"Ma che fai?" Cesare reaches out, a reflex, lest the other falls and bashes his nose into his brain. Not that he'd care. Well, perhaps in the way that one enjoys licking and sucking a sore spot in one's mouth, and hates to see it gone.
"Not what you're thinking," he frowns. "Sorry to disappoint; Madonna does not take me from behind. I would disapprove of that. But, if she'd so much as touch you with a ten foot pole, you'd discover, perhaps, provided you're not too drunk on your virility, that she has ways of twirling you around her finger - all the while allowing you to believe yourself master of the universe." His voice grows scratchy from the cold.
"So, what you mean to say is, you feel taken advantage of." Sharp, bleak laughter. "Oh the irony."
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Date: 2008-11-27 03:38 pm (UTC)"Not what you're thinking," he frowns. "Sorry to disappoint; Madonna does not take me from behind. I would disapprove of that. But, if she'd so much as touch you with a ten foot pole, you'd discover, perhaps, provided you're not too drunk on your virility, that she has ways of twirling you around her finger - all the while allowing you to believe yourself master of the universe." His voice grows scratchy from the cold.
"So, what you mean to say is, you feel taken advantage of." Sharp, bleak laughter. "Oh the irony."