SI Vault
 
PANT BY NUMBERS
Austin Murphy
February 12, 1999
What do you get when you mix five supermodels, three body painters, one secluded island and a reporter with a very sharp pencil? We'll give you three guesses
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February 12, 1999

Pant By Numbers

What do you get when you mix five supermodels, three body painters, one secluded island and a reporter with a very sharp pencil? We'll give you three guesses

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SATURDAY EVENING: I'm shooting pool with Peter Franchella, the cameraman for the crew filming the upcoming SI video of the swimsuit shoot. The humidity makes the cue grippy in my left hand. Peter is having the same problem. We look around, but can't find any talcum powder.

Twenty feet away is a fully stocked bar, behind which stands a lovely staffer named Kathryn, who comes around every 10 minutes or so to see if we'd like another cold one. Ten feet to our right, supermodel Audrey Quock is stretched out on her back, posing for Antoine. She is wearing about half a shot glass of turquoise paint.

"No talcum," says Peter. "This place sucks."

SUNDAY MORNING: A bit of worship being in order, I follow the Three Flabby Guys—as the SI video crew has dubbed itself—in their migration toward the pool. They know something. Producer Ken Pisani has received intelligence that Heidi intends to do a bit of sunbathing this morning. We make it our business to be ensconced at the pool before Heidi arrives, then have the nerve to pretend to be pleasantly surprised when she does show up. As Heidi selects a chaise longue and peels off her top, I resist the urge to turn and high-five Ken.

Soon the heat drives all of us into the pool, where Heidi reigns like Cleopatra on the Nile, her barge an inflatable crocodile. I am treading water in the deep end while trying to hold up my end of the conversation—"You're from Cologne and you've never been to a WLAF game?"—when she makes a generous offer: "Austin, do you want my crocodile?"

I am touched by this small kindness, even though, by all appearances, she has no need of a flotation device.

Having taken enough sun, Heidi retreats to her room. To avoid giving the appearance that we'd been hanging around the pool solely to ogle her, we wait 30 seconds or so before packing it in ourselves.

Inside, I walk past Audrey, who is back in her civvies, having rinsed off the turquoise bikini. "Audrey!" I exclaim. "Almost didn't recognize you with your clothes on."

"How much longer is this creep going to be on the island?" she asks.

(Actually, she laughs and says, "Weird, isn't it?")

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