Free Preview: Playmate of the Month October 1985 - Cynthia Brimhall

Cynthia Brimhall's day has gotten off to a bad start. She's in a dither of indignation as she huffs in, ten minutes late, for lunch at Le Dôme restaurant. "You won't believe what happened to me this morning," she says in a grandly theatrical style, somewhat reminiscent of Lucille Ball - a very sexy Lucille Ball - in a snit. While her eyes roll heavenward, the eyes of many in the restaurant are focused on her microminidress. "Some pervert stole all my underwear," she explains. "All of it." Apparently, Thursday is laundry day chez Brimhall, which is a smallish condo done entirely in pink - "a doctor friend told me pink weakens men" - in West Hollywood, a city well known for its enthusiastic acceptance of alternative lifestyles. The 300 condos in her complex share one large laundry room, which, of course, was where Cynthia was washing her prized collection of lingerie. The last she saw of it was when she put it in the dryer. An hour or so later, when she returned to the laundry room, it was gone. "Someone is actually walking around that complex in my panties," she says. She's not sure whether the culprit is male or female, gay or straight - her building, befitting the area, is full of eccentrics, would-be showbiz types, flamboyant gays, retirees and numerous occupants of Hollywood's fast track. Any one of them could be guilty, she says. <br> "You know, I really have expensive taste in lingerie. Some of it was even from Rome. I don't indulge myself in a lot of things, but under...