217 Babel Street | Lobby
Hey Damien
Life is cool here. Surf is good and I'm learning some Hawaiian. Still don't understand why you didn't come too but you can always change your mind if things don't work out in Crappytown-by-the-Sea. Ha ha. By the way, did you remember to close the bank account?
Off for my early evening Mai Tai. See you one day... maybe...
D x (look at the picture - could have been yours!)
The postcard shows a smiling girl on a beach, garlanded with pink flowers. Viv slides it under her shirt and tucks it into her waistband. Just in time. Someone is coming down the stairs and making a lot of noise about it. She smoothes her clothes and turns. Damien, head-to-toe in lycra, pushes his mountain bike into the hall. Muscular like a dancer and not like a weight trainer, she thinks, with approval. Damien gives her a grin and a dark-eyed wink. The wink flusters Viv. Well. Perhaps a pretty young girl in a hula skirt is not, in fact, what Damien is looking for. Viv smiles back but doesn't wink.
Damien swings a long leg over the bike, half-rides across the hall. He's leaving mud on the floor and Viv will have to tell him off. For now, though, she flies to hold the door open. The corner of the postcard jabs hotly at her thigh as she moves.
The bike shimmers onto the road and Damien powers away through the traffic.
Nice arse, thinks Viv.