All names, and most of the detail in this story is fictitious. If I've accidentally used your name, my apologies.
Sophia and I tumbled over and under each other in bed. It was a delightful afternoon, but eventually we were tired and hungry, or hungry and tired. I was too bleary-eyed to know which came first.
"Room service?"
"Yes!" Sophia was eager to hear the rest of the story about my Dutch friends and their adventures. We washed up and robed ourselves in the time it took for our order to arrive.
After we were down to desert, the Tiramisu I think it was, I continued with the story. It was doubly hard, aside from being tempted to talk with my mouth full, because Sophia shone so beautifully after our romp and our showers. She reminded me of Dominique way back in the Netherlands.
"Did you know that you are glowing?" I paused to ask her.
"Yes!" We laughed at her uncomplicated forthrightness. "Seriously, at the planning meeting yesterday, Katherine K_______ asked me where I went for a workout. I told her The Oxford, and she thought I meant the health club, not the hotel!"
"Did you tell her who your trainer is?" We laughed again.
"No!" She paused, as if remembering something wonderful from long ago. "Let's get started on the Netherlands, okay?"
=============
At breakfast late that next morning, Dominique and I talked about all kinds of professional things. Anything to keep our minds off of sex, I suppose. We went bicycling for half an hour or so, working up a sweat in the humid, warm air.
En route, we met Frank Jones and Kalee's boss. They were strolling hand in hand, looking very much in tune with each other. They both gave us smug smiles, as if they had enjoyed the evening more than we could imagine. We stopped for a moment and chatted-- Jones pulling me aside to tell me that he thought that based on his interview of last evening, Jereon was on the right track, and that Kalee seemed to be ready for something special today. Perhaps it was just the language barrier that Jereon had to overcome.
It must have been in the high 70's, but being so close to the ocean, and surrounded by canals, perspiration came quickly. Back in Dominique's apartment, we showered - separately - and changed into clothes that at least for a few minutes would be dry.
I was not very meticulous. The inventory in my suitcase was pretty well used up. Dominique, on the other hand, dressed carefully. Something about the combination of her bra and blouse did not work right, so she pulled off the blouse and unclasped the bra. For a moment she stood in front of the mirror topless, looking trim in her slacks. She ran her hands over her breasts.
"Do you think he'll like them?" she grinned, half-concerned, half-knowing the answer.
"He'd be crazy not to. You are in better shape than women half your age." I felt my uninformed hormones eagerly starting to circulate.
"Of course," she murmured reflectively, "but half my age is how old he is." She pulled out a new bra, and then everything fit together the way that she wanted it. I struggled not to say anything.
Then we just sat quietly in her living room, me reading some of my notes from a conference, her reading through her checklist of trance words for her afternoon project, as we sipped orange juice. It looked so thoroughly domestic!
I looked up from papers and noted that Dominique had closed her eyes. She was taking a little nap, and she looked beautiful doing it. Her neatly cut blonde hair framed her relaxed face. It was hard to believe that she was older than I. Again, as in her dreams of last night, her tongue flicked briefly over her lips.
Just when I had begun to wonder if I should wake her, she blinked and stirred.
"Time to go, I think," she said with a smile. "You want to come with me, yes?"
"I wouldn't miss this for anything!" I spoke the simple truth. "You're really wonderful to let me in on this." Ever the researcher, she was offering me a chance that she knew a fellow explorer would rarely share.
Quietly we moved about, each deep in our own thoughts. Locking the door, down the stairs, along the streets, as if we were any other couple, and into the ticket lobby of the four centuries old Hortus Botanicus.
The vast collection of plants was divided into climate zones, indoor and outdoor, but it would all be closing at 4 p.m., we were told. Dominique already knew that, and explained in Dutch that this was the only chance for her American guest to get in. We were waved through, without being charged admission.
"Be sure to be out by 4 o'clock, though!" the attendant called out in fluent English as we entered.
We strolled in a pattern that I did not recognize, passing exiting visitors who had come for the spring flowers. Eventually we bypassed the modern display areas and found ourselves at an old greenhouse.
"Jereon should already have found his way inside by now," Dominique quietly explained, as she slid open the heavy door. A counterbalance on a rusty chain pulled the door shut immediately behind us with an authoritative "thunk!" We heard voices.
"There may be some other visitors here," Dominique noted. "We'll just wander around, and if we see them, look at your watch a few times and they'll realize it's time to go home." She paused. "I have an arrangement with the maintenance people, and no one else will come in here after us." We wandered.
It was quite a surprise, though, to find not an elderly couple of horticulture fanciers, but our waitress from the night before!
Dominique blinked her surprise at me, and then reacted smoothly. Perhaps there had been unexpected contingencies in the past.
"How wonderful to see you here." Introductions all around. Her name was Kalee. "Kalee, we noticed you working in the restaurant... You should join us... if you're here by yourself." I am condensing what she said, but that was the gist of her side of the conversation.
"I'm waiting for Jereon to come back. He brought me here, but for some reason he just remembered something he had to check out, and he went deeper into the aisle back there." Kalee's words seemed a bit distracted, and an idea began to form in my head. Dominique nodded discreetly at me.
