The Return of The Italian

It had been months. My actual thought was, of all of the dates I'd been out with over the last six months, who did I most want to bang. And yes, it was The Italian. Gorgeous, sensual to a fault, but really, I just needed to get laid.

It wasn't even two days later when he texted me out of the blue. He wanted to know why it had been so long, I just wanted to get him on my calendar. He had spent a month in Europe, came back to a promotion at the massive tech company he worked for.

I was too busy to meet immediately, he had texted that he was making an incredible Bolognese and invited me over for dinner and a glass of wine. I already had plans (or I thought I was going to get my period) so I told him we'd get together soon. A few days later he called and I was at the beach all day so I didn’t pick up. Sunday night I was too exhausted and told him that I was out of town (which I technically was when he texted). When I told him I was available Monday he cancelled his usual commuting plans and instead planned on making me dinner.

This was it. I was prepped and ready to go. I listened to the Sex with Emily podcast on the way there, and had resided to thinking, if it was just dinner than great, but if he went for it, than it was on.

He greeted me at the door with a long and passionate kiss. He looked great. Younger than I remembered him. He was barefoot, in corduroy khakis, a white t-shirt, and a red apron. His hair was an organized mess of dark curls, and as sexy as I’d remembered it. He invited me to cook with him, he was equally impressed as he was intimidated by my skills in the kitchen. We sipped rose and had small talk while we prepped. We had dinner on the patio, lit candles, and ate beautiful and incredible food. A raw vegetable terrine that blew my mind, and a frittata made of leftover ziti pasta that he cut with scissors and made a custard of eggs, basil, and mozzarella. I was beyond impressed, and if I knew I wasn’t going to fuck him later I would not have stopped eating.

The garlic on our breath was embarrassing but acting as an Italian aphrodisiac. He asked if I liked port, then took two glasses out, chocolate that he’d brought back from Italy, and headed into his room. We laid on the bed, looked at pictures from Italy, he turned out the light, and stripped.

After an amazing session, he fell asleep and I attempted to sneak out, but he woke up. He packed me a leftover container and I headed out. I couldn’t have asked for a better return to the saddle, even if I never see him again.

#single #singleinoakland #SexwithEmily