Vol 1. Lolita and Frienemies ~ Silly Little Sheep

Lolita and

Frienemies

Vol. 1

Silly Little Sheep March 2018

There are many love stories out there that win many

women’s hearts. They drag their poor men to sit in a two or so hour chick fest of a young girl in angst because no one understands her… since she’s a witch or her father’s a witch... or uncle… I don’t know. I couldn’t get past the first 30 minutes.

But, as usual, some hot little boy finds the awkward nerdy, yet somehow gorgeous, girl irresistibly interesting and follows her home (which is creepy,) and though she’s mad at first and the uncle… father… whoever the hell he is… throws a tantrum, she falls in love and can’t stay away from him…blah, blah, blah. I can only assume there's some major conflict in the middle (or second act as they like to call it.) There usually is. A little sex or simulation of sex. Because, after all, you’re not in love unless you have sex. Then, he saves her life in time for the finish of act three or the conclusion of the movie.

Then there’s the older woman who must get her “groove back,” and she meets some hot young thing, and letters in a mailbox… or emails. Oh, man. Which is which? Both happened, but one was more cheese than the other.

Who can forget Mimi?(Opera or Broadway musical.)The delightful whore who won the heart of the brooding artist or musician. (Opera or Broadway musical.) The best to me is the fact that, in the musical, what triggers their love for each other is the realization of something they have in common: death. The bottom line is, all these, (gosh I hate them,)stories tell us that if you are depressed, all you must do is wait for your "soulmate" to appear out of the clear blue sky and that guy or girl will save you from despair. Better than drugs, right? But, not alcohol. And people believe these movies and books and poems and plays and…OMG… the musicals are even better fibbers! “Hey, you get love, happiness and a big song and dance, too!”

“This is not that sort of love story.” Without thought, those words just seep through my lips.

“What,” my gentleman asks?

“Hm,” I ask hoping my ignorance plea will divert attention from my loud thoughts.

“I thought you said something.” The lovely gentleman sitting across from me at the dinner table in the most expensive restaurant in Moscow, just caught me speak through my fantasy. Embarrassed? Not really. This isn’t the first time.

“Oh,” I giggled, “I was just thinking out loud.”

I stare at the handsome figured sitting in front of me.

In our private room, the lights are dimly lit, but the candles on the table just emphasize the gentleman’s striking features.

He is everything the ancient statues were built to resemble.

Strength and beauty of a man only the gods of the Greeks could imagine. Strong jaw line, deep dark brown eyes, the shine of his hair causes the particles from the lighting to dance a little waltz. His smile just couldn’t be natural. It is mesmerizing. The way he looks down at the menu then back up at me just with his eyes created confusion amongst the butterflies in my stomach.

He is what the poets wrote about.

The breeze seem to adore him. Brushing his hair just slightly.

The slight wind causes him to reach up and sweep away that one free strand from his eyes each time.

His Russian accent didn’t make anything easier for the knees that has already weakened.

But, it was the words he spoke that caught the heart. He’s not a smooth talker, nor is he awkward. He just speaks in such a way that you feel you are speaking with a real person. Truly, that is rare these days. The realness of his speech can make any woman feel like she was the only woman for him and he was the only man for her.

Noticing me staring at him, he lays don’t his menu and says. “You already know what you want?”

With my signature smile I say to him, “I know exactly what I want.”

He laughs and blushes a little.

We have spent the past week together. I met him as I walked out of my hotel. It was a coincidence that I walked out the door precisely at the same time he always past that hotel as he made his way to his office. My map flew out of my hand right at his feet. It was quite odd since it wasn’t windy that day. There was hardly a breeze at all. We decided it was fate. He was so charming and so gorgeous, it wasn’t hard to agree to him being my tour guide.

“You are simply beautiful,” he said to me as he looks past the candles, breaking my flashback thoughts.

I smile. That was the first time he complimented me in such a way. I’m used to men immediately fawning over my beauty right out the gate. It’s a common game men play: compliment the woman to show their interest. They believe it’s the quickest way to sex. I believe the quickest way to sex is, “let’s have sex.” But, this gentleman was different. He was worth a lot more than that. He was worth something big.

So, it was my turn to blush. “Thank you.”

At that time, the Maitre d' appeared with an impressive cart presenting a very expensive bottle of champagne and glasses ready to serve.

“Oh,” my gentleman exclaimed. Then he smiles at me. “What is this? Are you trying to surprise me with champagne?”

Just as surprised as he, “no. I have no idea where this came from.”

The Maitre d' respectfully nods his head to us both. Speaking in Russian, he explains to us the appearance of the champagne.

“Oh?” My gentleman nods excitedly. Then he says to me, “he said it is a gift from the owner. He saw my name on the guest list and wanted to welcome me to his restaurant.” He speaks to the Maitre d' in Russian.

The Maitre d', as he places the glasses and prepares to serve us says, “нет, В этот день он отправился в Лондон.”

“Большое спасибо. I asked him if it was possible to thank the owner in person. But, he has flown out to London this afternoon.”

“Sergio owns this and several other restaurants around Europe, correct?”

“Yes. He does. I’m blown away he’d offer me such a generous gift. I met him at a party once.“ “Well, you must have made quite an impression. You know, I have a feeling you are a lot more important than you let on to be.”

“No. I’m just a man.”

The Maitre d' pours our drinks. As he pours mine, he glances at me. I smile at him and nod. “Thank You.” The Maitre d' nods back respectfully then nods at us both before he takes the cart, with the champagne, away.

“Hmm…” my gentleman says as he watches the Maitre d'. “Usually they keep the bottle at the table.”

“Perhaps they want to keep it fresh to ensure the vibrancy of the spirit.

After all, Sergio is known for his kingly service.”

“You are right, of course.” Raising his glass, “to us.”

“To us.” I watch as he takes his first swig of his drink.

“Indeed,” I whisper to myself. without taking even a sip. I wait.

I place my glass on the table

“Ah. That is a brilliant burst of flavor. I don’t think I’ve had champagne quite as robust as this.” He smiles at me as he takes a deeper drink.

His smile softens. He stares directly at me, but not at me. I reach over to his side of the table and move his glass, plate and utensils to the side. I wait. He continues to stare through me. He goes pale. I continue to wait. He opens his mouth to say something.

Then, finally, his head drops to the table.

I look at my watch. “Took longer than it should have taken. I've must fix that for next time.”

The Maitre d' rushes out to the table.

“Clean this up before any of your other customers start noseying around back here,” I tell him.

“Yes Ms. Gentry, ” he nods.

I stick a wade of cash in his pocket. “Really nice job. Have you ever considered going into film or theatre? There’s plenty pests there to be wiped out.”

After leaving the restaurant, the valet pulls up in my Avanti. He opens the door for me, waits until I’m comfortably seated and situated, then gently closes the door. I hand him a couple hundred dollar bills. “I left the rest in your locker."

“Righteous. Thanks!”

“Hey, tell your boss that his debt is now paid, and tell him to keep his check book balanced from now on. I’m not bailing him out.

His bill will come due sooner than later.”

Now, this is my kind of love story. The love of power. All romance can do for me is lead the lamb out of its gates. I’ll do the rest. I mean, serious, do you really believe other people will make you happy?

Silly little sheep, Follow me over the heap.

No one will get you For I will protect you.

Even as you sleep.

Silly little sheep.

STORY AND PHOTOS BY JEANNÉ WYNNE HERRING "MY GENTLEMAN" WAS MODELED BY ISAAC FROST THANK YOU TO RENEE RODRIQUEZ FOR HIS CASTING REFERRAL

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