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I continue staring at you, not caring if you notice or not. A sudden breeze carries my cocktail napkin off my table and it lands near your chair. You bend down to retrieve it and return it to me, in the process asking if you could join me at my table with an understood hand gesture. After a slight hesitation I invite you to sit with me. At this point the two Italian men are clearly annoyed with me, and leave mid-drink to prey upon other women, mumbling something in Italian as they walk past our table. You offer to buy me another drink, a glass of wine this time, and introduce yourself as Aleksander. I tell you my name–Veronica–and we proceed to chat back and forth about the night, what brings us to Italy, our favorite places to visit here, and so on. It is a mock conversation of building acquaintanceship, play-acting on an elevated level. A violinist begins playing in the plaza near the fountain. The beautiful melody floats through the air and you offer your hand to me, inviting me. We can stay out late and get a dawn breakfast at a greasy diner and let the whole town wonder who the guy with little Amykins is.” I was smiling when he started but I smacked him on the shoulder at the end.“For the love of God, don’t call me that!” I glared at him without any real heat, “I hate that.” He just laughed and squeezed my shoulder. I looked up at him and he was grinning as he watched the road.“Yeah, I know. I just like to get a rise out of ya.” I half-heartedly smacked him again. But his comment made me feel mischievous, so I let my hand drop to just to one side of his crotch on his upper thigh. I heard him breathe in a little, but he didn’t say anything.“Hmmm… you like to get a rise out of me, huh?” I asked in a soft and what I certainly hoped sounded like a sexy voice, but probably resembled the croaking of a chain-smoking frog instead. But he didn’t care, because my hand had slowly moved to the left and was tracing along his quickly hardening penis.“I like.
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