Max and The Return of the Dragon Kamasutra

Before you continue reading this I must warn you.  What you are about to lay your eyes into is not a short story by any means, it is not a fable, an anecdote or a tale by any standards, and neither the genuine account of any great feat by any common man.  What you are about to witness, if you decide to continue reading, is not a testimony and I’m actually not sure if it actually happened or if I just imagined it. The only thing I know for certain is that the following, my friends, is a confession and nothing else.  I have been around a little too long and I have seen enough to know precisely what you might be thinking, but hey, believe me when I tell you that this time you are wrong, and unfortunately, once again.  After all, I never said that it was my confession right?

I will tell you about a man who had the rare ability of getting anything he wanted; a handsome man with great charm, admirable character and a dignified presence.  A man with great wit, perfect smile and a nice suit that he used to cover, like any man of his kind, an ego of colossal proportions.  A man who had it all, and I mean all. He was so special and so talented that could get anything he wanted by just offering a smile in return.  I even witnessed several people losing their sanity and eventually collapsing after just a glance of his glorious stare. There was nothing in the world that he couldn’t get his hands into, and neither his lower waist.  Almost unbreakable; he only had one weakness: Women.

So, I did warn you right?  Now, if you are still reading this, it means that I have your attention, or he does, through me.  It is imperative to emphasize that I am not responsible for anything that happens to you while reading this, if redness develops on your lower neck or if your legs unwittingly open.  His power and its reach are unimaginable, and before I begin, I highly encourage you to remove your fingers from where they are (and where they shouldn’t be) and wipe the sweat from your forehead.  With that being clarified, my dear friends, I give you: Max…

New York City, 2001

In the first days of summer of 2001, a week or so after I graduated from college, I found myself waking up naked in a small apartment in New York City.  After many years of long days and nights studying full time, working full time and learning my way through excessive quantities of wine and casual love, I was numb and exhausted.  My eyes were not fully opened when I heard someone knocking on my door.  While walking to the door, still shivering, I noticed a message written in red ink on the wall calendar that read:       Moving day!  At first, I didn’t pay too much attention to it, not until the young man at the other side of my door handed me a piece of paper and a special reminder, while I was still completely naked.  For some reason, I’d forgotten that I had to be out of that apartment by then and that someone else was moving in. I’m sure that the three bottles of red wine I had the night before had something to do with it.  My immediate reaction was to cover my chest (and I’m not sure why) with my left arm and my genitals with my right hand when I said, attempting to look confident:  “Everything is almost ready, I just need a few more minutes to complete packing and I’ll be out in a moment”.  But even before I finished, he was inside, looking around like a little kid on a candy store, with his thick European accent and an indelible smile underneath his long hairy nose.

I don’t think that is necessary to describe in detail what happened after I hurried and packed my entire life in one backpack and a suitcase.  I was out in the street, wearing dirty laundry, hungry like a carnival monkey, without a plan and with nowhere to go.  Café Lalo was my favorite place in New York City to grab an early bite, to have a glass of French wine and to put my thoughts back into place; so I walked there as usual, the only difference was that I had a little excess baggage combined with a higher alcohol percentage in my blood stream.  Sunk in an oversize tea cup, trying to come up with a plan, my world was spinning faster and faster with every passing minute.  I couldn’t afford to return home, not financially, but emotionally.  I was desperate and I needed an idea, a revelation, a vision, or perhaps what actually came through the door while I was finishing the last drop of tea; inspiration.  

No, I’m not referring to the beautiful woman who walked in, and neither to the other two that followed, but to the man who came between them.  With his dark hair slicked back and a leisurely walk he entered Café Lalo surrounded by three elegant women and a godly like aura.  He was wearing a nicely tailored gray suit over a pink shirt that showed through his jacket, which was lightly open, a large letter X.  I must confess that it intrigued me, but a little less than what I saw immediately after he turned to me and while looking straight to my eyes, he smiled and opened his jacket with a triumphant gesture, showing the rest of it:  Max!  …and believe it or not, his name was delicately printed with an exclamation symbol at the end of it.

-buongiorno!

That was the only thing he said before everything went quiet and all eyes turned at him. A moment later, when he finally asked for “acqua minerale”, all three of his companions hurried their hands inside their purses in a neurotic race to pay for his bottled wish, followed by their disappointment when the cashier refused to charge him for it.

-You look like shit my friend, he said with elegance and a thick Italian accent.  -You should stop drinking caffeine; I heard it could be bad for you and also for your “little friend”.

