anything but a wasted life


You won’t believe this. Pepé Le Pew had the audacity to tell me not to order the risotto with white truffle at dinner last night because it was too expensive. True, it was eighty Euros, but I didn’t know that at the time. I wasn’t checking the prices because one would think I shouldn’t have to budget myself with a wealthy client. Plus, I was seriously hypoglycemic because, like the evening prior, he hadn’t made reservations (on a Friday night in Paris!), and we spent two hours looking for somewhere to eat. Again, my foot was killing me (my prescription pain meds were no match against hours in boots on cobble stone). We had to wait for a table and by the time we sat in the beautiful bar area, I was shaking and fighting back tears. It took everything in my power to be nice to him. I must be the best actress on the planet or this guy has ice for veins because he asked me to go check with the hostess on the status of our table. Pain or no pain, isn’t it gentlemanly for a man to do such things? Whatever. I got us a table and ordered a bottle of wine from the hostess. As it was warming my belly and returning my blood sugar level to where it was when our evening started out, the only thing on the menu that sounded good to me was the risotto. I must have given him the look of death upon hearing his ridiculous risotto rule, because he seemed to register immediately just how wrong he was. I was fuming. I was tipsy already, due to the lack of sustenance, pills and emotional roller coaster. I went dormant.

“I’m sorry babe, you should order the risotto”.

I looked him dead in the eyes, “No. You don’t want me to.” It was a childish move, but I didn’t care. The tension was palpable. I wanted to kill him. I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first murder in Paris by the hands of a prostitute. A few minutes passed as I guzzled more wine. He reiterated that I should order it. So I did, as well as another bottle.

The risotto was really good. Pepe ended up eating half of it. I was full on booze anyway. We finished dinner and went back to the room. I was feeling better from the wine and the food but was still out of sorts. Like clockwork, Le Pew was all over me the second we walked in the door. He even hurt my neck with his forceful kissing. He went down on me and was way too rough with his tongue (big surprise). I faked the fastest orgasm of my life. We fucked, he came, I peed and washed myself, took a sleeping pill, and passed the fuck out.