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He sounded interested and wanted to know more about me. He asked about my sons, their ages, which sports or social activities they were into. He listened to me ramble on about how I love to shop, walk the beach and how well I knew the local sports teams. Finally he asked. "So, shall we meet at the restaurant say around eight?" "Well, if it's a date, you're picking me up at my house aren't you?" I said. He asked if I was kidding and I told him, "No, my husband will be gone and the kids will be at my mother's." "Now, what time are you picking me up?" I curiously asked again. "How's 7:30? We have reservations at eight?" he said. "Perfect, I'll look forward to it. Bye, Russ," I said as I hung up the phone. Oh, how I wanted it to be Saturday night right then and there. I was so turned on by just the thought of being with him that I wet my panties. As Saturday approached, my husband had a late morning golf date with clients. Knowing he would be gone for hours, I took this time to. Eventually, and after torturing each other by talk of chocolate ice cream we reached the entrance to the Sistine Chapel. There was a sort of check point before entering the chapel proper, which entailed a full airport type security check, which meant our handbags were inspected and we had to walk through a metal detector. Having survived that, we were allowed through into a long gallery, which had an elaborately-painted ceiling and was lined with paintings for as far as the eye could see. Our inevitably slow progress was now a blessing as one could really take time to take in the beauty of the place. We weren’t guided per se, but rather shepherded in the right direction. Our way led out into a courtyard of sorts, where a few red-robed Cardinals were consorting in a quadrangle above the crowds. “There’s three places that I always wanted to go, when I was a teenager,” said Elizabeth. “The pyramids, The Little Mermaid and the Sistine Chapel. Two down one to go.” “It’s a good list..
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