Pillow Talk at the Pig

Thirty minutes into their first date and Matt McCarthy and Rachelle Roxborough are already horizontal--in bed, shoes kicked off, reclining on pillows, drinking martinis. Ah, this is how all romances should begin, muses McCarthy, 35. Here in this dimly lit room with flowing, sheer curtains and vibrant green plants; on this queen-size canopy bed, with a delicious dessert platter for two, and a pretty young thing for company.

Perfection. “I am digging this,” says McCarthy, of Hollywood Hills, who does radio voice-overs.

But, wait, McCarthy and Roxborough aren’t exactly alone. Who is that couple over there, snuggling under that other canopy? And what about these people over here, piled up on this one? There’s a man on bottom, a woman on top, and a man on top of her. Not to mention the woman on the side!

“We were making love just for fun,” jokes Jens Wallrabe, 38, of Venice, the top bun on the sandwich. “Actually, I got kind of excited. I started sweating and so did the girl I was lying on top of. But I don’t know if that’s because she was sick.”

Nah. She was just having a good time, like everybody else hanging out on this Saturday night in the bedroom at the Pig ‘n Whistle on Hollywood Boulevard. OK, it’s not really a bedroom, but it might as well be, say Oliver Luis and his girlfriend, Erica Montolfo, who are cozying it up in the corner with a couple of glasses of Cabernet.

The refurbished landmark restaurant reopened in March--nearly 50 years after it folded--but, this time, co-owners Chris Breed and Allan Hajjar have added a new twist: a second dining area and bar in the back with tables and chairs and four queen-size canopy beds that must be reserved for dinner but can be crashed on at will for drinks. This town, after all, is about trends, and beds in bars and restaurants have been going together since B.E.D. (a restaurant and nightclub) opened last year in Miami’s South Beach, the nation’s hedonistic hotbed.

“The Pig” is not the first restaurant or bar in Los Angeles to sport beds instead of, or in addition to, tables and chairs. The Abby in West Hollywood, frequented mostly by gay men, has five king-size beds enclosed in private cabanas; Moomba in West Hollywood has two futon-style beds in the downstairs lounge; and Skybar on the Sunset Strip offers alfresco mattresses.

“That’s actually very cool because you can stare up at the moon,” says Joel Ashkenazi, who is eating in bed with three friends at the Pig tonight and is a self-proclaimed bed veteran. “It’s always funny to hang out on the bed. If you’re cool, you’re on the bed. All the noncool people are off the beds,” he says, and laughs.

It was Breed’s idea to add sex appeal and romance to Hollywood’s already nostalgic venue, the regular haunt of movie stars like Spencer Tracy and Shirley Temple in the 1920s and 1930s. His may not be the first beds in town, but his room is softer, more elegant. The funky background music gives it a fresh edge. “People love that room,” says Breed, who also co-owns the Sunset Room on Cahuenga Boulevard. “You see it when they first arrive. They look at each other. They smirk. It creates a little energy before they even get on it. It seems when people are on a bed, it’s a more approachable situation. It seems like you can talk about anything you want to talk about.”

And do anything you want to do.

Well, almost. As Luis, 35, points out, “The bad part is you can’t cover yourself when you really want some privacy.”

Still, there are advantages. A couple for nearly three months, Luis and Montolfo say they can find intimate spaces just about anywhere. But this setting does help fan the flames. For one thing, Luis, a management consultant, does not have to worry about Montolfo’s jealous dog. He also doesn’t have to fret about spilling his food or his wine, an admittedly common occurrence. The mattresses are treated with Scotchgard to protect the messiest of eaters.

“And you get to take off your shoes,” adds Montolfo, a writer for the new ABC series “My Wife and Kids.” She, however, is lamenting having worn her knee-high boots because it takes too much work to put them on to go to the unisex bathroom. “But tell the girls they better get a pedicure before they come because if they have funky toes, they’re going to be in trouble.”

When their appetizer tray arrives, everything is scrumptious, says Montolfo. Luis props himself on some pillows and wonders if wearing a white suit was a good idea. His devoted girlfriend feeds him a grilled shrimp, followed by a piece of sesame-coated ahi tuna.

“We can feed each other,” she says, sweetly, surveying the rest of the tray: smoked salmon on blinis, spicy marinated beef and chicken brochettes and roasted rosemary lamb chops. “Everything looks so good.”

Across the room, sitting up on his bed, Ashkenazi is madly in search of a waiter. The A&R; talent scout for various labels and his buddy, Thomas Wolford, band leader of Nine-Tenths Numb (“just one point from being completely numb”) are kicking back. It’s their first time at the Pig and the two are savoring the ambience with two female friends.

“It’s laid-back here,” says Wolford, 27, of North Hollywood. “It’s not too often you can get away from stress in L.A. A night out on a bed is fun.”

Finally, maitre d’ Joey Barile walks over and genuflects in front of their bed: “OK, what are your dreams tonight?” They order chicken, snapper, “a little bit of this and a little bit of that. Now, we’re talking,” says Ashkenazi.

By the time Luis and Montolfo are finished eating, their whirlwind romance is fizzling. She is asleep on his chest, and he’s lying back, his face a puzzle, contemplating the ceiling. His eyes soon wander to his girlfriend’s black lacy pants.

“This is so typical,” he murmurs. His beloved stirs. “I think I had too much wine,” she says. “This is perfect. All we need is a blanket.”

Reenter Wallrabe, director of promotions and events for Direct TV’s western region, and his three friends. They opted for dining in the main restaurant, away from the back room’s voyeurs. All night, the room has been filled to capacity (50) and the regular folks (those in tables and chairs) have been doing an awful lot of staring.

“Everybody in here is looking at each other,” Wallrabe says. “Everybody is basically undressing each other. We just wanted to eat and be done with it. Now we can all jump in bed again.”

Montolfo, who is now sitting up, agrees: “You feel like you can do whatever you want in this bed. You forget there are people looking at you.” Quips her boyfriend, “It really feels like we should charge an entrance fee here.”

At the Ashkenazi bed, Wolford is finishing his chicken dish while his friend, Sue Kang, has decided she will not eat all of her red snapper. Her tailored blouse is too tight around her waist, and she’s having trouble breathing now. Kang is the only woman who is still wearing her shoes. “I feel sick,” she says. “I’m tired of being here.”

“Man, you complain a lot,” Wolford retorts. Kang yawns.

In the next bed, dessert is over, and McCarthy and Roxborough are still getting along. It could be the two glasses of champagne they each have had now. Or maybe it’s the company. Whatever. Their first time out is a hit.

“For a first date, this idea definitely works,” says McCarthy. “The environment, the music, the lighting. More so than a regular restaurant. It breaks down barriers.”

Roxborough, 23, of Beverly Hills, smiles at her beau, whom she met through a mutual friend, as she throws on her fuchsia shawl. The idea for a romp in these beds was hers, and she really likes the vibe the entire room gives off.

“We can even fit a few more people here,” she says, patting the mattress. “There’s definitely room.”

“That’s my girl!” jokes McCarthy.