Member-only story
Giselle and the Peeing Boy
When I reached out to kiss Gisselle, she sighed unhappily. Usually, people sigh so much when they need, for example, to peel a bucket of potatoes or to chop firewood for the winter. Same happened with Giselle.
Realizing that she didn’t turn away from my kisses, she reluctantly opened her lips to me. What upset her the most is that I only started kissing her after we’d already left her mother’s house.
“Why did you kiss me just now, and not when we were at home? We could have gone to my room and done more. And now its dark, in the middle of the park, and we can’t do anything on a bench, right? Actually…”
I met Giselle while with friends in the center of Brussels just a few hours before our first kiss. I asked her how to get to the European Parliament. She didn’t know, but offered to show me statue of a peeing boy. After looking at the pissing boy, she wanted to show me a peeing girl. She also didn’t how to get there, even though she’d lived in Brussels for several years. Because of this, we wandered along all sorts of broken streets for about two hours. As the end of the day neared, I realized I also had to pee. Then Gisselle dragged me to her house and promised to introduce me to her mother.
I, frankly, was taken aback. Is this Brussels or Beirut? What kind of morals? Well…
