Milan Linate, Leonardo lounge. While waiting for my flight to Amsterdam, I decide to capture my impressions of the girl I met yesterday. She writes to me on a dating app: ” Hi! Let’s play a game. If I’ve been to a country you haven’t visited yet, you owe me a glass of champagne 🙂 “. I tell her there’s no need to bet: I’m all for citizenship champagne.
I ask her what she’s looking for: “I’m looking for quality company, clarity and a connection that flows naturally. I’m independent, work in the legal sector and have a very intense life already, so intelligence, ambition and someone who keeps their word matter to me. If the conversation is interesting and sincere, the rest comes naturally. I appreciate respect, balanced pace and someone who really knows what they want “. Well, she already presents herself well in this world of identical chats written by ChatGPT.
An international lawyer specialized in three legal systems, at 25 she’s already head of legal for a new economy company, lives alone and has been working since she was sixteen, speaks five languages. I’ll only find out later that she’s half Ukrainian and half Russian… yeah, I know! I’m a magnet for Slavs. Or maybe Slavs are a magnet for me; I still haven’t figured it out.
What strikes me about her are her smile and her gaze.
There are three types of smiles. The smile of someone naive, who doesn’t know life, because they’re too young or have lived under a glass dome. The empty, conformist smile of someone who has a good life but lets everyday life overshadow joy, smiling with their face and not their heart. And then there’s the intense smile of someone who has seen life’s difficulties, its horrors, the intensity of moments of solitude and hardship… and still chooses to smile. I sense hers is a smile of the third type, but nothing in the conversation hints at it. She’s very positive, very polite, very tough and straight to the point. We exchange Instagrams.
I contact her after a few weeks and we plan a half weekend. She’ll be in Bergamo with a friend for a party, I pick her up, take her to the spa, she’ll stay with me and the next day she’ll head back to her city. Once in the car, the conversation is fluid and lively. She forgot her swimsuit, so we stop at Orio Center at Twinset to get an elegant black and gold bikini. While she’s trying it on, I stop to chat with the saleswoman: I’ve invested in Twinset with a group of investors, I know nothing about this company (apart from the business plan) and I’m trying to learn more. The store manager stands at attention and treats me like I’m the CEO visiting, rattling off KPIs and strategic insights, but I clarify that I’m just a guy who bought some equity.
I hope to be called into the fitting room by the lawyer for a consultation, but she’s too proper. No matter, as soon as we arrive at the spa, my hands explore the swimsuit and express my judgment in my universal language.
I discover an exhibitionist streak in her. Hehe, that’s right up my alley. And while our hands dance underwater with a cheerful and flowing rhythm, the lawyer straddles me, eyes closed, head tilted back, struggling to maintain composure. I lick the inside of her ear and she melts like Sicilian granita on a hot August day. The couples around us look on with interest, envy, or scandal. Some average-looking woman with a submissive boyfriend walks past me saying “come on!”
I persist with greater vigor, letting her mouth open with barely contained murmurs. And while I wink at the plain girl watching me from afar, I exclaim: “Lawyer! Maintain your composure! If you can’t resist, how can I fuck you while you’re on a call with your legal team? ” With a smile, she savors the idea while, with a glance, she shoots me a look, reiterating how important professionalism and career are to her. “I would never do it,” she says. “You don’t know me,” I say. How I love to embarrass polite people with complicity. I wonder how the Countess would behave in this situation, but we’ll never know.
I ask her what she wants from me. She replies “
Darkness falls and, as night descends, my desire to penetrate her rises. I try to persuade her a bit, but I understand that doing it without a condom, with a guy she just met, is outside her (and my) comfort zone. I limit myself to making her come, as is proper etiquette, lest she sue me.
As we head home, I discover interesting backstories. She travels a lot, but there are two countries she can no longer visit: Ukraine (being half Russian) and Russia (being half Ukrainian). Not only that, she has five different charges in Russia that jeopardize her civil rights, making her persona non grata, just a step before a foreign spy.
