Ch. 01 - Snow and Sand

The snow was beginning to fall again, joining the dirty slush in the gutters and overlaying the grime with a fresh layer of pristine white as the big car pulled in at the airport's drop-off point. The diminutive redhead clambered out of the back as the driver opened the boot and handed her the single small suitcase and her laptop bag. He nodded respectfully to her, got back into the car, and drove off, leaving her in the gathering gloom and snow.

"Good job I'm only going for a few days," Alice thought grimly as she slung the laptop over her shoulder, picked up the suitcase, and set off, pulling the hood of her old red ski jacket up with one hand in a vain attempt to keep her long hair dry. She clicked her tongue in frustration when it fell back again, spilling her long, dark auburn hair down her back, and she hurried towards the brightly lit revolving doors and into the warmth of the Departure Hall. Brushing the few snowflakes off her hair, she looked up at the giant board, keeping a constant tally of the planes leaving the busy airport. She had an hour before she even needed to start thinking about checking in, but she had wanted to get to the airport early so her driver wouldn't have to work later than necessary.

A wan smile touched her lips as she eyed the gaily decorated Christmas tree holding pride of place in the middle of the big hall. The company was closing down for Christmas, but she and one or two others would still be working, and in her case, a long-haul flight followed by some hard bargaining and some ruthless decisions that needed to be made in the next few days were all she had to look forward to.

She was the best; nobody else would be able to do it, the Divisional head had said to her two days ago. Yes, she was the best, her salary proved that, but... right before Christmas...? She and Gerhardt hated each other with red-hot intensity. Still, they both knew that he couldn't touch her; she wasn't an employee, she was on secondment from another multi-billion-dollar organisation. She shook her head ruefully. There was no one for her here in Frankfurt, and there hadn't been anyone for her at home in London for over two years now, so what did it matter?

At least the flight would arrive early enough to give her almost two days to get over the worst of the disorientation of rapidly changing time zones, before she had to go in, all guns blazing to convince a hostile management board that what they were going to get, was the best they could expect under the circumstances. She had been walking as she thought and had found herself near a coffee shop, where she hesitated, but only for a second or two. It wasn't the brand she preferred, but a large Americano wouldn't go amiss right now.

Shrugging off her thick coat, she sat at a corner table, her hands cupped around the heat of the coffee, and idly watched the people milling around the concourse. At times like this, it was good to empty one's mind. Gently twisting a strand of her gorgeous auburn hair around her index finger, she drifted and sipped...

The big cup was half drained when she was startled from her reverie by a brash English... no, American voice. "Hey there! Pretty girl like you shouldn't be on her own at this time of year..."

She looked up at him, her sea-green eyes turning icy, and said politely: "Es tut mir leid, ich spreche kein Englisch" -- I'm sorry, I don't speak English -- her German as fluent as her English. He took a step back, the politeness of her demeanour utterly at odds with the hostility in her cold stare. His face dropped, and he stammered: "Oh, I'm sorry, Miss... thought you were someone else..." He turned and beat a hasty retreat. Ugh! Alice knew she was exceptionally pretty and probably could have been a model had she been 30 or 40 centimetres taller... and that way inclined, but what right did men have to try and accost a woman, any woman, on their own?

Then she grinned and giggled out loud, to the surprise of an older woman at the next table, who in turn smiled broadly at her before turning back to her book. "Wouldn't that idiot have got a surprise if he'd tried anything on?" she asked herself, as she flipped open her suitcase, folded her thick coat into the space she had deliberately left for the purpose, then cocked an ear to the announcement, first in German and then in English: "Lufthansa announces the departure of Flight LF 990 to Sydney, Australia; all passengers please make their way through luggage check-in and passport control in preparation for boarding."

"Luggage AND passports?" Alice thought, "That's unusual..." as she grabbed her coat and suitcase and fished in her laptop bag for her passport. The speed was explained when she got to the check-in desk. Only two or three people were queuing at the two open desks, and with her small suitcase, she was through in a matter of moments. The departure hall was almost empty, with maybe fifteen or twenty people waiting for the Lufthansa flight.

Only a few uniformed staff were gathered around the various airline desks, and some even seemed to be closing the desks down. Alice looked at her watch, the battered old Casio that had served her so well for years and frowned. It was only early in the evening on the 20th. Maybe the major airlines were shutting down early for Christmas. She shrugged minutely to herself. Unlikely, even though the main celebrations in Germany were on the 24th. Not important. She dismissed it.

