BED & BREAKFAST

CHAPTER 8 - "We like to play. Surprise, surprise!"

"Ah, yes, Venice..." There they were again, doing the eyes in eyes thing.

Venice what? I was in the breath-holding pattern- like a plane circling overhead waiting for permission to land. Venice why? How dare YOU, Venice, betray ME? You were mine you bitch. Mine!

"We like to play. With sex, you know? We play games all the time." This from Marie, thrown into the silence of their staring.

"Venice was Marie's idea. I came home one day and I found a plane ticket with my name on it. And a note with some rules." Daniel was in reminisce mode; his face... you ever seen utter, and I mean utter contentment? Maybe those few brief seconds after orgasm, maybe then- but no, they are transient, they are mere seconds in what could otherwise be a very not-so-content environment, rest of the time. This contentedness was deep, was like a permanently etched expression on his face- leaving creases, lines corresponding to it and caused by muscle overuse. That deep.

"Surprise, surprise!" Marie added with an exaggerated hand flourish. What's with the French and hands?

(Sorry. Bit of the pot calling the kettle black here. I have Mediterranean blood. We gesticulate a lot. Nuff said.)

"Surprise, surprise!" sure. Only to me, it came across as "Soupreezé soupreezé!" which of itself sounded sexy- especially with the accompanying flourish, ending again by fingers trailing along his arm. Soupreezé indeed! Once more, I was caught in an awkward spot. Here was this creature (from another time?) intimating to me, (me!) that the secret to a lasting relationship was fucking. Or rather constant and inventive fucking; verbal fucking; visual fucking, sensory fucking... Any fucking- the hint of it and the expectation and the playing and the soupreezé aspect keeping the relationship fresh and forward-moving-

Three things jumped at me in succession- Venice on the back-burner for the moment: "I've never bloody known this!" Quickly followed by, "Why haven't I bloody known this?" Which of course led to, "How do I bloody get me some?"

Oh, she had more. As did he. I sat and listened and observed and said very little in turn, which for those of you who read me would deem uncharacteristic given my propensity to use ten - often big, "What the fuck do they mean?" - words, where two simple ones will suffice- like now?

This is what I heard, condensed, because the Gods of memory granted me cells sure, but not enough head-space to retain it verbatim: They'd travelled to Venice three years ago on separate flights staying in undisclosed to the other hotels. They'd had a weekend to meet. They'd had to find each other using everything they knew about each other. Not chance, no, it was a sleuthing game. It was a challenge- for the one who found the other first would in effect claim the other as a prize. Then, (yes, it's convoluted thus my reference to the Gods of memory failing to dump whatever unnecessary things and make room for every word) then, the person first found would be the other's whatever the other wished them to be, for a week.

But. (This is the part which had me both spell-bound and indignant thereafter.) If they didn't find each other during the course of that weekend, they'd fly home, again, alone.

You see what was at play here? Where MY mind headed? It was a challenge- to evade the other yet at the same time, risk never finding them in the process- thus cutting the trip short. It was also an ego thing... how much did one cede? How much did one risk? Her cleverness left me for dead. I hated her then.

I am a master planner see. If there's one thing I do well, it is this: Creating circumstances to perfection (whether they be in my head or for real). For my 30th, I put together this most elaborate of nights, based around the then popular "Who done it?" murder/mystery board game- I forget its name now and maybe I've mentioned it elsewhere? There were nine of us (I was partner-less) and the other eight- I did a mid of the night run, leaving packages at their front doors. Inside were costumes and sealed instructions- none of them knew WHO instigated it and where they were going and what it was about... Well... I had them scurrying all over the 'burbs' doing odd things, dressed as the characters in the game we'd play later back at my place.

I recall one of the things: They had to read my cryptic directions (remember, no internet those days or phones with Google maps) and get to a small motel run by a lovely Chinese couple. The instructions had stated "Wink, till the man behind the counter gives you your next clue." They winked and winked. Trouble was, the poor motel-keeper had NO clue what was going on, let alone anything to give them. So there they were, singly or in pairs, winking with increasing exaggeration, waiting... waiting... (Apparently after the first few, he ceased being so lovely? Apparently also, his wife, seeing the ragtag period costumes filing in and out and winking dementedly threatened to call the cops?)

Took them three hours to all finally reach my place. There, a luxurious table awaited them with a proper three course meal which I served... wearing a French Maid outfit? (Yeah. Again with the French.) To this day, I still hear about it, the fun, the trying to solve the clues without opening the envelope containing my address- thereby forfeiting. It still stands in our circle as the best birthday party ever.

I've done similar things for my sons and others through the years. Sent them on treasure hunts and other mystery/adventure games. I like to plan. I like providing 'different' and 'fun' and 'adventure'. It's one of MY things.

So... What could I possibly have said, having just been upstaged- my attempts paling by comparison? And besides, I wanted to listen to them forever. Part of me ached to remain within this connection of theirs, to maybe have some of it rub off - I don't know - I wanted to have me some of it? Even by osmosis, as a bystander, eavesdropping on one of their interludes.

"Who won?" The only two words I asked throughout their joint explanations of what ensued.

"Daniel did."

"Marie, she had to-"

"No, let me say this part baby!"

He smirked. I was still in breath-holding pattern overhead.

"Daniel, he made it even more fun. We were to pretend to be strangers, oui?"

Daniel nodded. I nodded. (The image of two bobble-head figurines on a car dashboard- you get the idea.)

"So we met, like for the first time. We strolled, we sat at cafes, we uhhh... we kissed our first kiss in a gondola... I was..." (What she wasn't, was clearly in the here and now. She was there. Reliving it!) "I was in love again... And, no sex, Elise. Not till the last night."

Awwww... (Not cute kitten pic awww, more... eyes wide-open-in-indignation awwww aka an internal Arghhhhhhhh!) She'd stolen MY bloody ending! That's right. When I lay me down to sleep every night, when I go off and create alternate realities... ones where he and I- damn it, my favourite one is the one where we don't 'hook-up' until the final night before my departure. It's got everything- the consummate build-up. Damn!

"Awwww!" (Cute kitten pic one.)

Marie smiled, at me. Then winked. "I cheated," she said. "I saw him first, but it was too soon!"

.................................. nothing. I had nothing.