Part 46
Patricia y su soberbia femenina; she never let me pay the check, she knew how demoralizing it was for me, yet she enjoyed twisting me up.
Every time we fucked in the shittiest London hourly motel she paid, she bought the condoms and the lube. She knew how to get my hair on attention.
Leaving Paris in the fashion that I did, all that concerned me was how quickly can I land in MIA.
But now I was in a melancholic conversation with a yesterday.
Had it not been for this gangway assault and how trapped it made me feel Patricia might not have been an alternative to a leisurely flight home.
Margarita rambled on as if I cared, all the while I texted Patricia my itinerary to what she readily replied, yes.
Lighter now, I gave Margarita a bit of nothing but made her feel like something. The conversation ended with something that sounded like ill see you in Miami.
Yes it was over.
I slid the phone in the right rear pocket of my stonewashed Calvins and enjoyed my hands being free all the while aware that soon I'd be in a musty London apartment.
She was now living with her British boyfriend in Crawley about fifteen minutes from Gatwick, where conveniently I would be flying out the next day.
I was doubly excited to have Patricia and to have her home, the thought of their sheets, their pillows got me aroused, ironically her guy was in the states.
She hadn't seen or heard from me in two years, but the casual style of our nonexistent relationship is what kept it alive, we were nothing to each other.
She texted me her address before the train landed at St Pancras.
I stepped of the train with a chest full of domesticated violence and made my way out of the station, I hopped on a black cab with the kind of anger that would soon victim find.
The cabbie was from Pakistan he was a chatty Sikh with light conversation. We're is home he asked? To which in a short manner, I replied, Miami. Are you flying out tonight? No, tomorrow. Sensing my mood he started to fuzz with the radio.
The ride to Patricias could be up to two hours depending on traffic and I had just come of a three hour train ride. My mood was sour.
Patricia had texted me the entrance code to her building. As soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk I punched in the keys and let myself in. Now In the lobby I took notice of the hip vive of the place.
In the far wall to my right, of this cream colored lobby, I saw the elevator and made my way to it as if I lived there. No one noticed how out of place I was, not even I.
I pressed the up button, the doors opened, I got in pressed four on the dial and up I went. The elevator opened and I headed left to four twenty six.
I rapped on the door.
To be continued...
