Sausage and Peppers.

I insisted we go to one of his favorite restaurants, and Janusz chose "Little Poland" way the hell down in the East Village on 2nd ave between 12th and 13th. Yeah, the food at LP is pretty spectacular. The service, however, seemed a little spotty, but that gave us plenty of time to enjoy one another's company. He has high cheekbones and blue eyes just like me, but his skin is pinker than mine because I am only half Polish. The other half of me is colored by the blood of filthy, thieving, Hungarian Gypsies, tart, efficient Slovaks, and mundane, Pysanky painting Ukranians. That’s all I know about my bloodline. Since I'm American, no further information is available about my ancestors or their culture. For this reason, I find a dyed-in-the-wool Pole irresistable.

At dinner, I was drinking a Kompot and having an entree called "Very Special Pierogis." They were delicious and very special indeed. Just like the delicious pierogi served at my family's Christmas Eve dinner in Pennsylvania, (which I never attend.) He was drinking a Sanka and eating boiled beef with horseradish sauce, complaining about the Very Catholic Mushroom soup his family serves for Christmas Eve Dinner in Warsaw, (which he never attends.)

Hours later, his boiling beef was melting tenderly in my mouth, as we made love in my bed. My roommate was at a rehearsal of some sort, so Janusz and I had my apartment to ourselves. "Thank you," he kept saying. It is always an honor to bond with a man as beautiful as Janusz, especially one so well mannered. It was also nice that he and I didn't slide into bed the first night we met. We had our initial meeting, and a few telephone calls, so we had already amassed memories and a track record, which always makes for better sex. Memories and a track record with another man is something I don't often get to experience.

I normally avoid prolonged eye contact, because it shows me into a person's soul, which sometimes makes me uncomfortable, but that night, my minty fresh blue eyes locked onto his, and i caught a glimpse of something that didn't frighten me. I didn't look away, and neither did he. In that moment I knew he wasn't going to worry about santorum issues, and I knew that tomorrow morning, he'd give me a wake up kiss even if the pillowcase was stuck to my forehead with drool. All of this spelled HUGE ERECTION for the entire time I was rolling around naked with him. I can't remember when the last time I had that much wood without viagra. There was an energy and electricity in his lips and in his hands. Wherever he touched me, I felt loneliness and heartache, and I just wanted to know more.

He kept moaning, "Theodore...Theodore..." and various other nasty Polish words, and that turned me on like nobody's bizzness. The only other time that a sex act has ever inspired me to fall in love has been when my Persian fuck buddy whips my feet and works me over. Difference is, my Persian fuck buddy doesn't have a smile that makes me weak, nor does he have such dark wavy hair, or such well developed forarms. He certainly doesn't kiss me the way Janusz does. I can't remember, but I don't think my Persian fuck buddy kisses me at all.