er companion also was fair, but her hair was more wiry, and was held back severely by an Alice-band. She had on a burgundy top, and trousers of a darker beige, with pockets here and there. My impression was that she was plainer than the first woman, with a uniformly dull complexion. But she was striking in her own way, with rather full lips, and a high forehead. She hid her eyes behind a pair of spectacles.
The first woman, Ms Blue to me now, had tipped her head backwards, and was staring up at the ceiling. The second, Ms Burgundy, was standing at about forty-five degrees to her full face, and had bent forward, bringing their faces close. She was looking intently into Ms Blue's face. She said something, which I could not hear above the hubbub of the coffee lounge, and rummaged in her friend's handbag, which was on the counter. She took out a minuscule bottle, with a dropper-top, studied the label for a few moments, and then shook it. She unscrewed the top, gently rested the heel of her hand against her friend's cheek, and deftly let three droplets fall into each eye. Ms Blue sat as still as a monument, gaze fixed on the ceiling, trustful, being ministered to.
A third woman came up, older, and Ms Burgundy stepped away from her friend, who relaxed, and the three started to chat, now looking as unremarkable as any of the other people in the coffee lounge, or in the whole airport, if it came to that. I drained my americano, picked up my bags, and moved on.
Since then, as I say, I have been scanning, sighting, reconnoitring. I have seen some wonderful and unusual things, but none so exciting, so absorbing, so – yes – erotic as the Blue / Burgundy episode.
