.... drunk was an understatement. Lying on her belly, her short denim skirt hiked up round her waist, her tiny, red G-string doing nothing to hide her...full ass-cheeks, her long, slender legs sheathed in dark stockings. And her high-heels still on her feet. The contents of her handbag strewn across the laminated wooden floor as though she`d struggled to find her mobile phone or something in her drunken haze.I stepped across to the sofa, kneeling down to see if she was okay. She opened her eyes. "She laughed. "Get over here you muggle." We both moved ourselves down tothe floor, sitting side by side, cross legged in front of the book likea campfire. We just stared at it for a few more seconds.I put my hand on the cover, and she puts hers next to mine. "On three?" On three." One..." two..." THREE!" At the same time we threw the cover of the book open. I don'tknow what either of us were expecting but any of our possible imaginedusherings into the world of magic were let down. Inside of. ’ ‘My pleasure, Miss,’ he had responded, closing up his pen and getting up from his chair. ‘I hope you enjoy it … the book I mean.’ ‘Oh, I will. I’ve read excerpts in the Times,’ she had said, wanting to step away, but held in place by the look in this man’s eyes. My god, she thought, he is older than my father for pity’s sake! Yet something in the warm green eyes and the easy smile that creased his face told her that this wasn’t the average bloke she’d meet at the pub or on the square. Since. I rather doubted it, given the number of passengers that seemed to be waiting at this gate. Crossing to the window, down which long rivulets of rainwater were streaming, I stood squinting out onto the tarmac, and was lost in some private reverie when the announcement came calling the flight for boarding.Joining the queue, I noticed the red headed woman, still sitting, reading her magazine. A smiling woman with dark, liquid brown eyes took my boarding card, and I followed the other passengers.