Monday – The perfect dick

“That is the perfect dick,” Baltic Babe said, holding my cock erect at the base of the shaft, having pulled my foreskin back. She took quite a few seconds to look at it, seemingly taking in every detail, still refusing to put her mouth anywhere near it.

It was flattering to hear, but it wasn’t new to me. All my three previous lovers have said pretty much the same thing. Perhaps it’s something that women are taught to say, by some secret club, book or magazine, so as to mess with their man’s mind?

It was Monday morning and we had finished making love a little while earlier. I had made her cum twice; once by g-spot and once by deep dicking. I had recharged and was ready to go again, but Baltic Babe wasn’t in the mood, was hungry and wanted to get to the beach. I guess two orgasms was all she needed…or could handle?

The beach was noticeably empty. It must have been changeover day for the package tourists. It felt like we had the Black Sea to ourselves. The conversation rolled easily and pleasantly, punctuated by her laugh as I found the humour in something and ripped it to pieces. Still in a frisky frame of mind, I was curious about something.

“Do you remember your first time?” I asked, knowing that everyone does.

“Yes, I was seventeen.”

“What happened?”

“He was was my skating partner and two years older. We had been boyfriend and girlfriend for almost two years. He wanted to go all the way, but neither of knew exactly what was involved. In the Soviet schooling system we didn’t get sex education like children do in the West.”

“So what did you do?”

“Somehow I found a book, from a library I think, that had words and drawings in it.”

“Drawing? Not photos?”

“No, photos would have made it pornography and that was illegal,” she said.

“Interesting, tell me more,” I coaxed. I loved getting insights in to what it was like living under the Soviet system.

“We were at his place and in his bedroom. His parents were away for the day, so we could take our time. We lay on his bed and I propped the book against the wall next to us. I made sure that we followed the process step by step.”

“So you had sex by the book?” I burst out laughing. Baltic Babe saw the funny side too.

“Your turn. What was your first time like?”

“Mine was quite sweet and unplanned really. Not like yours, Mein Fuhrer.”

Her face drooped. Baltic Babe didn’t appreciate the Mein Fuhrer reference. Her grandmother had been in a Nazi concentration camp during the war. It was careless of me. Before she could get upset and angry, I continued.

“We weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. It was the last year of high school and we were both turning eighteen in the next couple of months. I didn’t have a girlfriend and wasn’t looking for one either. I was going to school four days a week and the other days working in a scrap metal yard to get money. Because of my being in the adult working world early after my father’s death when I was fourteen, all the other kids seemed so immature.”

“I know what you mean. My ice-skating got me into the adult world early too,” she chimed in.

“We were in the back of the classroom, sitting close to each other, during a history lesson. I had thought her cute, but she had been seeing another boy. I knew that they had recently split up. She kept knocking my knee with hers and it was irritating me. I told her to stop it. She said “What you going to do if I don’t?” and I can’t refuse a dare. I said to her, “If you don’t stop, I’ll help you keep your knees together by fingering you”. I had never touched a grown girl between the legs. I thought I would scare her. She seemed so sweet and innocent.”

“She kept going didn’t she?”

“Uh-huh. So I slid my hand up her skirt, thinking she’d recoil. She didn’t, instead she just froze. Deciding to teach her a lesson, I put my hand between her legs, over her panties. To my great surprise, she opened her legs, daring me.”

“Couldn’t other children and the teacher see?” asked Baltic Babe with big eyes.

To be continued…

Sunday – Sun + sea + sex = satisfaction – Final part

Suddenly Baltic Babe let out a shriek and ran away faster than I had seen anyone move in a long time. She cowered behind a tall rubbish bin, her eyes like saucers. I saw what had freaked her out. A man was walking slowly along the promenade with a very large snake draped over his shoulders and arms. Baltic Babe was absolutely terrified. I went over to her and put an arm around her. She instantly put an arm around me and clung tight around my waist.

“See? He’s walking away. The snake is going away,” I said as soothingly as possible. It was as if I was dealing with a child.

“I can’t stand snakes,” she feverishly blurted out, her body shaking.

As the snake-charmer disappeared in the crowd, I took Baltic Babe’s hand and led her in the opposite direction. Along the promenade there were other ‘entertainers’ with live animals; a gang of what looked like gypsies had a monkey on the end of a chain. Further along there was another group of gypsies with a baby bear firmly tethered to a lamppost. The poor little guy’s eyes were sad and bewildered, occasionally bellowing out a strangled plea for its mother. Before Baltic Babe could become upset I moved us further along to another attraction on the promenade.

