The Tryst

I have a confession to make. I met a sinfully delicious Italian while shopping through the back streets of the eternal city.

His name is Fred. He's a block of soap.

He was just sitting there in the shop. A bit small, wrapped tightly in parchment paper to seal in the deliciousness, just waiting for some gal with an over-developed olfactory fetish. A "ciao bella" of mint and heaven-knows-what-else wafted across my path.

Love at first sniff.

Fred and I had a date with a bubble bath last night. Steamy water, minty lather, and a rigorous toweling later, and I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. It sounds a bit sudden, but I've never met a soap like this - charming, soothing, and instantly satisfying.

But, he's just a soap after all. Which is a good thing, because I like my satisfaction to take much longer in all other circumstances.