While still drinking his water, he walked towards me and put his heavy hand on my shoulder, bent over and whispered to my ear:

-Rome is the answer to your prayers my friend, he murmured and slowly walked away, leaving an empty water bottle at my table.  When he opened the door on his way out, he turned back again and shared one last smile with the deserted space between us, and his three companions followed him nearby. To my amazement, the cashier and the only waitress, completely dazzled, also joined him to the city outside.  Still apprehensive for what have had happened, it took me several minutes to fully recover.  A little voice inside my head was continuously repeating the same word over and over again.  Rome, Rome, Rome…  I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to snap out of the hypnotic state and it was then when something else caught my attention. A few tables away from mine, I noticed that someone had left a small notebook, and, as I got closer and my vision began to clear, I was able to discern colors and a name.  It was a small colorful journal, too colorful for a man I thought. Could it be?  Suddenly it came to me.  I remembered seeing the young Italian gentleman carrying that journal when he came in. With excessive care, as if handling a sacred book, I lift it up with both hands and I couldn’t believe what I had in front of me.  A thick “Argoman” journal with a name written on its lower right corner:  Max.  How lucky could I be?   Even with a godly presence, the man who seemed to be at the center of the universe had forgotten his cartoonish binnacle. 

Fascinating!

Argoman is not a journal manufacturing brand but a superhero; actually, an Italian superhero from the late 1960’s.  I am not a superhero aficionado and I have never been; but who doesn’t know the amazing Argoman?, the hooded Italian hero with super human powers, master of telekinesis, romance and mind control, and who curiously always lost his faculties for six hours after having sex. Sounds familiar?  His journal was full of what anyone could expect to find in one belonging to a man like him: names, dates, phone numbers, addresses, photos, naked photos, travel arrangements, notes from his random adventures and more naked photos.  I stayed there for a while, contemplating every single page of his “libro dei segreti”.  A pink page divider caught my attention and when I opened it where it was marked, lottery.

There were only two words written and nothing else:  My confessions…

I had just experienced a miracle.  I knew then what to do, it was so clear that Max had saved my life.  With his journal in my backpack I left an empty Café Lalo with a new sense of determination, and before the glass door closed behind me I yelled.  Taxi!

Rome, five days later…

After almost a week in Rome, I finally realized that once again I had acted out of impulse. For the third consecutive night, I found myself walking back to my hotel room carrying a bottle of red wine and an Argoman journal under my arm when something unexpected happened.  I have always reminded myself that life works in mysterious ways and that you never know what could surprise you at the next corner. And so it happened, at the next corner, I saw her.

There I was; walking with my head down through the sidewalk when I saw her several meters in front, singing out loud and walking towards me and I instantly knew I had to stop.  I had to do something to get a little closer and take a better look.  After the iconic architecture, the great food and the historic landmarks, there’s no mystery about the other thing well known in Rome, their women; and I must admit that she was nothing less than breathtaking.  I knew that I had to do something; I needed to immediately come up with an idea or an excuse to stop and still look natural.  It would have been disastrous not to been able to take a closer look.      A moment later, I bent over pretending to tie my shoes when I felt a small hand on my shoulder followed by a sweet voice that asked me:

-Do you need any help with that?

I couldn't believe it. I slowly got back up and there she was in front of me, looking a hundred times better from that distance. What a smile!  Desire took control over me as I took a discreet step forward in order to get closer and to properly introduce myself, but as usual, I couldn’t open my mouth. She stared at me for a second, kept smiling and with a sensual sense of security she offered her hand and introduced herself:

-I'm Laura, nice to meet you.

Immediately after she finished her last word, all traces of desire went down from one hundred to cero in a fraction of a second.  My face wrinkled involuntarily and turned into a giant raisin, my best smile melted instantly and my right eye began twitching uncontrollably; all that while I slowly took a long step backwards and said to myself: “Holy mother of Jesus you stink!” 

-Is everything alright?  she dared to ask me while still smiling.

I’m fine!  I responded trying hard to keep my composure and added that I had been walking for many hours.  I scratched my nose delicately and when she insisted asking a second time how I was, I couldn’t think of anything else and blamed it on dehydration.  I couldn't believe it.  As soon as she opened her mouth a second time I felt like I was being kicked by Maradona on my very face.  What a hideous smell!   She never stopped smiling and I prayed to God to keep her that way, with her mouth close until I either find out an excuse to walk away or simply find some courage and go to my backup plan, which consisted in running my ass out of there in the other direction.  How can this be?  Beautiful women aren't supposed to smell like this!  That wasn’t bad breath or anything like it, it was hell. And while I kept scratching my nose and my head was spinning, trying to understand, God himself send someone to my rescue.

