Vision

But then there are girls like me

Who stand appalled by what we've seen

We know the truth about you

Now you're the prince of all the magazines

That is a dangerous thing

Now would they love you if they knew all things we know

Those golden boys are a fraud don't believe their show

-Res

CHAPTER 1

The sound of an electronic lock engaging is loud, too loud to be from next door. I call out, but the door opens anyway. Housekeeping is eager today. I hastily manage to pull on my undies and a T-shirt. Not housekeeping.

---

"You lost?"

"This is room 408?"

"Yes."

"Then no, I'm not lost." To the contrary, I quite like where I find myself in this instant.

Looking at me coolly she blinks once. "I've reserved, rented and am still using this room."

"I'm booked in this room too. They must have made a mistake"

"Obviously."

I'm staring, there's no help for it. There are so many contradictions. For starters there's the disconnect between the deep voice and sweet face. That and I am having a first time conversation with someone wearing panties and a batman t-shirt. Gilded to behold, from the crackling red hair to the golden toffee colored skin. God in his infinite wisdom got everything right: the skin, the curves, the pertness of her. Large wide-set eyes over a small nose, full round lips, small divoted chin, and the most flawless skin I think I've ever seen. Not sure yet if she's beautiful, but she's very pretty. Not sure if that hair color is for real but there's certainly a of it, arranged in a large and frizzy bun atop her head. Not shy, hasn't even reached for a robe. Calmly walking over to a chest of drawers she reaches in and pulls out a pair of jeans and slides them on before going over to the desk and picking up the phone.

"This is Ms. James in room 408, I have a gentleman here who says he's booked this room. He has a working key card. Yes, well clearly there's been an error. We'll be down momentarily."

My fellow American is quite brisk and professional sounding for someone sporting hot pink toes. Her voice is so husky and serious yet she speaks in such well-modulated tones I can't place the accent. It sounds northern but her pronunciation of the word 'clearly' throws me.

"Sorry for barging in."

"It's cool. We'll go down and make sure they get you sorted." She says confidently.

"You don't have to do that."

"No worries. I was just on my way out for a bite."

Slipping on a black shirt she rolls up the sleeves before sitting down on a bed and pulling on socks and sneakers. From a leather messenger bag she pulls out her room key, passport, iPhone, Chap Stick and a credit card and places them in an inside the pocket of a leather jacket. Slicking on some chap stick and wrapping a scarf around her neck she zips the jacket opens the door and steps outside. An oddly expedient departure routine for a woman. A quick ride down and we're back in the busy lobby waiting our turn in line at the concierge desk.

"Sorry for the wait in queue. How may I help you?"

"I'm booked in room 403 and this is Mr.?"

"Wilde. With an 'e'."

She looks at me, blinking once. "Mr. Wilde. Yes, we've been booked in the same room."

The desk person looks at us. "You two are not together?"

"We are not."

"But, I thought you were. I mean . . ."

"We're not." Ms. James' eyebrow raises a fraction. "You're merely having the rare, but sublime pleasure of hosting two Americans at the same time." She says imperiously.

The poor girl's skin turns several shades before settling into a sickly puce. She splutters, "Unfortunately, we don't have any more rooms. There's a major event occurring and we are at capacity, as are most of the hotels in Knightsbridge. I can look for other accommodation in the city."

"No worries. I should be able to find something in Piccadilly or back at the airport. It's only a night." It's a damned inconvenience and I dread the prospect, and of course outside it has just started to pour.

"Perfect weather for a cock-up on your end isn't it?" Ms. James says rather tartly.

"I do apologize; if you'll wait I can help you find accommodations and transportation." Margaret looks to be on the verge of tears.

Ms. James softens. "Looks like you're fending for yourself here." She turns to me. "If he's willing, Mr. Wilde and I should be fine sharing a room, there are two beds after all."

That's awfully trusting of her.

"Are you sure? It's really not a problem for me to try to find something else."

"It's raining cats and dogs. I may be out for most of the evening anyway. It's fine, really. You've got your room key and I've got dinner plans." Taking a guest umbrella she is quickly out the door, into a cab and gone.

True to her word, she's out for the evening, gone all night in fact, quietly coming in the next morning as I'm packing my shaving kit.

"I appreciate it but I didn't mean to put you out last night."

"No problem at all, I got to catch up, see the kids, meet the new wife. It was a pretty good time." She's yawning as if she's not had enough sleep though.

"Friends in England; that must come in handy."

