The disadvantage when you invite a man to spend the night in your room is to find a way to get rid of him the next day. Especially since he often thinks that because he was accepted into your bed, you want to coo with him at breakfast.
This morning, I have something else to do.
I admire his broad shoulders one last time, his dark, smooth skin, the bumps of his muscles at rest. An exceptional lover I’ll gladly enjoy again. I put on comfortable clothes and scribble a note which I leave on my abandoned pillow next to his large head with its tousled black hair.
[It was nice.]
However, I wonder if I should put a little more thought into it. No, that’s good enough. I’d be surprised if he’s the sentimental type.
The sun rises over Venice, and the city is still a little sleepy. This is the mo
