There I was, watching my porn star whore of a wife sucking and fucking every guy in sight." I said with a venomous tone."I am so sorry." She cried as she leaped out of the chair, and ran to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.I raced after her but stopped as the door slammed in my face. I reached for the door handle, but paused for a moment to listen. I could hear her crying her eyes out in there. I released the door handle, and walked back into the kitchen, getting a beer out of the fridge. I headed out to the balcony and sat down. I tried to sort things out, but my mind was just sort of blank. I felt like an ass for the way I treated her.I almost had my beer finished, when I heard the bedroom door open. She walked out and came toward me, but stop short of coming out into the balcony."I have some things to say to you, and then you can decide on what you plan on doing about us." She sniffed as she came out onto the balcony, and sat down in the other chair next to me."First, I. I saw no reason not to accept that they were. I felt the stirring inside me—the need.The young waiter’s name was Luigi, and he took every opportunity to speak with me, using his limited English, trying to improve his knowledge of the language, which was sufficient for the purpose. We exchanged what little background information we could, given Luigi’s limited English. I did manage to ascertain, as I had gauged and hoped, that Luigi was fourteen. I saw him go to the guitarist and overheard the word “American.” It wasn’t long before the guitarist took a break. Rather than going into the interior of the restaurant, he came over to my table.“Excuse me. You are alone, I think. Luigi tells me you are an American. You were here this afternoon, watching us play football on the sands. Do you mind if I sit and speak to you about America for a few minutes before I go back to the guitar?”“Certainly, sit,” I said. “I am enjoying your playing. And this is a lovely setting, with beautiful people.
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