Vision Ch. 01

"You've been for a dip." She nods at my robe.

"It was either that or squash and I'm not much for racket ball. It'd be too much to hope for a basketball court here.

"I know what you mean. I hate the treadmill, makes me feel like a hamster. But running outside has been advised against just now because of air quality. I may have to risk it though. I've got serious cabin fever."

She quickly disappears into the bathroom. The shower runs for about 20 minutes or so, 7 minutes after that she comes out wearing a robe, hair slicked back in a low braided bun. She goes to the drawer and takes out a few items and stands indecisively, clearly waiting for me to leave the room. Grabbing my shaving kit and a few things I head into the bathroom. Smells nice in here. I turn up the heat lamp and fan to drive out the humidity. I take care of myself quickly stroking one out in the shower, I'm standing naked in the same spot she was just standing naked and wet, it can't be helped. I shave as carefully and slowly as I can. This is a special kind of hell. Can't go outside, can't get home, can't find another hotel, no empty rooms anywhere, I've checked repeatedly. I'm about as close to my apocalyptic event/deserted island last man last woman fantasy as I can possibly get and of course I'm stuck in a room with a beautiful woman I can't have. She's on her bed quietly watching a movie on her laptop, lying on her stomach, little butt in the air. God help me.

"Did you want to watch that on the big screen?"

"No, it's your turn, help yourself." She says equably.

News on when this situation might possibly resolve itself looks bleak. Rolling over she sits up and glances over and sighs heavily and picks up the room service menu and flips through.

"We're still stuck. I heard that some people are flying east to go west and that might be an option if this continues for much longer."

"Sounds expensive."

"Maybe," she says staring intently at a menu. "But it might be cheaper than staying here for god knows how long. Though I must say I could easily get used to just eating and sleeping."

Picking up the phone she quickly rattles off her order and hangs up. "Shit, I'm sorry. Did you want lunch?"

I chuckle at her. "You're forgiven. I noticed you didn't have much for breakfast."

Examining the menu I pick up the phone and place my order. I take out my laptop and return some emails. I can't wait to meet this arrogant bastard lawyer I have to work with.

There's a knock at the door announcing the arrival of lunch. She scoots off the bed quickly and answers the door. Scanning the bill as the waiter sets up the table she digs out some pound notes and pays.

"You don't have to do that."

"Force of habit, it's cool. Besides, I've got per diem."

"Next meals' on me." I say.

Tucking into her ravioli, she looks over at my plate. "I have food envy. Is that good?"

"It is. You were right, they do seafood well here." Surprisingly, I am enjoying my meal. It can be hard to get good food on the road.

She gestures with her chin at my plate. "What is it?"

"Wild turbot with some kind of spicy sausage." She seems very interested. "Want some?"

"No, thank you."

"I'm sharing your room, it's the least I can do."

She looks tempted. "Are you sure?"

"Help yourself." I nudge the plate her way.

She smiles. "You may come to regret this; I have a serious appetite."

"I can always order more. Have some."

Biting her lip, she quickly reaches across with her fork, spears a bit of fish, sausage and artichoke plops it on her plate and cuts it into more manageable portions before eating it. She closes her eyes and sighs deeply with a little moan at the end. A woman openly enjoying food; It was worth it just to see and hear that. What other sounds can I get her to make?

"Good?"

"Very."

"Help yourself if you'd like some more."

"No, thank you." She says firmly. But having ordered Fritto Misto, I gently ply her with bites of that as well. I love a big lunch; she seems more of a big dinner person. She offers me some of her cheese plate as she tucks into her soup and salad. Eating quickly and intently, she finishes before me and is sitting back daintily dabbing at her mouth with her napkin when she burps loudly.

"Excuse me!" She looks embarrassed.

I can't help but laugh. "Some cultures consider that the ultimate compliment."

"My brother calls me 'greedy smurf' which is evidently true as I've eaten all my food and possibly a third of yours, sorry." She looks slightly ashamed.

"Don't apologize. Besides we're not done, I have dessert. Chocolate, lemon something."

She groans. "Dessert, in the middle of the day? You are bad."

With a flourish I whip off the cover.

Her eyes widen and her nostrils flare the tiniest bit. "Gianduiotto." The way her mouth wraps and puckers around that word is enough to get something started.

