna, I was able to reaffirm that I still know my way around a kitchen. Thanks, Anna ... or ... you’re welcome, Anna ... anyway, my thanks to all!