As we continued to date, I was falling in love. We had our first sweet kiss. Athena gave me my first sensual haircut. I needed to buy an engagement ring from the Italian mob, but I needed to learn to dance from a hot friend.

My name is Leonidas, I am sixty-seven years old. I’m reminiscing on my outdoor recliner, I finished my second Corona and just sweating it out of this old tired body. I grabbed my third and ripped the cap off with my bare hand which has not failed me yet. I now penetrate the head with a quarter of the lime this time, not a wedge. I am dumbfounded, my shield has a piece missing, and I can’t find it. My trusty spear lay next to me. True to its form, my friend, you are part of me, hard as steel patiently waiting to sweetly penetrate a body with all its might.

THE DATES:

I had my first date with Athena, a second one, a third, and now on our fourth. It was a Saturday, a chill in December. We went to our favorite Italian restaurant on the hill, where my friend Santo Is the head chef. Santo was a neighbor who lived across from my mom’s sister. I was friendly with his sons we went to high school together. Santo made a great snail salad, just like we did down the beach. His shrimp francese was out of this world. We were safe in the area controlled by the mob; trouble would not get past them. Little did I know later Santo was a bookie, taking bets on the side. Boy, the things you find out later in life, but he is a great father and friend. The Italian name Santo is a masculine name and surname that means "holy" and comes from the Latin word Sanctus. We had a beautiful dinner again, at Santos’s Restaurant.

Leaving, I opened the door for Athena to get in my new car, and offered my hand as she stepped off the curb to sit down. It was our first touch, God those legs, thank God she was not wearing Coutgo lace-up sexy high heels, a Spartan women’s favorite I had learned, I would have lost control. My trusty spear would have penetrated the roof, I did not need more damage.

Yes, my beautiful Camaro was gone. Someone had hit me a year ago. My beautiful baby is now gone, so shiny and so sweet. I missed opening her up, like a beautiful woman, going down Ninety-Five North at ninety miles per hour, music blaring to BTO with the song “Roll on Down the Highway.” Google it you will feel the fucking rush!

I still had my Harley Davidson, my chariot, don’t you fail me too my friend! I love your power as your engine rumbles between my legs and through my woman's thighs. I loved it as the wind blew my hair and those rides with the girls. I loved how their sins of Babylon caressed my back, especially on those hot summer nights. You have to understand a Harley’s engine stroke has its sensual vibration, to make any woman's juices flow.

As I got in the car, I looked in the rearview mirror to back up. I was saddened by another piece missing from my trusty shield. God, I gotta fucking fix this. I maneuvered out of the city onto Ninety-Five North, I had a four-speed shifter in this one. I paid cash for a brand-new 1979 AMC Spirit, which was a sweet little ride. It had a straight six engine proven to be a tank, nothing could kill it, and good on gas too. My Italian uncle Al took me to the dealer to help jew them down. He was like a bookie, masterful at his craft, although it was legal because he worked at the racetrack, horses.

As I merged on the highway, I put my arm on the armrest, palm up no more shifting. Then something happened, she took my hand in our fingers into twine. I could see out of the corner of my eye a sweet smile, I noticed her take a peek at me, I had a shit-eating grin.

FIRST KISS:

We arrived at her house; I opened the car door for her.  Took her hand to help her out, not letting her go while walking her to the door. I turned her to me taking her other hand, I said to Athena, “I would love to kiss you.”

Shyly she shook her head yes.

I took my two hands to the side of her face, intertwining my fingers into her hair. Her eyes glanced to the side of me. For a moment, I thought, "Look into my fucking eyes and see what you do to me, into my fucking soul." It only lasted for a minute, but it was wonderful. As I backed out of the driveway, I noticed my shield in the rearview mirror, a piece was back. I said to my shield ahh my trusty friend, I need to find the rest of your pieces.

THOUGHTS:

I talked with her brother Nick,

Nick told me, "I was the first date she ever had."

His mother was excited, but the father, that’s a different story. Most times picking her up, her father would get up and go to his bedroom when I arrived. I was always polite to her father Adoni, saying hello and shaking his hand. Adoni was as old as my father. Back in the 1920s in Greece, I don’t even think people dated the marriages were arranged, if you caught the eye of some girl, did he think after one date I was going to have to marry his daughter, his only daughter? Her mother was a different story, always excited when I showed up. She always aggressively attacked the refrigerator, trying to feed me something. Even though we were going out to dinner, not to hurt her feelings,

I always would pop a piece of feta cheese in my mouth saying, “Everything goes better with feta.” I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

His mother said to Nicky, “Tee lay” meaning, "What did I say?"

So, he told her in Greek, and she chuckled.

Then the tears started; God, someone get that woman a case of Kleenex! One thing for sure, every time I went to pick up Athena, the feta cheese was on the table ready and waiting for me.

FIRST HAIRCUT:

Athena had just got her beautician’s license. She was working at a salon and also working for her Uncle Cristo at the restaurant on the weekends. She told me I needed a haircut, to come by the salon for her to give me one, and I went. I sat in the chair, the place was empty so I went to the shampoo bowl, she wet my hair down and soaped me up. It felt so good. I was in ecstasy. The room started to get warm, wondering where the heat was coming from. I then noticed my spear against the wall next to my shield it was glowing red. The heat radiating from it. It must be from when she reached over me to try to rinse the soap from the back of my head, her breasts were inches from my face. Swaying back and forth, oh, dear God, help me. It was like the glorious fruits of ancient Babylon dangling in front of my face.

