This is the story of how I ended up in bed with the Mayor, eating oysters and drinking Moet & Chandon champagne.
Of all the assignments I have been covering in more than 10 years as reporter/editor in 3 daily newspaper in Italy the most tedious, boring, amazingly brain killing events to write about were the bi-weekly City Hall meetings.
After years of interviews, lunches and phone call, years of getting in and out the City’s building, stopping any political representatives at any moment and any place to get info or possibly scoops, complimenting secretaries and documents filing clerks, I was a well known face in the halls and the offices of that old historical building where many years earlier Giuseppe Garibaldi, the Italian hero of the Risorgimento (mid ‘800) had lived with his wife Anita.
I had seen the rising and falling of at least town council and 3 Mayors and the happening of an equal amount of administrative elections. I have been waiting outside their nicely decorated offices for hours trying to ear dropping secretaries phone calls, City Hall members conversations, representatives of the opposition’s angry burst of accusations. You name it.
Some call it politics. For me it was a dirty circus.
When the political new ruffle brought back to the highly sought and (antique) chair of First Citizen the representative of the Communist Party I sighed in relief. I knew many of its activists and with some of them I had followed college lessons or had joined marches and petitioned for many causes.
The new Mayor and I had been acquaintance by some time. I had already interviewed him when he was this extremely passionate second level delegate of his party. I always liked him. He had a head full of black and curly, messy hair, loose ties and baggy jackets over his skinny frame constantly in motion. His small, sparkling black eyes reminded me of a young Antonio Gramsci. (founder of the Italian Communist Party in the early ‘30).
Piero was from the South and even after many years of political activism in Roma he still talked with the accent of his ancient coastal town He was an idealist, a fervent populist, very easy going but with a trait that ultimately would have cost him the carrier: he was stubborn and proud.
He was separated by his wife and shared the custody of their daughter.
When he officially started his duty as Mayor, I (naturally) went to the ceremony of presentation to the city and the press.
He spotted me in the crowd. I was very elegant that day: high heels, coiffed hair, nice jacket and pants. I was feeling very together and professional.
He would have told me, months later, he had instead found me simply sexy as hell.
We at the newspaper were enjoying the new relaxed atmosphere at the City Hall.
And especially I started noticing that progressive more relaxed attitude when I would go to interview him.
We were rarely alone during those meetings......he was extremely busy running from one meeting to another one, taking care of any kind of incumbencies, one hour talking with the workers on strike at the electric plant and the hour later meeting the Japanese delegates in visit in town.
But we were indeed in tune.
He would smile at me often but not too frequently...no need for stupid gossip......and I was even more careful in not being too friendly in front of my colleagues....I didn’t want to have other rumors mulling behind me at the office.
But there was without doubt a certain interest, curiosity and attraction going on.
So I wasn’t surprised at all when after few months I received his first personal call to my office number.
At the beginning he was talking as he was friendly checking with me to see how I was proceeding with some article he knew I was busy with.
He would stay at the phone only few minutes. Many times he was calling me while he was in his limousine so that no indiscreet ears could have ear drop the conversation. And, btw, he never called me by name. I appreciated the discretion even more than him.
After a while we shifted easily in talking about sailing (he loved sailing boats), how he was sorry he couldn’t meet his daughter for the week ends because of some work schedule, how I was liking my job. And he would often end telling “One of these days we have to have a dinner together”.
But he was way too busy and I was too busy following him around....so that dinner seemed to turn in the Holy Graal.....
Then one day, during one of those above mentioned mushroom mind turning City Hall meetings, I saw him writing a note, with a very serious expression, and handing it to Antonio, his faithful secretary. Then I saw Antonio walking toward me, very solemn and equally serious. I was seated in the first row of the audience section writing the several (boring) speeches of the day.
I knew that many other eyes were following Antonio and me while I was accepting the sealed envelope from his hand. I knew that in the eyes of my colleagues and Piero’s fellow members of the City that envelope could have been interpreted in many ways.
For example, it could have been a document he needed to give me or that I might have asked him about the City meeting in course or it could have been a memo for his next speech...
Truly, it could have been many things. But we all know that in politic nothing is innocently read.
So when I opened the envelope and I read the note inside I had to keep my facial expression very controlled ..........there were too many apparently indifferent eyes around me.
In the envelope there was a small note.
“You are the only reason why this meeting is tolerable.Would you run away with me?”.
I felt a fluttered feeling in my stomach. I didn’t look at him if not after 10-15 minutes, I kept writing down the tedious speeches of the moment.
Then I looked at him, discreetly. He, discreetly, smiled at me, a very short smile, a politic almost, courteous smile.
He got me with that smile.
I found it simply sexy and absolutely irresistible that the Mayor was thinking that romantic and surely naughty thought about me while in that so un-sexy and public context and most of all that he couldn’t control his impulses anymore to the point of writing that note and risking some possible indiscreet repercussion.
When he smiled he had two dimples on his cheeks.
I was quite surprised of his audacity.
Four days later he called me and asked me if we could have that famous dinner together.
His schedule left him only few hours the next evening and the day after he would have leave for Barcellona. I knew it because I already wrote it on the newspaper.
“Would it be so horrible for you to have dinner with me with a so short notice? I didn’t know if I could have this evening for myself until the last minute’.
