It was 5 pm and a few minutes this Saturday, June 3, 2017, I was waiting in this sad hotel room, decorated in the Brezhnev era ... I have to laugh inside; I was 9 years old when "dear" Léonid Ilich died on November 10, 1982 ...
I receive an SMS at the same time: "I have arrived" a few minutes after we knock on the door, it's him! The charm in its purest form, a real prince of the Orient sporting a dazzling and bewitching smile, laughing and teasing eyes ... He comes closer, takes my hands, kisses me gently and sensually, he embraces me and I let myself go ...
He makes love to me in an unreasonable and enjoyable way, I capsize with happiness and well-being ...
He beckons me to approach him, he takes me in his arms, I rest my head on his muscular and hairless chest ... I like his smell ... He caresses my face, my shoulder ...
We discuss, dream and joke like old "friends" ... The news catches up with us with this drama in London ...
It's gonna be time for him to leave, he's taking a shower, getting dressed, he's shirtless and in profile, he's looking out the window and at this moment with the daylight on him, it reminds me of a painting by Ingres or Vermeer ...
He kisses me and smiles at me one last time, then leaves ... I stay still, with a weird feeling of abandonment ...
I miss him already...