Segments - 03 - Exeter Hotel

01 - Meeting Her

02 - The Services

03 - Exeter Hotel

04 - Christmas

05 - New Year

06 - The Old Man

07 - Why He Started

08 - Cambridge

09 - Norwich

10 - The Party

11 - Millau

12 - Heading East

13 - Nice in Nice

14 - Making Progress

15 - Revelations

16 - Doubts

17 - The Connection

18 - Levelling

19 - Space

20 - Finale

Life on the road is better with the tablet. He's back in touch with some friends, a few groups, the latest news and a little bit of TV. The battery life on the new tablet is a little longer which helps. Charging the thing is still awkward. Finding plug sockets he can secretly charge from is embarrassing if he's caught. He has to play dumb and pretend he doesn't know any better.

He also picks up some work. Through a forum about motorcycles he's agreed to assist a wealthy gentleman to strip and rebuild a motor from a 1976 Honda. In return he get's another warm bed for a few nights, food and probably a few quid in his pocket too. In fact the job proves to be very difficult, the wealthy man was supposed to be doing the work but he's much more interested in talking about himself and the successful business he runs. The engine is difficult to take apart. Several parts are broken beyond repair. Spares are not forthcoming and the job is left in limbo.

After 6 days on the job and under the intense ego of the rich man he's more than ready to leave. Even more disappointing is the £20 note he receives for his trials. He can see why this guy is rich. At least the weather is mild as he hitches the rucksack on his back, heavy with tins of food he's "borrowed" from the rich guys larder. It's theft, he knows that, but he feels he's earned it.

It's been over 3 weeks since he last saw her. Apart from a few storms nothing much has happened and now he's down in Exeter on the South English coast. It is warmer here but by such a tiny amount. On one chilly night camping in a field he feels cold, smelly, wet, lonely and even a little depressed. He wonders about her. He wonders what it was all about. He wonders if there was anything in this relationship, where it could go, would he want it to go somewhere. Gosh he misses the warmth of a relationship but then he also knows he'll miss the road. It must be the cold that's making him feel like this.

As he shivers in his damp sleeping bag he starts to question again the hows and whys. How did she find him that second time? How did she know what clothes and what size to get him? How did she know his tablet had been stolen? How did she know just how to turn him on so much? Every possibility runs around his head. She's stalking him. She's having him watched. She's a witch with magic powers. She works for the CIA or MI5. There's something definitely amiss. He lies there, the thoughts ease the cold.

How the goddam bloody hell does she know my name! It's been over 3 weeks and that thought has only just this minute entered his head. He backtracks through the previous 2 meetings in his head. He doesn't know her name, he's certain of that. He can't recall a time when he told her his name but it's such a mundane everyday thing to say that he might have mentioned it and forgotten. He racks his brain but that memory is not forthcoming. This doesn't help with the sleep. Damn it it's cold too.

"Mr Willows". That's what she'd called him. Not Clem or Clement but Mr Willows. That night when sleep finally comes he dreams of Mandy. She's blonde and dark skinned, beautiful and perfect. Then he notices she looks like Mandy but his feelings and sensations about her are more like those he has when he's around her, whoever her is. They're not the comfortable feelings of a long relationship but the nervous, exciting and somewhat scary feelings he had when she showed up. He awakes with a start then with the image of Mandy in his mind yet the feelings of her he feels guilt. He cries for his loss a little then settles back to a deeper, more steady sleep.

With the approach of Christmas Exeter is proving fruitful financially. He's managed to pick up some work through a now settled travelling friend, collecting for a charity. He has to be clean and presentable each day so he's camping at a real campsite with showers. It's door to door, walking around bothering people who don't really want to be bothered. It's disheartening and you have to keep a polite smile and enthusiastic tone whilst trying to lay on a guilt trip to a potential punter. Each day leaves him feeling more drained and cynical about the world, he'd rather be killing chickens which is bad enough. Still, the pay is basic but enough to save almost a hundred pounds each week and he can charge the tablet at the small office with the friendly women. He thinks one rather fancies him and that's why he got the job.

She's almost slipped his mind. After 5 weeks she's more of an enigmatic event in his life than part of it now. The woman in the office is married, a little too meaty for his taste and too loud but he's enjoying flirting with her. The weather's closing in and he's hoping to save enough to replace the old sleeping bag with a 5 season one, but he'll have to do another week or two and that will leave him with no spare cash.