It was flattering to have this cute Mayor so anxious to receive an answer from me. I didn’t have any boyfriend to be worried about so I agreed to the dinner.
“It is ok if we will have dinner at my place?”
He said that he would have planned to call a catering company to deliver a succulent dinner so we wouldn’t have to even bother cooking. The same afternoon I got a bouquet of flowers delivered to my office. All my colleagues were dying for the curiosity. No note attached to the flowers. It was easy for me to invent some mysterious admirer.
The next evening I arrived punctual to his place. He was living in another city, a 30 minutes driving from ours. He opened the door and handed me a glass of chilled white wine. The house was small but elegantly decorated.....there were lots of books everywhere and the two desks in the living room were covered by papers of any kind. The living room was leading to a huge balcony that was running all around the house. The kitchen table was covered with little and medium containers. Our dinner.
The smell was superb.
He was a perfect host. He showed me the house, his collection of cds, the cute pictures of his daughter....we went back to the kitchen and he refilled my glass of wine and we got busy arranging the food in the plates.
We were chatting, and laughing and having a real good time.
The dinner was ready now: fried calamari and octopus, mussels in wine sauce, fried mussels, sautéed shrimps in tomato sauce and with butter and parsley, oysters and lemon. Great dinner. The wine was chilled and the bread and the cheese were accompanying the dishes with the right combination of nutty and creamy flavor. He had managed also of buying personally some fresh ice cream. When the dinner went to the end, always in a very smooth and comfortable atmosphere, we sat on the lounge chairs outside on the balcony admiring the starry night. It was late Spring, the air was finally warmer and sweet.
We kept talking about politics, journalism, trips, his ex wife, his extremely busy life and his desire to accomplish something good before the end of his assignment. We were listening music from the stereo in the living room, the door windows opened to the balcony. It was getting chilly though so we went back in.
I knew if was there or never.
He went to fill again my glass and we noticed only then that we forgot to bring to the table the plate with the oyster. He faked consternation and desperation. How could we possible have left out the most aphrodisiac food of all?
We were laughing and I said “Maybe we were all pure thoughts tonight”.
And that is when he looked at me and told me “This is what you think”.
And moving toward me he kissed me.
And it was a total disaster.
I don’t know if you can get over a bad kiss. I don’t know if you think, well, maybe he is just nervous, maybe he will get better with some practice.
I usually don’t give many second chances to a bad kisser.
And he was one of the worst ever. But I liked him.
I wanted to like his kisses too.
But it just ruined the mood.
He evidently was sure of the opposite. So he grabbed the plate with the oysters and my hand and we walked to his bedroom.
We sat on the bed and he run back to the kitchen and brought the newly opened bottle of Moet & Chandon.
It was then that he insisted on feed me one oyster.
Now, I am not really into this kind of seafood. I know many people dig them a lot and swear on their sensual power but to me they are just quite nasty.
Just I didn’t want to offend him. So I ate the oyster. He then brought the glass of wine to my lips so that I could drink. I drank.
I thought, maybe he is all warmed up now. Maybe he feels more comfortable and less anxious about the first kiss. Maybe those oysters really work....lol..
And so I let him kiss me again.
I was crossing my fingers... I used all my sensual openness and desire. I really wanted to end that pleasant night in a more pleasant way .....but....nothing to do.
Even that kiss was a fiasco.
I had the gut to eat only more oyster, that he insisted to feed me again.
But then I told him I was really full. He put the plate on the floor and started to kiss me again. I let him kiss me but that kiss was the exact copy of the other ones.
My mood was definitely killed.
And then he said, whispering in my ear:
“I want to eat your sweet oyster now’.
Well......I don’t know why......but that line just didn’t work for me.
The idea of the Mayor eating my pussy was the less sexual possible idea in my mind at that moment.
And I was even mad now.
Why did he have to be such a horrible kisser? Set me up with all that great dinner and conversation, sweet innuendos and sexy music and then being such a poor kisser? I felt almost defrauded.
I wanted my romantic fuck with my cute Mayor, damn it.
Now he was grabbing me and hugging me. Even his hugs weren’t right.
I know you can understand......its something that is there or is not there.
Well, with him....it wasn’t just there.
I had to clarify the situation and stop him without being too harsh and as soon as possible..
But how you say to your date: I hate the way you kiss me and my sweet oyster is not going to be swallowed by you? Seriously!.
I gently kissed him and then, pushing him back, I told him “I am so sorry but I can’t. I thought I might be open to this experience but it seems I was wrong. I am really sorry to put you in this situation and I hope you will understand me. I juts don’t see this thing working out between us”.
He was very disappointed, naturally. Maybe the oysters were really working for him.
But he was a gentleman and a women rights fervent supporter too.
He kissed me again and caressed my hair and told me it was ok, it was late and he had to take a flight to Barcellona the next morning.
He really helped me out.
We hugged and he escorted me to the door.
‘I will come to interview you when you come back, better have some scoop for me”. I joked. He smiled. ‘No problem”.
And this is the story of me in bed with the Mayor.
After that night, we continued to meet each other in any official situation that was necessary. We never talked about that night and he kept treating me the same way he was treating my colleagues.
I didn’t get his quick and funny calls anymore though and I stopped feeling special at those boring City Hall meetings.
But you can’t have everything, right?
.
Damn, why did he have to be such a horrible kisser?
