IS LOVE ELSEWHERE ?

- Mrs. Joana Vanessa, do you take Mr. Conti Ken as your husband, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?

Here we are at last in the lovely town hall where we grew up. The best day of my life is today. Everything is perfect, family, friends, sunshine and above all... love!

- Yes, I want it!

My hands are sweaty, my teeth are chattering, my heart is beating in my chest and to reassure myself, I look for my future husband's eyes. But, he must be even more stressed than me, because he looks at the ground with a dejected air.

- Mr. Conti Ken, do you agree to take, Mrs. Joana Vanessa here, from the ai....

- STOP! Stop it! Please, stop.

Oh my god... wake me up! Please let me be in a nightmare about my wedding ceremony. I run my wet hands over my face to rub it, to wake up, to erase this horrible situation. Then, hesitating, I raise my head and... the same people are standing in the room, with one exception, their faces are livid. As for Ken, he avoids my gaze and big tears roll down his cheeks. What to do in such a moment? I want to shout, to cry and especially to harass my future ex-husband so that he explains me, why. I must pull myself together and keep the little dignity I have left.

- Let's go out right now Ken! Come on, move!

Astonished by my reaction, he carries out my directive without a word. Walking next to people dear to our hearts to reach the exit door is a real torture for me, so much so that I dare not cross their eyes. Once in the open air, I fill my lungs with this soft spring breeze and take my courage in both hands to question this traitor of Ken. His sheepish and grieved air amplifies the rage which invades my interior.

- Speak ! How could you do that? How could you do such a horrible thing to me ? Since when ? Tell me, since when did you plan to humiliate me like this? Speak, for God's sake!

I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown and I'm about to punch him in his not-so-model face. And he whines, sniffs, wipes his big crocodile tears, but damn, don't tell me I was going to marry a poor guy like him? Luckily for him, he opens his dumb mouth to give me the explanation he owes me.

- Calm down sweetheart, I...

- So, let's be clear from the start. There is no more honey! And don't you dare ask me to calm down again! I'll get mad if I want to! Did you get that into your little bastard head?

He has to find the magic words to defend his indefensible cause, otherwise I'll lose my patience and slam him against the wall of this damned town hall.

- Vanessa... I didn't mean to hurt you, I...

- Well, good for you. It's a success! But it's not possible, besides being a gougea, you're a moron!

Pfff... with this one, I've got the best of it. I can be awarded the gold medal for the girl who fell in love with the leader of the flying jerk squadron.

- Vanessa... I understand you're upset... But please let me explain.

- That's right, tell me everything and stop talking to me like I'm four years old.

I know my anger speaks for itself and I can't think straight anymore, but who could be calm after such an ordeal?

- We have been in a relationship since we were 17, so for 10 years.

- Thank you, I know all that and I know how to count. Give birth!

He's seriously getting on my nerves.

- You lived with your parents until you were 25 and once you signed your contract as a journalist, you agreed to live with me...

- And?

- Before we moved in, I used to visit you at your parents' house very often and shared a lot of time with your family. So I developed a special relationship with many of them, but especially with ... Dela...

A leaden blanket has just fallen on my head. I remain a few minutes stunned, unable to say a word. Ken, him, doesn't have much to say and scrutinizes me without daring to add an additional sentence. I suppose he lets me digest the information or maybe choke on it.

- Dela? You and... my little sister? Ken, tell me that's not true! I can't believe you two betrayed me.

I lower my arms and let the water level rise in my eyes until the floodgates give way and the flood comes. My legs also give in and abandon me, letting me slide to the ground. My torrent of tears, as for him, dilutes the blood stain on my dress of almost bride, most certainly caused by my knees returned too abruptly in contact with the bitumen. Ken, impotent in front of my distress, tries an approach to raise me, but of a gesture of the hand, I stop him net. A question still tortures my mind.

- Why did you come here? Why did you come all the way here? Why did you ask for my hand, if you liked it?

