Ешь, молись, люби

Chapter 22

           IwasespeciallysureofitthenightIcouldhearmyupstairsneighbor(averyprettyItaliangirlwithanamazingcollectionofhigh-heeledboots)havingthelongest,loudest,flesh-smackingest,bed-thumpingest,back-breakingestsessionoflovemakingI’deverheard,inthecompanyofthelatestluckyvisitortoherapartment.Thisslam-dancewentonforwelloveranhour,completewithhyperventilatingsoundeffectsandwildanimalcalls.Ilaythereonlyonefloorbelowthem,aloneandtiredinmybed,andallIcouldthinkwas,Thatsoundslikeanawfullotofwork…

           OfcoursesometimesIreallydobecomeovercomewithlust.IwalkpastanaverageofaboutadozenItalianmenadaywhomIcouldeasilyimagineinmybed.Orintheirs.Orwherever.Tomytaste,themeninRomeareridiculously,hurtfully,stupidlybeautiful.MorebeautifuleventhanRomanwomen,tobehonest.ItalianmenarebeautifulinthesamewayasFrenchwomen,whichistosay-nodetailsparedinthequestforperfection.They’relikeshowpoodles.SometimestheylooksogoodIwanttoapplaud.Themenhere,intheirbeauty,forcemetocalluponromancenovelrhapsodiesinordertodescribethem.Theyare"devilishlyattractive,"or"cruellyhandsome,"or"surprisinglymuscular."

           However,ifImayadmitsomethingnotentirelyflatteringtomyself,theseRomansonthestreetaren’treallygivingmeanysecondlooks.Orevenmanyfirstlooks,forthatmatter.Ifoundthiskindofalarmingatfirst.I’dbeentoItalyoncebefore,backwhenIwasnineteen,andwhatIrememberisbeingconstantlyharassedbymenonthestreet.

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