She walked around me to the stool on the other end of the counter, closer to the TV. There was something weird about how she was walking."You're limping." I said, before realising what it meant."Yeah, well...who's fault is that?" she replied as she sat down. There was humour in her voice, but she sounded so nervous.I looked back at the food. My stomach suddenly started churning, and I realised I hadn't eaten since last night's dinner. I sighed and picked up the knife and fork she'd given me. If she wanted to cook for me then I guess there was no harm in letting her, whatever her reasons were.As I raised the first fork to my mouth, I glanced at her. She was just gazing at me, excitement clear on her face. She seemed to realise that she was staring, and quickly turned to face the TV.I slowly took my first bite and let the familiar, yet strangely intense flavour wash over me. The food tasted incredible, but I put that down to my own hunger. I mean, how much can you really do with a. Their conversation over dinner and two bottles of wine was a revelation to both of them. Despite entirely different lifestyles they found they shared a great many common interests, including sex and men. Over dessert and a liqueur Anne finally found the courage to ask Carol a question she had mulled over all night at the dinner table.‘What colour pants did you choose to wear with that skirt?’Carol smiled back. ‘Funny I can’t remember. I’ll let you know when we get back to the room’. By now Carol was certain that the definite undercurrent she had felt all night was building to tension levels in Anne.The short walk back to room, after finalising the dinner account, heightened the tension even more. Anne was nervy and fidgety and even Carol who usually showed great aplomb was tense.Inside their shared room, they both nervously turned on lights and music as a distraction.Carol was the first to speak. ‘This skirt is uncomfortable and I always have trouble getting it off. It fastens around.
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