My curiosity pushes me to ask these questions and yet, my heart already scattered in Senars of pieces does not wish to know more. It cannot bear any more such virulent blows.

Curiosity, woe to you for being so powerful in me...

- Nothing ever happened between me and her, I think I was repressing what I felt for her, I was convincing myself that I liked her as a dear friend. Only, when you told her that we were going to get married, she asked me to meet her at her house, without telling anyone, not even you. I knew I shouldn't go, but I couldn't help it. When she opened her door, she opened her heart to me. She wanted me to know the love she felt for me from a young age and that if I didn't share the same for her, I could leave. Vanessa...that night I stayed. I... sorry... I...

- Shut up Ken...shut up and leave me alone.

I don't shout anymore, I'm drained, I look like a stranded ship, stripped of all its passengers. That's it, I don't have a soul anymore... Gently, I put my arms on the ground, settle my dishevelled head in the hollow of those, close my eyes and let my mind go in the oblivion. Yes, I make the vacuum, I do not want to think any more, to cry any more, just... nothing. However, the muffled sound of a door reaches my ears before the black hole.

A soft caress warms my cheek. I enjoy it while slowly raising my heavy and irritated eyelids.

- Where am I?

The reassuring face of my father floats above me.

- Home Sweetheart and your Papou is here to take care of you. Go back to sleep without fear, I'll be here as soon as you wake up.

I give him a smile and exhausted, but safe, I sink into a deep sleep. I open my eyes again, but this time I must have a satisfactory number of hours of nap on the counter. I stroke the comforter with both hands and breathe in the reassuring smell of laundry from my parents' bed. As it is, I have a visceral need to hold on to details of my childhood that bring me comfort. A few minutes later, the bedroom door opens.

- Did you sleep well, sweetheart?

- Yes Papou, thank you.

- Then come and have a bite to eat, you know I don't like to eat alone.

- But, Mami?

- She's been away for a few days...

I already have too much to think about with my poor life, so I don't ask about my mother's unexpected departure. I am also grateful to my father who talks about everything and anything during the meal, but especially not about the subject I don't want to talk about. I want to take advantage of this return to my roots to get back on track to try to overcome the insurmountable.

But, the ringing of my cell phone, quickly brings me back to the sad reality...

But, the ringing of my cell phone, quickly brings me back to the sad reality...

- Hello... Mr. Truffaud?

- All the best, Mrs. Conti. Well... my little Vanessa, I'm not going to beat about the bush. I'll wait for you at the office first thing in the morning.

- But...

- Taratata! There's no "but" in that. You enjoy your wedding night and when you wake up, you're off to work! Yes, Madam, your husband has chosen to spend his life with a journalist, he must understand that scoops don't wait.

- But, I don't...

- See you tomorrow! Early and in a good mood. Don't do too much fooling around with your body! Ah ah ah...

He hung up! That jerk, hung up! What can I do but cry at a time like this? I go to the window and close the shutters. Sleep, I want to sleep to forget...

Knock, knock, knock

- Come in! I say, my voice still filled with sleep.

- Good morning, sweetie!

- Lopez! Come into my arms my darling. I'm so happy to see you!

Lopez is my sandbox friend. We are inseparable and very often people mistake us for a couple. But our love is above all that, it is pure and eternal. Anyway, it is impossible for him to fall for a girl like me, because he is a "blonde addict" and I am unfortunately a brunette. He often compliments me on my slim figure, my big green eyes and my tanned skin, but he always adds that I lack the essential color that makes him melt. I don't take offense at all, because I find Lopez very sexy, very handsome even, but I see him as a friend and only that. My female colleagues at work are ecstatic about his dreamy plastic, when he picks me up at work. They keep telling me that I'm sick or a lesbian so I don't jump on this handsome dark-haired guy with hazel eyes.

- And me then! Tell me what happened. Why did this bastard put you through such an affront?

