Maltese Man-Parts

"It has been my experience that folks who have no vices have very few virtues." - Abraham Lincoln

Ok, so I was curious! Our favourite restaurant manager sat down next to me at the table and slipped me his mobile number. Alex hit the loo (actually he took a wrong turn into the wine cellar along with a Dutch guy who was basically blind and deaf) and the manager told me how beautiful I looked tonight. I was feeling pretty spiffy in trouser shorts, bustier top, stilettos, and suit jacket- all in black to offset my red décolletage! Hehe. We drank way too much black sambuca and my pal sent me into the wine cellar to prove my prowess (as a wine connoisseur, for now). I returned with a lovely Sardinian varietal that is not really well known but would follow nicely the Maltese Cabernet Franc we had just finished. The manager was shocked, and impressed! I blushed under my sunburn with pleasure. I decided then to take him out for a test drive. He drove us home, as usual, and I insisted I needed a swim. Alex got creepy saying he would go get the car but I said, no I am sure our friend wouldn't mind taking me. He, of course, agreed and we ran out of the house like teenagers fleeing my cranky grandpa toting a 9-gauge! Yikes! The language reverted to Italiano for the rest of the evening and I enjoyed listening to the softer island version from someone trying to talk me into sex.
We tore around the island in his cabriolet before settling on a spot near the beach. We blasted Maltese music (Arabic/Spanish/Italian, etc.) and snogged violently. He got my pants down and his head wedged between my legs in a jiff! Well! Nice skills and I was impressed by his ability to navigate the, usually awkward, car-sex logistics. Then it happened. He undid his trousers and pulled my hand down. WTF?! This really would not do! I mean, not every guy has to be cavallo mio o miei uomini but for fuck's sake! He tried to pull my head into his lap and, even if I didn't already have this rule I would have claimed it, I said no. He wasn't bothered. He pleasured me for a while longer and then took me home. He will be in Londres next week and wants to take me out. We'll see.
So last night, prompted by reading la repubblica all day, I was hyped to watch Italia vs. Nederlands. We ate at a FANTASTIC Sicilian restaurant and then went to some weird place Alex likes to watch the game. Feeling cocksure, I made a nice little bet with Patrik on the game and then watched in horror as my team put on a diva display. Not amused, I read the many gloating texts of my pal who is actually at the games without me. Fuck, I said as we left the bar, I'm gonna have to marry the bastard now for sure. Damn it. I am also trying desperately to get work anywhere in the UK and have a couple leads. Fingers crossed!