Mon amour Page #3

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What else should I have seen?

He touched my ass, for example.

- Aren't you going too far?

- Me?

He went too far,

he put his hand under my skirt.

- He found out you had no panties?

- He touched my p*ssy.

- What did you do?

- I let him stick two fingers in.

- I'm sure you were all wet.

- Like Venice at high tide.

- Did he get a hard on?

- And how!

- Stiffer than yours!

- Did you f***?

Take it easy, don't you think

that's going too far?

Oh, Marta, you drive me crazy.

- Wait, let's do it here.

- Standing up? That's for animals.

- What's wrong with that?

- The bed's more comfortable.

Come on, I'm desperate.

Who is it?

A message, Mrs Bortoluzzi.

Just a moment!

- Sorry, I don't have any change.

- That's all right, ma'am.

12 o'clock at "The Pig's Boat",

No panties, of course! Leon.

What a nerve!

But...

Leon... nice name!

It's eleven!

I'll be in the

Foreign Literature Pavilion all day.

If you get bored, why not drop in?

I love you, Dario.

Wear some panties this time!

What should I do?

"The Pig's Boat"

or foreign literature?

Leon or Dario?

Panties or no panties?

It's a drag having to choose!

Good morning!

Looking for someone?

Well... yes.

A French gentleman,

Monsieur Leon.

- He should have a booking.

- Of course, ma'am. This way.

- A drink while you're waiting?

- No, thanks.

As you wish.

Forget Puccini, Rossini and Bellini!

Verdi, only Verdi. Verdi forever!

But there's no comparison with

"The Barber... "!

I've changed my mind. A Martini.

- Vermouth? White or red?

- Red.

Right away, ma'am.

Another one!

- Red?

- White!

When did your Rossini

ever write anything like...

Waiter, the bill!

Another one! Red.

- Want me to eat alone?

- Bastard! You're an hour late.

Blame it on...

Cowardly nitpickers

with farting brains!

I'll only excuse you

if you tell me something.

How did you know

which hotel I'm staying at?

Managers always go to that one.

Where do horny, bad mannered

Frenchmen go?

Between the legs

of the managers' wives.

Excuse me...

Stuffed pasta

and roast duck for two.

And some vegetables?

Let's go to the bathroom.

- The toilet?

- Through there.

Excuse me! The Martini...

My report...

Where the f*** is it?

July 20th, we've been married

four months. Something's changed.

Dario is less attentive

towards me

and he doesn't f*** me

like he used to.

August 13th.

Dario doesn't know

about this diary.

It's quite easy to write in it

right under his nose.

Maybe it's just as easy

to go to bed with other men.

August 26th.

I don't know why I'm writing this

at one in the morning.

I only know that if I don't,

I'll scream.

Dario is a wonderful husband

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