Cream colored silk sheets. Shag carpet in harvest gold. Dark wood paneled walls. So you have a hot date with this girl from work and you get all prepped - hot shower, fresh shave, splash of cologne, your slickest outfit - brown suit with boots, a gold chain, a pale blue tie - and you meet her at one of those fern bars downtown. It goes well. She is delightful, and gorgeous, and funny, and most importantly thinks you're funny. You already knew each other but you hit it off. All that workplace flirting wasn't a fluke. She gives you that look after your second cocktail and third cigarette and you ask if she wants to come back to yours for a nightcap and of course she says yes. She has to pretend that she has to think about it but she doesn't really. And you walk in the door, and pour two glasses of Lillet Blanc and she's already comfortably lounging on the oversized couch like she owns the place and you have a choice now, an important one. You walk over to the record player and start thumbing through your collection - it's gotta be in here somewhere. It hasn't been -That- long since you last brought a date home who was this promising. And there it is. Scott 4. You slip this on the turntable, run the motor, lower the needle, and Scott's music lusciously slinks out of the speakers and now, finally, you can go to her with her glass of apertif and get down to the business. FOUR STARS.