He lies down against me and wraps me in his big protective arms. I bury my head in his neck and inhale his spicy perfume.

How his carnal contact reassures me...

I know that nestled in her protective cage, nothing can reach me anymore. So I tell him the horrible scene I lived in front of the town hall with my... ex-boyfriend, but my sentences are regularly interrupted by sobs that tighten my throat.

However, the caresses of his fingers in my hair, calm me and allow me to tell him everything. Once my last word pronounced, I tighten strongly Lopez in my arms and drown it under a torrent of tears. His hands leave then my hair to tenderly massage my back. Then, delicately, he puts his hands on my shoulders, gets free of my smothering embrace, brushes my cheek of the pulp of his fingers, lets them slide like feathers until my chin, seizes it tenderly, raises my head and anchors his glance in mine.

- Look at me my beautiful. Wipe away your tears, that bastard doesn't deserve you to suffer for him. You'll be strong, no... you're strong! Tomorrow you'll get up, look in the mirror, tell yourself how beautiful you are and how many men would like to be in your bed. As soon as you wake up, you'll be living life to the fullest. Okay, sweetie?

His eyes shine, his breath quickens and I feel the pain he has to see me like this, when he places a warm and tender kiss on my forehead.

- Okay, but on one condition.

He smiles at me.

- Whatever you want, sweetheart.

I look at him mischievously and ask him what I am sure to get.

- I want to sleep in your arms tonight.

His lips stretch to reveal his beautiful teeth.

- My blondes will be disappointed, but you know I can't refuse you anything. Good night my Vanessa to me, he whispers to me.

- Good night my Lopez.

Well calmed, with the heat against his skin, the night thus saves me of the black ideas.

Dring, dring, dring...

- Grrrr... That damned alarm clock.

Lopez is still asleep, not even the sound of the alarm could rouse him from his dreams. His face is relaxed and I can't help but snuggle in his arms for a few more minutes before getting up.

- Naughty! Mmm... You are taking advantage of a poor sleeping man's body. It's not pretty, pretty, all that, Mrs. Joana!

He teases me and presses me even harder against him.

- You are the one abusing a beautiful, grieving girl, Mr. Romy!

We burst out laughing and heckle like children, starting a pillow fight. Only, the second ring of this damn alarm clock refocuses me on the hard reality: going to work.

My arrival at the editorial office makes me nauseous. Indeed, my colleagues welcome me with applause and chant "long live the bride" with beautiful smiles. But my pale complexion makes the atmosphere fall like a soufflé forgotten for too long on the table. Big tears roll down my cheeks and I can't even hold them back. My discomfited face must speak for me, because I have no questions about my so-called marriage. My boss, as for him, equal to himself, does not make any feeling.

- Hello Vanessa! You are five minutes late! The world belongs to those who get up early. This is not mine, but I agree with the author of this quote.

I wipe my cheeks and head straight for my desk. He doesn't even ask me why I'm sad. This guy is really a heartless machine.

No sooner does my butt touch the seat of my chair, than the light on my phone tells me my boss is already trying to reach me. Sighing, I press the button.

- Yes Mr.

- Vanessa. Come see me right away and don't think you're going to slack off, I have an assignment for you.

-I'm coming right away, Mr. Truffaud.

What a jerk! Couldn't he have summoned me to his office as soon as I arrived? No, he preferred to make me turn around in order to assert his power as a leader.

- So... Vanessa, I've assigned you to a very important case. Let me explain, a famous pianist is currently performing in Rennes and he has agreed to let a journalist follow his career throughout France for six months. You will say to me: "Why me?" and to that I will answer: "Mr. Lewis Emile is a man with a temper, demanding and allergic to women groupies". You are the only sensible, married girl in this establishment now. So I'm reassured that you're not going to throw yourself at him like a hysterical fan.

- But, I...