We came across a guy with a shooting range for all sorts of crossbows and regular archery bows. I had never done archery before and had always been curious. In my National Service days in South Africa I had been one of the best shots in the regiment so I was quietly confident in my ability to hit a target with any weapon. I remembered that Baltic Babe had raised an eyebrow in disbelief on one of our first dates when I said that I had military experience and here was an opportunity to prove it to her.

The shooting range extended 30 yards back from the public path. I bought some arrows off the Bulgarian archer and quickly all six found the bulls-eye, despite my never having touched a bow before. Baltic Babe pursed her lips as if to say, “Not bad.” Then the archer challenged me with something tougher: a moving target.

He tied a big apple to the end of string, got it swaying and came back to give me another arrow. The swinging apple didn’t shatter as I pinned it to the board behind it.

“Hey, you’re a natural,” said the archer. I felt inclined to agree, as my father’s side of the family had a long history of using weapons and perhaps it was in my blood.

“Let’s see what you can do with a crossbow. This is much harder,” said the friendly Bulgarian, waving away my offers of more money. I was impressed by his English.

The crossbow is a very different weapon from a bow and is surprisingly similar to a modern-day assault rifle. It had been more than twenty years since I had used the latter. I felt very comfortable with it as my bolts found the bull’s eye.

“You’ve got military training,” said the archer.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“The way you position your right elbow and hold your breath before releasing,” he said with a smile. Him knowing that told me that he had received military training too. We gave each other a knowing look. Baltic Babe heard that exchange and I was glad. Was she learning that everything I had told her had been the truth?

“Ah, ok. Now let’s put you to the test,” said the Bulgarian as he tied his smallest apple to a piece of string and got it swaying in the sea breeze.

This was a much tougher target to hit, so I took my time…and got it.

“Very impressive,” said the Bulgarian. We shook hands and he refused to take money from me.

I was pleased with my success and relieved that it hadn’t back-fired on me. As we walked back to our hotel, I looked at Baltic Babe, not having to say a word.

“Ya, it is important to me that my man is able to do things like that,” is all she said with a straight face.

Sunday – Sun + sea + sex = Satisfaction

The sun was shining and I was sporting an enormous morning glory. Baltic Babe awoke and our eyes met. Before a word was said, I put her hand on my warm, throbbing cock. Her eyes widened, she bit her bottom lip, let out a deep breath and I knew words weren’t necessary.

We kissed passionately and the explosive fireworks-like first-time that I had been looking forward to happened. Luckily I had a condom in my wallet and we got down to what can only be described as sweet, gentle lovemaking. Baltic Babe asked if we could only do missionary position because of her back problem. I had no choice but to agree and was as gentle as I could be. Her pussy didn’t feel as tight as the other night and I was able to go deeper, despite there having been less foreplay.

“With me the lady always cums first” is a mantra I had held on to for many years and it doesn’t take long if a woman’s pussy is as tight as hers was. I held off from cumming for as long as I could so that she could enjoy the sensation of my cock filling her up. When she came it was if she didn’t know whether to push me off of her or to pull me closer. I do love it when a woman sinks her fingers in to my back, just like she did.

Having satisfied her, I felt the way was clear for me to cum too. To me it’s not just a physical thing, it’s more of an oneness thing. That feeling of us doing something so intimate, so personal and so mutually submissive with all barriers down, but never degrading, is priceless to me.

It had been many months since I had last cum in a woman and I had forgotten just how good it felt when it happened. It was a shame to be using a condom because to me it diminishes the emotional closeness that comes with being bareback. That physical union, unencumbered by the intervention of a piece of rubber, is simply wonderful.

After disposing of the condom in the bathroom, I climbed back in to bed. I cuddled her as we lay motionless in the afterglow. We still hadn’t said much to each other other than her asking that we only do missionary. Having caught her breath, eventually she spoke.

“That was quite rough,” she said with a surprised look on her face.

“I was as gentle as I could be,” was my honest reply. If she thought that that was rough, the gentlest I had ever been with a woman, good grief, what would she say if I ever did decide to get rough with her?

We spent the day on the beach; yes, again. It had been many years since either of us had had a beach holiday and we were equally determined to overdose on vitamin D. When would we be able to do this again? Who knew what the future held?

