Page 62 of Prosecco with My Professor
Santo must have had enough of me gaping at him like a fish because he shifts in his seat, the ball of black fur on his chest not even twitching, and strokes his beard. “I have noticed that Oliver doesn’t seem to like certain activities that I do.”
Certain activities. Oh my god. Does he mean what I think he means?
If I think about it…surely Santo jerks off. And oh dear god, now I’m thinking about it.
When Santo came out into the hall to invite me in, he was dressed casually; cotton lounge pants and a white V-neck T-shirt. Except for his soccer uniform, Santo has always been crispy dressed whenever I’ve seen him—his standard outfit is slacks and a button-up and a nice jacket. Even now that I’ve had months in Rome and have gotten used to a more European fashion sense, Santo is starch and polish and expensive, even.
So it’s fairly surreal to be sitting on his couch with him dressed down and us even possibly, maybe, talking about masturbation. Even though he’s used his mouth on me and made me cum gloriously.
I can’t decide which I like better: Marlon Brando Santo or this Tight White Shirt Santo. Either way, I get pecs and chest hair, for Christ’s sake. But my eyes involuntarily flutter when I remember that he’s seen much more of me—he’s beendown there.
“Certain activities,” I say, and I hope it comes out curious, but I suspect it’s breathy.
“Yes,” is all he says back. He’s still watching me, eyes unreadable.
I startle when my phone chimes on the arm of the couch. Quickly, I pick it up and swipe the screen to see that Mario is here. I wave the phone. “Back to my apartment,” I say, jumping to my feet. “Thank you for letting me come in while I wait.”
Santo moves to dislodge Zola, and I hold out my hands. “No, it’s fine. I’ll let myself out. Let her sleep, and enjoy the game. Again, thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
I grab my bag and sweep out the door.
The landlord letsme back into my apartment. I’d been texting with my friends while sitting in the stairwell, and now the conversation has moved on to Zoe’s spring break plans. Apparently, she wants to join us on our next weekend together, and after talking it out, I’m exhausted and ready for bed.
I lay in bed for a few minutes. It’s still early by Italian standards. I heard Eva and Oliver go out for their nighttime walk a little while ago, but all I hear now is the noise of the city streets, the hum of cars and people echoing off the alley walls outside my window.
Santo has been at the top of my mind ever since I sat on the couch drinking wine with him. I had another glass while texting with my friends, and now, lying in bed, I think about how there’s an apartment between us, but he’s probably doing the same thing I’ve been doing; a glass of wine, getting ready for bed—maybe he’s even in bed. All while alone, separated by a small space.
What if he meant masturbation? If I were thinking,What Would Jade Do?I’d be putting on something sexy, gathering a bottle of wine, and heading over to ask Santo what he was talking about.
I’m not Jade. But despite my awkwardness earlier, I’m not just going to let it go. I don’t think I can.
A door slams next door. Eva and Oliver are home.
With a silent apology to Eva and everyone else who gets disturbed by Oliver, I open the drawer in the table next to my bed and pull out the Magic Wand. Amongst my friends, we’ve nicknamed this one the Handy Man because it gets the job done, and it’s definitely the easiest toy for me to use, even though I balked at it at first. It’s so big and noisy.
My sleep shorts and underwear are gone in one shove, and I spread my legs. Resting the head against my lips, I push the power button.
My toes curl right away. It’s so powerful, even on the lowest setting. I’ve never gone beyond the second level, but I don’t even think I’m going to need that tonight. It takes maybe twenty seconds for Oliver to start up.
Eva shouts at him, and I turn the Handy Man off.
Oliver’s slower to settle than he is to get riled up, but she gets him calmed down soon enough. I lay in the dark tension ratcheting up as I wait, listening hard, as if I would miss it.
Just when I’m about to give up, Oliver barks again.
Oh my god.
I think…I think Santo is jerking off, just down the hallway. Pressing the button, I turn the Handy Man back on, holding it harder against myself and straining. I’m imagining Santo’s face, the only part of him I’ve seen when he’s aroused, the warm olive skin, his eyes closed in pleasure, and the lush, dark eyelashes against his cheek.
At some point, Oliver stops barking, but I hardly notice. The vibrator is still thrumming between my legs, and the tension in my core is building. With a gasp, I come, arching off the bed and pulsing on nothing.
When it finally passes, I flop back on the bed, laughing. That was the fastest I’ve come in ages. And to think it was just theideaof my professor a few doors down, maybe, possibly, also getting off that got me there.
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Santo
