nce upon a time,” I began to tell her the story.
“Of course it’s a once upon a time kind of story,” Alexa giggles. She sounds so fucking cute.
“A guy met a girl in Barcelona. Pretty girl. Had her head stuck on right, looked killer in a dress, hung around parties that bored her very quickly,” I began, riffing away.
“Sounds a little familiar.”
“Shhh. Listen. So, this guy, his habit was to visit a little cafe in Barcelona. Sipped his coffee. Short espresso, black with just one sugar. He’d sit, listen to friends chatter along in rapid-fire Spanish. Watched beautiful women strut around with shopping bags from all the fanciest brands. Prada and Versace and Givenchy, you get the picture.
“The cafe was around the corner from a dreamy museum, a quaint little place about Spanish architecture and art in the time of the dictatorship — but that’s me getting ahead of the story. Let’s see. The woman’s walking past his table. Stunning green eyes and a dress, elegant enough to go to the opera, slinky enough to get her arrested, and she trips. So he’s up in a swift movement and he catches her.
“He’s all too happy to help this woman. There’s something about her that he’s intrigued by. Not just her beauty. He’s never been dazzled by a beauty like this, and they end up staying at the cafe. They take a coffee together. Coffee drifts on into lunch, and then, when the whole city shuts down for the afternoon siesta, the couple head over to the museum.
“At the museum, she tells him about her life. She just divorced her awful husband this morning. The guy decides, shit, this is my chance. Not to swoop in on her, but to make her day. Just make a good person smile. And if things progress further… that’s a bonus, you know?”
“Yeah,” Alexa answers. Her voice is a little distant. Distracted.
“After the museum, having admired all the paintings and sculptures and photographs, they walk over to a bridge. It’s got all those love locks attached to the sides of the bridge. It sags, even, from the weight of all the love locks. He points them out to her, and she dismisses them. ‘I can no longer believe in love,’ she announces.
“Now that sounds real strong to him, so the guy decides there and then that it’s going to be his mission to change her mind. He’ll make her believe in love again, no matter what it takes.
“So he wines and dines her. After a long and sensual evening, she lets him take her back to his apartment. He slides her out of the gorgeous sheath of a dress, he kisses her all over, holds her in his arms and he fucks her brains out.
“Excuse me, I’m sorry, this is supposed to be a love story — they have absolutely magical, incredible, explosive sex.”
I can hear Alexa laugh, a laugh that quickly recedes so she can focus her attention on my story. This is great.
“After he makes her cum half a dozen times, he sits her up, with moonlight streaming through the windows, and he asks her… do you believe now?
“She pauses. ‘I’m not sure yet,’ she says. She then adds, she’ll come back tomorrow. And if he’s still there, she’ll decide then.
“So the next day comes, and of course he’s there, he’s a man on a mission. They meet, they talk, they laugh, they kiss, they have sex again. It’s better than the first time, even. Deeper. More intimate.”
Alexa waits until I end my sentence to interject. “And I assume he asks her if she believes in love?”
“Correctomundo, beautiful,” I confirm. “And for a second time, she’s not sure, she’s all… ‘I’ll come back tomorrow, I’ll know then.’ What do you know, the next day, he’s waiting for her… and she never shows up.
“Hell, he waits a fourth, then fifth day. He can’t wait any longer, because he’s got to leave. He doesn’t stay at places long, you see. So he’s bummed like mad. He really liked her. And she just… stood him up. But then as he’s about to leave, he sees her. There she is, wearing a beige trench coat and probably nothing underneath, smiling as she sees his face light up.
“He rushes to her, and they kiss, and without him prompting, she tells him she believes in love again. But you know what? They kiss again, and she repeats her newfound knowledge, and then she walks off. Walks right into the night. He just watches her go, awe rising in his heart.
“He never sees her again. But he knows that he did something special. He made her believe in love again.”
I’m annoyed by a little twang of anxiety as I hear silence on the phone and I wait for her reaction.