For those who read Chapter One of my adventures with the lovely dark-haired Asian lady, thank you for doing so. Here is the second episode where I return to the Pleasure Parlour.
As ever, all constructive comments welcome - including any suggestions how it might develop.
Thank you.
Do enjoy!
*****
A week is a long time.
Never mind politics.
Waiting, ticking off the days.
And nights, hard as hell, recalling.
Picturing her, looking down into her eyes.
Those hands, slim, irresistibly erotic.
And her body.
She knows, I know.
I have to go back.
-- -- -- --
Same time, same bar return.
Same barmaid, same denim-clad arse.
Still nervous but mostly excitement.
The cold beer slipping down a treat.
Draining, time to go, a wave and off.
-- -- -- --
Tried to book her in advance, no avail.
Not their 'business model' apparently.
Just turn up on spec, the voice advised.
What if she's not there, unavailable?
Then what?
Second best or a dignified withdrawal.
Don't want to think about it.
Besides, she urged me to return.
Didn't she?
Lingering doubts.
Time to hurry.
-- -- -- --
At least I didn't trip up the stone steps.
Inside, still musty and unlit.
It wouldn't be the same if it wasn't.
A different receptionist, a smile, easing the tension.
Being presented with the matrix.
Eyes flashing around, searching, increasing desperation.
Where is she? Please!
Looking up into the receptionist's eyes, imploring.
Reverting to the faces, along the row, then the next.
A nightmare.
Asking whether I'm looking for anyone in particular.
Isn't it obvious?
Blurting out her name, is she here?
A finger extends, getting closer, pointing.
Lifting my hand.
Abject relief.
-- -- -- --
Transaction concluded, knowing the way.
Number 17, it had to be.
A flickering sconce, failing to dispel the gloom.
Arriving at the door, like going back in time.
Glancing up and down the corridor, not a sound.
A deep breath, then another, a quiet knock.
One, two, three seconds, come on please!
Opening noiselessly, looking ahead.
