Checking into the hotel, trying to be cheerful. Ersatz atmosphere of country club, golf courses and swimming pools and archery and hot air balloons. Weekdays for company training courses, weekends for weddings.
Trying again to be cheerful. Changing clothes, coming downstairs, arranging for a taxi to the church. A woman’s voice beside me, oh, are you going to the wedding too, could we share the fare? Sure, it’ll be a pleasure.
Climbing into the taxi after her, admiring her calves, glancing again at her face, feeling a flash of recognition, she’s a television newsreader. Her clear voice, her radiance, her presence.
Throughout the afternoon, making occasional contact, exchanging smiles. The feeling growing, she likes me. Her sudden hand around my sleeve, come on, let’s dance, shake it up a bit. Dancing together, smiling. Her moves more fluent and expert than mine, somehow making me feel good rather than awkward.
Celebrations ending, time to leave. Pause. She looking at me, aren’t you going to invite me for a drink? Sure, what would you like? Champagne, ask them to bring it to your room, I’ll see you there, what number are you? Telling her. Her lips briefly on mine, a brushing kiss and a squeeze on my arm, okay, see you in five minutes.
The sudden sound of a dog barking, waking, the room familiar, my wife beside me, the hotel dissolving in dream’s disintegration. Lying on my back, glowing in the aftermath. The lovely wedding guest’s presence and perfume still half real. The sense of her body and its imminent nakedness still palpable.
But gradually feeling relieved, she was too strong, she’d invade my brain. If she wanted me around, I’d be enslaved. More likely, probably because of that, she’d move quickly on, then I’d be distraught. Altogether too hot to handle.
Pondering, that television newsreader must have got into my head more than I realized, in fact, it was more a film than a dream, an adolescent fantasy, maybe adolescence never really goes away.
