Bow chicka wow wow. Somehow I guess I've managed to tape the Spice Channel rather than the season finale of Judging Amy, because instead of the cozy confines of the Ranch, we fade up on the swingingest bachelor pad this side of Skinemax: floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking skyscrapers artfully illuminated against the night sky, fire blazing in the fireplace, super-modern furniture, including a bed lit from within. Some shirtless stud basks in the glow of both his own virility, and of the fire. This naughty, shameless cheesecake babe in red satin gathers her clothing from the floor. Sorry, folks. It looks like I'm recapping American Booty tonight. Except, oh my God, the hussy in the red is Maxine. And the shirtless stud is Richard "I'm Evil. You Just Don't Know Why, Yet" Crenna. She's trying to sneak out without waking him up. It's nice to see that the Walk of Shame knows no age limit. Richard Crenna catches her placing a little note on his bedside table and wonders why she's leaving. Maxine explains that it's 2:37 AM, and she has to work the next morning, and she's got children at home. Yes, who knows what kind of mischief Amy will get into, unsupervised? Richard Crenna wonders when he ought to introduce Maxine's children to his own. Maxine demurs, telling him that bringing their families into it makes their tryst seem..."dirty?" Richard Crenna asks. Maxine giggles and says that while she doesn't mind "dirty," "real scares [her]." I am scared also. By Richard Crenna's saggy man-breasts. He takes this opportunity to mention that his son, Charles, is coming into town, and he'd like the three of them to meet for lunch. Maxine agrees, sort of half-heartedly. The lovers gaze at each other, the fire blazes in the background, the violin of Senior Citizen Love swells and Richard wonders, "What's the matter with 'real'?" Then he plants one on her. Maxine takes her hair down. The lip smacking increases to a WB-like level of sound. They disappear out of the frame, leaving only the fire to burn in a CBS-style "hot sex" metaphor.
Credits. I feel a little sick. I'm all for the depiction of older people as having healthy, fulfilling sex lives, but I need a little warning, people. I could have used to some time to prepare.
Amy and Bruce stride purposefully through the Halls of Justice, gossiping about Maxine's love life. Bruce, whose hands are full with a bunch of papers, stacked on a box of what I presume are legal briefs, is impressed that Maxine has landed herself such a high-powered boy toy. Amy, on the other hand, is worried that Richard Crenna is a creep of some sort, and tells Bruce that having money doesn't necessarily preclude Richard Crenna from being big, stupid jerk. Bruce totally ignores her, musing to himself about his portfolio, and how well Richard Crenna's company's stock has done since it went public. Amy has a fit right there in the hallway about the fact that her mother is having sex. Bruce just grins -- gloriously -- and reminds her that people over the age of sixty are still allowed to have sex. He wonders why the fact that Maxine finally got a little action bothers Amy so much. They're standing in front of the door to Amy's chambers. Bruce, still holding everything, waits for Amy to open the door for him. This is important. Amy rummages through her purse and confesses that it bothers her that her mother is having sex, while she herself is not. Because, of course, it is all about her. She's the sun in Gray family solar system, and everyone else must merely revolve around her, as she shines upon them all in due time. Bruce gets fed up with Amy's rummaging and just tells her to get the key out of his pockets. As she digs around in his coat, he points out that Amy keeps kicking potiential partners to the curb, anyway. As she digs further into one of his pockets, Bruce chuckles and tells Amy that she certainly "could be having sex."