In the evening after dinner, we walked along the promenade where there were stalls selling all sorts of tourist souvenirs. Baltic Babe wanted to buy funny t-shirts for her mother and niece. Oh my god! How long did it take to choose a t-shirt?

However, it gave me an insight in to how she operated, how her mind worked when it came to decision-making. Almost any other man would have walked off, said something or died of boredom. Not me. I saw the opportunity to learn some things about her.

She liked to see all that was on offer, then go through a pain-staking process of elimination, working her way through to a few contenders, then take her time to make a choice. This behaviour played out in her life in many ways, no doubt.

In the same way that she inspected a t-shirt to see what it was made of and assess how long it would last, she was doing that to me too. I felt flattered that she was spending time with me like she had been. I realized that she was sizing me up too, hence the drama of the previous days. A skilled interviewer at a job interview throws the candidate being interviewed a tough, unpleasant question to see how they deal with adversity; Baltic Babe had been doing the same to me, consciously or unconsciously.

Was she as intelligent and cunning to be doing that to me consciously? Surely not…

To be continued…

– Saturday – The Black Sea roller-coaster rides again – Final part

We raced upstairs with me wondering if Baltic Babe could be ready in time. She was and we sat holding hands on the coach as it drove through the town. What a difference a day makes.

Khan’s Tent is a giant teepee-shaped, white concrete structure that is perched on a hill and overlooks Sunny Beach below. Along with other people on our coach we were herded into the venue and shown to a table with a dozen seats at it. There were at least twenty other such tables arranged in a crescent around a stage area in the centre for the performers that had another adjoining stage further back where a band was setting up their kit for the show. We greeted the people at our table who were all from England. A waiter took our orders from the set menu, delivered some bottles of wine and told us that the show would start within half an hour.

Baltic Babe and I seized the opportunity to go outside to enjoy the view and take some photographs before it was too dark. The lights of Sunny Beach below us were coming on in the dusk. The tour rep was kind enough to take our cameras and capture us together in that moment for perpetuity. One of the pictures that he took was of the two of us, side by side, arms around each other’s waist, which I have looked at many times since. We looked like such a happy couple.

We returned to our table and made small talk with the people there. During dinner a photographer came around taking pictures of everyone. The one of us was excellent, so I bought it as a memento of the evening. I think every couple has “their photo” of them as a couple – this one was ours.

The show after the dinner comprised a contortionist, acrobats, jugglers, knife-throwers, fire-eaters, a guest appearance by Charlie Chaplin and a variety of dancers. Baltic Babe was enthralled by the spectacle. It was like watching a child the first time you had taken it to the circus. That child-like quality of hers that came out occasionally was on show and I loved it. Despite the drama and high maintenance, I think I loved her.

Once the performances were over there was a disco. I must confess to not being a great one for dancing. Because of my size I feel very self-conscious, so I struggle to relax and enjoy myself. Baltic Babe wanted to dance, so I didn’t want to disappoint her and dragged myself on to the floor. She was easily the best dancer in the place; I was astounded. People were looking at her move and she didn’t give a damn.

As the coach dropped a couple off at their hotel, Baltic Babe said to me, “That woman who just got off, the one who was at our table, she really fancied you.”

“How do you know?”

“Women just know these things.”

“How does that make you feel?” I asked with a naughty smile.

“No comment” she said with a wry smile. Two could play the jealousy game.

We were still in the mood for fun although it was midnight. A karaoke bar that we had walked past a few times on the way to the beach beckoned. Baltic Babe and I had talked about visiting this place because neither of us had done karaoke before and wondered what it was like. Inside were a dozen people scattered in couples and small groups at tables around the bar. Two German girls were on stage warbling, which lead me to believe that most people there were at least slightly drunk.

I must tell you that I’m not a great singer either. I’m so bad that in high school they took my hymn book away. My ex-wife even asked me to never sing in the shower. I’m a worse singer than dancer, but do enjoy singing. However, singing, dancing and being in the public eye just isn’t for me. That is surprising considering that I come from a very musical family where even the sewing machine is a Singer.

Fortified with a bit of Dutch courage after a cocktail each, we took to the stage. Our mutually favourite group was ABBA and both our favourite ABBA song was ‘The Winner Takes It All’. (You can enjoy it here and if you’ve never paid attention to the words, the lyrics are on-screen in this video: )

We belted it out, cautiously at first, then rising to a crescendo. Baltic Babe stood close to my side, half a step back, almost hiding next to me. She had a better voice than me, but that’s not difficult. When we left the stage there was applause, but I think it was from the inebriated patrons’ relief that I had shut up more than anything else.

