Nash
I’ve heard people say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Well, the same might be true of Daphne. She seemed a little irritable when we left the boat, but once we pulled up in front of a family-owned Italian restaurant, she was as soft and pliable as warm silly putty.
Louis had reserved a private room, which had a big family-style table with a bright red and white checkered table cloth, potted palms in the corners, and Roman-themed pottery and art on the walls. There was even a replica of the statue of David standing under the window, complete with a fig leaf covering his little d**k.
A little Italian man seated us and then flapped around the table. He spoke English with a heavy accent as he presented the wine list and the day’s specials. I swear she took as