Sat in a bar with one of the other charity staff and the loud woman he's enjoying a free glass of cola and her shrieking laughter as she regales them with another tall tale of her youth. To be honest he's looking forward to leaving her tonight, he wants to get online and see if there's any chance of work elsewhere, today has been particularly tiresome. As he yawns in boredom he sees her. She's just leaving the bar but looking his way. His heart skips, his mind flips and he goes dizzy. He feels like he's seen a ghost. She makes him feel curious, angry, used, confused, excited, haunted and sick. What a bitch! I hope she'll take me to bed. I hope we can play some more. She's a using cow. What's she doing here? She's fucking stalking me! I wish she wasn't here. I want her in bed. I'm going to be killed by her.

She winks at him and points to an imaginary breast pocket, then walks out the bar. The previous thoughts run through his mind again but he cannot help but feel inside the breast pocket of his lumberjack shirt that's hanging on the back of his chair. He pulls out a plain white business card with "Devon Hotel, Room 38" handwritten in her neat style on it. In his head he both curses her and admires her. She sure knows how to intrigue a guy. She must be a bloody witch, how else could she have got the card into his pocket without him even noticing it or her?

Using the tablet he finds details for the Devon, it's a fair old walk. It's a posh looking place too, he's not even sure he'll be allowed past reception let alone to room 38. He nervously approaches the desk and asks the stern looking chap how he might find room 38. On hearing this the man's face lightens up, smiles and he then says "Ah, Mr Willows I assume, along the corridor and up the stairs, Miss Goodier is expecting you." Miss Goodier eh? That's her name then? Or perhaps just something she made up. Miss my arse, she's married, although the husband is nowhere to be seen apparently. Oh god, what if he turns up? Jeez man, lighten up, enjoy the moment, "You wanted adventure, well now you're having it". Still, he can't help but wonder if he's about to be stitched up for a murder or be murdered himself.

He knocks on the door, with a click she opens it. He's just a tiny little disappointed to see her in tight jeans and a baggy t-shirt rather than a latex cat suit or a schoolgirl outfit. She's made up and smells nice, the room is luxurious and it's warm again so not everything's bad. She greets him with a gentle kiss. He cheekily says "Miss Goodier, I presume" and notices her shoulders drop just a tiny amount, although her facial expression remains unchanged. A chink, just a tiny little chink in that confidence, that impenetrable bossy confidence. Inside he chuckles. Then worries, if he knows her name will she have him killed now? Stupid boy, this is real life not the movies. Hang on, this doesn't happen in my life so god only knows what might happen.

She then laughs and smiles, he relaxes a little and hopes she doesn't notice his body language. "Dinner?"
"What, at this time?"
"I know, it's been a busy day and I've not eaten"
"I have, but I'll join you for a snack?" After a little more preening she's ready and they walk down to the dining room. She orders a hearty steak, he orders some nachos to nibble on. He's clean and presentable but he feels out of place among the diners and drinkers. It's not his dress code it's just so upper class here, he's used to bars and greasy spoons not finery. She fits right in.

"I have so many questions" he asks
"I imagine you do, I imagine you're at least bewildered" he nods in confirmation "But, can't you just enjoy our meetings? Enjoy what happens rather than question everything?"
"You make it sound so easy, like I can just ignore it, accept it"
"You can if you wish, or you can spoil it by taking away the magic, by breaking the spell. Let me take you on an adventure, let me indulge you."
"Why, why would you do that, why me? There's a million people out there, why me?"
"Why not, why are you called Clem and not Pete? Why were you born in England and not Germany? You can accept these things as that's how they've always been, well accept new things too. Chance, happen stance, circumstance, roll with them, play the cards as they are dealt." She pauses "When you're dealt just a 3 and a 5 then fold, but when you're dealt aces, go all in."
Urgh, her logic is impeccable. It's a western consumer's version of Zen. It's how he'd like to think he should live his life. But damn and blast he can't switch off the nagging questions in his head.

"I get it, but I can't stop wondering"
"Trust me. Have I done you any harm so far?"
"I'll not ask you to do anything illegal. I'm not out to 'get you' or hurt you. I'm out to enjoy our adventure, to live a little, to learn and to grow." that word adventure again, coincidence? She gives him a dirty, suggestive look "I may ask you to do some naughty things though.." oh lordy, he's getting excited again.
"Just tell me you're not some psycho murderer or secret society member, I admit...ahem...I'm scared"
She laughs, not cruelly, more ironically "No no no no No I'm harmless I promise. Oh dear, I never considered you might be scared by it all"
"Wouldn't you be?"
She reflects for a moment "Er...yeah, come to think of it. But please, trust me. I'd like you're trust because I'll have to trust you an awful lot"
"What do you mean?"
"Hopefully you'll find out soon enough, can I trust you, I think I can.."
"It depends..."

