Lost in Translation

Veronica was a very cool chick. She managed to make juggling a high-pressure PR job in cosmetics alongside a packed social life look effortless. Her jet-black hair was always perfectly cropped with a fringe of bangs that grazed her kohl rimmed hazel eyes. She was into music, and going to see bands play was her thing. Not only for the music, but for the musicians. Veronica loved musicians. In fact, she would only date men in that category. Exclusively musicians.

Over the years, there had been quite a few of them. There was the guitar player from a German punk band, an aging but still relevant American rock superstar, and even a lead singer from a famous British pop group. However, nothing had ever turned into a long-term relationship, and she was getting to the point in life where she craved more stability. She needed to expand her horizons.

One of her close friends was doing the “on-line dating thing”, and raved to her about how much fun it was. She told Veronica that there were so many guys out there, she should really give it a try. Veronica was not interested, but she did reluctantly take a look via her friend’s profile and noticed that yes, there were some cute guys on this thing. While browsing, there was one in particular who caught her eye. Her friend told her she could use her profile to hit him up. And, this is how she met Fabrizio1.

Yes, Fabrizio1 was Italian, from Italy. Currently working in San Diego as a tattoo artist. Oh, and did I mention that Veronica was a tattoo afficiando? Yeah. He responded to her right away and they began a chat (using her friend Viki75’s account). He didn’t spell too well, but she quickly realized it was because his English skills were not up to speed. This didn’t bother her, in fact she preferred foreign men to the average American guy. He sent her a selfie from work at the tattoo shop. He stood in front of a wall of tattoo designs and artwork. Staring from the photo was a tall handsome young man. He had shaggy black hair, green eyes, a sexy smile, and from what she could see of his arms, and neck, he was loaded with tattoos. Perfect. She sent back a quick selfie from the balcony at her friend’s apartment. She had her trademark heavy black eyeliner on under those sharp bangs and he liked what he saw. He commented that she looked totally different from the profile pic and she divulged that she was just using her friend’s account. He didn’t seem to care, and he asked her when would she be free so he could take her to dinner. She lived in LA, andhe told her he could drive up and meet her.

They decided on a hot new restaurant off of Sunset Boulevard. Veronica waited in the lounge at the bar anxiously watching the door. Under her long black sweater she wore a fitted mini-dress with thigh high boots. A very vixen version of Stevie Nicks. She watched as few couples walked in and were seated. Finally, in walked Fabrizio1. Wearing a weathered leather jacket, and black jeans, he was even better looking in person. He looked around the room and made eye contact with Veronica. She smiled and he walked over to the bar. He sat by and leaned over to kiss her on both cheeks. He smiled and flashed a gold tooth. She liked him even more. He was very relaxed and easy to be with. Funny and charming. He told her he was hungry, and he asked the bartender if they could order at the bar. They shared some delicious tapas and drank red wine. The conversation flowed. He told her about the town he was from, and the reasons he decided to become a tattoo artist. Fabrizio had traveled all around the world and his life story was intriguing. She was very attracted to him. As they finished and the bill was paid, he put his hand on her thigh and leaned over to kiss her. It was a soft, romantic kiss, and she noticed that his hair smelled of the sand and sea, and also faintly of cardamom.

As they exited the restaurant, he asked her where she had parked, and she told him that her car was just around the corner on Santa Monica blvd. He asked her if she would mind driving him to his car. Sure she would do that, no problem. He put his arm around her and they walked together. He paused to kiss her intermittently. She felt warm all over. They got into her car and she turned on the ignition. He leaned over and pushed the soft sweater off of her shoulders. He asked if he could kiss her some more. She closed her eyes as he stroked her neck. He ran his fingers through her hair while pressing his warm full lips to hers. She felt his grip on her head get firmer and suddenly her head was being pushed down onto his lap. She opened her eyes and his pants were open, his hand holding his Italian sausage aimed point blank at her face. She jerked her head up and told him “ This is not gonna work”, he pushed her head down once again, and told her with his heavy Italian accent, “no no, it will work, it will work, keep doing”. She raised her head again and in a serious tone told him, “no! this is not gonna happen!” A flash of light blinded her for a moment and she saw a police officer walk up alongside of the car. He tapped on the window. She told Fabrizio1 to “put that thing away!” as she rolled down the window and the cop asked if everything was alright. Yes, yes, she said. As the officer walked away, she told Fabrizio1 that he would have to go get his car on his own. He tried to apologize. He told her she was just so beautiful that he couldn’t help it. He went on and on, but she said nothing. Finally, she looked him in the eye and told him to “just leave”. As he got out of the car, she watched him saunter down the boulevard through her rearview mirror. She could see a couple of blonde party girls walking towards him. He stopped to joke with them. After a few moments and what looked like laughter amongst them, they changed their course of direction to walk with Fabrizio1 into the distance along the boulevard. The last thing she noticed was his arm wrapping around both girls waists. She shook her head and started ignition of her charger, taking off with a roar.

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