She said, “All set come sit in the cutting chair.”

I just stayed at the shampoo bowl. She turned back and put her hand on my chest.

She said, “What’s the matter?"

I said, “What do you think is the matter?”

I told her, “You have to kiss me first.”

Whispering, she said, “Someone might see,”

I told her, "I didn’t care."

She gave me a quick peck on the lips and turned not looking into my eyes.

I didn’t get up, I said, "You have to kiss me to show that you really want me or else I’m going home right now." Meeting my lips, I lightly put my hand behind her head, testing her if she wanted to get away. I didn’t want to force her, it was her decision, but she stayed. Our tongues danced in ecstasy; I told her, "That was much, much, better." I thought, "This shy shit is getting to me. It’s not like I wanted to fondle her breasts in the middle of a street during rush hour while cars were driving by."

I had to tend to my spear, smoke was coming from the wall, from the heat. I didn’t want to start a fire and burn the place down. My shield had another piece returned. I thought, "We’re getting there my old friend." I was thinking, "This shit show is getting to me, ok in the beginning, but damn it’s time to open up woman. I’m not talking about having sex just a hug or a kiss for once, without asking for it." I figured she was a virgin. I heard stories of girls who did horseback riding might lose their virginity. If she was on a donkey in Greece helping her father on the farm donkeys don’t trot, get it?

AS TIME PASSED:

We dated for a year and a half. I could tell people were getting impatient wondering what my intentions were, even her uncle Christo my father’s friend where I had breakfast hinting about marriage. I had a shit-eating grin when I looked at him and said, "You never know." I guess I gave him some hope.

SHOPPING: THE ITALIAN CONNECTION:

Now I had to work on the Italian side of the family. I called my mother’s other sister's son Cousin Bobby. I told him, "To get in touch with the Goomba, I’m shopping for a ring."

He chuckles on the phone, “Yeah,” he said.

I told him, "You have to do me one big favor. Do not tell your wife."

“OK,” he said.

I told him, “Because you know before I hang up this phone the whole fucking world is gonna know.” You people think the Internet is fast. Within microseconds, these families will have the whole world knowing before you know it, faster than group text messaging.

Bobby called me back in an hour and provided the address.

He said, "Go see Lucian the Italian; the password is pasta fazool."

I drove there and pressed the buzzer.

A burly voice said in broken English. “What’s the password?”

I told him, “Pasta fazool” and he buzzed me in. A real rough-looking guy sitting at the end of the counter with the display cases was. He looks like an Italian prize fighter who was beaten up: big forearms, tattoos, big hands, pushed-in nose.

I asked his name in Italian, “Come ti chiami,”

He replied, “Lucian.” He said“ coma down here”

“Bobby’s cousin Leonidas,” I told him.

Lucian asked, “Whata kinda namea isa that, it not Italian but you can speak Italian?”

I told him, “I’m half Greek and half Italian. My grandparents are from Sparta Greece and my other grandparents are from Caserta Italy. I was baptized in the Greek Orthodox Church and have Spartan blood in my veins.”

Lician said, “Bobby told me you needa an engagement ringa? Whata a sizea youa wanta. one, two, five carrots.“

I told him, "I have the budget of a rabbit that doesn’t eat carrots," and he chuckled. I told him, "Let’s look at half carrot." “That one’s nice, how much,” I said.

He told me, “500 dollars.”

I told him, “I’ll take it,”

He said, “Don’t worry Bobby has a microscope at home, he can check it out. I wouldn’t screwa you. Bobby buys a lota of golda for me.”

I told him, “I’d be back for the wedding rings, but let me get through this first to see how this goes.”

“Gooda lucka, my blessing,” he replied.

THE GREEK DANCE:

I met Athena at a Greek dance with her brothers. The only reason why I didn’t pick her up was because I lived close to where the event was.

When I was about nineteen, I used to go to the nightclub in Massachusetts with my buddies from the corner. The funny thing about this nightclub was Wheaton College was just up the road, and a girls-only school. The pickings were ripe for my friends. Me, I couldn’t dance. It was like I had all toes I was disgusted.

I called an old friend, Patty. She had a dance studio on Killingly Street around the corner. I took some classes; the best part was seeing Patty. She always had on tight leggings and a shirt that was tied in front with a tight knot, no bra. Wow, talk about top and bottom. I always stayed behind her because I could always see her butt jiggle and I can see her front from any angle in the front mirrors, she is beautiful. I always couldn’t wait for the next class. I became so good that she wanted me to compete with them. I just wanted to get rid of all my toes. I loved it.

At the Greek dance, it was funny to see her brothers. During the American songs, one of them was drenched in sweat, one barely moving, while the other was all over the place. I was okay with the American songs, but when it came to the Greek music, I felt like I had two left feet. They were good at it though. Athena could keep up with the American songs, but she excelled with the Greek songs. Looking back, no one was dancing the Bachata at that time.

I am starting to feel nervous as I get ready to propose to Athena.

Part 3, Will you marry me?

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