And with that dinner arrives. They talk of his work and how disheartening it has been, the cold weather and later of where he'd like to travel to one day. It seems normal, relaxed and ordinary. Healthy is the word that comes to his mind. After dinner she buys him a drink
"Lets go to my room"
"You do know Miss Goodier, if that is your name, that I have a tent and possessions on a campsite some way away, they may not be much to you but they're my world to me."
"Don't be silly, they can be replaced, you've got everything that matters to you with you now"
"What, my tablet...your tablet...and the clothes I stand in?"
" health and your mind"
Damn. She's right again. He knows he'll still worry about his kit at the campsite a little.

Back at the room all is warm, luxurious and comfortable. She offers him a shower and a dressing gown, he takes a brief rinse and returns to the room in the robe. She's typing on a laptop which she quickly logs out of as soon as he walks through the door. He notices and is just a little suspicious. She goes for her shower and he checks the laptop, it's password protected and he doesn't have the time to start hacking it. He leaves it and checks his messages on his tablet.

He looks up when she opens the door to the shower room. She's dressed in a tight black pvc vest top and a short black pvc skater circle skirt. The skirt flares out over a thick short white petticoat in folds and ruffles. Around the waist of the skirt is a broad thick pink satin sash with a large bow around the back. Her hair is in tight pigtails high on her head and each has a bright pink silk bow. She looks so cute his heart almost melts.

She looks at him and flutters her eyelids, biting on her finger. "Can I trust you?" she whispers, all cute and girly. He gulps. It's all so wrong and yet so right. It feels as though she's been reading his fantasies. He's reminded of Mandy too. She used to do things like this with him, dressing up, role play and being girly.
"Er...I...I...How'd you do that?"
"Shhhhh...please, don't spoil it, can I trust you?" He thinks a million thoughts of fear and lust. The lust wins.
"Yes, yes you can trust me." With that she turns back into the shower room and a moment later returns with some unusual items that he's at first bemused as to their purpose. She places them on the bed.

There's a pair of bondage mittens, for want of a better description. Leather balls, the size of a grapefruit, with a space for a hand and a cuff to fasten them to the hand. This renders the wearer's hand useless inside the leather ball. On each cuff is clipped another leather cuff, this does not appear to have any use as far as he can see. She looks at him coyly, she's shaking just a little although it's not cold. He looks at her. There's a moment's awkward space.

She rolls her eyes and giggles "Put them on me!" With a little fumble he slips her hands into the balls and fastens the straps tight. She's shaking a little more. "And the other straps"
"Onto my upper arm" This causes her bound hands to be beside her shoulders and strapped in place. He'd role played and dressed up with Mandy before now but never the bondage. He'd fantasised about it, talked to her about it but apart from once tying her hands behind her back they'd never done it. She didn't like it, it scared her. Looking at this woman now, completely helpless and so sweet to look at, is a fantasy come true. He feels sick with fear, guilt, excitement and nerves.

"Are you sure, are you OK?" he asks.
"Shhhh, you've got to look after me now"
"Do I? How?" She just winks and hops onto the bed. In her girly voice again she squeaks
"Turn the TV on please I wanna watch something" He turns the TV on. "Not that...turn over!" She wriggles as she speaks. He's aching in lust, shaking a little himself and dizzy with so many feelings. "Snuggle up with me" she demands but in her sweetest tones. He sits on the bed and props onto a pillow, she wriggles up to him. Watching this is painfully erotic and as she snuggles into him he longingly looks at the shiny skirt, her breast outline through the vest and the bound hands. She places her head onto his chest. He wants to run his hand down the skirt and underneath, he's not sure that's the right thing to do though.

They sit and watch 10 minutes of a classic Ealing comedy. He manages to relax but he can't help his thoughts. He's desperate to touch her and feel what's below her skirt. He wants to grab her and pin her to the bed. He wants her to stand in the corner like before. He wants her to speak naughty to him and for him to cum over her shiny skirt and top. Whilst he thinks all this he merely plays with the ribbons in her hair.

