He was late, as usual, the sucky traffic did him in. Seattle was such a difficult place to get around in. It was a wonder people didn't shoot each other.
Nah, then it would be LA.
He was looking forward to this after a long day of cubical surfing. He sometimes felt like a rodent in a maze. The stress of his situation was tremendous.
He pulled into the parking structure and found his assigned spot. He removed his cel phone, pocket computer and all other vestiges of technology from his person. These were not permitted. Locking his car, he patted his pockets for the envelope.
Finding it, he smiled. This was one of the few pleasures he permitted himself. The envelope was a reminder to him that this pleasure was awaiting him on this day and at this time. Glancing at his watch, he saw that he had made up the lost time and was just a few minutes early.
Crossing the street, he entered a non descript building and walked up three flights of stairs. He removed the envelope from he coat pocket. "3-C" was written on the front, nothing else. The faint aroma of rose petals tickled his senses.
Opening the envelope, he found a letter and a key.
" Since you are reading this, it is assumed that you accept the conditions of our agreement, and that the terms are also acceptable. The key you have in your hand will open the door 3-C and 3-C only. Please go inside and make yourself comfortable. You will find reading materials and refreshments suitable to your tastes
Shortly after you arrive someone will attend to you.
Thank you for you patronage"
Folding up the letter he replaced it in the envelope. He smiled briefly, and found the the door labeled 3-C, inserted the key and unlocked the door.
Upon entering the room, he found warm lighting, tasteful decorations, period furniture and soft blues music in the background. In the center of the room an overstuffed couch and oval coffee table were placed. Next to them was a large leather chair beckoned. On the coffee table was a silver serving plate with fresh salmon, cheese and breads. Against the wall was a large bookcase filled with various political novels and written histories. Opposite that was a antique bar with a bottle of Syrah wine and a 20 year old single malt Scotch. Taking a deep breath, he could smell books - real books, the hard bound kind, wood and a sense of age, as if the contents of the room had been there for a long time.
He poured himself a drink, unable to resist the lure of 20 year old scotch, he'd try the wine later. Then wandered over to the bookcase. He selected a book by Ambrose, a biography of John Adams. Something he had always meant to read, but had no had the time. Settling in the chair he found a position of comfort and began to read.
He sipped his drink and found it to be as good as it gets. That warm sensation all the way down, and strong flavors of oak and port. Very well balanced and smooth.
After a while, a few snacks on cheese and salmon, and another drink, he really began to feel that he was unwinding, almost a physical release of his tension. He sank deeper into the chair and was engrossed in his reading. He allowed himself this as it was part of his process.
He felt his eyes begin to go heavy on him and shortly was napping, book in his lap and his drink on the table.
Thirty minutes later, he was slowly roused by the touch of a hand on his shoulder, followed by the caress of a hand on his face. He let himself linger in the twilight of sleep as long as he could. when he opened his eyes, he saw a vision of beauty, grace and strength.
