Good women are never remembered in History

It is quite possible that the two of them met in their dreams while sitting in
a hotel bar towards closing time one lunch-hour. They both sat there, lost in
their own independent thoughts, their glasses practically drained on the shiny
surface of the bar, their plates pushed to one side.

Teresa was remembering how it was that her lover used to have all the ideas,
but she never liked even one of them. He had kept asking her if she had other
ideas and why she would not help him out in his dreams. She used to smile at
him blankly and ask him why he did not run away with his fantasies and live
happily ever after? In the end… he had and here she was alone again, waiting
in a bar for the afternoon to draw to a close, waiting for that touch of love.

“That’s hardly likely, Teresa, now is it?” she murmured to herself in a soft
voice, interrupting her own thoughts. She reached out for her glass and swirled
the last remnants before sipping timidly, wanting the glass to last longer than
anyone could reasonably hope.

“No?” Her companion reached across and touched her hand, rubbing Teresa’s
fingers lightly. “No more likely than this, Teresa?”

“No more likely,” Teresa repeated hollowly watching her companion’s fingers
massaging her hands. It was a seductive little gesture: one that warmed her
far more than the alcohol she had imbibed earlier.

“The waiter is gay in case you were tempted to find solace in his arms.”

“I know. I come here often now.”

Teresa laughed, wondering why she spent her time here.

“How would you really like to spend your time?”

“I want to find friendly romance or even just a comfortable conversation, but
in never happens.”

“Perhaps it is already happening. My name is Alana.”

“Your hand is soft, Alana.”

“Softer than the waiter’s excitement at your romantic need,” Alana giggled

“Leave that waiter alone, girl!” Teresa reprimanded her lightly, before joining
in the infectious laughter.

“He has too big a butt for me.”

“Shhh,” Teresa slapped Alana’s hand lightly and then rested her palm on the
back of Alana’s hand pulling it onto her lap beneath the table. “Don’t be

“I know.”

“What do you know?” Teresa twisted the skin of Alana’s wrist, until Alana
wanted to cry out.

“I know better than to be cruel, miss.”

“At least I made the waiter smile now.”

“Was he looking over?”

“He saw our linked hands under the table and he’s a vengeful cuss,” Teresa
giggled and then looked down at her mobile phone. The smile slid from her face:

“What’s the matter?”

“My ex just sent me a text,” Teresa sighed.

“More text than you can handle?”

“He wants to meet in Duluth to talk about old times.”

“Why Duluth?”

“Who knows?” Teresa shrugged.

“A friend of mine moved to Duluth,” Alana continued, a sly smile slipping
across her features: “I could only say “why?” then, as well.”

“You’re sweet,” Teresa laughed, nudging her new friend, wanting somehow to
reward her for the past few minutes. “Have a forkful of lasagna.”

“It looks cold.”

“It was cold when it arrived. The service here is terrible.”

“I know. I brought my own lasagna,” Alana smirked, showing Teresa the contents
of a little plastic container. “Have some – you must be starving.”

“We’d better get dessert elsewhere before that bar man with the evil gaze and
wonky teeth bans us.”

“Where do you suggest?” Alana looked at Teresa quizzically.

“There are no other restaurants in this hotel, at least they all serve ice
cream so hard it won’t damage your dentures.”

“Don’t get me confused with the waiters, miss.”

“Your teeth are lovely Alana and I bet your room service is even better.”

“Sure,” Alana agreed easily and got up, holding still for a moment, waiting
for Teresa to lead.

Teresa threw down the check and let a few ten-dollar bills float down from her
purse on top of it – an ironic gesture reflecting the lightweight service. The
barman with the defective teeth turned away and shrugged, as Alana giggled: “I
hope you leave him something for his dentures.”

“I like your dress sense,” Teresa smiled, adjusting her skirt.

“This thing – well, actually, I have had it awhile.”

“It’s very functional and shows you off to good effect.”

“Thank you, miss.”

Teresa nodded in approval, as she looked Alana up and down, taking in the soft
ivory blouse, the charcoal hose and the black pumps. She reached out to touch
the soft ivory and felt Alana shiver.

“Come,” Teresa beckoned. “Let us charm the cousin of the less than lovely
waiter at the reservation desk into offering us a room with big sofas for
lounging in over coffee and pastries.”

“That sounds nice.”



“Do you like to follow?”


“Or is it just the way I flaunt myself before you?”

“That as well, of course. You are very civilised, Teresa.”

“I will uncivilise you later,” Teresa promised and marched over to the
reception desk. Alana watched side on as the negotiations proceeded. She could
see that Teresa, though petite, barely five foot two, was a good negotiator,
smiling appropriately and making her point to get the best facility at the
least inconvenience.

“We have a room on the second floor,” Teresa announced as she marched back
over. “Elevator or stairway?”

“Stairs, if you please, miss.”

“Good choice – there are lots of dark corners on the stairs, where we may pause
for a lingering kiss.”

“If you like,” Alana replied a little dubiously. “Let’s go to the room.”

“Are you afraid of the waiters?” Teresa laughed. “Or are you just shy?”

“Maybe a little of both.”

“Is this your first time?”

“Well, in a hotel…yes.”

“With a tortillera, like me?”

Alana giggled

“You have the key?” Teresa asked.


“Me neither – me cago en la tapa del organo y me revuelco encima de la mierda.”

“Oh my!”

“Sorry,” Teresa blushed at her outburst.

“Don’t apologise.”

“The stairwell it will have to be and to hell with the waiters! Come here.”

Alana hesitated and then walked slowly up to Teresa. She could feel her
stomach fluttering nervously.

“You look fetching in the shadows, with your short frosted hair and your ivory

“Thank you.”

“If I stand two steps above you, I can kiss your forehead.”

“Would you rather I knelt down, miss?”


Alana paused and slipped down to her knees: eyes lowered, head bowed, knees
spread, breasts outthrust, back straight with hands cupped on her thighs.

“You display well, girl. Kiss my hand”

“I had a good teacher,” Alana murmured leaning down to kiss the hand offered to

“I only hope that I can help you to learn some more.”

“Now that…that is quite possible, Miss.”

Good women are never remembered in History