Sitting down on one of the standard airport lounge chairs, the kind that is uncomfortable no matter what size or shape you are, she pulled her phone out of the laptop bag. Like her watch, it looked as if it had seen better days, but unlike the watch, appearances were definitely deceiving. Had any tech experts looked inside, there would have been more than one or two raised eyebrows. With this little gadget, she could keep in touch with virtually anything she chose to. She'd even hacked into the high-security computers at the company, without a trace, with it, within days of arriving in Frankfurt. It was her job, and she was good at it... bloody good.

A little smile touched her lips as she saw one of the emails. From Uncle Alex, bless him, wishing her a safe trip. "No code words in there", she thought. "Good." Just a "touch base", letting her know he was there for her if needed.

"Lufthansa LF 990 now ready to board." The public address system interrupted her train of thought, and she sighed and opened up her boarding pass on the phone screen. Standing up, she stretched, cat-like and supple, feeling the muscles in her arms and back loosening up. She walked towards the boarding desk, and the girl on the desk gave her the standard customer service smile, which didn't quite reach her eyes. "First class that way, Miss, economy through this one." Her eyes widened very briefly as Alice turned to the first-class entrance. She'd deliberately worn jogging bottoms and a baggy sweatshirt teamed up with a pair of flat-heeled pixie boots for the pure comfort she knew she would need on the 23-hour flight; she grinned to herself at the consternation that the attendant had probably felt, seeing a scruff heading towards the first-class departure gate! Gerhardt may be an absolute shit, but at least he had sanctioned first-class travel, knowing that she would need to be at her best when she arrived. Nothing sympathetic about that decision, just cold, hard business efficiency.

She walked through the automatic doors towards the plane, the bitter cold almost catching her unaware as she went from the terminal into the extending tunnel. She quickened her pace for the few steps necessary to gain the warm sanctuary of the plane door. The uniformed flight attendant smiled ("All the way to her eyes!" Alice thought as she responded in kind) and said, "Welcome aboard, Fraulein Morgaine, your seat is across the plane."

Alice didn't correct her on the pronunciation of her name, there were bigger things in life to be concerned about, but her face creased in a huge smile: "Damn you Uncle Alex, trust you to get your finger into this pie as well!" she thought, well aware of the influence that the man must have, for her to be able to get a personal greeting from an individual flight attendant. Undoubtedly, all the crew already knew that in that particular seat was someone who was important to someone who was themselves important! Clearly, Uncle Alex wasn't concerned that she wouldn't be in any way compromised with what she was going to be doing, otherwise she would have remained as anonymous as any other passenger... known just by seat number and very possibly by surname, but forgotten the moment they left the plane at the end of the journey.

The flight was no different from any other she had taken in the past, the gut-churning acceleration, the rumbling, bouncing lurch along the runway as the huge machine flung itself into the sky. Her ears popped a couple of times, and the howl of the engines died down to the familiar steady drone as they climbed towards their cruising altitude, and she settled down into the comfortable seat. She almost certainly wouldn't sleep properly but would doze between picking at the plastic-tasting, microwaved offerings the airlines insisted on serving.

Soon after they reached what the tannoy said was their cruising altitude, the cabin staff began their rounds, offering drinks. She declined the offer of coffee; she knew that what little sleep she might get would be lessened by caffeine, and she wasn't prepared to stomach any form of decaff. Deciding that a small glass of wine wouldn't go amiss when the meal came round, she selected one and accepted a small bottle of sparkling San Pellegrino, reclined her seat a little and sipped reflectively out of the plastic goblet.

The first meal of the interminable flight arrived, and she savoured the quite palatable Australian Chardonnay that the attendant had proffered. She smiled wryly to herself as she poked her fork at the limp asparagus tips carefully arranged alongside the grey mess that the menu card said was Beef Stroganov. She wasn't a wine snob by any means, but Uncle Alex had made sure that she knew what was good and what to avoid when choosing a wine. He had brought her up well, albeit sometimes a bit haphazardly when it had fallen to him, as her only living close relative, when her parents had been mown down by a drunk driver in London on New Year's Eve when she was almost three. She didn't remember her parents, only the photos in their plain Sterling silver frames that stood on her mantelpiece alongside the frames with Uncle Alex and Uncle Jason.