- It's okay! Don't thank me. Oh, by the way! You leave immediately, he's already waiting for you. It's definitely a habit of yours to be late?

- But...

- We don't have time to waste in useless speeches. Ah, I forgot with your interruptions! It goes without saying that I want a front-page scoop on this mysterious man. No magazine has yet been lucky enough to get more than an hour's interview with him, so I'm counting on you to make sure. You've got carte blanche, which means, any way you can get your story on the front page.

I just nod my head, since I can't get more than two words in edgewise with him. Well...let's recap: I have to meet a well-known, temperamental, pianist, follow him for six months, get a scoop at any cost, and all of this right away, without even having time to brief myself on him.

In other words, I'm in deep shit.

Rennes Opera House, here I am!

I love this place, I would spend hours looking at this magnificent architecture.

For the first approach with this famous pianist, I made a small passage to my apartment, in order to put on a long black tight dress and very chic. Also, in order to be confident, I generously caressed my lips with a vermilion lipstick. I must admit that I am rather stressed, it is true that my articles on the "music'mag" are usually on the last page and in a tiny insert, bottom left. In short, nobody reads them. I suspect that Mr. Truffaud has sent me on a wild goose chase with this apparently undrinkable star, but this may be my only chance to make the front page of this magazine.

Come on... I take a deep breath, readjust my dress while wiping my sweaty hands on it, give some volume to my loose hair and inflate my generous chest.

Well, what? I give my best to succeed in this interview.

My high heels offer to this sumptuous structure, a soft music to each of my steps. I walk elegantly towards the dressing rooms, while remaining concentrated on my step. Yes, it would be unfortunate to spread out like a puppet deprived of its strings and to lose all credibility.

Go for it my Vanessa, you're hot, you're sexy and you'll make this guy drool!

A little thought for my love of Lopez, I apply his method "you're the best my beautiful!

Well... enough of flattery, I stand straight as an "i" in front of the door where the name of Emile Lewis is written. Gently I touch the golden plate that adorns this entrance and knock three times firmly. But, contrary to what I could have imagined, it is not the sound of Mr. Lewis' voice that reaches my ears. In fact, an ice-cream cabinet of about two meters opens the den of the beast and with a black look, tells me to enter. When this giant closes the door behind me, I let a small cry of amazement escape from my mouth.

It's time for me to mentally repeat to myself my qualities: "I am the best, I have confidence in myself, I will impress him, I... ".

- Please take your seats! I don't have much time for you, so please don't ask silly questions.

Ouch! Hello madam or madam, either one would have done, I'm delighted to see you...

Well, this is not the style of the house at all. What a jerk! Not only does he need a baboon to open the damn door for me, but he also disrespects me.

Jerk, cad and... triple jerk! And to top it all off, yes, the icing on the cake, he's standing facing the wall at the back of the dressing room with his arms behind his back. So I can apply the famous phrase: "talk to my ass, my head is sick". However, as a good professional, I swallow my pride and my recent hatred of the male gender, to send him a very delicate sentence.

- Hello Mr.. We're going to get along very well I think, because I don't have much time to lose either.

There, that's said. In your face!

- Oh, excuse me! I forgot to turn off my ringer.

I am ashamed and cursing myself for this unprofessional oversight.

- Please answer. There's no problem, it's just you and me.

- No, it's just Lopez. I'll probably see him tonight.

He then moves away from me, readjusts his shirt buttons and continues, well, in a manner of speaking.

- That's it for today, Vanessa. I am expected this afternoon. Would you like my driver to drop you off somewhere?

Damn, damn and damn again!

- No, thanks Emile. I think I need some fresh air.

He detects the hint of humor in my voice and treats me to a beautiful, mischievous smile.

- Very well. As you wish.

He raises his hand and as if by magic, Mr. Big Muscles comes to pick him up.

- See you soon, pretty reporter!

- See you soon... Emile.

How can he know what I look like?

Did his bodyguard give him an accurate description of me?