If she had my interest before, now she has my full attention! I love criminals! I’m tired of all these people who respect state laws (but disrespect the laws of the heart and conscience). I’m hoping for some international trafficking, a bit of money laundering. Sooner or later I’ll have my independent island, the Magnificent Island, from which to happily traffic… so better get informed.
No, nothing. These are very serious charges in Russia, but absolutely understandable for any person of good conscience. She made a donation to support civilian victims of the war in Ukraine. She was flagged at a concert of anti-regime artists. And many other things of similar caliber.
Like a fish doesn’t perceive the water it swims in until the bowl breaks, we Europeans don’t perceive the freedom we live in until we learn about these things. To us, they seem like nonsense, but because of this, she’s condemned to live a life of exile. Her mother was fired for being the mother of a dissident (and you can imagine the family tensions, since she’s pro-Putin). Once, landing in Moldova for a weekend vacation, she was imprisoned and expelled. How many of us would be willing to live such a life for our ideals? (In case, come to my island, I’ll find you some illicit trafficking!)
Despite all this, her gaze is joyful and her smile shines. The lawyer gives me her lightness while my thoughts investigate the unspoken. I decide not to delve too deep because the harmony of hearts doesn’t need too much information.
In the movie “The Devil’s Advocate”, De Niro (as Satan) scolds a young Keanu Reeves for being too flashy! “My most powerful weapon” – he says – “ is that no one sees me coming, no one notices me. I’m a surprise. No one believes I’m a master of the universe, no one believes I exist… that’s where my power lies “.
Well, my lawyer is like that, but in a good way. You see her and you wouldn’t imagine such a dense life, such fierce determination, such ability to overcome so many difficulties and maintain her smile.
We arrive home. I feel exhausted from a week of no sleep and a day at the spa that boiled me well. We have sex, but the Royal Bird collaborates with little enthusiasm. I know what she likes, I had already prepared blindfolds and ropes but I remember what Andrea told me:
“okay, you’re the first man to make me come through penetration. But when you have sex you seem fake, like you stepped out of a dime novel. You say what a woman wants to hear, you do what she wants you to do. But you don’t seem authentic to me “. I decide to go easy, not do anything special, just share a moment. Andrea, I’m asking for damages… luckily I have a lawyer!
We go to dinner at my favorite steakhouse. We continue exchanging stories. I tell her how my ex left me after 5 years to start OnlyFans, how I lost Ninfetta to an emir, a minister, and a phantom boyfriend. “You sure have interesting stories,” she says.
Well, the last girl I told this to – a floozy trying to cleanse her conscience by pretending to be “a girl of good principles” – got up and ran away.
As I write, I’m on a plane. Next to me, a girl has a water bottle between her legs. She opens the cap: a sudden gush of water splashes in her face. Everything in this scene screams porn movie! I burst out laughing, turn and ask the girl if she’s okay. She laughs, her friend turns and asks what happened. She “Look, for decency, I can’t tell you how this bottle splashed!” I start to think I have a special performative gravitational field that alters the surrounding reality, making it increasingly like a porn. A sort of Omnia Munda Mundis but in reverse.
At dinner, the Lawyer explains why Ninfetta blocked me after I expressed my doubts about seeing her again. “Slavic women do this. It’s a way to get your attention, to keep your interest alive.” And I: “Really? And does it work? ” She replies: “Well, you tell me… You weren’t interested in her anymore and yet, weeks later, you’re here talking about her with me.” These Slavs are terrible!
And right at this moment I get a message on Instagram. It’s Ninfetta’s phantom boyfriend, writing to me worried because he hasn’t heard from her. “She was supposed to return today from Dubai; we fought and she disappeared.” Poor man. But we’ll tell that story another time.
At home we collapse. We sleep wonderfully. We wake up, morning cuddles, we have breakfast and then off, each to our own life. Thank you, lawyer, I don’t know if you’ll really see me again or not, but I’m happy to have met an excellent example of how to be women with a capital W (by the way, just to dispel stereotypes about Ukrainian/Russian/Slavic women: she told me about all the times she paid for dinners and trips for men. good girl).
