Lots of people who have mental problems, like I do, have a death wish of one form or another. Some commit suicide, whether self-inflicted or by cop. Others take up dangerous activities which significantly increase their chance of dying. Most just continue to plod along, unhappy with no reasonable prospects of getting happy, but too gutless to end it.
I was in the latter category – until one fateful day.
My mental problems were apparently hard to diagnose. Some days I was completely normal, others withdrawn, others manic. Although I made a good living I was self-employed and didn't have good health insurance. Without health insurance coverage for my condition, I didn't have the money (or at least had not been willing to spend it) for an evaluation by top notch psychiatrists. Therefore I just bumbled along with some halfway helpful medications.
Despite my mental problems, I always seemed to be attractive to females – that is until they got to know me and experienced my epic mood swings. I'm big, and am told I'm very good looking, so I was a particularly big hit with shallow females, though not sophisticated ones. That was OK by me since I was mostly just after sexual gratification, especially knowing that no woman was likely able to put up with my mercurial personality for more than a few weeks.
Despite my mercurial personality, I did have a couple of long-time good male friends, Jack and Kevin. I enjoyed their company – as long as I was not in one of my withdrawn moods. Kevin, especially, was always trying to get me to do unusual things; he considered himself an armchair shrink. His common refrain was "Hey Brian, this [event de jure] will really get your serotonin flowing and pick up your mood."
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Kevin's prodding was how I came to be in his regular yoga class – something I thought that I'd never do – on a Saturday morning. I was complaining to Kevin about what a fucking bad idea it was as we warmed up while other class participants trickled in, dressed in their yoga tutus (at least that's what I called them). My complaining started to tail off when I saw that most of the rest of the class members were female – and hot females to boot. My bitching stopped completely when a woman who could only be described as "sunshine on a cloudy day" breezed into the class, with a friend in tow.
"Who the fuck is that?" I asked Kevin in a hushed tone, as I nodded my head in the direction of the walking wet-dream.
"Poison," was his unsmiling response. "Don't even think about it – we'll talk later."
I repositioned myself behind my lust-interest so that I could watch her as discretely as possible as she moved from one yoga position to another.
While it was a beginners' class, most of the other members – like Kevin – had been in it for five weeks, so I was way behind. I didn't do the positions very well not only because of my lack of knowledge and practice, but because my cock was rock hard and pointing at the nicest thighs and ass that I had ever seen.
After the class was over, before Kevin could stop me, I walked up to the siren. "Hi, I'm Brian; this is my first class. How long have you been doing this to be as great as you are at the positions?" I asked.
I had gone from almost a withdrawn mood to one of my manic states in the course of the hour-long class. "Maybe there is something to this serotonin thing" flashed through my mind. When I'm manic I'm friendly and extroverted.
The object of my desire looked me over before answering. She sounded like she had just stepped out of an Italian movie her accent was so thick and sultry. "Maybe yust quattro week," she replied with a diabolical smile. "Not very inglese. Io sono Gina," she continued, holding out her hand.
I took her hand and shook it. She had a grip that was both soft and firm at the same time. I couldn't help but be mesmerized by her enchanting brown eyes, and the way that her lip curled up to one side. I know that it was my imagination but I felt that she was staring into my soul.
Apparently we had just been standing shaking hands for a totally inappropriately long time because Gina's "friend" came up to us, gently tugged on Gina's right arm and coarsely said "We need to leave, Gina."
When Gina glanced at her while still holding onto my hand the "friend" said "Abbiamo bisogno di lasciare, Gina," and Gina smoothly pulled her hand away from mine.
"I'll see you next class," I said, much too cheerily and with a big shit-eating grin while still staring into Gina's eyes.
"Yes, will; ciao," she replied with a sly smile.
Gina's friend was shooting daggers at me with her eyes as Gina turned to walk away, and I heard the friend rattling off something at her in Italian as they exited the classroom. Gina seemed to respond to her friend's mini-tirade by just waving her hand in a dismissive manner.
Once they were out the door, a sweaty and dour Kevin approached me.
"Man, we need to talk; but wait until they're long gone," he whispered to me.
I dried off, chatted with the petite friendly female instructor when she approached and asked how my first session was, and after everyone else left, a still dour Kevin grabbed me by the arm and led me into a corner of the room.
"What's your problem, dude?" I chuckled.
"It's YOUR problem that I'm worried about, Brian. I told you that that woman is poison – the reason being is that she is married to a high ranking mobster."
"How in the hell do you know that?" I skeptically asked.
"Because it was in the newspaper about two months ago. There was a photo of a well-known don and Gina in the local press with the caption that read something like 'Reputed local crime boss Lazzaro Gambini returning from his wedding in Italy with his new Italian bride the former Gina Ricci.'"
