Angelo was nearly seventy the last time I slept with him. I hadn't seen him for a few years since those silver days in Paris.
He'd been diagnosed with Parkinson's but was coping reasonably well for an antique Don Juan. His large dark brown eyes had a wistfulness that made him seem like lonely child. His 6'3" frame hunched as he walked. Dapper as ever, he met me at my hotel in Washington in a bright blue French shirt and shiny English shoes.
He wanted to eat right away in the Mandarin's Asian-themed restaurant. He ordered " Bento boxes", red lacquer boxes which came with perfectly grilled salmon and tiny bites Japanese food.Remembering the first night we'd met in Japan, he asked it he could live it all over again, perhaps for the last time.
We went up to my room and although he was slightly unsteady on his feet, he wanted to kiss standing up, as if to prove himself again. It was going to be our last time and he held me tightly in utter reverence for the moment.
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I love 'those silver days in Paris' and 'live it all over again, perhaps for the last time.' I love image of the man, unsteady on his feet, wanting to kiss standing up. That one really stayed with me!
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