After dinner we first stayed at the kitchen table talking, before we moved into the living-room where a fire was burning, and I opened another bottle of Italian red. It has been such an long time, and our biographies seem so very different, yet it is pleasant to see how close we still feel. Or how close I still feel? Yes, I certainly do.

She wanted me to tell her so many things, from my parents' accidental death to my present teaching job. I also told her of Phillip and our relationship (I opened up so much, and she is such a wonderful listener). We talked about times long gone, the years we spent together, the friends we had, and the dreams. First she was a little reluctant to talk about herself. But then she told me of her job, of how she had reached this position, of how she spent her days in the company. She didn't say much about her private life.

When the second bottle was near empty, our conversation had become as personal as it had been at the best of our times togehter. It was as if there hadn't been all these years between, and half a life which had taken us into different directions.

That was then she started to speak about her private life: that she is living alone, that there is hardly much time for leasure beside playing some golf and her passion, which is paragliding. That she keeps fit regularly, reads biographies. And with a laugh she said she was glad that sexuality is not such a big thing for her and that she can be without nicely. "And when my inner animal stirs now and then - I find shelter with a wonderful woman, a very close friend of mine with an open and warm personality", she added with a smile - which gradually turned into laughter because the way I looked at her must have been pretty silly.

Shortly before noon, a dark limousine stopped outside, the guy who was getting out was wearing a driver's cap as he hurried round the car and opened her door. And Maria got out. She said a few words to him, took the two suitcases he had taken out of the boot and started walking towards my house. Here she was.

And the beautiful thing: she said she would stay until Sunday if I didn't mind. She could not spend all the time with me because she had quite a lot of papers in one of her cases, which she was to read, but otherwise she was free and had time she would like to spend with me. We had a light snack and talked this and that, and then she had a little nap. She seemed to me pretty exhausted. At the moment she is in her room reading, and later we will cook together. She has brought me the cookery book "Jamie's Italy" and we'll do some pasta.

An awkward thing happened yesterday: I got a written invitation from Phillip's Editor to spend Sunday on his yacht, even if Phillip was away. "Why should we not enjoy a beautiful sunny afternoon on the lake all the same?" he asked. What is he up too, I wonder. Maybe Maria can be my excuse for not going.

I have just noticed that this morning's was my 250th blog entry. On average, 36.5 people read them, compared to the total number of NN - members it's not many, or when you think how many people would look if I copied the picture of a girl with spread legs from the web and posted it here. But it's a quality crowd who reads me, that makes all the difference.

I am a little worried about the half reader I seem to have every time: he must give up reading half way down the text - what did he expect and not find? Certainly something different from your greatful and humble friend Alpina.

Today is Ascension - a Catholic holiday on which no-one works and all shops are closed. There is not even a newspaper. The sun's out, and I had some light breakfast on my porch, and my two compulsory morning coffees, a long one with milk, and a short, strong espresso.

Gio, as an Italian you are certainly entitled to your view of my darker side, which I wrote about yesterday. In Italy passion is not dark, as far I have been told, but sunny and part of national folklore: passion for pasta, and football, and even for le belle donne - it's a celebration of life and the living. For us folks beyond the Alps, from Freudian territory, there is naturally a little less light and some more shadows.

Actually, I am quite excited today because towards noon, Maria will arrive (see May 1. After I had described her lately, I had some reactions of people who thought that being like her was not so very desirable. I was still exceptionally impressed by her: I don't admire her for what she has achieved, though, but for what she is - an independent, beautiful, strong woman with a lot of charisma.

I have noticed something strange: I have been sent some photos, which someone took on my birthday. There were two or three group shots which also featured Maria. And you would not believe it, and I have never seen anything like this, but when you look at the pictures, you get the idea that she is the only person really totally in focus - all the other people's body language in a way refers to her, and everybody else seems, compared to her, slightly faded and with less contrast - including me. I hope she can stay for more than just the afternoon.

I sometimes wonder if there are more people who feel - like me - that somewhere deep inside them there is an animal hiding. I call it an animal because it lurks in the darker, xxxxxxxxxxx areas of myself, and feeds on feelings and instincts. Sometimes I call it my sister - according to the famous novel by Robert Louis Stevenson: we are a fancy couple, she and me - I am Mrs Jeckyll and she is Sister Hide.

Stevenson was interested in psychology, and his novel is about the good Dr. Jeckyll who can split his personality into two - a good, and a bad side. I have ever so often thought that my personality is willing to split, too.

Behind well-integrated, well-educated and well-behaved Alpina, who functions beautifully in society and is an accepted role model for young people, there has always been my Dark and Dirty Sister lurking, sometimes deep in her subconscious cave, sometimes ever so close to the surface. And sometimes she breaks out, and takes me over - and then I am not I anymore - but Sister Hyde, who rages, who wallows in dirt, who revels in desire, and thrives on insticts.

I fear my darker side, fear that she will betray me some day, will lock out sweet Alpina forever - on that day I will have lost myself completely and what remains of me is not enough to form a sane person. Since I met Phillip, Sister Hyde has been fairly tame, but lately I am not so sure anymore. Is there an alliance between Phillip and her - have they become buddies behind my back? Because when I am with him, she knocks at my mental frame and wants out - and sometimes I let her.

My dark Sister Hide - my upside-down twin - we both serve my body, but while I keep it healthy, you feed it lust ...