"In a pinch, it's not too shabby. You'd better move it if you're going to make the 10:15 home."

I cock my head at her. "How do you know when my flight is or that I'm going home for that matter?"

"It's barely 7 am and you've already eaten, shaved and dressed. You're wearing jeans, t-shirt and posh trainers (mock-up of a British accent). Your accent especially right now is seriously southern, Louisiana I think, and so you'll likely be flying to a hub on the southeastern seaboard, Atlanta, Dulles, Charlotte perhaps. I've taken the same flight for years now. I'll be doing the same tomorrow morning."

Very sharp.

"So Ms. James, what do you do?"

She chuckles dryly. "Whatever I want."

"I see, and do you like it? Whatever it is you do."

"It's not bad, pays the bills and I'm reasonably good at it."

I like our exchange and the suddenly mischievous twinkle in her eye. Unfortunately, the room phone rings and sure enough it's the front desk and they've hailed a cab for me. Out of time and it was just getting interesting. I don't have an address, a first name, nothing.

"Well it was nice to meet you."

"You as well." She offers her hand to shake. "Have a safe flight home."

Thank god he's gone - he was starting to smile in just the right way.

__________________________________

It's too soon for my wakeup call. I asked not to be disturbed for the next 6 hours. It was lovely at Oscar & Sabine's place but I did not get enough. Their newborn has evidently not gotten the polite Briton memo just yet as he screamed most of the night. Maybe the knocking is coming from the next room over. Maybe room service is confused. Maybe the hotels on fire. Don't care, tired, want my rest. This bed is really good. The sheets are warm and crisp, yet soft and smooth. Mattress is a tad softer than I'm accustomed to. Soft, so soft I could sink right down to the floor. I'm drifting off again when the knocking starts up again. Alright then, I'm up and there's about to be a serious breach in English American relations. I put on the robe and stumble to the door and put my eye to the peephole. Him, again? It's 4:18 pm he's missed his flight. I don't think he's left anything. I open the door.

"Yeah?" I sound annoyed but I can't help it. What the hell is he doing back here?

"Thank god you're still here."

"Did you leave something? Shouldn't you be stateside by now?"

"Can't fly, no one can. They've suspended all air travel."

"Another attack?" Suddenly wide-awake, I run over and turn on the television, madly fumbling through the news channels.

"No, no attack. But there's a volcanic ash cloud over most of Europe right now. They've grounded all planes."

"Volcanic ash? You're not serious?"

But the news confirms as much. Checking my cell I've missed several calls. I call my sister. I glance over at Mr. Wilde he's standing looking shell-shocked and just about done in.

"Yeah, looks like I may be stuck here a bit longer than anticipated. Which sucks, I'm fucking exhausted and need my sleep. A visit to MM would be great, but with the planes down that'd be too long a train ride. But I'm good here. I need to rest anyway. Yeah, you may as well use my appointment. Shit, I really wanted a trim too. I'm tempted to just cut it all off. Yeah I know, I know. I would get it done here, but based on the average black woman walking the streets of London I think I'll pass. I know that, but it can't be helped. Do me a favor and have someone go over and sign for packages tomorrow and put out some meat for Zora and the gang. I know it's a pain, but I thought I'd be home in time. Alright, thanks love. Actually, that's Harry beeping in now, no I'm not clicking over, he'll keep. Where's my nephew? Yeah, what's he doing? Give him a kiss for me. Love you too, tell them I'm fine and will be home as soon as I can."

Frowning at the phone she answers and takes it into the bathroom. "Hey Harry." She sounds exasperated. "Yeah? Well I'm stuck here for the duration and there's nothing I can do about it. I work alot out of the country, you know this." Deep sigh. "It's a bad idea. Kind of like communism - looks good on paper, bad in practice. Echo? Well, I'm in the bathroom. The hotel is over-booked and I have a roommate. Do not go there right now. We'll see when I get back. Later Harry."

Of course she has a boyfriend. I hear water running. She emerges a few minutes later patting her face with a hand towel.

"So, Mr. Wilde what are you doing back here exactly?"

"Desperately hoping your generous offer from last night still stands. With planes grounded, there are no rooms anywhere, the airport hotels are full."