Her brow arches as she looks at the chocolate and picks up the dessert fork and looks at me expectantly. "Well?" She says.

"Help yourself." I'm waiting, eager to see her response.

"I am not eating this by myself."

We dig in. I wait a beat, watching her eyes roll back in her head and close as she hums with delight, hmmm . . . more sounds.

"Damn, that is positively sublime." She pauses and looks at me. "Aren't you having any?"

"Honestly? I think I'd rather watch you."

Putting down her fork, she crosses her arms and looks at me sternly. "I do believe we had an agreement sir."

"Yes, ma'am." I eat the bite on my fork, it is very good, especially with the coffee. She resumes eating.

"I'm taking a walk to get a few basic things. Thinking I'd be home by now, I sent most of my things on ahead of me." She chuckles. "At least I saved the clothes even if I couldn't save myself."

"The hotel does laundry and dry cleaning you know."

"True, but I need a walk. I'm going crazy in here. Aren't you? The concierge said it's not bad outside, just typically overcast, no particulates in the air at ground level."

Lunch and a walk with a pretty girl? It's not exactly rocket science. A walk does sound good. We grab our jackets and push the cart into the hallway. Once outside, we both breathe a sigh of release.

"It's like escaping a luxurious prison isn't it?"

It is, she agrees. A park-view from the hotel is not the same as being outside in it.

Strolling in companionable silence, we take in the early muted hues of springtime England. Palest green and fresh here, reminiscent of Virginia the way it's laid out.

There's attitude in her walk - a rather blunt, swaggering, inflated physicality - in general, she registers as being taller than she is - an expressive counterpoint to her soft face.

She rubs her hands together and blows into them. It's chillier than I'd reckoned. Picking up the pace she walks quickly out of the park and into the retail district. A quick dash across a street and we're inside. Consulting the store directory she goes to the elevator.

"I'll tag along if you don't mind, looking to bring back something for my mom." I say.

"Sure, it's cool."

Browsing intently she selects several items all sweaters. Not a bad idea, it does get cold in Virginia. It's chilly there even now. I hold up an oatmeal colored sweater. "Think she might like this?"

"I think so. I like it." She lightly rubs the material against the inside of her wrist and against her neck and looks at the inside tag. "Alpaca and cashmere, nice." Picking up one in gray, she adds it to the rest folded over her arm. The sweater I've picked out is 155 pounds and the exchange rate is ugly today. I can easily afford it, but I can hear my father's voice, in my head. 'Just because you can do a thing, doesn't necessarily mean you should.'

Wandering towards the jeans she doesn't seem concerned about price. There's a large silky looking scarf thrown across her arm that looks nice as well. It'd be a good mother's day gift.

"Where'd you find that?"

"With the sweaters, someone discarded it, guess they changed their mind but I quite like it. These are on the first floor though across from haberdashery."

"I'll meet you downstairs."

"Yeah, sure." She says distractedly.

Thirty-two minutes later I'm wandering towards the front of the store when she walks up beside me.

"You ready?" she asks.

"Yeah, you?"

"Yeah."

We head out and back towards the hotel. From the bag, she pulls out her new scarf and snaps the tags off with her incisors before wrapping it around her neck several times and snuggling down into it. We walk slowly back through the park. I keep glancing over but she's quietly lost in thought. I'm finding her more distracting by the minute. I'm just about to step off the curb when I'm sharply pulled back as a large red bus whizzes by. She lets go of my jacket. I catch my breath.

She looks at me. "Sleepwalking?"

I laugh nervously. "I think so."

"Everyone here crosses with the light. The pedestrians actually wait - oncoming traffic or not, to be given the right of way before walking, it's completely bizarre, watch." We stand back and observe and sure enough even without traffic they wait.

"Dinner is definitely on me tonight."

She grimaces and winces softly. "You sure about that? You've seen me eat."

"Well if you'd stop saving me at every turn I wouldn't feel compelled to feed you."

She shrugs easily. "Alright, I tried giving you an out."

We continue to walk slowly back to the hotel, she's making astute observations about the architecture. Is she an architect? I still don't know what she does. I don't even know her first name.

We stop to watch some street performers, throwing a few pound notes into their case before crossing the street and going back upstairs.

"What were you watching earlier?" I ask.

She names a popular sci-fi fantasy movie. I'm only getting around to seeing it now. It's pretty good, though I need to watch it again I think.