She lifts her head and looks up to him, as cute as she can she whispers "I need a wee, pweese"
"You have to help me, I can't"
"Oh..." He steps off the bed and goes to the other side. He helps her to stand. He looks at her, she's stunning, all ribbons and bows and skirts and shiny. They walk to the bathroom, he's behind admiring her. She stands next to the toilet and looks at him sheepishly. "Panties..." He reaches below the ruffles and folds and feels her satin panties, loose against her warm skin. He pulls them down without seeing anything. She sits and starts to urinate with a firm splash. "Wipe me pweese" so he grabs some paper and feels below. He dabs her gently, still below her petticoats, out of vision. She shivers and takes a deep breath, then resumes her faux cuteness "...thank you...panties?" He pulls her pink panties back up. They're full panties with elastic around the waist and leg holes. It's all too much.

They settle back into the bed and resume watching the TV. He barely notices the film. His mind spins with thoughts of her pussy and bottom nestled within those soft fulsome loose panties. He gets hard till it aches, then it passes and he relaxes, only for her to move or snuggle into him and the whole process starts again. He eventually realises she can see his penis beneath the dressing gown and she's doing it deliberately. He makes a concerted effort to remain soft if for no other reason than to wind her up.

She looks up at him again, with those puppy dog eyes and whispers "Touch me, pweese". He's no chance, he can't resist any longer and as his hand slips below the voluminous petticoats he's painfully hard. His hand falls onto the soft smooth satin and he rubs her bottom for a minute or so, then her hip and finally in towards her pussy and clitoris. There's a warmth below and a moisture. He relishes gliding over the material with his fingers and the back of his hand, soft at first then a little firmer. He can feel her breathing change and she starts to shiver again. He notices he's shaking too. This is silly!

He moves to slip his hand inside her panties but she whispers " not yet...pweese don't stop" He's a little confused but ever the gentleman he obeys and continues to rub her through the satin. Her breathing increases and the tension in her body mounts. He takes great effort to focus on the movements and places that make her breath heaviest then soon she's almost fighting him away, as best she can whilst so arm bound. He stops, fearing he's done something wrong.

"Don't stop for fucks sake!" she screams, there's no cute voice now. He resumes and she starts to fight again, it take some effort to keep his hand in place and he's thankful she's bound. He rolls her off him onto her stomach, pinning her down with his leg and rubs some more. She deepens her breath, holds it then groans and shudders, he assumes she's coming and tries to keep the pressure on what he hopes is her clitoris under the satin. It's wet satin now.

"Are you OK, I hope I...."
"Shut up for goodness sake man, go with"
"OK, but"
"SHHHH!" she demands, them switches back into character with her soft face and fluttering eyelashes "I've been naughty haven't I?"
"" she gives him a sharp look "er...yes " he stiffens his posture and raises his voice "Yes, you have been very naughty"
"I'm sowee...I must be punished" and she looks sheepishly up at him "how will you punish me?" And with that he's almost sick with anticipation and nerves. He hasn't a clue what to do but he's going to try his best.
"Stand up!" he demands. She looks impressed and wriggles off the bed and stands beside it. Her skirts are all asunder and her pigtails are skew wiff. "Smarten yourself up."
"But how? I'm all tied up" He has to think a moment. "I shall release you and you shall straighten yourself out. Whilst you do that I shall consider what is to be done with you"

As he releases her and she straightens her dress and pigtails his mind flashes. He remembers her obsession with his cum and forges a pleasurably cunning plan. Once she's ready and he's got his plan this allows him to take on a more positive mind set. "Remove your panties girl!" he barks. She looks coy and pretend scared, she slips them down without exposing herself. "Place them on the bed, here". She does as instructed and he notices the damp stain. "Flat, straighten them out flat on the bed" She does as she's told. "Mittens!"

He replaces the leather bondage gloves, balls, or whatever they're called onto her hands and fixes her hands to her shoulders, as she was initially. "Stand before me!" She moves. "Now watch..." and he strokes his penis whilst she stands before him. He can see she's re-invigorated by this. He strokes as she wriggles, he plays and teases both himself and her. She keeps on bending over to get closer but he barks "Stand up straight" each time. As he gets closer her breathing increases. Each time he barks "Quiet!" As he's about to come he positions himself next to her gorgeous satin panties and with a growl he manages to get most of his semen on them.

She looks stunned and excited. He feels relieved and spent. "Oh god, oh goodness...pweese...please untie me"
"What? Untie me!"
"No...this is your punishment"
"What, we're done...aren't we?"
"No..." and with a wink he says "If you're not punished you'll never learn. You LOVE my cum and I imagine you want to play with yourself or have me do it. Well you shall have to wait young lady". She looks shocked, then she goes back into role.
"Oh, you're so mean..." she looks down at the cum soaked panties. He imagines her frustration and starts to feel a stirring in his loin again. He knows it won't be as stiff now but still it's there.

