make my way to the ladies, past the
bar, one of his friends, Spiros, grabs me. 'Are you going to
sleep with Miltos?'
I don't try to explain that I'm already asleep and that
I'd need to wake up first to be able to 'sleep' with someone.
I don't try to explain the concept of astral travelling
either, because Spiros's English isn't that great, and my
knowledge of astral travelling isn't that great either. All
I can do is look shocked, which of course I am anyway.
I mean what kind of guy asks you that, even in your
dreams?
'I'm going to be sleeping alone, thanks anyway, Spiros.
If you were worried about me or something.'
'I am not worried, Miltos is a fine man and it's your
decision, but I can't do anything because Miltos saw you
first.' Like I'm a bloody lobster being chosen out of the
fish tank at a restaurant in Chinatown! I hate to admit it,
but Spiros is gorgeous. He has big Moby Dick lips that you
just want to kiss. He pulls me close and slips his hand up
the back of my top, under my thermal underwear vest, and
somehow undoes my bra. Greek men clearly have a better
understanding of women's underwear than any Aussie man
I have ever met, even in my dreams.
I return to where Miltos is sitting, because I'm loving the
attention and I don't really want to wake up. As long as it's
a dream, technically I'm not flirting.
'I'm not sleeping with you, Miltos, so if you want to go
look elsewhere then that's fine with me.' Of course I don't
mean it, it's not fine at all for a man to admit that he's only
interested in having sex with you and then leave when you
tell him it's not happening. But Miltos isn't an idiot, he's
got his strategy down pat. He knows my line is a test.
'I'm not going anywhere, or looking elsewhere.' He
kisses me. It's an all-right kiss, not an amazing kiss, but he
didn't leave the booth, so he gets some points for at least
pretending to be a gentleman. And then he whispers in
my ear, 'Is there any chance you might change your mind?'
Oh my God, the man is cheeky and persistent and somewhat
hilarious. I have to give him more points for trying. I mean,
a man's got to at least ask.
The ouzo should be wearing off now, and I should be
boarding my astral flight home to East Bentleigh, but
somehow I am a teenager and I believe Miltos when he
says, 'We can just cuddle.' Does a man ever mean that? Do
other women believe them when they say it? How old are
you before you recognise immediately that it's a lie, and
cuddling never satisfies anyone unless it comes after sex?
The next thing I know I'm in a little hotel, flat on my
back with a pair of big white Y-fronts in my face and Miltos
is in them and I'm in my thermal underwear neck to ankle
and I'm thinking this is not where I'm supposed to be, and
what would my James think if he knew or God forbid saw
this scene, and with Zorba playing in the background I lift
myself out from under Miltos and off the bed, then grab my
clothes, putting my pants on inside out, not even knowing
how I get the zip done up. I want to travel back to East
Bentleigh the way I came, but I'm waiting at a bloody bus
stop and it's the middle of the night and I don't have a ticket
or money because I didn't think to bring any with me. But
then I'm on my way, leaving Delphi, Spiros, Miltos and
their olives behind.
I astral fly over Athens and see the lights on the
Acropolis, and it's beautiful, but I feel like I've missed the
real tourist experience and I'm disappointed in myself for
that as much as for my behaviour in Delphi.
♥
The next morning I woke up feeling almost jet-lagged,
although I'd had a good eight hours' sleep. The kids were
staying at their cousins' place so there was no lash pulling
to wake me early. I felt strange about the dream but put
it down to the wonderful time I'd had with Sylvia at the
Greek restaurant. I channelled my energies into hooking
up with Shelley before lunch and moving into a house in
St Kilda as soon
bar, one of his friends, Spiros, grabs me. 'Are you going to
sleep with Miltos?'
I don't try to explain that I'm already asleep and that
I'd need to wake up first to be able to 'sleep' with someone.
I don't try to explain the concept of astral travelling
either, because Spiros's English isn't that great, and my
knowledge of astral travelling isn't that great either. All
I can do is look shocked, which of course I am anyway.
I mean what kind of guy asks you that, even in your
dreams?
'I'm going to be sleeping alone, thanks anyway, Spiros.
If you were worried about me or something.'
'I am not worried, Miltos is a fine man and it's your
decision, but I can't do anything because Miltos saw you
first.' Like I'm a bloody lobster being chosen out of the
fish tank at a restaurant in Chinatown! I hate to admit it,
but Spiros is gorgeous. He has big Moby Dick lips that you
just want to kiss. He pulls me close and slips his hand up
the back of my top, under my thermal underwear vest, and
somehow undoes my bra. Greek men clearly have a better
understanding of women's underwear than any Aussie man
I have ever met, even in my dreams.
I return to where Miltos is sitting, because I'm loving the
attention and I don't really want to wake up. As long as it's
a dream, technically I'm not flirting.
'I'm not sleeping with you, Miltos, so if you want to go
look elsewhere then that's fine with me.' Of course I don't
mean it, it's not fine at all for a man to admit that he's only
interested in having sex with you and then leave when you
tell him it's not happening. But Miltos isn't an idiot, he's
got his strategy down pat. He knows my line is a test.
'I'm not going anywhere, or looking elsewhere.' He
kisses me. It's an all-right kiss, not an amazing kiss, but he
didn't leave the booth, so he gets some points for at least
pretending to be a gentleman. And then he whispers in
my ear, 'Is there any chance you might change your mind?'
Oh my God, the man is cheeky and persistent and somewhat
hilarious. I have to give him more points for trying. I mean,
a man's got to at least ask.
The ouzo should be wearing off now, and I should be
boarding my astral flight home to East Bentleigh, but
somehow I am a teenager and I believe Miltos when he
says, 'We can just cuddle.' Does a man ever mean that? Do
other women believe them when they say it? How old are
you before you recognise immediately that it's a lie, and
cuddling never satisfies anyone unless it comes after sex?
The next thing I know I'm in a little hotel, flat on my
back with a pair of big white Y-fronts in my face and Miltos
is in them and I'm in my thermal underwear neck to ankle
and I'm thinking this is not where I'm supposed to be, and
what would my James think if he knew or God forbid saw
this scene, and with Zorba playing in the background I lift
myself out from under Miltos and off the bed, then grab my
clothes, putting my pants on inside out, not even knowing
how I get the zip done up. I want to travel back to East
Bentleigh the way I came, but I'm waiting at a bloody bus
stop and it's the middle of the night and I don't have a ticket
or money because I didn't think to bring any with me. But
then I'm on my way, leaving Delphi, Spiros, Miltos and
their olives behind.
I astral fly over Athens and see the lights on the
Acropolis, and it's beautiful, but I feel like I've missed the
real tourist experience and I'm disappointed in myself for
that as much as for my behaviour in Delphi.
♥
The next morning I woke up feeling almost jet-lagged,
although I'd had a good eight hours' sleep. The kids were
staying at their cousins' place so there was no lash pulling
to wake me early. I felt strange about the dream but put
it down to the wonderful time I'd had with Sylvia at the
Greek restaurant. I channelled my energies into hooking
up with Shelley before lunch and moving into a house in
St Kilda as soon
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