I used to have a Greek boyfriend who was able to shape and control his tongue such that it became like a calligraphy brush with which he could work artistically on all sorts of surface. Each evening, he would write "Trina, I love you" in beautiful cursive script on and around the top of my labia and clitoral area. Then he would sign his name.
Oh, how I loved Nikolai-Alessandro Zakariopapadopalis.
I first met him at the airport when awaiting my holiday flight to Thailand. We happened to be sitting side-by-side in the departure lounge.
A security guard passed by with a beautiful, though presumably trained-to-be-fierce, dog on a leash. We each admired the animal, and Nikolai mentioned he had at home a cute little puppy dog of his own. I told him I too had a treasured pet - an adorable little pussy. He seemed temporarily lost for conversation, probably self-conscious about his lack of a grasp of English.
To rekindle our dialogue and help put him at ease, I turned to the subject of our respective destinations. "Are you going to Phuket?" I asked. But again he seemed to misunderstand, and looked embarrassed, so I just smiled benignly.
I told him I was going to Bangkok. He seemed to understand, but for some reason looked disappointed. "Me too" piped up the blonde to my right, having overheard our conversation. "Bloody men" she complained, "they'll love you and leave you. Better off without them. Ban 'em all, I say."
We seemed to be talking at cross purposes. To be polite, I asked was there some particular experience which had triggered her chagrin. Yes, apparently. She had just returned from Thailand and now recounted her misadventure in the capital's Tai-Pynn district.
It seemed she had been accosted by two virile young men in a back alley, one of whom overpowered and ravished her repeatedly, while the other ransacked her handbag and stole her purse. I raised an eyebrow and sympathised. Our aeroplane flight was imminent.
As usual, I found myself seated next to the hypochondriac with a fear of flying. I told him it was not the flying he needed to be afraid of, it was the crashing. My unsubtle attempted humour failed to calm him and I had to summon the stewardess. Under sedation, he did however make a valid point - you know that indestructible black box that is used on airplanes - why don't they make the whole plane out of that stuff?
As it expired, I subsequently was able to testify to the authenticity of the blonde's earlier tale, an exact same thing happening to me on the very first day I was in Bangkok.