It is disappointed that I leave this fairy place to join my place of work and announce to Mr. grumpy, that I have just an additional information on this famous pianist.

It is again my phone that pulls me out of my thoughts.

- Hello Papou ! How are you?

- Hi Sweetie. I'm fine, I'm fine...

- And... Mami?

I haven't heard from her since the worst day of my life. I know our mother/daughter relationship has always been very complicated, but even so, she must know that I need a Mami.

- I'd rather talk about it with you in person. Would you mind, honey?

I can feel that he is going to give me bad news, but I don't insist.

- Yes, Papou.

- If not, I'll call you to come by the house tomorrow night. You have to keep your old man company sometimes, you know!

He laughs and I know why he does it. Tomorrow I'm taking another year off and the people around me know very well that I don't like to be the center of attention. That's why I avoid birthday parties where all the attention is on me.

- OK Papou. I promise I will come. Love you.

- Kiss my Flea!

Flashback: Vanessa 3 years old.

- That's enough Carla! I don't want to hear you talking about Vanessa like that anymore. For God's sake, she's your daughter and it's not her fault!

Tino stands in the kitchen of the beautiful house he bought in Rennes three years ago to provide a comforting home for his family. His arms lie along his body and he doesn't know what to do or say to make sense of his wife, who month after month is moving further and further away from his daughter. Carla Joana can't stand Vanessa's presence anymore and consoles herself by putting all her affection on little Dela, who is only one year old at the time.

- Please, Tino, don't remind me that this child once lived in my womb. It's too painful, I can't.

Carla clutches the dish towel she used to wipe the dinner dishes. Her eyes, filled with tears, implore her husband not to revive this too dark past. But, despite his compassion for her, he can no longer bear to hear her make derogatory remarks about their eldest daughter. He is convinced that his wife must consult a psychoanalyst, in order to face the demons that devour her soul. But she categorically refuses to talk about what she experienced during that famous night of the students.

- But my dear, you make him evil with her too. Can't you see that you are destroying yourself by covering up your past and that you are destroying our child at the same time?

Tino, saddened to see his wife so devastated, put his voice down and hugged Carla tenderly. She nestles her head in his neck, welds her body to his and lets herself be sucked into her husband's protective cocoon. She lays her suffering on the reliable shoulders of the man she has always loved. She doesn't have a wicked bottom, but rather a wounded bottom. Only, her wounds burned into her flesh, preventing her from being the gentle and caring mother she should be with Vanessa.

- Hush, sweetheart... You know I'll always be there. I swore to you loyalty, love and above all, I promised to take care of Vanessa as if I had wanted her myself. I love this child and I will never regret my choice.

Carla sniffs and chokes as she listens to her husband's bandaged words.

- Mami! Mami! Why are you crying?

Isolated in their bubble, the couple doesn't notice that the object of their discussion is in the doorframe. How long has she been listening to their conversation and above all, what has she understood of all this, from the height of her three years?

They quickly pulled themselves together. Tino, with a protective Papou smile, and his wife, with her back turned to her little girl. But the little girl didn't want to stop there. She rushes towards her Mami and clings around her legs like a barnacle on a rock. Big tears run down her cheeks and her frail little body is shaken by big sobs. Carla stands still like a statue and for only answer to this call for help, she articulates scathing words.

- Let me go right now and go blow your nose!

Carla's icy reaction apparently does not surprise the distressed and desperate little girl. So she tightened her grip even more, as if to beg her mother to love her.

- Come with your Papou, my heart. Papinours is going to put you back in your bed and tell you the story of the pretty princess who loses her shoes.

