Dr. Sax (Part 3) — in which Michele appears…
This Monday, thanks to the prior mentioned unfortunate illness I had all weekend, I missed another invitation to a threesome. For the first time, it was an invite back with someone I’ve already had sex with (Diego, who I forgot to mention far earlier, and who I effed around the time of the unfortunate hotel incident) He was a VERY cute little Italian with a perfect ass, even if he loves Madonna juuussst a little bit too much…. This time, his invitation for fun apparently included his boyfriend, which he only mentioned briefly the last time, and AFTER the action….as in: “My boyfriend is coming home soon, quick, here are your clothes, bye!”
However, I did feel up to having a drink with someone. I mean, I did just get my tooth fixed (thanks MD!) and was felling slightly more attractive. This idea, of course, would prove moderately disastrous…
A fairly random hello was all it took. It was near closing time at the cafe (and I had just finished Dr. Sax Part 1) and I was bored. It’s friggin’ cold, I’ve run out of internet minutes for the month, and I didn’t feel like socializing with crazy roommate (and her sister that is now staying with us in the tiny apartment for 3 weeks!). So an invitation for a drink was too easy to accept. Yes, dear readers, of course I know what “have a drink” really means, I’ve used it myself many many times…and I really thought I would have the willpower to say “I have to go home” or “I’m only coming over for one drink” when the time came. But, no dice. I mean, I’ve already established that I’m a size queen…and once I copped a feel going home wasn’t an option.
In general, I’m also not materialistic, but, if other people are, and if other people live in VERY nice apartments near the GAM, and they decide to share a $200(!!!) bottle of Baraolo with me (and their king sized bed), and they’re a lawyer who speaks excellent English…who am I to deny them anything but their deepest desires? I’m here to help!
All kidding aside, he was very nice, and for only the second time since I’ve been here, the script was different. Instead of talking about the exact same things as the other Italians…we talked about modern art, food other than Italian food, wine, books, writing books, what we wanted to do when were children, etc, etc…. [note to self, start reading up on Calder and Rothko] So when he pulled this (very smooth) move where he put his wine glass on the bookcase behind us and he somehow ended up with his head in my lap, I was caught. *Sigh*… I’m a sucker for the “head-in-the-lap-hand-holding” action… So…. after a lot of other activities involving a distinct lack of clothing…it was time to sleep…
EXCEPT my illness had only been simply lying in wait, biding its time until just the right moment to appear…. the rumbling in my stomach gradually got louder and louder. For awhile, I was able to pass it off as being hungry (“no, i’m not really that hungry, please do not get up and make me a frittata”), but soon I found myself praying, PRAYING, for the moment when his breathing would even out enough to where I thought he was asleep.
At last, I heard my chance…I snuck out of bed, grabbed my Agatha Christie book (I know….but they are the cheapest paperbacks in the bookstore’s English section) as my alibi and tiptoed into the bathroom. As anyone who has been to Europe knows, there is absolutely no privacy in an apartment. There are no whirring HVAC systems, and at 3 in the morning, there are no street sounds or televisions to cover up my activities. There are no words to describe the next two and a half hours of my life. The combination of freezing cold porcelain and trying to take care of business (that was quite insistent on taking care of itself and as quickly as possible) while being as quiet as possible was unbelievably nerve-wracking and fairly painful for that matter….Even the bathroom window was clearly dead-set on destroying my evening when it decided to creak as loud as a dying cat when I tried to open it a bit more….
Why, oh why, did I drink that last cappuccino! Why did I think a big plate of gnocchi with Luca (my very cute latest student, and who bought my lunch, which is why I had to eat it) was going to be worth it later? Why did I not go to the Farmacia today? And why did I say yes to this “date”? Once I thought the worse was over, and my abs just couldn’t take it anymore, I “conveniently” left dear sweet Agatha on the floor and attempted to cover any tracks….
I crawled back into bed (at 4am) which awoke Michele. Luckily, I think he bought my “I couldn’t sleep so I went to read a book in the bathroom so the light wouldn’t disturb you” story, and, because I was oh so very cold, I got a lovely body warm-up and snuggle from him… and a lunch date on Sunday… Unfortunately, I got maybe thirty minutes of sleep, and some unfortunate dancing stronzi nightmares….