SexyFighters.com

[wally]

It all ended with a couple of French whores, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Do I have your undivided attention?

In late November, I got a message I'd long been waiting to see. Martina was booked for a photo shoot in Atlanta, no far from where I live, and invited me to join her for an evening! Needless to say, I accepted the invitation at the speed of light. After several back-and-forth messages, we arranged to meet at a cafe near the hotel where she would be staying. The next several days were the longest I ever spent. It was like a child's Christmas Eve every night, counting the hours, minutes and seconds until the big moment arrived.

The day came at last, and I set off for our rendezvous. If you've ever been to Atlanta, you know what happened next. I got stuck in traffic! Now I really was counting the seconds and the minutes, watching the appointed time slip by as I cursed the fates for my predicament. I finally crawled through the vehicular morass and got to the cafe a half an hour late. I was hoping against hope Martina would still be there.

Blessed relief! There she was!



At first glance, she looks as if she has just stepped out of a photograph. Slowly, the realization dawns that no photo has ever really done her justice. Martina is even more gloriously beautiful in person. She wore a blue-green sweater with an off-the-shoulder cowl neckline, jeans and mukluk-style boots (though no Inuit ever looked so fetching). Her eyes -- oh my! They lit up the room! I had warned her that the weather had turned decidedly chilly and she was dressed for it, but with a style that warmed me to my marrow.

The cafe is fashioned after a European coffeehouse. It is casually elegant, with a long, sweeping bar. It specializes in coffee drinks, exotic liquor concoctions and desserts. We never got to the desserts, but Martina had great fun sampling the art of the resident mixologist. I lost count of the drinks, but I recall her speaking fondly of a pomegranate creation and a martini flavored with caramel. I stuck to Irish coffee.

We had a wonderful conversation. We spoke of everything under the sun. She caught me up on her friends Cassia and Jamie and Nikki and Charlie and Celeste (all part of what I call her "Pet Posse"). She brought me up to date on her house and its substantial menagerie (four dogs, two cats at last count). We talked and drank and snuck outside for smokes for a couple of hours.

Martina had an early call in the morning for her photo shoot, She suggested we retire to the bar at her hotel for a nightcap and maybe grab a bite to eat. Before your naughty minds start wandering in the wrong direction, realize that our evening together was properly chaperoned by her traveling companion, a very friendly sort to be sure. But there was no funny business. I tried to be a perfect gentleman and Martina was every inch the lady. (Well, except for the occasional ribald comment and devilish smile.) As for "every inch" -- she's taller than you might expect from her photos, and her legs are longer than they appear in stills. And every centimeter is perfectly gorgeous!

At the hotel, I ordered some sort of finger food (never did see what it was called) while Martina returned to her pursuit of otherworldly alcohol mixtures. She settled on a fruity confection called a "French whore" and liked it so much she had another. We continued our chatting -- covering subjects as diverse as cooking, which she is learning to do, and American football, which she is learning to appreciate. We ducked out for another smoke and more conversation (touching upon the various types of breast implants on the market, with pro's and con's of each), then she had to be off to bed.

We posed for pictures in the hotel lobby, which was decorated -- and lighted -- like some kind of Euro-tech nightclub, so the snaps came out a bit dark and grainy. But I will treasure them, as I treasure the memories of my wonderful evening with Martina.




PS -- the photographer she worked with the next day was thrilled with her shoot and wants her to return early next year. Martina promises another evening together if that comes to be. I'm counting the hours...
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Proud to be Martina's b***h!

[marcus]

What colour is envy ???