...but he doesn't know it yet. I met this really sweet guy when I was living in Istanbul a few years ago. I was with my assistant, another hottie named Volkan, when we walked into My Moon Cafe off Istaklal Caddesi one night. Volkan talked to this tall, almost dark & extremely handsome guy over the blasting, rocking music. He introduced me, we exchanged pleasantries, but I couldn't hear anything. I think I was just struck. Fucking dumb-struck. Like a retard or a groupie who just saw Jesus. Damn, was he gorgeous, and with such a beautiful smile. OY!
Afterward, when Volkan and I walked down the narrow street, I asked, "Who was that guy you introduced me to?" He said he was one of the Three Musketeers. They had once worked together: Volkan, Mustafa and Emre, another hottie.
I must have had a big dumb smirk on my face when I asked, "Is he married or does he have a girlfriend?" coz silly Volkan giggled then hooted, "Woo Hoo," or some Turkish equivalent coz he started chanting, "Madame Nicole likes Mustafa!"
I swatted him & told him to pipe down but he pulled out his phone & was working it with a fury like he had the scoop of the century.
"Who the hell are you calling at this hour?"
"Why, of course, Mustafa," he said so matter of factly.
Allah, Allah! I slammed the phone out of his nimble little hands while I shushed him.
He carried on for the rest of the night.
Just like playful Turks, Mustafa was everywhere we went the following night. Smiling coyly at me everytime i stole a glance. Adonis anyone???
We did finally talk. And talk. Mustafa had a sleep-over one night, so Volkan and I turned up with our jammies. Volkan eventually went to sleep but Mustafa and I stayed up and talked 'till way past sunrise. This happened a few times; his home, my home. One late night/early morning he turned up. Just rang the bell. When I looked out the window, there he was--with a "cat-that-ate-the-canary" grin that I had to say, "Hos geldin" and open my door. He was being noisy and silly and happy. I told him to "sus bey",
"Yes, my pet, someone IS here." I led him to the bedroom door and silently opened it. There, peeking out of the covers was a mop of silky black curls. It was my little college friend, Efe. He broke up with his girlfriend and his Mama was at the beach so he asked if he could stay over. Turks don't like being alone, apparently.
Another stage whisper from the Gorgeous Mustafa, "OK." And he went back to being his lively, lovely self.
It never went past this, I wasn't ready for a Tom Cat, but we flirted like teenagers. We still flirt; a million miles away from each other. He still makes me smile & I still make him hot. Allah, Allah! He makes me hot. Who the hell am I kidding?
He has a heart of gold, is down to earth, is a natural boy, has a great love of God and family. OY, what more could a girl ask for? He's looking pretty good as the next candidate. Will keep you posted.
