Читать книгу Mistress - The Italian way - Delilah Jay - Страница 7

Dottore got in touch with me almost daily, rang me and allowed himself to be carried away enough to tell me: “Talking on the phone with you makes me feel as though I’m standing in a flower meadow.”

Who on earth is taken in by that? ME!

A short time later, Dottore came to Berlin. I picked him up in my Porsche Carrera 4, a car that had cost me a fortune in money and nerves: a lemon. In Italy they would say, “fatto un giorno di sciopero” - they would know! - built during a strike. And so it came to pass that Porschina, my nickame for HER, went on strike on the way from the airport to the Four Seasons Hotel at the Gendarmenmarkt - back then, the hotel was still there. Maybe I should have listened to the Technology Angel who kept taking my Porsche out of action. I didn’t, though. Porsches were invented for beautiful women -for women who want to slowly meander around town on four wheels. Who want to cruise. To be seen. Women who don’t respond to all those admiring glances. These cars are driven with pride by women. And not just from their fiftieth birthday onwards - no: they’re in their early thirties. Arrogant and of childbearing age. Beautiful, the right side of forty. Curious, seductive, prepared. Provocative - ahead of their time. In knowledge, looks, intellect, internationality - a dazzle of emotions, sensitivity, vanity. Aware of their power. Searching for danger.

During the drive, Dottore talks about Carolina, his exgirlfriend. “In the end I had to persuade her to have an abortion, I didn’t even know whether the child was mine or not. I was there - during the abortion. What a horrible experience she put me through!” A pause. He forces back tears. I keep quiet. Concentrate on the traffic. Feeling sorry for himself, again? Yes, apparently so. Carolina started an affair with some other guy whom she married in the end. They had three children together, Dottore presumes.

After dinner he took my hand - looked deep into my eyes and uttered the craziest sentence I’ve ever heard in connection with a seduction:

“I have just made love to you with my eyes!”

We still addressed each other formally... in Italian... and we did it six times that night... hallelujah! He felt like a seventeen-year-old and when he talked with me on the phone, he saw himself in a “prato fiorito”, a flower meadow. I felt so powerful! Was practically addicted to his charm. Within the shortest time. Addicted to him.