More sex. Always more sex with him, can’t he just stay off me? And to make matters worse, it’s a hot, muggy afternoon. He stinks to high heaven. He doesn’t even want to go upstairs. This is my mother’s kitchen. They’ll be home any minute! I just want to read my book. I don’t even know where I put my glasses. My hair’s a mess. I’m not sure when I last cleaned up myself. Angelo smells like old fish. Did I mention we’re in my mother’s kitchen?
Maybe I hear the front door – no, Ma and Pop, they always come in the back door. Surprise, Ma and Pop! Here’s Angelo, violating your only daughter right on your kitchen table. How about some antipasto and red wine before dinner tonight?
I can’t resist the fuzzy teddy bear. Worse yet, Angelo knows it. He knows I can’t resist his hairy chest, bouncy tummy, and worst of all the hips. He shakes those hips at me and I go all googly-eyed. And he knows it, I can’t stand it. Got to keep the fool in line, you know. Got to let him know, hey mister, I’m the boss around here.
There he goes. He tosses his shirt over the stove. Why can’t it light a fire? Then he’d have to stop. But no … he has to lit a fire in his pants, that one. And then off come his dungarees. Oh, that’s nice. He’s got me going now. And it feels warm and creamy.
The back door, am I hearing it opening? Nope, that’s the roof creaking.
“Angelo,” I say to him, “when you’re done, go fix that roof for Ma and Pop.”
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