Welcome to Rome

Nagivating the airport, and getting through customs was a cinch.  Once we’ve retrieved our luggage, Mom and I, along with our newfound plane passenger buddy, Marla,  followed the herd to the exit, and located the taxi sign.  It’s always a little disconcerting to wrangle your bags, get your bearings, secure ground transportation, and begin feasting your eyes on your new city simultaneously. 

As I waited in the short queue, I craned my neck to sneak a peek at the unabashed beauty of Rome.  Beyond the exit of the airport was the horizon line, and before I could begin to discern the outline of buildings I saw in the distance, a wonder of the civilized world entered my field of vision:  a young Italian male.  Plane passenger buddy and Mom bantered back and forth with the queue director at the possibility of sharing a taxi, 2 stops, while I just unapologetically raped this man with my eyes.   He had an alluring mixture of beauty (he was not handsome, he was beautiful…when someone is beautiful, you feel it in your heart, not just in your groin), sex appeal, and confidence.  He practically oozed everything that is good and beneficial about the opposite gender. 

I looked him over head to toe perhaps three times before I had mentally left my husband, abandoned my job and hometown, and moved in with this gentleman, whose name I did not know, where I would happily wait on him hand and foot for the promise of his steamy embrace. 

His face was chiseled, like one of the many statues that graces the city.  His eyes were dark, penetrating, and filled with a mixture of boyish wonder and wordly experience.  His nose was straight, strong, masculine, while his lips made you want to take them on a tour of all your favorite places.  As I fanned my bosom in the early morning sun, I was suddenly aware that I was standing on a precipice, indeed…the precipice of being known as a cougar or a flat out dirty old woman.  Oddly, neither of these titles bothered me in the least.

His body was, of course, amazing, as he sported a close fitting T-shirt that showed off his full sleeve of tattoos, and his purposely battered jeans, belted just so, drawing the eye deliberately downward.   I took my seat in the back of the taxi, and spent the next half an hour mesmerized by those beautiful eyes in the rear view mirror.  When I mentioned to mom how much I enjoyed the scenery, she craned her neck towards the window to see what was holding me so spellbound.  I patted her arm gently, and said, “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” and jerked my head in the cabbie’s direction.

Mom grinned.  “Oh!  Yes, I had noticed that.”  She blushed, and looked down.  See, even my seventy five year old mother was not immune to this man’s sex appeal. 

We giggled like schoolgirls, as I mentally debated whether or not it would really be cheating on my husband to slip this cabbie a kiss in Cory’s honor.  After some soul searching, I decided I’d have to settle with gifting him one of her bracelets and flirting with him the way she would have… timidly and with class.

“Scusi?”  I got his attention.   I touched his arm, lingering, and told him I loved his ink.  His face lit up with a smile that made my lower belly do a great big flip.  He pulled up his shirt sleeve to show me the rest, and I sat there grinning like a thirty nine year old fool.  Yes, it was good to be in Rome.  Let the healing begin.

When we arrived at our hotel, I pantomimed the situation to him…pointed to “Cory” on the purple bracelet, pointed to her picture dangling over my chest, and said, “Daughter.  Passed away.”  I handed him the bracelet.  “For me?”  he said with a huge smile that would have made my girl weak in the knees, and helpless to form words in any language.

“For you.”  I confirmed. 
 He slipped it on.  “Grazie, grazie!”

Back in our hotel room, Mom said she wondered if he would really wear her bracelet.  I said I wasn’t sure, but I knew Cory had enjoyed watching our little exchange.  Mom, who can tickle me so unexpectedly said, “You should've got his name.  You screwed up there!”

The hot cabbie and I were forced to part ways, but we will always have the scandalous relationship that took place in my head during that cab ride.   
Why be greedy?