Friday, December 17, 2004

Last night I was with the Israeli. I’ll give him a name, Arik, since I’ll see him again. This was our second date, I mentioned Arik in a post after our first meeting. Last evening we dined at a jazz club in the Latin Quarter and later returned to his hotel. We were making out like teens in the family room, I wore an evening suit, a Chanel knock off in black wool with my latest AP find underneath. Our rollick had the top unbuttoned and the skirt pulled up over my hips so he could kiss my thighs above the stockings.

I had just whispered that I wanted to suck him when his phone rang. We both looked at it on the desk, Arik usually turns off the ringer when we’re together but he obsessively checks for messages. “I need to answer that,” he said and got up; he paced the room as he talked. At first I thought the conversation was in Hebrew but I realized it was Arabic. This made me curious as with whom and about what.

This was not going to be a short conversation so I straightened myself and got up to pour a glass of cognac. While doing so I glanced at him and held up a glass and mouthed “you”, he nodded. I poured a glass for him and handed it to him then sat back on the couch holding the snifter beneath my nose. I have a fantasy about Arik, that he is a Mossad operative and he will ensnare me in some secret operation.

I’m reading entirely too much Graham Greene and John La Carre.



Blogger NCTRNL said...

You must do well...that underwear is NOT cheap...did the Israeli like it? I sure hope so...

7:48 AM  
Blogger Kim said...

I'm comfortable and he did.

5:06 PM  

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