A Real Hoot | Mile High Scrub | 4
Deconstructed Pavlova — Carrie
Salivating in the First Class Lounge
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Green tea and mellow music were all very nice, but what Carrie really wanted was a quiet nook to get a little closer without anyone barging in. And, she glanced at her watch, time was running out.
Brad reached for his bag. “Come on, let’s get that coffee and pav. I’ve only got another half hour before boarding.”
“Same here,” Carrie said, as she followed him out.
He stopped at the front desk, and thanked Janet. “So good, she went straight to sleep!” he indicated Carrie. “I had to wake her up with a jug of cucumber water!”
“Oooh, what a liar!” Carrie said. “Yes, thank you, Janet, it was pure bliss.”
Brad reached into his bag and drew out a small package. “For you and Linda. Much appreciated.”
“It’s only some chocolates,” he confided as they stepped back into the main lounge area. “Strange, a couple of bucks for some Tim Tams, and they bend over backwards to help you in a pinch. Can’t buy that sort of service.”
“You already had your massage slot,” Carrie said. “So you didn’t need any above and beyond. That was for me.”
She reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “Thank you.”
“Not at all,” he said. “I had to think of something. You were going to beat me around the head with a champagne bottle. I could see it in your eyes. Now, where’s that rascal Bruno?”
Brad arranged for their dessert — “In the library, please” — and Carrie followed him to the far end of the lounge. In a little square room lined with bookshelves, three lounge chairs sat around a coffee table.
“Best spot in the house,” Brad said. “Nobody is interested in the books. They all prefer to stuff themselves full of food and free booze. Pity, really. There are some gorgeous books here.”
He indicated a display of glossy coffee table books. “Look at that one. Street photography in Baghdad. Limited edition, cost three hundred bucks direct from the publisher, another hundred more in Dymocks. If you can find a copy at their inflated price. Which you can’t.”
He extracted his boarding pass from his pocket. “I’m on flight 413, boarding in twenty-five minutes. Same?”
Carrie nodded. The Emirates flights went via Dubai, and it was easier to get an onward flight from there than go all the way to Heathrow and backtrack like their Qantas partners. Besides, nobody liked Heathrow. “Perhaps we’ll see each other on the flight?”
“I was thinking something like that,” he said. “Ah, how serious were you about what happened back in the spa?”
Carrie smiled, but didn’t answer, instead leaning over and snaking her hand into his lap, where she traced the outline of a bulge she’d been watching grow ever more intriguing for a few minutes.
“Coffee, Sir!”
Brad jumped. “Oh. Ah, thanks, Bruno! Perfect timing. As ever.”
Carrie glared at the waiter. Still, those things he was setting down on the table looked interesting. In a different way.
Each glass held a layer of some thick creamy substance — yoghurt, maybe? — a layer of strawberries, and peaches, topped with a swirl of…
“Persian fairy floss,” Bruno said, setting coffee cups from his tray down on the table. “Smooth as silk and twice as sweet. Enjoy.”
It was like a cloud floating over the glass. Carrie tried a morsel. Fragile and sugary, tasting of roses. She dug in deeper. The strawberries were fresh, crisp but soft under her teeth, tart and sweet, and the peaches were velvety heaven. The creamy yoghurt below was another texture, complementing the fruit and the fine spun sugar.
Carrie closed her eyes in ecstasy, savouring each sweet mouthful. Brad looked at her with twinkling eyes when she opened hers.
“I can’t believe you’ve been here before and not had this. It’s all anyone ever comes here for.”
Apart from the massages, the champagne, the view, the library, and the service, Carrie thought. Still, this was extraordinary.
Brad was making his vanish, making sounds that suggested delight from a different quarter.
“Look, I’ve got to check in with the front desk, and I can’t trust you with my dessert. Feel free to drink my coffee. Back in a minute.”
And he was gone. He was right. An abandoned dessert would have been fair game.
Damn. And now both were gone. She should have made a photograph.
Oh well. She reached for the book of street photography.
“I tried,” Brad said a few minutes later, plomping himself down beside her. “I did my best, and couldn’t get a win.”
Carrie looked at him over the rim of her cup. She was savouring it hard; where she was headed, baristas were probably unknown. But forget coffee. She could have some fun with this guy. Tall, well-built — as she had seen — obviously up for some games.
She looked at her watch. “We don’t have time for another rub-down.”
“No, that’s not it. I had an idea for being able to sit together in First, and I tried to get them to upgrade my, ahem, partner.”
“An upgrade to First class? Wow! That must cost a million points.”
“Not quite that much. And I have a million points. They tend to rack up fairly quickly, the amount of travel I do.”
“Well, thank you for the gesture. That was really sweet, even if you just wanted to invite me into your suite and have your way with me.”
“Not at all. I had something much better in mind. But they said your ticket wasn’t upgradeable, and they laughed at me. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Oh, my ticket was ultra-cheap. Still, you tried, and that’s certainly above and beyond. I’ve had a lovely time this evening, and I really should do something for you.”
She indicated the photography book. “You said you tried to get a copy?”
“Yes, it would have been just the thing to have in the office for clients to look through. In my line of work I deal with a lot of Middle Eastern folk, and it’s important I send the right signals.”
“I can get you a signed copy. The author’s a colleague of mine. He even used a few of my shots. Look.”
She indicated a black and white photograph showing a procession of pre-teen girls, all in white robes and headscarves, passing a burnt-out tank: ‘Image credit, Carrielle Watson’.
“Wow. Really? I’d love to have a copy. Even more, now. You must tell me about your adventures.”
“Inflated price, you reckon?” Carrie said. “Limited edition, archive quality paper and ink, hardback binding, and you wouldn’t believe what we had to spend on security and travel expenses. Not to mention the cost of skilled labour and our equipment. Now you know why I didn’t want you walking off with a bag full of Leicas.”
“I’ll pay full price and be more than happy,” Brad said. He looked up at a screen, discreetly perched in a corner of the room. “Our flight’s boarding.”
End of a budding romance, with Brad contemplating a lonely but comfortable flight in the elite cabin? Or maybe Carrie can find a way to join him for some — ahem — high jinks; she’s one smart cookie.
A fresh episode every day. Based on a true story.
Britni
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