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We were in an expensive but otherwise quite ordinary hotel for the weekend, delegates at a conference of companies meeting to discuss the world’s shortcomings, shortfalls and shortages. The powers that be wanted to conduct yet another one of their pointless surveys and for a change there was only one question being asked.

It was this:

“Would you please give us your honest opinion and a solution if possible, regarding food shortage in the rest of the world?”

It didn’t take long for an answer to be obtained. Or rather several answers, because as with any group of people anywhere opinions and answers differed widely.

In Africa they didn't know what “food” meant. In Eastern Europe they didn't know what “honest” meant. In Western Europe they didn't know what “shortage” meant. In China they didn't know what "opinion" meant. In the Middle East they didn't know what “solution” meant. In South America they didn't know what “please” meant and in the US they didn't know what “the rest of the world” meant.

The result came as no surprise to me, lifelong cynic that I am and, if the truth be known the entire fiasco was nothing more than an excuse by the top echelons of the UN to get together for an extended weekend of pissups and debauchery.

The whole thing soon became a bore, with little to inspire me and much to add to my growing burden of foreboding and gloom. The only bright spot had been the evening meal, complete with entertainment, very good food and an utterly charming if somewhat risqué after dinner speaker.

We’d all laughed at his anecdotes of course, in recognition when he’d brought out the ironic ones, with little smiles and nods when he’d thrown the topical ones at us, the necktie seller in the desert for instance. And we’d all laughed politely when he’d entertained us with the sexual ones.

Laughed and clapped as he made his joke, a somewhat convoluted and, as it turned out, rather tame dig at what he called “the growing numbers of those queer fellahs!” He had a lot of the current phrases and intonations off pat, which I found quite funny but it was obvious he did not know what they meant.

My companion immediately took exception to this of course, considering it a personal affront and the evening ended then and there, so far as he was concerned. With a terse “I’ve done here!” he got up abruptly and, before I could say anything to the contrary had declared he was going to bed.

That was that really. An upset companion like mine was a companion no-one would ever attempt to reason with, one who would just as easily throw his things into a bag and go home as stay the night and enjoy the next days conference.

To help balance things the speaker started on with some tale about lesbians after that, quite earthy and basic but no-one appeared to be offended, at least no-one I could see.

It was about that time that I made eye contact, quite by accident I assure you, with one of the female delegates from a large international company who, despite a long hard day still looked immaculate in her business suit. She was a couple of tables away, sitting on her own and looking bored stiff.

I took her resigned sort of grin as an invitation to go over and join her.

“Did you get all that stuff about the chlorine content in……”I began to ask her, by way of introducing myself.

“No!” she said, not giving me time to finish “Their figures are flawed anyway!”

“I……I did wonder” I began again.

“You’re with Mycroft Lifestyles aren’t you?” she asked abruptly.

“Never heard of them!” I told her truthfully.

That statement appeared to flummox her for a moment. I think she’d mistaken me for someone else; that was the only reason I could think for her to actually want to talk to me.

“Oh damn……” she said “I thought……”

“Private Enterprise!” I told her producing my card with a flourish. “We make filters and strainers and boring things like that”

I could see she wasn’t really interested in what I had to say. She put my card away carefully in her folder along with the two or three dozen others she’d already collected and closed it carefully.

“Lots of nonsense being spouted” I offered.

“As always!” she agreed.

“By impractical people!”

“You’d be an engineer then?”

“I suppose I am” I said.

“Snap!” she said “Can I buy you a drink?”

…………………

It was the best, and probably the unlikeliest beginning to any relationship anyone could imagine. The Delegate, her name was Lucinda Emily Campbell Bond (call me Lucy for goodness sake!) was part of a Tech company I’d vaguely heard of. One of the do-gooder companies who dig wells for Africans then charge them for the water, that sort of thing. She drank lager herself, which surprised me for she was obviously a lady of some breeding. She also swore a lot and gave every indication of being an as down to earth person – woman, that a man might ever wish to meet. Oh she wasn’t bad looking either, in a mannish kind of way which I didn’t find at all off putting.

So I allowed her to buy me a drink and we talked about things. Boring things. Hydrology and artesian wells and porous rocks with million year old water in them, holes in the ground and the political state of Somalia and Chad as if our opinions would make the slightest bit of difference.

We finished our drinks and I bought the next round, another half of piss yellow lager for her, another tall glass of cold Coke with lemon, no ice, for me.

“Don’t you drink beer at all?” she asked eventually, eyeing the dark bubbling column that I set down on the table.

I shook my head. “Never found anything I liked enough, except for brown ale years ago and they don’t make that any more……”

“Showing your age now!” she laughed “Brown ale! My Dad used to drink that!”

She licked her lips, the lager having left a narrow moustache and eyed me carefully.

