I was not pleased at all. I really didn't want to meet her, but it seemed like a necessity. Maybe I could learn from my boyfriend's first lover. I tapped my feet nervously, but Pietro smiled contently. He seemed rather odd about this visit. He kept my hand safely tucked beneath his as we waited outside her apartment. His knock was delicate and quick. The door slowly crept open to reveal a gorgeous middle-aged woman in a red silk robe. Her eyes were naked but still narrow and seductive, and her teased long brown hair framed her petit shoulder and blooming chest. I shuffled gently in insecurity. Her big pout lips formed a smile, and her tall figure rustled to the side to let us in. Pietro briefly let go of my sweaty hand to peck the woman's lips. My pulse quickened, but I reminded myself that it was just pure street tradition. The woman regarded me slowly before unleashing a river of slushing French words. I smiled uneasily.
"I speak English," I said quietly.
Her and Pietro laughed.
"Of course! Come, come! Let's have some food," the woman implored us before retreating to the kitchen.
Pietro's hand reattached itself to mine and pulled a reluctant moi to the living room. With a grimace, I followed.
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