Out of nowhere and for the second time in less than a week, a second miracle.  A familiar face was approaching with a halo hovering over his dark hair. Is that an angel?  I’m still unsure but in that moment I thanked God for sending him, twice.  He got closer and opened his lips, showing me also for the second time in a week, his white and glorious smile.  It was Max, the holy messenger of God.  In just a couple of minutes, the three of us were having a nice conversation at the sidewalk, and every time he gave a step forward and closer to Laura, I gave two backwards.  Having his superhero journal with me served as the propitious ice breaker.  With confidence and charm, Max talked to her nonstop, I’m sure it was mostly because of how badly he wanted to get inside her pants.  I refused to shut up not because I was enjoying myself but because I was trying my best not to breathe.  In other hand, Laura was beautiful, funny and well educated, so they got along very well.  There was a spark between them and I must confess that I felt so relieved, that I looked up and quietly said:  Oh… I owe you big time!



During their conversation they planned to meet at his flat later that night.  Max invited me and I lied when I said that I had somewhere else to go, but his courtesy was in fact too much to resist.  She gave him the usual two kisses on each cheek and I closed my eyes and held my breath when it was my turn, then she walked away.  Max ended up to be a very complex and a knowledgeable man.  He asked me to go with him to a nearby store to buy several things that he needed for our reunion later that night. And while he remained busy searching for the “perfect” bottle of wine,  I discretely dedicated some time on getting the “perfect” scented candles, mints and air freshener in order to be ready for the inevitable outcome.  Back at the hotel I took a hot shower and never stopped praying, a few minutes passed midnight, when I thought to be too late for a lady to be alone with a relatively strange man, I took a taxi to Max’s flat with my ammunition well hidden on my backpack  just to find out that she was still there.  I tried to knock but the door slowly opened itself allowing a putrid and dense cloud to find its way out and eventually landing in my nostrils.  From there, I heard a sexy moan coming from inside, and as I found my way in through the darkness and got closer to where they were, the moan turned into a wild cry.  There she was; in a sexual position that I have never seen before.  It was mutation between a yoga meditation exercise and dirty dancing.  She had her legs up in the air, her hands were tied with her own stockings and her head was twisted backwards like Linda Blair on the Exorcist.  The entire flat smelled like sulfur and I was sure it wasn't because of the sex.  It was to be expected that the continuous moaning slowly filled the entire room with the smell of rotten demons.  I knew it would be useless; the scented candles, the mints and the industrial air freshener wouldn’t help.  I remembered that I was in Rome, so close to the Vatican, but, where the fuck I was going to be able to find holy water at that hour?

She was wild and I give her credit for that.  She had an incredible ability to change positions without even touching the floor.  That scene reminded me of something you only see in a circus performed by little Chinese guys dressed in colorful Dragon customes.  It was definitely Kamasutra, or so I thought an instant before a fireball came out of her mouth and she spread her wings.  Terrified, I tried to walk out as quiet as I could be and when my hand finally reached the door knob, I heard a demonic voice coming from inside and I almost pee on my pants when she asked:

-Why don't you join us?





I briefly lose my soul when ran out of there, as if I was being chased by Satan himself.  I didn't bother to wait for the elevator, so I hurried myself down the stairs and got lost in the night.   Max kept seeing her for a couple of weeks until he got better from that severe flu he mentioned he had when we first met and recovered his sense of smell.  Max and I became good friends for the remaining time I spent in Rome.  She was gone, and along with her, the sulfur smell.   Being able to breathe clean air once again in Italy was simply intoxicating. 

New York City, 2008

  

-Could I get a glass of water with my sushi please?   I asked the waitress.

I waited for over an hour for an old friend to arrive from Italy and meet me for dinner at my favorite Asian restaurant. He was late, so I decided to order without him.  They were having a live show that night.  Geishas I heard.   A few minutes after I ordered, the sushi arrived and also the sad news of my friend when he called to apologize for canceling, leaving me at the mercy of Asian cuisine and his old journal, which I never returned.  The live show began as I started eating from a super size sushi platter just for one.  I devoured my sushi and the background music captivated me, putting me on a trance when I suddenly felt a small hand on the back of my head followed by a sweet voice, almost a whisper.   All my muscles cramped and went numb at the same time.  I took a deep breath in order to swallow the last bite of sushi but it was useless.   A thin feminine figure passed next to me finding its way to the empty chair right across.  In front of me, a beautiful woman wearing a shirt with a printed dragon smiled back at me.

-Did you know that is illegal to have so much fun by yourself?   I'm so glad to see you again…

I was fucked.  There was no space for me to take a long step backwards and my friend Max was four thousand kilometers away.  Should I pray to Buddha this time?  As she started greeting me, as usual, with her stinky mouth and in complete denial, she asked me about my life and whereabouts.  A moment later, what I feared the most.  She leaned forward, closed her eyes and offered me a kiss. And while a tear rolled down my face she dared to say: 

-I have a confession to make… But first!   Take it easy on the wasabi would you!

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