He lies on the bed, insisting she remains stood next to the panties. she flaps her bound arms in frustration, stamps her feet like a spoiled girls and sulks. It's all part of the act and it's delightful. "Have you learned your lesson?"
"....yes..." she whispers. He stands up and unties her. She makes to grab the panties, he stops her by grabbing her wrist.
"Wait!" She backs off. He stands quietly for a moment, admiring her yearning to get the panties "OK". She grabs the panties and skips off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. He hears her, she's playing with herself this time. He lies on the bed again, feeling somewhat smug.

Those questions are still milling around in the back of his mind, but feeling this good makes it so much easier to ignore them.

The next morning he awakes in the sumptuous sheets and she's laid next to him. In the morning light without the makeup she's not perfect. There's a wrinkle here and there, her skin is not porcelain smooth any more, age is wearing her but the wear is light and inoffensive. She's pretty in that homely manner, she's retaining the slimness of youth quite well although her curves are fuller now. Her breasts remain shapely although not pert. She's not his perfect fantasy woman visually but last night she was pretty close to being perfect sexually.

Sex. They've not had sex. In fact he's not seen her naked pussy yet, or touched it fully. He's felt it's warm moisture, dabbed it with toilet paper and rubbed it through satin panties, but not seen it or touched it directly. How odd. They've occasionally kissed or held hands. It's been so physical and so erotic without any real contact save for snuggling up in bed. He wraps his arm around her into the soft delicate night dress and her waistline. Divine.

The threads of doubt still nag quietly in his mind. He allows them to come forward and be listened to. Why him? As she said why not? He knows he's not ugly but he's hardly the muscle bound hero. If it wasn't him surely someone else would be asking the same question, so indeed why not him. How does she know my fantasies and my weaknesses and what I like? Chance? Maybe, but it's a fair old chance to find someone who comes so close, as though they were destined, as though she's read his mind, as though it was meant to be. No. There's a chance you might share certain things but last night was too perfect.

How did she find me, 3 times now? Chance? No. To share sexual fetishes is unlikely. For her to fancy him is less than 50-50. For her to then be able to find him 3 times in 3 distinct parts of the UK, no, no that's just beyond the realms of mathematical possibility. Well...anything's possible but so highly unlikely. His mind wanders into quantum physics for a moment. He pulls it back to the point.

She asked him to let her indulge him and to enjoy it not fight it, not to spoil it. He can see the logic and it's a beautiful thing. But still the nagging doubt is there, the reason, the purpose. She's obviously wealthy in some manner, she's attractive enough to have any handsome well heeled bachelor so why is she choosing a poor scruffy traveller with no direction, no purpose in life? Adventure. That word keeps on cropping up in his life and she's mentioned it a few times. Goddam! More impossible coincidence. He knows he doesn't want to spoil the chance of more meetings like last night, but he must find out.

He used to talk of adventure with Mandy. It was Mandy that sent him on his travels, to spare him the pain of her final months. He was glad she had done that, although every part of him felt like he ought to have remained. He's been on the road for pretty much two years now and he's kept his promise to not look back, to not find out, to not know what happened to her. He does however feel as though he's failed her memory by not getting out of the UK yet. He feels guilty, they'd talked of far flung places, of exotic countries and unusual cultures and all he's done is bum around in a scruffy tent. Hell he's even lost the motorbike now.

As he looks at her he also wonders how he feels about her. Horny, he laughs to himself, that much is true and honest at least. He does relish her warm, comfortable, luxurious lifestyle. But her, herself? He realises he knows nothing of her at all. Apparently she has kids, growing up from the pictures at her house. She's married but the husband is nowhere to be seen. She's wealthy to some degree, or at least lives like it.

