The cosy space under our blanket reeked of our sexual couplings:
we blotted ourselves with tissues which Lars produced. He wriggled
back into his jeans, I wriggled back into my clothes, while he went to
the loo to tidy himself up. he re-emerged looking immaculate (and
stunning). Breakfast was served, and there was little to say after
this amazing night of passion. Soon the aircraft landed, and we went
our separate ways – he had a connecting flight to catch to Sweden. A
quick handshake and a coy smile as we parted; “till next time!” I went
through immigration and customs in a post-coital daze. Sadly our paths
have not yet crossed again, and if they do, I wonder whether we would
ever achieve such ecstatic feelings as those of two strangers coming
together in such total uninhibited and lustful intimacy in such an im-
possible place?