That distinctive intimacy, getting dressed afterwards. Chatting. Been in London long? Oh about two months, actually I’m going home next week. Oh, where’s home? Poland. Oh, right, do you have family there? Yes, but I’m going back to study. Oh, what do you study?
My fingers working my shirt’s buttons. Physics. What, physics as in looking for Higgs’s boson? She looking at me with interest. Yes, actually. Oh, that’s interesting, are you doing stuff with CERN? Her own dressing finished, looking at me again. Yes. Pause. Assessing me.
My shirt buttons done up. She laughing, pointing. Looking down, the buttons wrong, left higher than right. Both of us smiling. My fingers starting to undo them. So how do you work with CERN?
Another appraising look. Then, well, I’m doing post-doctoral research with Aarhus, that’s in Denmark. My team helps with particle simulations, you know, that hydrogen anti-matter stuff, you probably read, they trapped some but not long enough for a spectroscopic look. We’re working on experimental design to feed to CERN for next-generation analysis.
Stopping, embarrassed, a secret enthusiast suddenly given the chance to enthuse, self-conscious after the initial surge. Also, chary of transgressing client-escort boundaries.
My fingers rebuttoning. Her hands sweeping round, invoking the room, anyway, this stuff, it’s a way of getting enough money to live, funding’s limited, I make more money here in half an hour than a whole day waitressing, also I can do some work in the down-time, that’s what I was doing when you arrived. Smiling. Simulating annihilation events, actually, it’s very exciting.
My dressing finished. Her hold on me now absolute, physical five minutes ago, now cerebral too, a double sexual power. Walking down the passageway to the front door. Reaching out for a final hug. Hey baby, I wish you well, I envy you your work, go get that boson. A brief fond kiss on cheeks.
Outside, door behind me closing, the wintry world looking new, me feeling lucky.