--

I realize he's in a jam but I'm really not too keen share my space. I couldn't take another sleepless night at Oscar and Sabine's. I size him up again. Not that I particularly go for white men, but damn if it weren't for the fact of him needing a shave and a haircut and that prominent bump in his nose I'd almost consider him vaguely handsome - tall, dark haired and cleft-chinned, square jawed with wide dramatic cheekbones and those with remarkably clear gray eyes (are they gray or green) gray behind horn-rimmed glasses. Exceptionally dark and heavy eyebrows. With his gracefully proud bearing, the ingrained politeness and the deep inflection of his voice he seems like a man misplaced in time, old fashioned doesn't cover it. And that slim body of his . . . He certainly fits in around these parts. It's hard to believe Brittania ruled most of the world at any point with a population of such slight citizens. If not for the accent I'd wonder if he was American at all. Poor man looks a little worked over right now though. I'm waiting for my finely tuned bullshit detector to go off but it doesn't. Okay be a decent adult, Lou, it won't kill you. Besides you can handle yourself.

"You snore?"

"No ma'am." He smiles tiredly, flashing a dimple, there's that smile again. Dimples and glasses? Shit.

"Good, that'd be a deal breaker. Make yourself at home."

He sags with relief. I don't think he'll be a problem.

____________________________________

"If you're hungry, I'm about to order room service, the burgers here are pretty good."

"Burgers, in England? Is that safe?" He says.

Flipping through the menu she scoffs lightly. "Safe? Volcanic eruptions, terrorist threats. What is safe? A little mad cow disease is par for the course. Besides, if this is the end, I can think of few things more comforting than beer in one hand and a burger in the other. Though I happen to know for a fact that the kitchen beef downstairs is grass-fed. But if you're skeptical, an option might be the halibut and risotto, pretty good if you like fish."

He looks at her a long moment. How is she not freaked out right now?

"I know how odd it is and I really appreciate your letting me stay but you're awfully blasé about it, if you don't mind my saying."

"Maybe I know Kung-Fu." She says with a sphinx like smile. Either she's a wise-ass or she's in earnest, perhaps a bit of both. She's got a sly look about her.

"I think I'll head down to the bar for a while and see what the gossip is on this predicament."

"Ok, Cool. Here's the extra room key." She hands it to me. "I'm going to hang out here and relax a bit, get a bite to eat, maybe finish my nap." She looks at me a little pointedly.

"Sorry about that, didn't mean to intrude or startle you."

She shrugs and shakes her head. "Ignore me, I'm a bear when woken. Besides we Americans have to stick together."

Quirky little thing. "Well I'll clear out for a bit and see you later."

She nods and heads back towards the bed.

________________________

I've been in the bar a good three hours and there's still no good news on when this might blow over, so I head back to the room.

The echo of the blow dryer is loud. The bathroom door is ajar. I instinctively glance in as I walk by. I'm so jolted by what I see my chest hurts. I stop to look. There she is naked, bent over, almost balanced on her toes as she struggles to blow dry her hair, an awkward but beautiful sight, silky skin of clearest golden brown tightly stretched over small muscles, peach shaped ass. Perfection. The blow dryer is so hot there's smoke in the air. Is she burning her hair or what? She's going to start a fire. At this angle and with her legs just apart, I can almost see her little . . . She stands suddenly throwing back her hair. I quickly duck back and head towards my side of the room before deliberately turning up the volume on the television. Shit. All these months of living like a monk have just caught up with me in the form of a painful hard-on and she's naked in the bathroom. I'm scared to move, the slightest friction could cause an accident. I try thinking of saints, politics, anything to get this to subside. The dryer stops and a few seconds later the door clicks shut. I cover myself with a pillow and my laptop, lean back and earnestly attempt to focus on work. I get into responding to emails after a few minutes and by the time she emerges in dark blue sweats and a University t-shirt, I'm feeling like myself again. A second glance though reveals she's not wearing a bra. Damn it, so much for calm.

Pointing at the television with her chin, she asks, "You watching that?"

There's a BBC news segment on. "Not really, just getting some work done."

"March madness, I've got some bets going and the spread is pretty good."

"You like basketball?"

"Yeah, especially college ball, it's fast paced and the players are still fairly sweet, it'll all change if they start bringing serious money into the equation like they're thinking of doing."

Hooking a laptop up to the television she finds the network website and starts streaming the live game. Why didn't I think of that? Oh yeah, I'm still thinking about her naked flesh. Once the game is going she flops down on her bed, kicks back and orders room service. She puts her hand over the mouthpiece and looks at me. "Beer & pizza?"

"Sure."

She places the order and asks for gelato for dessert.