She drifted for a while, the wine warming her and relaxing her, and her thoughts drifted back to Uncle Alex as the flight attendant cleared away her almost untouched meal. She had gone to live with him in Scotland at the big house in the Cairngorms, near Fort William, straight after the funeral. She had held his hand throughout, not understanding what was happening, not understanding why everyone was sad, why people were crying, but vaguely sensing that something wasn't right. She was used to her parents not being around at times; they were often away on business, so it didn't feel particularly strange.

The plane hit a pocket of turbulence, and she woke with a start. "Wow!" she thought, "I must be tired." Her wine was warm, even with the air conditioning in the cabin, and she looked at her watch, noting with surprise that it was over five hours into the flight, about two in the morning, Frankfurt time. "Bleah..." she thought, "only another 17 or 18 hours to go."

Again, she drifted in and out of restless sleep, occasionally being offered food, which she refused, and drink -- another bottle of the Italian sparkling water. "I've got to try and get my brain into Sydney time she thought. Best way I know to combat jet lag... I'll have a breakfast when they offer it, and try to think Australian time." She fiddled with her watch for a while, setting it to Sydney time, grimly considering the oddity that leaving Europe in the evening on the 20th and travelling east for 20 or so hours -- less than a day -- meant that she would arrive in the morning of the 22nd... seemingly two days difference, it felt as if she was losing a day somewhere.

She was too tired to be bothered by it and got up to stretch her legs. The cabin lights had been dimmed. She went to the toilet, and before she sat back down in her seat again, she took the cellular blanket from the overhead locker. She took a childish delight in rustling the plastic wrapper even though she was too far away from her fellow passengers for them to be bothered by it. Turning the forced air nozzle away from herself and wrapping herself in the blanket, she closed her eyes, lulled by the muted roar of the huge jet engines.

She woke as the cabin lights were turned up again and looked at her watch in some surprise. She hadn't expected to sleep, but it was a good, solid eight hours since she had curled up in the seat. Very, very unusual for her to sleep like that, and not in a bed either. It was still only a few hours after midnight, Sydney time, and the flight wasn't scheduled to land until after seven, but the flight attendants seemed to be determined to force as much food down their reluctant passengers as possible, and presented Alice with a bread roll, a croissant and some little plastic tubs containing, or so the labels claimed, butter and apricot jam.

Alice regarded the tray with a jaundiced stare as she held her cup out for coffee, which would undoubtedly be over-brewed and taste more like paint stripper than coffee. It was, and she grimaced as the bitter, astringent liquid almost burned her tongue. At least it wasn't lukewarm, as was so often the case. The bread roll lived up to the promise of the coffee, it was hard and chewy... surely, they couldn't murder a croissant as well? To Alice's delight, the croissant was light and flaky, and she devoured it greedily, smothering it in butter and jam, well aware that she had eaten very little since lunchtime, back in Frankfurt. Reluctantly, she accepted another cup of the coffee... it might be bitter, but it had caffeine in it, and she felt as if she needed it. She got about halfway down the small cup and decided that discretion was probably the better part of valour and gave up, replacing the cup on the tray for the flight attendant to remove when they cleared away.

She reached inside her laptop bag, which doubled up as her overnight bag, and extracted her small wash bag and a couple of clear, sealed plastic bags containing what she thought of as her "arriving clothes". She stood up and stretched lithely, reaching up as high as she could... no problem with that, she thought with a grin, she had difficulty reaching the overhead lockers sometimes; reaching the cabin roof without jumping was pretty much an impossibility!

Grabbing her bits and pieces, she headed off to the toilet, where she stripped completely. "One of the advantages of being small," she thought, "aircraft toilets aren't completely cramped," as she cast a critical eye over her naked body. Curves in the right place, muscles just defined enough, the only thing wrong was her total inability to tan..."Hmph! Blame the Morgaine genes for THAT!" leaving her with very pale ivory skin, but, "at least I don't freckle like so many redheads."

She quickly pulled on a fresh pair of knickers and a pair of black slacks that were more Lycra than anything else, it seemed, and which fitted her like a second skin. A bit of solid deodorant under her arms -- she didn't like the stuff, but security would have had kittens if she'd brought an aerosol with her, and she knew that the temperatures would be high once she was in Sydney.

