And in almost the same spot as their last encounter. "Do you remember the last time we bumped into each other?" he asked her. "Yes, it was just over there, wasn't it...?" She pointed across the road. He nodded, rather surprised she'd remembered. "I..." "You said 'Hello'," she interrupted, "and we chatted for a moment..." He nodded again. "And I asked if you lived local..." He accepted the intended mild rebuke and jumped in. "Listen, I'm sorry I didn't invite you round for a coffee or something, but I was still with my ex-wife then and I don't think she'd have appreciated it, you know..." "That's okay. I was a little bit disappointed though," she added, after a moment. "Not as much as me!" he thought, recalling the many times he'd regretted not being able to invite her home. If only they'd ran into each other a couple of weeks later, when his 'ex' had gone away on holiday with her mother... "So, you're not together any more?" she continued. "No..." He was determined not to. They sat opposite each other in arm chairs in the adequately sized sitting room of his suite, continuing the chat that harboured on nothing very much. ‘I have to tell you Frank, this isn’t something I have done before. I’m not in the habit of going with a relative stranger into their room and, to be perfectly honest, don’t know what happens next.’ Jean thought that she should be uncomfortable, should be ready for flight from the predicament, but she didn’t, she was quite taken by the ease she felt, was happily drinking a g and t with this beautiful man in his room, was perfectly comfortable in the knowledge that she would fuck him in a while and all this was just a prelude. ‘Jean, if I thought for one second, that you were that type of woman, I can assure you, we would not be sitting here now.’ His voice softened to a deep rumble, she liked it very much. Jean got up from her chair and looked at him. Her hands found buttons and one by one, from the neck down, she undid them, leaving.
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