Newsgroup: italia.firenze.discussioni
Titolo: Le fiorentine? Ma anche le Newyorkesi son ben strane...

Mauro of Manhattan
I met Paula, a gorgeous black woman, at a Serafina restaurant in New York,
the one downtown at Lafayette. In Italy restaurants don't share names with
one another; the only exception is the historical Harry's Bar in Venice,
which has a clone not owned by Cipriani in Cernobbio (Como), near the Villa
d'Este hotel. In New York there are duplicates and chains, but sometimes the
owners conflict: once I went into a Patsy's thinking it was the famous
Sinatra's favorite, only to discover it had nothing to do with it.
Paula was attending a buffet dinner organized by a group of Italian
professionals honoring the visit to New York City by Emma Bonino, a famous
politician.
"Do you understand?" I asked Paula, while she listened to the speech in
Italian.
"Some," she smiled.
I offered her a glass of wine.
"Red, thanks," she said.
"Yes, but which one?"
"Any red, doesn't matter."
"What do you mean?"
"It means that I don't care about the type, as long as it's red."
"Are you crazy?"
"Why, what's the problem?"
"Listen, we are going to pay a glass of wine more than $10, which in Italy
is the price for a whole bottle of good quality, and you tell me you are
indifferent? Pinot, Chianti, Sangiovese, all the same for you?"
"Yeah, I guess soÊ.. "
"Unbelievable! The less experienced customer in the cheapest Italian bar
would never let the barman choose his wine."
"Hey, relax, no big deal."
"But it would be like saying: 'I like any woman, no matter whom, just get me
one.. '" She silenced me: "I bet some Italian men say just that, especially
with black women .. "
Got her number, called the next day. I had just moved from Milan to New
York, she was my first date. Invited her to a movie, then to Lotus. My
journalist colleague Christian Rocca had advised me about the best clubs,
but also about their best nights: "You can't go anywhere anytime, you don't
want to bump into a gay night or a salsa party .. " Being a Virgo, I liked
this precision. What a difference from the wine superficiality. So, it was
Lotus on Tuesdays and Pangaea on Thursdays.
American night clubs, however, share with the Italian ones four disgraces.
First: dancing doesn't start until 2 a.m. But on Wednesdays and Fridays I
work, and because of the time zone, I have to start rather early to be
connected with my European headquarters. Second: horrible music. Rap, dance,
house, garage, whatever. I like rock and R&B: I found it only at Bar Bat, a
tourist trap on 57th Street full of obese middle-aged, which is now closed
for good. Third disgrace: the bouncers, worse than in Italy. They understand
only two words: "bottle" and "table". Their illiteracy is so acute they aren
't even able to find your name on the list; they ignore the alphabet. Fourth
problem: the age. I am over 40, have nothing against the 20-years-old apart
from boredom, but they should indicate the age span of each club's customers
in the guides (thank you, Mr. Zagat).
In any case: Paula was 30, attractive enough to let us in immediately,
bypassing the line (that's what beautiful women are for, basically). I was
still awake and the music was good enough to get up and move. And Lord, she
could move .. Turning her shoulders on me, she pressed her ass on my groin,
dancing slowly and throwing in seducing glances from time to time. I got an
erection. Tried to kiss her, she refused. We went home. In the taxi she
pronounced those revolting words you hear in the movies:
"My place or yours?"
Mine. She kissed me, without opening her mouth. Went to bed, she undressed
completely. My God, what a perfect and slender body .. We laid down, our
lips touched again. But her mouth was sealed.
"Fuck me," she said.
"Kiss me," I replied.
"I can't."
"What?"
"I don't like it."
"Why?"
"Excuse me, I have a problem."
"Which problem?"
"I can't kiss with my tongue. But please, let's make love. Fuck me. Get into
me .. "
"I don't like it, with no kisses. Why is that?"
"Don't know, I'm blocked. My psychoanalyst says it's a serious thing,
probably hypochondria."
"But you do want to make love, don't you?"
"Oh, yes, please, come in, take me!"
"I can't. Don't get offended, but in Italy it's the whores who don't kiss. I
really don't like it."
"Sorry for that."
I couldn't believe it. Was it her revenge for the wine squabble? I was
shocked, but still able to joke: "Do you want me to put a rubber on my
tongue?"
By that time my erection had gone. Four in the morning. We fell asleep. No
sex in the capital of the empire, at the time of its decline.
-Mauro Suttora
http://www.nyobserver.com/pages/world.asp

 bypassing the line (that's what beautiful women are for, basically).
AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!!!
-- 
Arrisentirsi
Sauron
sau...@vodafone.it
"Se le cazzate volano le mie volano dove osano le aquile"

 -Mauro Suttora
Che mega ricchione.
saluti
--
N! Xau
Sottointendente agli Antani di i.f.d.

 Che mega ricchione.
ROTFL!
Applauso a N!Xau :)
Saluti
GianfraH... merregani, tze... :)
-- 
Deusu a' fattu is stampusu
po non crepai is fiancusu