He kneels down and delicately unties her little fingers anchored in Carla's skirt, so much so that cotton fibers fill the underside of her nails. Pitchounette shakes from head to toe and her little chocolate eyes cry of pain. Her Mami, as for her, remains frozen and does not pronounce any word. Torn off reluctantly from her lifeline, Vanessa throws herself brutally against the chest of the person she loves the most and cries out her pain by hitting her little fists with all her strength. Her Papou, patient, waits for his daughter to finish pouring out her anger of being unloved on him and then, takes her in his arms with an almost maternal softness. Once under the comforter, she rubs her reddened eyes and asks for the reading of her favorite tale. The father/daughter duet allowed once again, to put a layer of ointment on the open wound of this little bruised heart.

A few minutes are enough for the little princess to fly away to the land of dreams.

Tino left the room, with velvet steps, and went back to face his wife, determined this time to put this almost four year old story on the table.

Here it is... Today is my 28th birthday.

I don't want to get out of my bed. So I close my eyelids and like a child, I wish very hard that this day would disappear from the calendar. Each year that passes reminds me how painful it is to spend this so-called magical moment without my mother's presence. Indeed, for as long as I can remember, she has never been present on these days. Sometimes she would claim an emergency at my grandparents' house in the South and return two days later. Other times, my father would forbid me to enter her room, explaining that my mother was suffering from a terrible migraine and that it was better to let her rest. And so it was every time we had to celebrate the extra year that was on my life counter. But she was happy to prepare Dela's birthday a week in advance. I didn't hate my sister, no, on the contrary, I was happy to help my mother prepare a party that I would have liked to have. I gave my little Dela all the love that I couldn't express to my mother. It was my own way of existing and especially to support the rejection of which I was victim.

When I think back on it today... Now that I have seen the true face of my bug sister, I am disgusted. With my head buried in my pillow, I revisit Ken's announcement in front of the town hall and very quickly, I bury it all in the back of my mind. No, I don't want to think about this man, to bury him deep inside me until I forget his existence is, in my opinion, the most beautiful revenge. I will also bury his ignoble life partner with him and let them both rot in oblivion.

- Sweetheart? Don't tell me you're still in bed at this hour?

Lopez...

There, that's it. In your face!

What? I was polite and concise, so very professional. On the other hand, Mr. Bodyguard, doesn't seem to appreciate my frankness and throws himself on me, grabs my left arm, shakes me like a prick and gets ready to drag me by force towards the exit. On his side, the musician remains stoic, so much so that I suspect he has a stick stuck in his backside.

- Let me go now, you brute! I will not repeat it twice, if you persist in dismembering me, I will stick you my pumps in the bells!

Shocked, Brutus releases a little the pressure that his big fingers exerted, at the point to cut the circulation of my blood. Then, a light laugh resounds in the room.

- It is good Seige, Mrs. Conti can interview me.

Seige releases me from her hold, which triggers my pretty smile of chipie. I'm also getting a bit of a kick out of it, because I'm proud to have succeeded in making the star laugh by making him laugh.

- Vanessa Joana. My name is Mrs. Joana.

- But, your superior assured me that you were married, so not...

- It's quite complicated and I'm not here to flaunt my personal life. Besides, you're overestimating yourself when you think I'm going to throw myself at you like a crazed groupie.

No, but who does this guy think he is?

- Your questions. I'm listening!

At your orders, sir! I really have a knack for meeting disrespectful men.

- Could you look me in the eye? It's a bit of a stretch to talk to your back.

The watchdog reacts directly to my request and his answer is scathing.

- Listen kitty, if you keep on poking the boss like that, I'll fly you out the door without touching the floor!

Grrr... he would bite, the moron! Too bad, I insist.

- Turn over Mr. Lewis, please, I implore him.

My tone is softer, almost pleading, and before Seige grabs me by the skin of my buttocks to send me into orbit, Emile obeys.

- Are you satisfied, Mrs. Joana? Do you like the show? You feel in position of superiority from now on? At least, before, we were equal...

He says these last words with such a deep sadness, that my heart misses a beat. All hostility on my part, just in a fraction of a second, disappears. It takes me a few seconds to come to my senses and finally rebound on his words.

