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”“But really, that is so forward.”“But of course it is. Without men like me being forward, ladies like you would be lonesome forever.”I covered my face, pretending to blush, “Well, if it is only one cup of tea. Then you must leave immediately.”And so on. He was polite to the point of oleaginous. I acceded to the point of being a door mat. Eventually, via him escorting me on my supposed errand to buy a dress, that he paid for, we entered his suite. He told me to sit down a moment while he ordered a “little snifter”.It was a beautiful room with a picture window overlooking the Tyne. You could see the reconstructed Norman castle on the Newcastle side and the converted factory that was now the Baltic Centre for Contemporary art on the Gateshead side. It was bathed in light from behind the hotel so the city looked elegant, industrial decline as a picturesque vista. I heard him come back and turned around. He was completely naked, a glass of sherry in each hand. I am one of those who think. As she sat, glancing out the window, she figured that, later, when the plane was in the air, she'd go find Woody, exclaim loudly about seeing her long lost friend, after "all these years" and beg whoever was sitting beside him to let her catch up on old times. She pulled her book out of her bag. She hadn't gotten a single page read while she was in Arizona. Meeting Woody turned out to have kept her from reading the book at all. She sighed, opened it up, and got ready to get at least a page read."Eleven-D" she heard the flight attendant say. "Here we are. The aisle seat, there, is eleven-D. You were just on the wrong side of the plane, that's all. Have a nice flight."Crystal was sitting in eleven-E. Her seatmate was here. Oh boy. She didn't look up. She heard the overhead compartment door slam shut, and a shadow fell over her book. She tilted it to let the light from the window illuminate it better."Hi," came a man's voice.Crystal's eyes snapped to her left, and up, to see Woody's face.
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