"I've seen it. It's good. So what camp are you in? Is he awake or still in the dream?"

"He's clearly awake."

"You're wrong." Her matter of fact way makes me laugh. Looking at me seriously for a beat she breaks into soft laughter as well. We have a little back and forth with facts and impressions. Her argument is so convincing that by the time we reach the room I've started to doubt myself.

"Come, I'll prove it to you. We can watch it again. We've got time before dinner."

She calls down for a large bowl of buttered popcorn. I can't help but look at her in mild astonishment. She shrugs. "What? As expensive as this place is, they're lucky I don't request it be dusted with gold.

High maintenance. The popcorn arrives and she places the bowl on the nightstand between the beds.

"Prepare to embrace wrongness."

I start the movie on the large flat screen. It's been interesting looking at the movie and watching her at the same time. As it comes to the very end I begin to see her point.

"Based on the evidence presented, you might be right. I see the wobbling but I don't see the top actually stop indicating conscious reality. Maybe we're both right."

That's as much of a concession as she's getting. If anything the new information leaves me more uncertain than before.

"Wouldn't the top just spin smoothly on without wobbling or slowing. And if the top is wobbling and slowing, isn't that, based on the movie's parameters, indicative of consciousness or rather the cusp of consciousness? No, the top doesn't stop, but there is considerable wobbling and slowing which is reasonable doubt. At best I'm willing to call it a deliberate mind-fuck but I don't accept that we're both right."

I take a long look at her. "You're a lawyer, aren't you?"

There's that little almost smile again. "We should get ready to go down to dinner," she says. I put on my jacket and I'm done. Before the gym I managed to get a haircut and a shave and she's been sneaking glances ever since. Hell, now she's flat out looking at me, gawking. Note to self, mom's right about the haircuts.

"You look fine, but I should probably change. I'll be ready in 15."

Rooting through the shopping bags, she selects a few items. Fifteen minutes? Yeah right. I hear the shower. I may as well find something to read or watch on TV. 12 minutes later however and she's out and looking casually fine in a soft sweater, skirt and heels, bare legs, soft makeup, diamond studs, simple and very pretty.

Dinner is long and interesting. We eat, drink and talk easily and endlessly about everything - from food to politics to soccer. It goes well. She's fun with a wonderfully dark sense of humor. I'm telling my best jokes just to see her smile and hear that saucy laugh of hers: dry and dirty. I make an effort to find out more about her but she proves evasive, refusing to go into specifics and gently steering the conversation away from any personal information I might volunteer. Not rude about it, but very adept at the dodge. I'm certain she's a business professional of some sort and damned good at it whatever it is she does. Lack of pertinent details aside though she's the most interesting woman I've met in a while. This is as nice a date as I've had in years, easy, comfortable. Even heading back to the room it doesn't get end-of-night weird.

We're standing outside the room and she's trying to get the keycard to work. There's a couple coming down the narrow hallway with a lot of shopping bags. Intent on getting the room key to work she's not noticed. I place my hand on her back to move her forward a bit, her sweater has risen and there's the barest bit of skin, before I even realize it I've stroked the small of her back, so incredibly soft. She immediately freezes. I'm probably scaring her but I just couldn't not touch her. I know I've lingered too long when she turns to look at me with large and gravely serious eyes. I back up with both hands in the air. "Didn't mean any harm."

"It's okay." Is she blushing? She finally gets the key to work.

Locking the door, she leans against it, looking at me searchingly before giving a low laugh that makes me uneasy.

"What's funny?"

Grabbing me determinedly, she shoves me against a wall and kisses me. Really kisses me, deep, luscious and a little rough at first but ending tenderly. She finally backs away looking surprised.

We look at each other and laugh nervously.

"Damn!"

"Shit. Now, I've done it." She says backing away and shaking her head looking embarrassed.

"Yeah, you have. Come back here." Taking her hands, I start out lightly trying to get a feel for the taste and texture of her but she deepens the kiss and runs the tip of her tongue down the center of the roof of my mouth. Oh man can she kiss. Pushing my jacket off and squeezing my shoulders with her palms she sighs and pulls me towards her bed where we fall down with a laugh.

The kissing goes on and on and after three or four wild rolls across the bed all the clothes are off and the laughter stops.

I lean back for a better view of him. I can't help but laugh, impossible and completely out of the question.