After one more cocktail each we gave another ABBA tune a thrashing. This time it was ‘Money, money, money’. With the fullness of time I have the luxury of looking back at those choice of songs and thinking “how apt”, but at the time they were so innocent…a bit like me, then.

Sleep started to tickle us and we found our way back to her room in the hotel. It had been quite a day. We had reconciled, relaxed, enjoyed, danced and sang together. Without any discussion about rooms for the night we got into bed together and I held her close, to which she made approving sounds.

A sense of delight and satisfaction flowed through my body as I felt her fall asleep against me. I stayed awake for as long as I could, to savour the sensation of her sleeping in my arms.

– Saturday – The Black Sea roller-coaster rides again

On the Saturday morning I went to Baltic Babe’s room, intent on talking things over with her. If my idea of her having abandonment issues was correct, I’d have to proceed very carefully. If I walked away from her again, then it was over for good.

I knocked on the door and got an almost instant, “Just a minute” in response from her. She came to the door draped in a towel.

“Hello. I’ve come by to see if we can talk,” I ventured, wondering if my papers from the night before had done the trick. My heart was in my throat.

“Yes, come in. I’m just getting dressed, I won’t be long.”

I went in, feeling relieved and made myself comfortable on the bed, I knew how long she could take getting dressed. It seemed that the lines of communication were at least open. The previous night I had spent in my room watching bad television (I’m just not the type to go on a pub crawl by myself) and came up with a plan, a series of words and ideas that I wanted to put to her. The moment was soon upon me as Baltic Babe was ready for the beach in record time. She sat on a chair at a table, while I sat on the edge of the bed; we were several feet apart.

“Look, I’m not too sure what happened the other night. It’s not what either of us came here for. I came here to have some fun with you and to get to know you better,” was my rehearsed opening gambit.

“Me too,” was her reply. Her tight-lipped silence that followed told me that she wanted to know what else I had to say.

“I’m really curious about a couple of things that, if I knew the answers, might make a difference to both of us.”

“What?” she said, in a typically blunt Russian way.

“I’m curious to know who in your life you have trusted with everything.” I went to the heart of the matter, expecting her to mention a few people, at least one ex-boyfriend.

She thought about it for a few seconds and said, “Only my grandmother.”

Her answer surprised me. The scale of the problem was bigger than I realised. Undaunted, I continued, “What kind of relationship are you looking for?”

“I’m not one hundred percent sure. What are you looking for?”

“Well, I’d like an easy relationship,” was my instant and honest reply, the feelings from the drama of the previous evenings came flooding back.

“I can tell you now that you’ll never have an easy relationship with me. I operate to a very high standard and I expect other people to do the same.”

Her words didn’t sit well with me. My previous girlfriend was incredibly high maintenance at times and I didn’t want to return to that. I needed to think that one over. I wasn’t afraid of high maintenance as long as the person was worth it.

I changed tack with, “Did you read my LinkedIn profile and the emails from Russian Rose that I had printed off for you?”

“All that sort of thing can be doctored,” she said, unimpressed.

I looked out the open balcony door to the world outside. It was another beautiful day, the sun was shining and the Black Sea was like a plate of glass. Flags barely moved and the beach was empty except for the neat rows of hundreds of white sun-loungers.

“Can I suggest that we try and enjoy the day together? Maybe talk things over at breakfast? Lie on the beach and just relax?

“Okay,” came her instant reply.

We went to the top floor of the hotel and over breakfast agreed that we had had too much to drink that Thursday night. We also agreed to disagree on the meaning of true friendship. I told her that I would introduce her to my friends that I would do anything for, to which she just smiled.

Once on the beach it was as if nothing had happened between us. We chatted endlessly and played in the Black Sea like we had in previous days. For lunch we went off to a nearby restaurant that served Bulgarian speciality meats. Baltic Babe had found it the previous day when she was on her own and wanted me to see it. The food was good and we chatted amiably over lunch, her laughter was medicine for my soul.

The afternoon was spent on the beach and I told her of something called ‘Khan’s Tent’ which I had read about before coming on holiday. It was a restaurant with a cabaret show and came highly rated on TripAdvisor. She was interested and we went back to the hotel to get changed and go there. In the hotel lobby I spotted an English tour rep who was checking some guests in. I got chatting to him and organised a pair of tickets to the show which included a coach transfer to and from our hotel that departed within an hour…

To be continued…

Friday – Feeling marooned next to the Black Sea

I fell asleep the previous night, not having found an explanation about the argument with Baltic Babe. My first thoughts as I awoke were a continuation of where my brain had left matters the night before. Was this a crazy bitch that I had on my hands?

