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For the next year, I made it a point to spend Friday evenings after work in the upscale bars, restaurants and bistros in Boston's Latino neighborhoods. Sometimes Alicia came with me; sometimes not. She had her own plan.

I wasn't expecting to end up with a ‘date' every Friday night, but at least once month, I got lucky or maybe it was unlucky. Some of those guys were as bad in bed as Dr. Frank Mordecai and then there were others who I didn't want to leave.

White, black, brown, it didn't matter. Good lovers, bad lovers. Big cocks; not so big cocks. Good pussy eaters; not so good pussy eaters or no pussy eating at all. Some guys could go all night: my kind of guys, while others finished before they started.

Then there was Olivier. You're right, he wasn't Latino. He was from Mali, a former French colony in Africa, but went to med school in France. He didn't live in a Latino neighborhood, he lived in the North Shore town of Andover and he was, like me, a pediatric physician.

He had a particularly tough case and asked for my input. One thing led to another: discussion of the case over lunch; discussion of the case over dinner; discussion of the case over wine at the IV; a nightcap at my near-by apartment.

The next thing you know it's Saturday morning and I'd had one of the best nights I'd had since I left Puerto Rico. "Bonjour, mon cherie."

My French was limited to tongue kissing. It didn't matter, Olivier's tongue work was magical and he had me percolating numerous times. At one point while his tongue was busy, "How do you say fuck me in French?"

"You can just say, fuck me, fuck me please, Olivier."

"Olivier, can you please fuck me without taking your tongue out of my pussy?" I laughed.

"It is not possible, but maybe if I do this you will forget about fucking." His tongue found my clitoris again, and then again. I percolated. I wasn't sure how to translate that but I'm sure my moans, sighs, screams of delight weren't misunderstood.

When he finally gave me his cock, I took it in my mouth. I wanted to do Olivier's cock like he did my pussy. For the time being I forgot all about getting fucked.

His cock wasn't as big as Luis', but it was blacker. On our following ‘dates' I made sure to wear that pink lipstick. The contrast was stunning and Olivier loved it. I'm sure he would have loved my lips without it, but still.

By this time, Alicia and I each had our own apartments. I didn't see her for almost a year, but she told me what happened when I saw her the following Christmas.

"Marcy, when we got back from Puerto Rico, I just couldn't get Luis and Roberto out of my mind. I made inquiries and was offered a job in a San Juan hospital."

"And you reunited with Roberto?"

"No, yes. I bought a beach house, not more than fifty yards from the water. I'm in the water almost every day; it's so therapeutic. By that I mean, it soothes my pussy after a rough night."

"Do you have many rough nights?"

Alicia laughed, "let me explain. One morning, at sunrise, I took my usual morning swim, when out of nowhere, this handsome young man appeared, "excuse me, my car broke down, can I use your phone."

"Of course." While he waited for a tow truck, I offered him a cup of coffee and then invited him to come back for dinner. Marcy, ironically his name was Roberto, and more ironic, remember I told you

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