It's a consolation to be here on NN after Phillip has just left, for Vienna for 10 long days - Phillip with the magic love spot, my Diarmaid, my very own Cumhail. I'm sitting here the way he left me, not yet dressed, not showered - our sweat dried all over my skin so I can still smell him, my central regions smarting from excessive use. I have a love spot, too - a love bite - where my left breast begins. His leaving has torn a hole into me again - a hole that wants to be filled, desperately - by him, by whatever he has that can fill me. I wonder how he leaves me when it is for a year, so soon.

A shower now, and then into my business suit, my briefcase ready and to the bus stop - it's like Friday today because of the long Ascension weekend. Don't worry, Alpina will function as usual - it's just the inside that hurts.

I didn't send an answer to the guy who just sent me a message that he'd gladly put up with me constantly writing about cheese if I posted my picture every day, preferably naked. And if I wanted to see a picture of his cock, I should mail to .... wherever.

For some people this may look like a compliment - for me it does not.

Wow - this guy's cheese photo has drawn me an absolute record number of comments - thanks so much. It gives me a good idea into what direction I ought to develop my blog. Thanks for so subtly advising me, my friends ... LOL ... I sometimes wonder how many visitors I would have if I could freely publish my photo here, like for example Tilac Girl, who I admire a lot, and show how lovely and cute a girl I am ... but then of course the only thing I could write about here is maybe cheese - and that's what I rather eat than write about.

I have typed "LOL" again, some custom from chat rooms and the messenger, where I always use this (I admit, a little stereotype) abbreviation. One day I got a lovely compliment after having typed it again a few times in a conversation: some very pleasant guy said he just very much liked the way I laugh, and that it was so special. And all he had seen was me typing LOL - with the right timing in the right situation, of course.

Tomorow Phillip will leave for Vienna for 10 days, I will start correcting my essays, and on Thursday Maria will come to visit me, and I hope she can stay for a night or so. If the weather is nice we could go hiking, or swimming in the pool. I am so much looking forward to her and to having her alone to myself - at my party she was talking to everybody and we had little time for each other. There are so many things I'd like to ask her; I wonder what her life has been like in all these years, and what it is like at present.

This picture is for Gio, and it shows one of the plates of cheese we prepared for the party. Most of the semi-hard cheeses were local, or Swiss, and I think the blue cheese was French. There was an additional plate with pieces of soft cheeses, particularly French or local brie - some with basilicum or woodgarlic taste, and some local sheep's cheese. It tastes particularly wonderful with fresh grapes, some dried fruit and nuts. We served it with a dry white Chardonnay wine or some red Italian Barbera d'Alba.

Compared to my worries on that evening, how wonderfully down-to-earth is the topic of food, isn't it?

Today at school our finals began for the eldest students - German essay was on the programme and now I have a pile of texts to mark, so there is quite a busy time before me. I hope I can do it outside at the pool.

Some concerned people warned me not to turn into Phillip's slave, and they thought I was pretty close to this. But I think there is no real danger for that: we don't play any submission games or use vocabulary of that kind, I get neither tied up nor spanked, nor do I feel like serving him in any way.

It's rather like in the celtic folk tale - there was a young warrior by the name of Diarmaid [deer-med] who had a magic love spot on his brow - all women who saw it couldn't help falling in love with him (His Master was actually called Cumhail - if this is not a telling name). The problem for me is that there is a small number of men who have - in my perception - this love spot, too, and when I see it I am done with: I cannot resist and I am totally theirs. Phillip has such a love spot, and a pretty powerful one, it seems.

My first black man, to who I gave myself spontaneously in London (April 24), had this love spot, too. I described our encounter like that: "While I was shaking and moaning, he was very quiet, and he looked at me carefully, without agitation even. He looked as if he was repairing some piece of machinery, and he moved me up and down his cock while I was just shaking and moaning and sobbing".

When I think of it, that's the way it's sometimes with Phillip and me, too. He handles me expertly, and I can't but melt in his hands and lose myself. While he is looking at me: like at a piece of machinery. Like a collector looks at some pretty insect he is carefully piercing with his pin. Though I have to be just to Phillip: what he pierces me with is much, much better than just an entymologist's pin.

I know, my friends, that I should only do it when I really feel like it - I totally agree with you. On the other hand I have promised Phillip, and I can't just feign headaches, can I? And it's not the first threesome in my life, so it's nothing that will shock me too much. I wanted to discuss the matter again last night when Phillip came to stay at my place - I had planned to cook a little meal for him, and I wanted to speak about it over a glass of wine, like two mature adult people.
But what happened when he arrived was the usual: first my legs failed, then my mind went blank and my body took over completely. I don't want to bore you with repetitive details, I have described my reaction to him more than once. And it was maybe worse last night than ever - or better. I didn't cook after all, but we just ate some bites from the fridge and drank the wine in bed. He ate from my body, with a long, wet tongue, and while he fed me with his fingers, he was deep inside me, and whenever he offered me a bite, he moved in a way that I could not but close my teeth vehemently and almost bit his fingers, to his great myrth.

Finally I did not discuss what I had planned, but agreed to invite Traudl the Elf to my place one of these days, after his trip to Vienna, and to write or phone her personally and in the name of us two. So here I am - while he is hacking something into his laptop downstairs - and there is nothing which can be as arousing for me than the thought of what I know he will be doing to me as soon as he finishes his text ....