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I thanked him for a magical evening. Right when I hugged him to say that, he kissed me. He whispered in my ear, “I want to make love with your body as I’ve already made love with your soul.”We found ourselves naked in a cheap hostel bed. We made love all night long. We made love in the shower, at the sink, on the floor and over books that we wished to talk about in the next days.
The next morning, I woke up and saw him reading Dostoyevsky. He told me that there was a love story there about the coldest winter day and two people falling in-love. He told it so beautifully. We made love harder. I can still recall how he would enter me fully from behind, I’d pin myself on the wall and he’d crumple my bottom so hard, I loved it. I was never shy with him. All my inhibitions were gone. I felt I was making love with a soul mate. He asked me if I could let him come to my house and we’d make love in my studio. The paintings will watch us. I told him, I could even do it with him in our backyard garden, anywhere in our house at 3AM.
Days passed and we made love every day. The day has arrived for him to fly back to his city. I waited outside his hostel to hear him say that he’s coming back and we’d be together. It never happened.I wrote him a few e-mails. He answered once. The last time I heard, he was in Romania. I wondered how many women from there he made love with. I also wonder if whenever he ate her/them, he still remembers my taste. The taste that he adored. And the leather corset that I’d wear sexily.