“The chap you were with would be your partner then, would he?” she asked.

“That’s it” I replied. “He is”

I didn’t tell her what sort of partner and for a while she didn’t ask. Instead she replaced the licked off moustache with a new one, then her glass was empty once more and she was gazing at me expectantly.

“Is he somewhere about” she asked.

“No, I don’t think so” I told her. “He got upset by the speaker and annoyed by some of the other delegates, so he’s gone to bed……”

……………

We’d got through several more rounds of drinks before Lucy came right out and asked me.

“Not gay are you?” she asked.

“I’m not gay!” I assured her “I like both sorts……”

Lucy laughed. It was the first time she had done so since we’d met. Until then she’d only made faces or grinned. Now at least she knew where she stood.

“Best of both worlds then!” she suggested.

I nodded. I’d heard it all before.

“Sorry!” she said hastily “I didn’t mean to pry”

“Don’t worry!” I said “I’m used to it”

A group of well oiled men straggled by, untidily and noisily, ogling Lucy and making suggestive remarks which she ignored pointedly.

“So, bisexual?” she asked.

“Yeah……”

“Do you often do this sort of thing?” she asked me.

“What, chat up ladies in hotel bars?”

“Yes”

“Not often” I said. “Only when the opportunity arises”

“Whats your partner think about it?”

“He usually goes to bed early” I told her “With a headache or some other complaint!”

Lucy nodded thoughtfully.

“But he doesn’t mind what you get up to? That’s what I meant to ask”

“He doesn’t care!” I said.

It was true enough, even if we did argue about it endlessly. He didn’t care. I knew because he’d told me on numerous occasions. So many times in fact that it had become no more than a gesture on his part and an example of defiance on mine.

“That’s sad!” Lucy said.

“Mmmmm, well, we were close once but you know we……we sort of grew apart. Business and pleasure don’t really mix do they?”

“Sometimes they don’t”

I knew I’d have to go back to our room at some point, to see if he was alright if nothing else. To keep the peace if you like and when I mentioned it to Lucy she smiled in a way which suggested she already knew what I was going to say.

“Best see if the silly old bugger is ok……” I offered.

“Yes. I’m turning in now as well. It’s been a long day!”

And at first glance that seemed to be the end of it. We finished our drinks more or less simultaneously and put our glasses down side by side on the bar with exaggerated casualness.

“Which room you in?”

“One four three……” I said.

“Ah……well……”

She turned her own doorkey over in her hand.

“Later……if you like?”

Suggestion and question, four potent words were sufficient.

“Ok!” I said.

………………

Julian lay on his side of the bed with his eyes closed. I could tell his mood by the way he was lying. Straight and stiff and unapproachable.

“I’ve been talking to some of the other delegates” I tell him truthfully”

Julian merely grunted.

I undressed quickly and put on the new, flower patterned nightdress he’d bought especially for me, the material cool and soft against my skin. I got into bed and pressed myself against him.

No reaction.

I put one arm around his waist, everso gently.

“What are you doing?” he asked stiffly.

“Waiting for you to fuck me” I tell him truthfully.

“Is that all you damn well think about?” he asked petulantly.

“Well sometimes I wonder why I bother”

Funny thing – I am supposed to be the girl in this relationship, the one who sulks and has tantrums, and yet……

Outside the window the swish of cars on the motorway came to me distantly. Swish-swish from those going south and swishshsh from those going north.

There was no movement from Julian so I began to count the passing vehicles. Swish-swish……swish-swish……

When I reached one hundred and three I stopped and listened to Julian’s breathing. I’ve slept with him for long enough now to know from the sounds he makes when he is asleep. Even then I waited awhile, impatient and unsure, excited and apprehensive, all at the same time. Even then I waited, until Julian began to snore.

Then I slid out of bed swiftly, got into a dressing gown and walked silently to the bedroom door.



There was another door facing ours across the corridor. Exactly like ours except for the number. One four oh, the number I’d seen on the key fob she’d so casually showed me.

I pushed against it carefully, found it unlocked and went in.

………………

The bedside lights are on and the delegate from the international company was sitting up in the bed.

“I knew you’d come” she says cheerily.

“He……”

“Never mind!” she murmurs “I’m glad you did! Come to……to….what on earth are you wearing?”

“Oh!” I tell her casually “its only some stuff I put on to keep warm……”

“Keep warm?”

“Yes!”

“Dressing gown and……and nightdress!” she says bluntly.

“A warm nightdress!” I corrected “don’t you like it?”

“You look ridiculous!” she said “Take the silly thing off!”

“But I’ll get cold……” I say.

“Not in this bed you won’t!” Lucy declares, throwing the bedclothes back revealingly.

© Aahlu Midsummer 2010.

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