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Now pull your socks etc back on and come with me'After getting dressed again and she had made up her face and hair, slightly tussled in our frantic hurry, she took my hand and led me to the side of the queue at the Security Gate, said to one of the guards, 'My cousin, in the Royal Navy flying home for the New Year', and I showed my travel documents and was waved through (because I was in the forces I didn't have to pay the 15 Aus Dollars that was the charge to leave the country at that time.)On the plane I was taken up to the 1st Class area on the top deck and she said ...'there you go the bar will be open as soon as we take off, have fun, I'll be back for 2nds later darling .....by the way my name is Miranda.' 'Oh I'm Kaye in my alter ego .... she gives me a quick peck on the cheek and away she goes .I take a seat and start to read one of the newspapers from the rack, belt myself in. and wait for take off. The Steward for the bar came in and asked what I would like to drink, a beer. My phone, in my bag, on the worktop, started to ring. In an instant I was out of my chair, two steps and my hand was delving in my bag, pulling out my chirruping mobile and, without looking at the caller ID, I pressed the correct button and answered the call. “Hello”. “You fucking bitch”. I rotated in my spot, turned back towards the table to where Pippa should be so that I might mouth “It’s Jimmy”, might gain some indication as to what I should do, what I should or shouldn’t say, but I never completed my turn, never caught Pippa’s gaze, never mouthed words and gesticulated with lips, eyes and hands because Pippa wasn’t there … she’s here, pressing into me. I’m trapped in the right angled corner of the worktop, Pippa’s hand pressing firmly at the juncture atop my thighs, her body pushed into mine, lips tongue and teeth attacking my neck. “This is your fucking fault”. Strong insistent fingers probed at the smooth, slightly squidgy flesh atop my stockings, nails digging in.
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