The year was 1986.
I was quite the social butterfly that summer. I’d made many new friends in my neighborhood and we were always sleeping over at each other’s houses. I had finally started to like the area, when I found out we were moving from upstate South Carolina, back to Georgia. Needless to say, I was not happy. But there was nothing I could do about it, so I partied like it was 1999, in 1986. I knew my time was limited, so I threw caution to the wind (not that I ever held it in my hand) and made the most of every single minute there!
As I’ve shared, there were many young men in my “harem” at that time…the good boys, the bad boys…the preppy boys….the ones too old for me…the pretty boys, and of course, the preacher’s son. I felt it was high time for me to try my hand at the dangerous boys. I knew exactly who I wanted, but had no clue as to how or when I could make it happen.
His name was Anastasios. His parents owned the only Greek restaurant in town. Tasso (as he preferred to be called) was about 19 years old and worked in his parent’s restaurant, among other things. I say this because he owned a brand new top of the line black Mercedes Benz. You don’t make that kind of cash, working as a waiter. His parents drove a beat up station wagon. No, there was more to his story that meets the eye. I suspected he was selling drugs, but could never confirm it. The cloud of suspicion was just enough to wet my whistle and I wanted this Hellenic bad boy.
I talked one of my new friends into having lunch with me at the restaurant. She hated Greek food, but tagged along to help me with my plan. He was not our waiter, but I got his attention with one of my sultry looks from across the room. He grinned and took our table from his sister who was waiting on us. We’d not placed our food order when he sauntered over to our table.
“Hello, I’m Tasso. What you two girls hungry for?” he said, with a mischievous grin.
That was all the encouragement I needed…I replied with, “I am hungry. Very hungry. Just don’t know what it is that I have a taste for” and I licked my lips.
He retorted, “Oh, I think you do. I think you know exactly what you want” and he stared me in the eyes. It scared the shit out of me. I was accustomed to being the aggressor. Maybe I was biting off more that I could swallow, before I tasted my first bite.
I stuttered my order of souvlaki and spanakopita and shyly looked down at my hands. His directness was sexy and scary at the same time. He knelt down to meet my gaze. “What else can I get for you, Tessa?”
He knows my name? How does he know my name? I was flustered, but regained my composure, as I perceived his knowledge of who I was…as a victory in this tête–à–tête we were having.
I looked into his obsidian eyes, smiled and said, “I think you know, Tasso”
My poor friend. She was just there as my wingman, and she was in the middle of all of this. But she took it like a champ and choked down her feta like a good friend would. The food came out and as I was eating, Tasso handed me a note.
“I want to see you. Meet me tonight. I can have my driver pick you up.”
His driver? WHAT? Why would a 19 year old waiter have a driver for his brand new Mercedes? The intrigue was building with each exchange.
I wrote him back with two words, “When? Where?”
He knelt down beside me and said, “We will come get you at your house. Where do you live?”
I giggled. Like my parents were going to let their young teenage daughter ride off into the sunset with Zorba and his driver. “I will have to meet you somewhere besides my house. Strict parents, you know.”
He nodded. And then he whispered in my ear. “You probably need to let loose, if you’ve got strict parents, huh? I know just what you need.”
We made arrangements for him to pick me up at 9:30 at my friend Erica’s house. She lived several houses down and I wouldn’t be seen by my parents, or curious neighbors. I made up a story about a slumber party, packed a bag and headed to Erica’s. I called my mom when I got there and told her I would walk home in the morning. She didn’t suspect a thing. Erica’s parents were potheads, so they had no clue who was at the house, who left the house or who came into the house. They were usually stoned.
9:30 arrived and I saw the headlights pull into the driveway. An older Greek man stepped out of the driver’s seat and opened the door to the backseat, as if he were a limo driver. He said nothing, just nodded to me. I got in the back, sitting next to Tasso, who looked delicious. He had on a white jacket, linen pants and a pale blue shirt. Very Miami Vice (which was popular).Very sexy.
He held my hand as the driver took us to the destination. I had no idea where we were going and that was exciting. The whole thing was exciting. Tasso was quiet, but said something in Greek to the driver. He put on some music and Tasso leaned over and smelled my hair. “You smell good”
“Thank you, so do you.” I said
“What is Tasso going to do with such a sweet young lady?” he said to himself. His thick Greek accent was oozing with sex and I was ready to see what happened next. The driver turned onto a road with a boat dock. Parked the car in a secluded area and stepped out, facing away from the car.
“It’s just us now. Tell me what you’re hungry for.”and he leaned over and kissed me. “Tasso wants you. He wants to show how hungry he is for you.”
Af first, I was put off with how he referred to himself in third person, but it was his language barrier. It made him different. Added to the intrigue.
He kissed me like no one else has, before or after him. He was so passionate, so in the moment. Before I knew it my clothes were in the front seat and he was still fully dressed. He picked up my hips, pulled my thighs apart, tasting me at first, then devouring me. He was relentless in his quest. He held me there for such a long time, that I was drenched in sweat and delirious from the pleasure. I was experienced in sex, but had never had ANYONE pleasure me like that. He would come up from his meal to ask me if I wanted more. I didn’t know how to respond. I wanted more, but could I take more?
I managed to mutter, “Yes” and he kept on. He treated me as if I were a 7 course meal. I was thirsty and spent and we’d not even had sex yet. He tapped on the steamed window..His driver came to the door and Tasso said something in Greek. The driver opened the trunk and handed Tasso a glass bottle.
“This is a Greek drink. You will like it.” he handed it to me after he sipped it. It tasted like licorice and I did like it. In fact, I drank too much too fast and felt like I was floating. I faded in and out for a few minutes as Tasso carried on with his dinner. I came back down to reality and noticed that he was completely undressed. He took my hand and guided it to his hard cock, showing me how he wanted me to stroke it. I did exactly as he showed me and then I took him in my mouth. I was so uninhibited by the drink (I later found out was called ouzo) that I took him deep. I returned the favor in a big way.
He was so aroused by my performance that he could no longer hold back. He turned me to face the side window and fucked me like a god. He flipped me on my back and devoured me again before he continued fucking me some more. All the while, he said dirty things. He described how I felt to him, growling as he plunged into my sex. He talked about how I tasted and how he wanted more of me..how he wanted me to pass out from the pleasure he gave me….how he wanted my lips on his wet cock before he finished fucking me…I had never been talked to like that before and I loved it. He was indeed that bad boy I craved.
We stayed in that spot for another couple of hours, while his driver waited outside. He had retrieved a chair from the trunk and sat a few feet from the front of the car. His presence no longer bothered me. We had the windows down and I didn’t care if anyone heard me moan or scream or beg for more. It was too good for me to stop.
That was the only time we were together. After our marathon of an evening, his driver took us to the restaurant. It was dark and empty. Tasso fixed us a snack and playing over the speakers was “An Evening with Sade”. The radio station would play an entire album late at night and call it “An Evening with….” That was the first time I heard, “Is it Crime” and I smiled to myself…knowing what we’d done bordered on criminal…knowing whatever he did to afford his luxury lifestyle was criminal…knowing that my web of lies to get out for the evening was criminal. I was such a bad girl.
I got back to Erica’s house around 4:00 am. I was exhausted and sore. The next day I awoke to find bite marks all over my body. We had feasted on each other and left evidence to prove it. I didn’t care. I would find a way to cover my tracks. I always did.
A few years ago, while working for hospice, I had the opportunity to pass through my old town in the upstate. His family’s Greek restaurant had been replaced by some franchised chain. There was no trace of Tasso. And even though it was one night, I will never forget my evening with him.