June 23, 2020

Categories: The bed

Rome lustful and sinful, in the shadow of the Vatican. I leave Sweet69 jealous of her power over men. I can’t even discipline my cat. It’s ok, I’ll find solace in a Margarita with M.: as soon as I sit down he starts telling about this girl, F., a self-confident and rampant girl. She is an accountant. They hooked up on Facebook and decided to meet on the same day. He picks her up at her place and he even gets out of the car waiting for her. She makes him wait: a long half an hour where M. even finished his packet of cigarettes.

Money. At last she arrives, she looks very hot, leather miniskirt and see-through top. Time to get her ass in the car and she starts her begging: “Sorry for being late, I was finishing a job, you know, I have financial difficulties because of this virus, I’m not making a lot.” He starts to be suspicious: a girl that talks about money on her first date can be a bit awkward.

She stood him up. They decide to go for a drink at Bar del Fico. She looks annoyed, as if she can’t wait to leave. He takes her back, in the car they kiss, she allows him some touching here and there but then she leaves. They set up another date for the following Thursday. M. feels reassured. But on Thursday afternoon F. calls him saying something unexpected just came up: “let’s meet on Sunday”. On the Lord’s day M. starts grooming, convinced she will give it to him this time. He goes to her place, sends her a text and waits. Nothing. He, then, tries to call her but no answer. He waits for about an hour, then, he gives up and leaves. The morning after he calls her and she answer saying she completely forgot about the date. Rescheduled for Tuesday.

Floral sex. After being stood up, M. calls her at 7 in the evening and she goes: “Of course, we’ll meet but you should have got it by now isn’t it? I want you to give me roses” He is a bit surprised but he says there’s no problem. Florist, aftershave, gasoline. Everything under control. When F. steps out her house, he gets out the car and gives her a bunch of roses but she’s undeterred: “did you not understand? I’ve asked for roses. Money!”. So it’s like that: during the day a respectable job and at night, a little something to round up the salary. It’s Rome’s new drowned world. Very normal girls who have sex for 150 euros or a pair of shoes. Some would even give it for a dinner at a restaurant. But that’s cheap. Never mention the word money: paid sex has a floral allure: roses for straight sex, a few flowers for something special.

(to be continued)