I looked at Kevin skeptically.
"Come over to my house and we'll pull it up on the Internet," he growled, in response to my skepticism.
I found out two things shortly after we entered Kevin's house. Gina was in fact married to Lazzaro Gambini, and yoga really makes your muscles hurt. I could barely walk the rest of the day.
Knowing that Gina was married to a mobster didn't have the same effect on me that it would most people; as I said before, I'm nuts. I looked upon establishing a relationship with Gina as a thrill – some would say "death wish" – rather than causing me to back off. Fortunately, our yoga class met twice a week so that I only had to wait three days to see her again, because she was all that I could think about.
*************
Though I'm nuts, I am also clever. I developed a plan to woo Gina that I thought might work – and was worth a try.
I decided to be particularly nice to Gina's "friend." Kevin told me that she – he didn't know her name – and Gina were almost always the last to arrive to class, and I intended to use that information to my advantage.
The class provided towels, but there was not an overabundance of them. I got to class early and counted out the towels and made sure that there was one less than the number of members in the class, and hid the others in the men's washroom; and prayed that everyone would be there that day. Fortunately, that was the case.
When Gina and her friend came in just before class started I smiled at both of them. Gina smiled back; the friend did not. When they walked over to the towel rack the friend gave the last one to Gina and then started looking around for another one.
I jumped to my feet, went over to the friend and said "They seem to be short of towels today. Why don't you take mine – I haven't used it yet – and I'll go in search of another. By the way I'm Brian," I said with a completely cheery disposition and big smile.
She first looked at me sternly; then seemed to soften her expression as she took the towel from my hand, and said "Thanks."
"What's your name?" I cheerfully asked holding out my hand.
"Adriana," she warily said, shaking my hand.
"What a beautiful name!" A true statement, but obviously a suck up – but one that she responded positively to. "Nice to meet you, Adriana" I continued.
Just then the instructor called the class to order. "I'll find some more towels," I softly said to Adriana as I quickly exited the room, and just as quickly returned with the four towels that I had hidden in the men's room. I offered a second towel to each of Gina and Adriana, but both shook their heads "No," Gina with a smile, Adriana not with a smile, but not with a scowl either.
This class I was not quite as obvious staring at Gina's consummate ass and thighs, and a couple of times made fleeting eye contact with Adriana.
I guess that I need to describe Gina and Adriana a little more.
Adriana is about five feet ten inches tall, and muscular. She is not unattractive, but nowhere close to beautiful. She looks to be about thirty years old, and hard. She speaks almost perfect accent-free English as well as, from what I can tell, fluent Italian.
Gina looks to be about my age, twenty five or twenty six. She is about five feet four inches tall with a sleek build – not skinny but closer to that than heavy. In addition to the afore-mentioned perfect ass, thighs, and eyes, and a face bordering on beautiful, she has what I have heard described as the "it" factor. It is hard to point to exactly what quality it is that makes her the epitome of sexy, but she does have it – the "it" factor, that is. She was the first person that I had ever met in my life with the "it" factor, or at least what I perceived to be the "it" factor.
Gina's spoken English was poor, but she was trying, and she seemed to understand almost everything said to her in English.
After class I made a point of talking to both Gina and Adriana, trying to spend as much time making eye contact with one as the other. I even lightly touched Adriana on her elbow when making what I thought was a humorous comment and which she smiled at, and Gina laughed at once Adriana translated my comment into Italian.
After that class, Adriana was friendlier toward me – although still guarded – and I made a point of parking myself right next to, or between, them, during each class. After one class I invited them to join me for coffee and biscotti at a local Italian café.
"Sure we can go; coretto, Adriana," Gina beamed.
They jabbered away in Italian for a minute or so – their body language did not indicate an argument but it wasn't all smiles either.
"My treat," I interjected.
"OK," they responded in unison, Gina with a big smile, Adriana with a lesser one.
I was a little non-plussed when a black sedan with tinted windows seemed to follow us to the café, but didn't mention it to either Gina or Adriana.
At the café I had a really nice conversation with both of them. Gina's English was getting better all of the time, and in that setting she used very few Italian words, and Adriana only had to translate one thing that I said. Halfway through our get-together I felt Gina's shoeless foot on my leg. I didn't move my leg away. After a few minutes she moved her foot away, I subtly removed my right shoe, and then I played footsie with her leg.
I hugged both of them goodbye – careful to hug Adriana first and as long as I hugged Gina. The big difference in the hugs was that my cock didn't poke Adriana in the stomach but sure did Gina when it got hard instantaneously when my body touched hers.
I was again non-plussed when then walked over to the tinted window sedan and got in the back seat, but although I didn't show it my heart leapt when Gina gave me a truly seductive grin that neither Adriana nor the driver of the car could see.