It was 8am and all that there was to do was to have breakfast, so I went to the top floor, despite not being hungry. I arrived wondering if she would be there, waiting for me. Would she greet me with a smile and immediately start offering me an apology?

The breakfast room had hardly anybody in it and Baltic Babe was nowhere to be seen. As I ate my breakfast I asked a friendly waiter whom we had spoken to other mornings whether he had seen her or not.

“Yes, she was here. She was the first guest in today. She didn’t stay long.”

His words made it clear to me that she didn’t want to see me. Is this how it was with her? She just keeps pushing people away, always eventually finding herself alone?

With breakfast over I decided to spend the day by the hotel pool. It promised to be quieter, wind-free and my all-inclusive wristband offered me all the three-star food and drink that I could stomach. When I’m upset I do find a strange comfort in food. I suspect that many people do the same and that some are perpetually upset.

As I lay on a sun-lounger near the pool, listening to music on my ipod, cold drink to hand, my thoughts couldn’t move on from the events of the previous night. Had we both had too much to drink? What had I said that upset her so? Was her time of the month near? Was she still having trust issues with me?

One idea, belief, explanation, hope followed after another. I had to make sense of it because I still wanted her. She was too remarkable to walk away from so easily.

After much contemplation, I realized that she probably had a psychological scar from her parents giving her up to her grandparents when she was two years old. She might have abandonment issues that play out by way of her testing any suitor’s resolve. Did she subconsciously constantly test a man’s dedication to her? If so, walking away from her was possibly the worst possible thing that I could have done.

Of course there was no way of knowing what she was thinking or feeling. Was it over for good between us or was this the inevitable lover’s quarrel that characterizes most relationships in the early days? Over the course of this day my emotions rose and fell like the waves out to sea in the distance. For a few moments it felt lonely to be in the position I was in; sitting befuddled on my own, while happy holidaymakers thronged around me enjoying a carefree day. Isn’t it strange how we can feel alone in the middle of a crowd?

It was only when I had decided on a course of action that I allowed myself to relax and enjoy the day as best I could. I’m not a selfish person and believe that life is best when shared. Travelling solo just isn’t fun for me. I’m not all clingy and needy, it’s just that having someone in my life gives it an extra sense of meaning. Until the previous night it felt that Baltic Babe and I could be together forever.

When the sun moved behind the hotel late in the afternoon, I put my plan into action. I went to hotel reception and purchased time at the internet cafe in the lobby. I wanted to print off my LinkedIn profile and the email exchanges with Russian Rose to give to Baltic Babe. It would serve as a peace-offering to get communication flowing again, would show her that I still wanted her and would also hopefully kill off any mistrust issues. I had no idea if any of that would happen, but it was worth a shot. I had nothing to lose.

Unbelievably the internet cafe didn’t offer printing facilities and I hadn’t seen another cafe since we had arrived. I ended up doing a deal with the cute Bulgarian hotel receptionist to print my material off of a memory stick that she had. She claimed that she could lose her job over using her personal memory stick on hotel printers, but the equivalent of five Pounds allayed her fears. (I’m not sure whether I had been shaken down or had bribed her.)

Armed with my printouts, I went up to Baltic Babe’s room. By now it was getting dark, she might be back from wherever she spent the day. I knocked on the door, but no answer. I listened for sounds of life in her room, but there were none.

I slipped the papers under her door…

Thursday – A day I’d like to forget –

I woke up first and lay there admiring Baltic Babe, bushy hair and all. Memories of the previous night came speeding back and an uncomfortable feeling set in. How could our obvious sexual incompatibility be resolved?

She awoke, smiled at me, sighed, got up and glided to the bathroom. This woman moved like no-one I had ever seen. Even in a half-asleep state, she effortlessly glided in a feminine way that I found enchanting.

She came back and started getting dressed. I felt the need to say something.

“Umm, about last night…” I began.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll stretch,” she said matter-of-factly, cutting me off as she put her bra on.

I was surprised at this blunt, clinical view of things, but felt relieved that she didn’t see a problem.

“My hair’s a mess and all my toiletries are in my room, so can you meet me there in an hour?”

“Okay,” was all I could really say.

