"Can't we watch some football" Tom asks, so we leave the hotel room to go see the evening match at a small bar nearby. I'm neither for Juventus nor Napoli (Forza Viola!), but it's very sexy seeing Tom engage with the locals, speaking a terrible mixture of Italian and English, trying to learn everything he can about the teams and players. I'm used to it from home, but for him it's a whole new world and he's adapting to it for my sake.
Back in the hotel room he watches me undress to take a shower, when I'm done and come out of the bedroom wearing only a towel he throws me on the bed and kisses me on the neck. I wish I could say I wasn't secretly picturing Luca Toni, but that's just the way it is with us Italian girls and our calciatori.