posted on MySpace January 27, 2010
It seemed it was only a few weeks after I had that first appointment with Irina that she called me and told me her computer needed fixing again. She didn't blame me or anything like that but that it was somehow worse than it had been before. She asked me to come over right away and I said I would.
Feeling more confident this time around, I decided that things were in my favor and that if I waited long enough she would “be mine.” Saving her a second time would really work in my favor and as long as I kept things friendly at the outset we would wind up on a date very soon.
Having gotten over the shock of the pictures at Irina's place the first time I was there I knew the nudes would not throw me off track. I get there and she is waiting for me on the bridge between the buildings. She mentions something as I wave to her about me being more bald than she remembered. “Thanks!” I think to myself. Apparently she was still trying to keep me in “my place” consciously or subconsciously. It was quite hot that day and she is wearing a sleeveless top and skirt.
I go right to her computer and get to work. As we chat and I work I mention something about Peter Gabriel, who really is my favorite recording artist of all time, and she tells me she is a huge Gabriel fan. Suddenly my defenses are starting to crumble again and I cannot help but give her “that look” again. Even with the distraction I have her computer up and running in about twenty minutes.
Irina was perplexed at that point. “Show me what you did!” she insists. I show her and she says, “That's what I did! Exactly!” I was about to tell her that if she had done what I did “exactly” than the computer would have been working but before I can respond she looks back at me from the keyboard and says “You have magic hands!” I cannot look at her. If I do I know I'm going to grab her with my magic hands and kiss her, passionately. Luckily for me I know I have experienced love before but at that moment I intimately know why a moth is attracted to the flame. The flame is so bright, the flame is so warm, the flame makes the moth feel so good. The moth doesn't realized it is going to be consumed before it is too late.
She pays me for an hour as I start to write up her invoice for the one hour with a few notes about what went wrong and how to correct it if it happens again. She has already gotten me a glass of water and she is having one too. I said something to her, which I forget all these years later, but the multiple levels of innuendo and desire are not lost on her. She must have thought I was about to lunge at her and she kicks me. Maybe kicks isn't an accurate description; more like thrusts at my leg, below my reconstructed knee, with the bottom of her foot.
I double over in excruciating pain, exhaling all the air in my lungs, and let out a moderate moan because it felt like my knee had been ripped apart completely, yet again. Her eyes narrow at me wondering why that hurt so much and I explain between halting breaths that she just kicked my recently reconstructed knee. She tells me softly she's sorry and I tell her it's okay because she didn't know. A few moments later I wipe the few tears I've shed and hand her the invoice and leave. I remember saying something along the lines that it was good to see her again as I limp, ever so slightly, out of her condo.