- I am now facing a man who pays me attention and respects me.

- Yes... but you are also facing a man that you can examine from every angle while it is impossible for him to do the same.

I can see the pain in his words, but I don't want him to feel pity for his blindness.

- And, I'm lucky to be able to look at such a well-balanced man.

I'm walking a tightrope, yes, I'm playing with fire by sending him such lines, but the adrenaline I get from it is invigorating. I finally feel like I'm living, taking risks even if it means burning my wings. His reaction is rather positive, because he sketches a micro smile and invites me to take a seat on a chair facing his.

- Thank you Seige, you can go.

Hurray! I'll keep my feet on the ground.

- This interrogation, it's coming!

Well... I won a battle, but not the war. He's not eating out of my hand, either.

- I'll start by reading you my notes on your identity so you can validate them. So... Mr. Emile Lewis, you are 35 years old, you were born in Rennes, so this passage here is a return to your roots for you.

He nods briefly.

- You have two brothers and you are married to...

- Shut up! You stupid girl! How dare you come and meet me without even bothering to go through my life with a fine-tooth comb? The Internet is full of information about me. Get out now before I lose my language skills!

I'm stunned... What just happened?

With the short amount of time my wonderful boss has given me to gather information on this pianist, I have most certainly missed an episode in this star's life. Perhaps Mrs. Lewis has made him wear horns and he is in the middle of a divorce. This would explain why he is so raw on the subject. Anyway, I don't ask for anything else and take off before I get hit by lightning.

The road that leads me back home seems endless. Countless scenarios about the Lewis couple run through my mind and I just want to be alone with my computer to deepen my research. As soon as I walked through the door of my apartment, I threw myself on my screen and read all the articles about this strange individual. Finally, the revelations about the famous Mrs. Lewis came. Linda, a beautiful brunette with a devastating smile. The writings relating their rupture are rather vague, only is specified that it is her who left their residence. I therefore conclude that my blunder has awakened a pain in him that is still present five years after the fact. As a good journalist, I feel that the scoop my superior has been waiting for is at hand. I absolutely have to gain his trust so that he spills the beans on why his ex-wife abandoned him. However, I know I'll have my work cut out for me, he's not the kind of man to confide his sorrows to anyone.

Well... I think a good hot bath will allow me to forget the work. It's with pleasure that I abandon my sumptuous outfit and that I let myself slide into this perfumed water covered with a light white foam. When...

Knock, knock, knock

Shoot! Who could it be? And then damn, if I don't answer, the intruder will go home.

Knock, knock, knock...

- I know you're there, my dear. Open up!

Knock, knock, knock... I know you're in there, baby. Open the door!

I hear a clatter, then footsteps on the floor, but I am not worried at all. I have always known this voice.

- Where are you, beautiful?

- In my bath!

- Cool! I'll come and scrub your back.

- I'd love to.

Watch out! I can see your eyes widening as you rush to judgment on our relationship.

Lopez is like a great girlfriend to me, nothing more, nothing less. So, yes, he walks into my bathroom, while I'm unclothed. Oh, sacrilege! The following is not going to speak in my favor and might make you doubt my words a bit more, but wrongly.

My friend, in order not to get his clothes wet, takes off his sweater, as well as his t-shirt.

Oh, it's okay! He's just shirtless, let's not make a big deal about it. I must admit, as an art lover, that his beautifully drawn bust is very pleasant to look at.

Anyway... he walks towards me, takes my flower, you know that famous net twisted on itself that, once covered with a lick of shower gel and in contact with your skin, generates a rich lather.

There you go... you're there. I'm here too and I assure you that a foamy back massage from Lopez is worth all the muscle relaxers in the world.

I wrap my arms around my knees, tilt my head towards them to offer my neck a little more to these delicious back and forth movements, close my eyelids, slow down my heart rate by breathing slowly and complete this delightful moment, by getting intoxicated by the smell of Tiaré flower and Monoï that spreads all around me. Gone in this dream of sweetness, I would almost forget to speak to my benefactor.