She stirs, opens her eyes and looks at him. He smiles and she smiles back. What's not to like he thinks to himself. Nothing apart from the mystery and potential for danger in not knowing what the hell he's getting himself into. He revisits all the thoughts of being framed for murder or kidnapped or used as a drug mule. There's got to be a catch somewhere, there always is. Ever the cynic, he chuckles to himself but she must have noticed. "What?"
"Oh...nothing..silly thoughts"
"What!" she nudges him playfully yet hard.
In a serious tone he says "I'm still curious, I still need to know what's going on here. It's magical that's true but I'm a cynic"
"Oh please, pweese don't spoil this..." and she flutters her lashes.
"I don't want to spoil it, I just can't stop my mind spinning with questions. I've had a fair life, a good life but this, this is all above and beyond my reality, my experience zone. I feel like there has to be a catch, something, a price to pay. Just give me a reason."
"Because I want to!" she states firmly "Because I want this, this is for my benefit too you understand, I'm getting pleasure out of this as well. This is my time out, my own piece of magic, my happy zone or whatever else you want to call this." She softens her voice and smiles "So please let me enjoy this with you"

He thinks a little longer. He's never conceived of the notion that he might be her little play thing. That makes him feel a little pathetic like a toy, a little used too, but he can live with that. His ego will allow him to be a plaything if it is a pleasurable experience. His ego also feels better thinking that she is enjoying this as much as he is. Great, he relaxes. Then there's the question of how she finds him and how she seems to know what he likes. "There's something else..."

"...What..." she sounds frustrated.
" do you find me? You seem to already know what I like in the bedroom too. I've turned it over and over in my head, there's far far far too many coincidences for this to be all coincidence"
She lies there, looking at him deep into his eyes, he feels almost sorry for her. "OK, yes, I guess there are." She looks disappointed. "Look, look...look yes there are too many coincidences but you must trust me please!" She looks earnest now "I'm creating my own magic too. You must believe me that this is what I want, if I give everything away, if I tell you how it's all done it's just like a magician's trick, the awe, the wonder and the spark is gone when you know where the rabbit is hidden in the hat"
"I agree" he mutters "It doesn't stop me trying to work out where or how the rabbit is hidden though"
"I promise, I truly promise I'm not out to hurt you, get you into trouble or otherwise make things bad for you." He feels her sincerity. She looks at him in her cute girly face again "Pweese twust me...I'm a good girl" Oh dear, how can he resist.

Over a surprisingly disappointing breakfast they smile and laugh about what they didn't see of the film last night. Despite the "Nouvelle Cuisine" portions he's feeling relaxed. He's also wondering what's next. Another month or so without seeing her? Maybe never again? She talks the talk of someone who plans to see him time and again but definitely on her terms when it suits her.

"How do you sustain yourself on the road?" she asks.
"I've told you."
"Only what you're doing at the moment, the charity thing" He goes on to explain about the occasional work he picks up, his incredibly frugal lifestyle and he cautiously mentions he has a little kept back for a dire emergency. She accepts all this.
"Don't you want more?"
"Yes...and no. I've had more and more brings it's own troubles. When you have a lot you have a lot to lose. You live your whole life working to keep what you've worked to get. If you're lucky you earn a little more and get more but that costs money to keep so you work harder to keep the more you have." She smiles a knowing agreement. "If a man has nothing he has nothing to lose. That's real freedom. That said, it's fine being completely free but there's hardship that comes with having nothing." He goes on to explain about the forthcoming winter, the cold and the requirement to save for a better sleeping bag. It all seems sad, pathetic and cheap in these affluent surroundings but then he also knows that those around him are filled with the fear of losing this luxury.

"And what of magic?"
"Er....what do you mean?"
"Life, spark, zest, the magic of life"
"I see that in the places I visit and the people I meet as I travel, is that what you mean?"
"Yes, well sort of. What of love, what of family, what about friendship and camaraderie?"
"Love? Love I do not understand. Family is good but it's also a bind that ties you to one place. The same with friends. I'm social and I have good friends but I had to make a choice a couple of years back. I made the choice to travel."
"A promise" She leaves it at that. He was expecting many more questions that he'd have to dodge around or politely answer but she says nothing. He wonders why. After a long moment he asks "Is that questions?"
"I already know, I'm not sure I understand yet but I already know" He opens his mouth to speak "Shhhh. Give me some time to pack and I'll run you to work"

He stands in the corridor waiting for her, holding one of her bags. What the hell does she already know! Oh hell on a handcart he's got to find out what is going on. He considers giving her an ultimatum, fill in the gaps or leave him alone. Much as he hates the not knowing he also doesn't like the idea of not seeing her again. Catch 22. Her and her fucking magic, her bloody mystery, her arty farty shushes and that feeling that she's holding all the cards. Trust. What does she know of trust? Why should he trust her? As she steps out of the room he looks at her bottom and her heels. He hates himself for being so easily manipulated by a pretty woman. Stupid boy.