1. To miss her.

"WOAH slow down lover-boy, you don't wanna wake up with a splitting headache later on." His hands on the glass of spirit, ice-cubes clinking inside the glass. He takes the glass to his lips, and downs the content in one gulp. His face cringing from the slightly bitter taste of the alcohol in his mouth.

"Signorina, I think you should go back to your seat." Marco Marchetti, the personal assistant and right-hand man of Zeno Silvestri. Wherever Zeno was, there he would be. Sometimes in the shadows, sometimes in the front, but he was always around. Like he was Zeno's own Shadow.

" And who might you be?" the lady asks. "I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to him." She rudely says, if only she knew who she was talking to, she'd tremble and fall to her feet.

"I told you to…" Zeno's fingers slightly lifted, telling him to let her be. And Marco immediately backs away, causing a victorious smug to rise from the side of the lady's lips.

"HI," she stretches her hands forward for a handshake. All the while she sat there, his eyes never left the glass of spirit that he held, his finger traced the top of the glass, drawing the circle over and over again. He'd seen her from afar, and she fit some of the criteria on his list.

"My name is Te…

"Do you want to have sex?" straight and blunt, he didn't need to know who or what she was. Neither did he ever feel the need to beat around the bush. In his eyes, every woman who threw herself at him was just a disgusting puttana.

I miss her_I miss her like crazy, he always said, and always he ended up in a bar. Just like this, he gets drunk and there's always a loose and desperate lady around, one who was always willing to throw herself at him, and he was always willing to take them home. His life was on repeat ever since she left him, it was a torturous and endless circle.

"Give me the bottle." He says to the bartender and tosses some cash. He gets the bottle, and staggers up from his seat, first trying to balance himself on the ground before taking further steps. The lady followed behind him like some kind of secretary.

Marco had their car ready, slipping into the car, he instantly opened the bottle of spirit and started another round of drinking as the lady slipped in next to him. She was a beautiful woman, slim and slender, rounded in the right places, face like a porcelain doll, everything probably from surgery, but she was beautiful.

But he wasn't seeing all this beauty, all he saw was a way to pleasure himself, and a way to satisfy his beastly needs. It was just the desires of the flesh. But nothing could cure the hunger in his heart. He could always get a woman to casually have sex with, but he would never find one he wanted to make love to. Never again. No one could be like her.

"Save it for the house walls." He says to the lady who kept on slipping her fingers into his shirt, trying to caress him. In utter silence, they drove to his apartment, and not once did he stop sipping out of the bottle. All the while looking out the window, watching the flashing lights. She always did this, always stared out the window and when he'd ask her why she was always staring out of the car and not at him who was much more eye-catching, she'd say…

"what's mine is mine, even if I don't look at it. But what's out there is the world's, and all I can do is stare at it." This was the confusing response she always gave. "You're weird." he'd tell her, and she'd say. "Then I guess you like weird." He'd pull her closer and kiss her luscious lips. "I don't just like it, I love it."

"Should we put on some music?" the nameless lady says, snapping him back to the painful reality. They were already inside his apartment, how he walked in here he didn't even know. This wasn't the first time, he mostly moved without even knowing his legs were taking him somewhere. All he could do was wonder when and how he got to wherever he found himself.

"Strip." He orders, heading straight for his mini bar and taking out another bottle. He was never clear-headed when with another woman. Never. Always wasted, that way he could see a bit of her when having sex with whoever the person was.

"So quick lover-boy? I see you're no gentleman at all. Well I do like it rough, but some music would do." Maybe she was talking to him, maybe she was talking to herself, or maybe there was a third party in the room, he had no idea, but he didn't hear a single thing she said, and he didn't care to know. All he wanted from her right now was…

" Strip lady, place your hands on the wall and spread your legs." He commanded as he also took off the clothes that held him bound.

"why? don't you have a bed?" she asks, seductively slipping off her heels, and then unzipping her dress, letting the garment erotically slide down her shoulders.

"No, I don't." He simply states.

"Why?" She was starting to talk too much, and he didn't like it, he was already out of his clothes, all that was left was his Crotch hugging boxers. Slowly and erotically, he watched her slip her bra off, and then her panties.

Like a cat, she tiptoed to the wall, alluringly placing her hands on it, bending enough for him to see all she had to offer, and as he had ordered, she spread her legs open wide.

And that was when he answered her question…

"Because I never do it on the bed."