"That's a 'Hell No' right there."

I try to get off the bed and he grabs me with a laugh and kisses me again, his hands slowly going everywhere. What the hell is he doing to my nipples and neck? God help me.

I've never been that into penetration. But the longer I look the more conflicted I feel. Though overly large, it's actually rather pretty. Can a penis be pretty? The head is very pronounced and tender mauvish pink. I don't know whether to lock myself in the bathroom or jump on and ride until I drop. I've been looking at it for quite a while and he's been as still as a statue, watching me, patiently waiting.

"As nice as that is, I'm not changing my mind."

"If babies can get out, I can get in."

Babies? That's a whole other issue. Sigh.

"Not to mention, did I say you could have it, or that you were even going to get it? Kinda presumptuous of you." He says mischievously.

Please. "Presumptuous? We're naked on a bed."

"I've never slept with a complete stranger and don't mean to. Dax Wilde, pleased to meet you." He kisses the back of my hand and looks at me expectantly. Old fashioned, courtly even, and incredibly not the least bit smarmy or insincere. Coupled with the look he's giving me, it's disarming. He's smiling but looks serious all the same. That name of his is interesting and sounds familiar. Do I know him? Hell, I sound like Lili. His surname is that of a favorite author, my mind must be doing some weird associative thing.

"Ms. James."

"Do you have a first name?"

"Yes."

He smiles and nods, bending to kiss me anyway. I turn my head and feel him smile against my neck as his lips graze there. His hands move over me languidly with infuriating slowness.

"Relax."

"Make me?"

He stops mid caress and laughs, flash of white teeth and dimple, eyes crinkling. Much better than that serious look of his.

I'm just sayin'. It doesn't have to be perfect or even good for that matter. I can get myself off later if need be. I don't think I'll have to though. I want him so badly my mouth is filled with saliva.

"I want you relaxed."

"Then get down there and persuade me."

His eyes widen in amazed amusement before narrowing. "You are a hot-blooded little thing." He bounds off the bed, his body is slim, hard and perfect, those legs of his, damn. In two strides he's at the fridge fishing out a container. My caramel gelato. I like where this is headed. He's saying something to me and I'm so distracted just looking at him that I barely hear a word. His beard grows fast. You'd think all that fuzz would get in the way but his deliberate way of speaking coupled with his slight accent draw attention to his mouth - the way he talks, not just what he says. In my minds eye I can see myself dragging my tongue across his stubble before biting his chin like a strawberry and it's sending me around the bend.

"Sounds messy."

"I won't spill a drop."

"I hope not, for your sake. I am not above pulling rank and making you sleep in the wet spot."

Sitting the gelato on the nightstand, he quickly turns, picks me up and lightly tosses me across onto his bed. I land with a bounce and a squeal. That was unexpected, but since when do I squeal? He's damned strong to be so slim. He's fun so far though. I'm still laughing as he stretches out beside me.

"You bounce well."

"Thank You."

"You're welcome."

Resting lightly on top of me he's locked eyes with me and is watching me so intently I couldn't look away even if I wanted to. I thought his eyes were gray, but up close I'm not at all sure. Are they bluish gray, green? Not quite. They're mesmerizing. I try closing my eyes to break the spell. He reaches for the gelato and feeds me some, it's very good, ribbons of salted caramel running through the buttery custard cream mmm. . .

He takes a spoonful himself. "Tasty, it needs something though." Moving down the bed he parts my thighs and places a small spoonful on my bare flesh quickly lapping it up with the lightest of touches. Goodness. Loading the gelato onto his tongue he runs it along the grooves of me. Slippery cold followed by the hot tip of his avidly searching tongue. I want him to come from down there. His touch though exploratory is quite sure. But while he's done better than most I certainly don't want to ruin it by having to give him the shoulder tap asking him to come back top-side after a fruitless search. No sooner do I think this when I jump about a foot backwards as he finds it. Setting aside the gelato he goes back to lightly lick and blow on the tenderest part of me. But instead of blowing he's warming it with his breath before licking and now he's started humming which is distracting until I feel his mouth vibrate against me.

Convulsively clutching the back of his head I come for what feels like a protracted bit of time. My heartbeat has relocated itself between my legs. Feeling satisfied but not quite sated, I reach for him only to have him hold my hands above my head and gently say no.