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And then she was feeling my boobs. And well, one thing led to another. Do I have to spell it out?” Part of me wanted to scream out Yes, but that wouldn’t have helped. So instead, when I’d pulled myself together sufficiently I asked: “And what about Francis?” Before Sue had a chance to answer the Captain must have shut off the air-to-ground phone system as the line suddenly went dead. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I was a nervous wreck for the next four and a half hours. I’d heard half of the story and I was then left hanging as events conspired to isolate me from communicating with the outside world. According to the schedule, we’d have a ninety-minute layover in Johannesburg, which would have been plenty to fire up my mobile and re-establish contact with Sue to find out what had happened with Francis. But we were delayed forty minutes circling round and round in a holding pattern before they finally allowed us to land, Estelle helpfully telling me it was. I didn’t care much for the lack of color but respected the performance of her car. Of all the colors in the rainbow, why would someone choose white or black to paint a Bimmer? Me? I’d paint it bright orange with black racing stripes. I know, cool, huh? For an extra thousand dollars, the Bavarian Motor Works will allow you to paint your car any color under the sun. ‘Do you see how sometimes under certain light my girlfriend’s eyes appear violet? That’s the color that I want you to paint my car.’ It was probably a lease car. I wondered about her and about her car when suddenly, I noticed in the corner of my eye her left turn signal blinking. Maybe, it was the look. Maybe, we shared a similar passion. (Maybe, she wants me? Hey, it’s my story. I can write whatever I want.) Maybe it was a moment in time but…she’s turning left with me…is she following me? The light lit up the arrow and I turned left taking the turn with considerable exuberance, another words, I peeled rubber, was hauling.
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