Tuesday 25 July 2006

Diary Of Krk XIII


The whole thing with that boy turned out quite stupid. He's gone to Crikvenica now and to ZG on Saturday so that's it for the two of us. Although, it was over even before because he had invited me to his birthady party and then sort of UNINVITED me with some lame excuse that I don't even want to repeat. Anyway,that's that. Celibacy is still on.
However, the Slovenian guy from the beginning of the story was here on Saturday afternoon when I was working and kept hitting on me. Actually, he was more like seducing me, touching the center of my palm and my finger tips and you know that can drive me crazy. And he was looking at me the same way he was looking at me before. So I went along with the whole flirting game, some of it on purpose, some of it 'cause i just couldn't help it. Then he asked if we could meet and I kinda said we might but then I said I couldn't because of his wedding ring. Then he started to play with it, eventually he took it off and I was just smiling. I showed him the white mark where the ring was and he said that the ring only meant he wouldn't brag about us around and that everyone has to do something for their own pleasure every now and then. I told him he was right. I don't know what was I thinking. I do, actually. I find him very sexy, for who knows what reason, and mostly, I've had some rum&cokes and I haven't had anything to eat that whole day so even a drop of alcohol was enough to get me in that mood. And then my shift was over so I sort of ran away.
That was at 4pm. At about 5pm I was on my way to the beach and they were still there so I had to get in and have a couple of drinks more. He was leaning towards me, touching my knees. my waist (and just a bit lower) and saying how good I smelled. And I was letting him do that because I enjoyed it! And then his wife came in and made him leave. Of course,I would do the same if he was my husband. Anyway, if he comes back, we'll probably flirt some more but the fact that he's married is always on my mind.

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