- You have the fingers of a fairy, my darling.

My voice is, it is also, completely relaxed and surely under the charm of this pause, because it betrays me by leaving my mouth, in the form of an erotic breath. What gets a mocking laugh, see satisfied, of my beautiful masseur.

- You don't know how much.

It's time for me to come out of my trance state.

- You rascal! Pass me my terry cloth robe, instead of talking nonsense.

- Yes, Mrs. Joana! But you must admit that I have made a point. You are under my spell and I am irresistible.

He is amused by my moment of weakness, while rubbing my back and holding me close to him. I take the time to freeze frame, to anchor my eyes in his, to lower them towards his fleshy mouth, then to photograph in my memory, his smile which illuminates his face. Sometimes I take a few seconds to print in my mind moments of my life when I simply feel good. At this very moment, I realize that Lopez has an important place in my heart and that as soon as his hunt for blondes is over, he will abandon me to spend all his time with the one he loves. The very idea of not knowing him around me anymore, overwhelms me with a wave of sadness.

- Hey, what's going on, baby? But... I was joking... I wasn't really making fun of you. Okay, okay... We're still 0-0 and I'm not that attractive.

He covers my face with kisses and very quickly, these little burning touches on my epidermis, bring back my smile.

- It's good, it's good! I'm fine and stop eating me like this, I'm not a delicacy. But... by the way, why are you coming to my house tonight?

- First, you gave me your apartment key, so I come whenever I want and second, I met a hottie who is passing through the area. And since I always tell you everything, you'll get all the juicy details.

- First of all, Mr. Hottie, having my key doesn't mean you can just waltz into my home whenever you want. Secondly, I'm not sure I want to hear the dirty details of your lovemaking.

- You bet I don't! Admit it, you love to hear stories about my torrid adventures!

I always feel a tinge of annoyance when Lopez talks about all these women, as if they were consumable, disposable merchandise. No, I don't really feel sorry for them, although... But, I know that Lopez suffers from this uncontrollable sexual frenzy. But, despite our years of complicity, I still can't figure out what makes him do it.

At 27, like me, he should be less itchy and mature enough to turn to respectable girls. I've often tried to ask him about it, but for some reason he avoids the subject, changes the conversation, and if I insist, he gets angry, reminding me that we're not in church, so there's no need for him to confess. His lack of confidence in me on this subject has often hurt me, so I prefer to avoid talking to him about it again.

- Oh yes! By the way, be careful not to slip, I'm wetting my panties in advance.

I roll my eyes and sigh, but he is quick to ironically detail how much that Melanie had screamed with pleasure in the public restroom. As a personal revenge, I mimic to perfection, the upset, pouting little girl. I'm sure he'll crack up at my pained childish expression.

Bingo! He stops his detailed explanations and gently takes my face.

- Okay, I'll stop being so crude. Anyway, my dear, you know very well that the only woman I really love is you!

That's it! My scowl had gotten the better of him and I found my own Lopez, the handsome and sweet boy that I liked more than anything. Only, my diabolical side incites me to inflict him a small punishment. As his eyes block on mine, as my face is pleasantly coiled against his palms, I decide to have a little fun. I carry out some fast beats of eyelashes, I accelerate voluntarily my breathing, pinch my lower lip between my teeth, play the ping-pong between his irises and his mouth, until perceiving a burning atmosphere between us two. Then, I throw him a last glance, decided this time, release my lippe of my incisors, pass my language on this one in a suggestive way and direct me dangerously towards his mouth. My Lopez is on the verge of losing consciousness. His eyes are in interrogative mode and his Adam's apple plays the yoyo so much he swallows. At the moment when our lips are about to meet, I fork delicately towards his ear and...

- I'm starving! How about a mushroom omelette?