The English Lavender wafting through the room stops tickling my nose and fades away. ‘Morning darling…’ Soft and husky, the presence of voice en...elops me as I struggle to right myself and pull the sheet up with me. A bold move I’ve practiced secretly and repeatedly in an attempt to appear graceful. From a high-backed wing hair across the suite, I feel that indolent gaze leave its mark upon my tender flesh. ‘Sleep well?’ That twelve year aged, single malt, smokey-smooth drawl I’ve grown to love. He was eating it, munching it as a little boy of his age would do. He was so very intent on the hot-dog.And she was beautiful. Her entire interest was absorbed in feeding that little boy. She knelt before him and gave him the hot-dog to bite and wiped his mouth free of mustard with a napkin, and had eyes only for him. I felt certain she was his mother. And I was surprised to realize how young she appeared, surely not more than nineteen; and I was intrigued to go forward, to speak with her, to. More

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