I was surprised that Goldman remembered my birthday ... for that matter that it might even occur to him that I had one. He's hardly the sentimental sort.

But then I was less than pleased to learn that my surprise birthday present was nothing more than a guided tour of some musty old prison. How romantic! Guys like Goldman just don't ever get it.

But I also knew that this Roberto Speroni, or "Bob" as he rather oddly preferred to be called, was doing his best. And I knew that meeting this Bob in Rome meant something to Goldman. So I went along with it. After all he was handsome in that uniquely Italian sort of way, and I was flattered by the way he looked at me. 

So we went "after hours" for a private tour of Mamartine Prison, the old Roman Tullianum. Bob knew his history well and did his best to make a tour of what appeared to be little more than dank, dimly lit passageways and dingy cells somewhat interesting.

Goldman seemed to be having fun, making jokes and quips right and left, including one in poor taste ... given my recent history... about me being crucified upside down like St. Peter. For that I called him an "asshole" and punched him hard. After half an hour on that God forbidden prison tour my tolerance for idiots was fast going down the toilet.

I should have known something was up by the looks I detected being passed back and forth between the two of them. It started back at the restaurant and continued on the tour. Something was fishy, but I wasn't sure just what.

Then I made my big mistake. I accepted the invitation to step into a cell to see what it was like. But when I told Goldman to join me, the bastard suddenly and inexplicably slammed the iron gate, leaving me trapped inside!

"What the fuck, Goldman?" I yelled, absolutely furious.

"You've been a very bad girl Barbara. Posing as a Vestal Virgin when everyone knows you're no virgin. We'll see what the Emperor has to say about that. I don't think he'll be happy," he replied.

"Very funny Goldman," I said. "Now stop fucking around and let me out."

By this time I was stomping my feet. My fists were balled and clenched, and if looks were killing Goldman and his grinning Carbinierni pal would have been dead!

They paid no notice, launching into a ludicrous exchange, that made me even more angry!

"What do you say, Bob? Should I let her out? This is your jurisdiction after all."

"I think the charges are very serious, Stan. We must convene a trial. Certainly this girl is very rude and ill-spoken," the Italian policeman said.

"Fuck you too, asshole," I spat at Bob, giving him the finger.

"The girl definitely has a dirty mouth, unbecoming a tender of the sacred flame," Goldman interjected. "Let's go and see what the brass upstairs wants to do with her."

"I think that is what the proper procedure would be, Stan,"

Then the bastards left. Leaving me to stew in that musty old cell, and to add insult to injury they turned out the lights!

Remembering that my iPhone had a flashlight function, I pulled it out and turned it on. To calm my raging fury I played the light around the cold dank walls, wet with condensation and then around the cracked and peeling the ceiling.

The camera was easy enough to spot. So that's their game, I thought to myself. They think I am going to get all hot and bothered down here and put on a little show. The thought of them sitting in a bar, drinking wine and watching me play with myself and lose it on a cell phone screen rekindled my anger.

I sat down on the hard cold floor, turned off my iPhone flashlight to conserve battery, wrapped my arms tight around my knees and glared up, despite the darkness, at the spot where I knew that camera lens was embedded in the ceiling.

"If you assholes think I am going to sit here and finger myself for your entertainment, you got another think coming!" I shouted, my voice reverberating off the walls and echoing down the corridor.

I turned the phone back on, intending to call or text. The glow of the screen lit my face. But my earnest purposeful expression quickly melted into a dark scowl. No fucking signal!

"Shit!!!!" I screamed and threw the phone across the cell. It clattered across the floor and slammed into the wall. There was the sound of cracking glass. The screen light blinked twice and went out.