It was later than we both had realized and by the time I got to Baltic Babe’s room the hotel’s breakfast room had closed. She hadn’t noticed the time and wasn’t ready. It was noon and we were hungry, I remembered that at the hotel pool area there was a restaurant offering a lunchtime buffet for guests who had all-inclusive armbands. I had one of those but Baltic Babe didn’t, so I decided to smuggle her a few plates of food. She was somewhat uncomfortable with this idea, but I insisted that we try it. She liked sticking to the rules – I liked breaking them. We had found a table outside and I was returning with a plate of food for her when I noticed that she was looking at me with a peculiar look on her face.

“You know, you’re quite handsome,” was all she said as I sat down. I just smiled. She had never said that before. Why was she saying that now? Was she falling for me?

We made small talk, commenting on the people around us and their shenanigans. We didn’t stay long and made our way to the beach. A hairy relative of Quasimodo was the sun-lounger attendant this time and Baltic Babe wasn’t chatty with him for some reason.

We lay listening to music and talking most of the afternoon. Periodically we would go in to the Black Sea to cool ourselves off. We frolicked like kids and I couldn’t get enough of the sound of her laugh. There was a child-like happiness to it. There was a childish innocence to her that came out occasionally and I found it charming.

Baltic Babe especially liked it when she would grip my wrist with both hands and I would drag her through the waves or spin around on my heels, skimming her over the top of the water as if she was a rope. Many times we entwined in the sea, her legs around my legs, my arms around her body, her arms resting on my shoulders, kissing lazily and sensually as the waves lifted or splashed us. Then she would push off against me and say “chase me” as she swam away from me and I would give chase.

In the evening we were having dinner in the top floor of the hotel. My all-inclusive armband allowed me to get free drinks for us from the bar. We were sitting at a table near the bar area, enjoying our dinner. The conversation had been rolling easily and fruitfully all day again. It had been a good day.

I had never met anyone who enjoyed my humour as much as she did. Several times a day Baltic Babe would literally be crying with laughter. Tears would trickle down her round little cheeks. A few times I had wiped a tear from her face with my thumb and we would look at each other lovingly and smile. Her green-yellow eyes would sparkle at times like that. I loved her laugh and she loved my humour.

After quite a few drinks each, the conversation turned towards the topic of friends and the meaning of friendship. I took a serious tack by saying, “I have an acid test for friendship. I ask myself the following: if I were a Jew on the run from the Gestapo in Nazi Germany, would this person take me into their home and hide me? Would I do the same for them?”

“You mean there are circumstances under which you would risk your own family?” Her face became serious.

“For a few people in my life, yes, I would.” I meant what I said, with a few dear friends springing to mind.

“That’s outrageous. A real man wouldn’t risk his wife and children’s lives. That is unacceptable to me!” Baltic Babe was getting agitated.

“Do you mean to tell me that there is nobody in your world that you would risk your life for?”

“I would not risk the life of my child for anybody!” was her emphatic reply.

Silence fell between us like an uneasy truce. We sipped our drinks without making eye-contact or more conversation. It was very uncomfortable. All the goodness of the day was destroyed. I was annoyed at her over-reaction.

The bar area was getting noisy, so I suggested that we move to the outside balcony overlooking the town. We took our drinks and found a quiet table outside.

“Tell me, do you like wearing trousers so tight that people can see your genitals?” she asked, her face furrowed, seemingly spoiling for a fight.

“You don’t like the trousers I’m wearing tonight? They’re new. It’s the first time I’m wearing them,” I replied calmly, not rising to her bait.

I looked down at the town and saw the variety of shops at street-level all light up in neon. I noticed a shop selling ladies underwear.

“Do you like lingerie?” I asked, for no particular reason, trying to open a new, neutral avenue of conversation.

“What is the meaning of this question?” she snapped.

“No meaning. I’m just wondering if you like lingerie,” I said honestly, trying to maintain my composure.

“No! You want me to give you a particular answer!” she barked, leaning forward, an ugly, aggressive look on her face. I had never seen her like this before and I didn’t like it.

I thought to myself “What the fuck is her problem?” A crazy, irrational mindset had taken hold of her. There was to be no reasoning with her. She was in an emotional state over nothing.

“You know what? I don’t deserve this kind of behaviour from you.” I stood up, took her room’s keycard out of my pocket and threw it on to the table before her and walked off.

I went back to my room where I spent the rest of the night trying to make sense of what had just happened.