"I have horrible eating habits."

Well it seems to be hitting her in the right places. Popping the gelato into the freezer section of the small fridge, she plates two slices and pours her beer into a chilled glass.

"Help yourself." She gestures at the cart. The creamy mellow beer complements the pizza perfectly. She sends out a text message. Switching off the laptop I watch with her and we're enjoying it and have just started to talk a little when her phone starts to vibrate.

"Don't wanna hear it, have my money ready when I see you or I'll put you back on that street corner I found you on and make you earn it the hard way. And don't nickel and dime me either, I expect to be paid in full. You mess with the bull, you get the horns." Tucking her middle fingers under her thumb she makes a funny little gesture and gives a little laugh. "Yeah? Well that is surely unfortunate so torture who you have to. But I want my $200 Riley, and not a penny less and if you see Matt tell him not to make me track him down. Verbal agreements are legally binding and I won't hesitate to sue and you know it. Shit $200 is enough for small claims court. You people always manage to disappear when it's time to pay up. Don't make me set your wives on you two. Uh huh, yeah that's what I thought."

She gets off the phone grinning to beat the band.

"You got paid huh?"

"I did." She nods a little and then starts to yawn.

"I'm turning in for the night, I don't even know what time I'm on anymore with all the travel."

I offer to switch off the television.

"Watch as long you like, doesn't bother me."

She gets under the blankets and after some fussing under the covers, yawns again, turns to her side and is immediately asleep. Pretty and entirely too trusting. I'd be upset too if she were mine and stuck somewhere far away. I'm starting to feel for this Harry. She's pretty, drinks beer watches ball and talks smack. If she were mine I don't think I'd ever let her leave the house. But she's not mine, she's taken. I hope we're able to fly soon.

-----

"Yeah?" Muffled talking from under the covers. "Hey Harry? What time is it? You're waking me up to harass me about coming home? What the fuck am I supposed to do, sprout wings? A boat?! Are you high? I'm not judging I just want some of whatever it is you're smoking if you think I'm taking the QE2 to New York, besides they retired that ship. I'm not taking that either. I don't do boats and you bloody well know it. I don't really give a good goddamn if you don't like my using English vernacular. You woke me up! I'll curse all the fuck I want. What is so god-awful important it can't wait? Is anyone in jail or the hospital? Is my house on fire? Well then there's nothing and I mean nothing that can't wait. No, I don't want to talk now. Look, shoot me an email because I am about to switch off the phone and go back to sleep."

As warned, she's a vicious when awakened. She throws back the covers and sits up dazedly, sleep creases on her cheek, hair half in and half out of her pony tail holder, strands and cowlicks all over the place, an adorable mess.

"Sorry," she grunts before standing and going into the bathroom. There's a flush and the sink runs for a minute or so. Hell, now I have to piss. She comes back moving quickly; flash of round bottom in skimpy light blue panties as she gets back into bed. Delicious.

I go in; looks like she's brushed her teeth and possibly drug a rag across her face. I do the same. She's sitting up checking her texts when I come out.

Her phone vibrates. "Hey Lenny, what's up?" She listens for a long time and sounds a little perturbed when she finally responds. "Yeah? Well don't you worry little brother. I'll handle that as soon as I see him. I'm good. I'll see you when I get home." Throwing back the covers again she gets up and quickly puts on socks and sneakers, having replaced her sweat pants while I was in the john. After brushing her hair she hits the mini bar for a protein bar, she munches thoughtfully, quietly watching the news for the status of the eruption.

"Volcanic eruption, talk about freakish." She sighs. "You'd think the winds would have blown it away by now but I guess it's pretty serious. Looks like we're here for the duration. I'm gonna hit the gym."

She takes her phone and a room-key card and heads out.

That's not a bad idea. When I get there she's nowhere to found. I go into the weight room and stretch before starting and happen to spy her off to the side, phone to her ear, her face hard and silent as she listens intently. I can't make out the conversation but she ends it abruptly. She comes in and does 10 minutes of stretching, 15 minutes of weight training followed by an 19 minute, three mile run on the treadmill, impressive. Mouth set, ear buds in, in her own little world. Oblivious to me checking her out. She's chatting with a trainer as I leave having decided to finish with a swim in the Olympic sized pool. What the hell else am I going to do with my day? I can't concentrate on coding right now. I finish my laps and hop out and borrow a robe for the trip back upstairs. Meeting in the lobby she gives me a small friendly smile.