[gaggirl]

“Town square” I say to the driver, hoping he understands English, as he picks me up outside the Crystall where we are staying.
I wave goodbye to my husband, knowing that though we are going to both spend time apart meeting someone new and tonight we will be reunited to learn of eachothers erotic adventures.

Feeling quite nervous I pull out of my bag my phone and fiddle with it, sliding it open and shut, hoping the absent minded action will kill off the annoying butterflies in my stomach. We are to meet outside and since its chilly, I am rugged up in my favourite short black coat. There isn’t much on underneath though, just a short black dress. The knee high black plaid socks and high heel boots make or for what the middle of my leg lacks: covering. I figure if we get along, there’s no point wasting time!

I wonder what hes like.. weve been talking for so long, and swapped some pictures, shared many a fantasy together. I wonder if hes as passionate as his lips in his photo portray him to be.

The cab finally pulls up, I pay the man, and I get out. Its busy as all hell! People everywhere. Noone resembling my friend to be seen anywhere, and no one approaches me. Awkwardly I wonder a little feeling more nervous than ever now, trying to look non chalant looking at the outside of the Hall, before sitting myself on the rotunda outside. Waiting.

Waiting.

And Waiting….

Increasingly annoyed, I remove again the phone from my bag and check it: No sms. No missed calls. Fuck. After one more look around at the sea of strange faces speaking a completely different dialect I dial his number. GREAT. Switched off!

And now I’m pissed off.

I cant speak this language and I’m stuck here waiting for some guy that probably didn’t ever exist? Paranoia grips me. What if hes watching? Watching and laughing?! Ha ha. Some Joke.

I whip around looking for a familiar face but there is none.In doing so I knock myself into a strange couple, the man starts swearing at me in his native tongue as I pick up the now scattered contents of my bag. “Fuck you asshole” I mumble to the man, and to my absent or invisible non existant “friend”. Where is he??