Eurogirl: A single woman in Rome. Sleeping with hot foreign men. Waking up blissfully alone. Sharing all the yummy details online. It's life just the way sexcapade blogger Ariel Turner likes it until the ideal Italian bed buddy comes along.
Now she's found a candidate for that position. Marc Sorrella is drop-dead gorgeous and he has the most delicious moves!
Unfortunately Marc seems a bit too interested in Ariel's past and her blog--places she definitely doesn't want him to go. The best way to distract him? Turn the tables and dig around in his past. What she discovers just might revoke his eligibility for a spot on her top-ten-hotties list!
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March 31, 2007
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Excerpt from Sex As a Second Language by Jamie Sobrato
Sex As a Second Language--A blog about the erotic exploits of an American girl in Europe.
Could You Please Shave That? (Or why I had to get the hell out of Greece faster than the speed of the local train service)
He had the firm, sinewy thighs of a soccer player and the darkly expressive eyes of a man with a deep longing. I had to know--was he longing for his next drink of ouzo, for Greece to win the World Cup or for me?
And I should have known better. Having just broken up with my boyfriend, I was on the rebound, and rebound judgment is notably flawed. Plus, perfect lovers never fall into my lap the way he did. I mean, he literally fell into my lap one night at the rowdy bar where he worked.
No, in the real world, great lovers need to be carefully sought out, tested, cultivated. Extremely rare is the man who knows all the right moves on the first encounter.
And there is no worse surprise than discovering that the man you are about to get down and dirty with has a hairy ass. Not just a little hair, either. We're talking a full-on coat of fur covering the ass cheeks. I've never seen anything like it, and I hope like crazy I never do again.
I just didn't know how to get past that. My first thought was to feign violent stomach cramps and get the hell out before I burst into laughter, but he was so earnest, so eager, so--erect. It would have been beyond cruel to bolt that far into the game.
So I'd have to avoid touching or looking at his ass. Not too big a deal, right? Well--he had mirrors over his bed.
And while normally that might add a fun extra dimension to our sexual exploits, this time, it was like watching a documentary on gorilla sex. Maybe that's not the most inspired description, but I am, truly, at a loss for words here. And we all know how rarely that happens. Let's just say a change of position was in order, so that I didn't have to stare at the mirrored ceiling any longer than necessary.
I'll spare you the gruesome details. I only mention this to show you why I had to leave Greece, a country where I spent nearly one year and had six lovers, all of whom were far too hairy.
Comments: 1. Juno says: Ewwww. Butt cheek hair!
2. Mariana says: You poor girl. I hope Italy proves more fun for you.
3. calidude says: Can u post pics?
4. Eurogirl says: No, sorry, no pics allowed. Must protect the innocent and hairy. And besides, this was one instance where I definitely had no desire for a camera in the bedroom.
5. Anonymous says: I know why you really left Greece, and it had nothing to do with that guy.
THE GUY THREE TABLES OVER was hot. Seriously hot. But Ariel Turner, world-traveling connoisseur of men, could not catch his eye. Even more frightening, she was having a hard time even working up the desire to flirt.
Had the whole world gone to hell, or just her life? Ariel, known to the blogosphere as Eurogirl, loved three things--sex, caffeine and the written word. But sometimes sex could get a girl into serious trouble, as could the written word. So now her only safe vice seemed to be caffeine, and the whole situation was making her cranky. Not to mention the gorgeous guy in Armani reading the paper and ignoring her.
She turned her gaze from the guy across the cafe back to her laptop computer. Her stomach balled up as she read the fifth comment on her blog. Who the hell had written it? Did anyone really know why she'd left Greece? And if so, how had they found out her blogging identity? She was seriously screwed if so.
She deleted the fifth comment, then closed the Comments window, inhaled the heavy scent of pollution in the air and took another sip of her latte in a doomed attempt to calm her nerves. Around her, the city bustled with foot traffic through the piazza and past the outdoor cafe that had already become her favorite spot to write when the May heat was unbearable inside her one-room apartment.