Out of the last plastic bag came a small bra and a lovely lacy black halter neck, which would leave her with a bare midriff. She paused, and glancing at herself critically in the mirror, she thoughtfully placed the bra back into the plastic bag and pulled the halter neck on. Despite the complete change into clean clothes, she still felt grubby after the long flight, and she made a mental note to shower as soon as she got to the hotel.

She cleaned her teeth, the drinking water tasting flat and warm, and then took her hairbrush out of her wash bag. She loved brushing her hair, the sensual feel of the hair sliding over her skin, the silky softness as she slowly stroked the brush through her heavy, below waist-length hair was a pleasure that she tried never to deny herself last thing at night, and first thing in the morning, even preferring to set her alarm twenty minutes early just to be able to take her time with the task. Washing it, however, was a completely different story. It was tedious and time-consuming, but she endured it only so that she could brush her hair afterwards.

With a sigh, she cut the pleasurable task short; even with so few people on the plane, there would be bound to be someone wanting to use this particular toilet rather than any other. Gathering up her belongings, she let herself out and headed back to her seat. She shivered momentarily and decided that it was just a little cooler than she had estimated, and pulled her old sweatshirt back on, leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, breathing slowly and deliberately. She'd tried yoga some years ago and hadn't enjoyed it one bit, but she still found that some of the techniques that she had learned, like relaxation and breathing control, came in very useful at times.

Eventually, the tannoy chimed, and the disembodied voice told her in both German and English that the flight had been very good and that they would be landing about 30 minutes ahead of schedule. It went on to announce the time and weather in Sydney and asked them to complete the Immigration control forms that the Flight Attendants would be bringing around, ready for handing in at Immigration Control immediately after disembarking.

The landing was uneventful. There was the almighty bump and bounce as the wheels screamed their protest at being forced to bear the weight of the aircraft; the bone-shaking, shuddering roar as the engines went into reverse to slow the plane's headlong rush down the runway; and the whistling whine as the engines shut down one by one. There were also mysterious bangs and crashes against the hull as ground crews fastened cables and tubes to the fuselage.

Finally, the doors were flung open, and Alice was convinced that she could smell the fresh air blowing in, partially replacing the metallic-tasting, sanitised, canned air that she had been breathing for the last 20 hours or so. She got up from her seat and picked up all her belongings... a quick check on the floor to make sure she hadn't dropped anything... and she stepped out into the aisle, heading for the front of the plane.

As she approached the exit, the same attendant who had welcomed her aboard was by the cabin door, wishing each of the passengers a pleasant onward journey. She smiled at the cabin attendant and said: "Vielen Dank, Fräulein. Wie lange Flüge gehen, war es angenehm" -- Many thanks, miss. As long flights go, it was enjoyable -- she always loved the consternation in people's eyes when she spoke to them so fluently in their own language. She knew it was a control thing, a power play and more than a little petty, but it kept the little Mischief Imp in her head quiet for a while!

"Oh... Danke, Fräulein Morgaine," the woman stammered, as Alice smiled sweetly at her.

The heat hit her like a sledgehammer as she left the plane, even though it was still before 7.00 am local, and she was glad of the air conditioning of the terminal building; she made a note to shed the sweatshirt while she was waiting for her suitcase. Passport control and Immigration, Customs... same as always: "Departure point please, Miss..." (quick check of the passport) "... Morgaine?"

"Frankfurt... and it's Morrr-g'n, not Maw-gayne," she corrected the young officer giving him one of her best smiles, the one with the little dimples, as the Scots burr in her voice became more pronounced and her Mischief Imp metaphorically rubbed its hands. The man smiled back at her as he sat a little straighter at his desk; Alice could almost see him mentally smoothing his hair back and straightening his tie, and she giggled inwardly... soooooo easy! A quick check of his ID badge for his name...

"And the purpose of your visit, Miss Morgaine?" He almost got the pronunciation correct, but his drawl lengthened the second syllable a little too much.

"Business, Officer Prescott," she said, smiling gently as he jumped as if he'd been stung. It was true what Uncle Alex always said, that names were power, and with the necessity for visible ID, it became so easy to tap into a little of that power, because people always forgot they were almost giving away part of their primitive, caveman soul.

"Over Christmas, Miss Morgaine? That's bad luck..." He recovers quickly, Alice thought as she shrugged: "It's work. I get paid well for it."

"Oh well, each to their own," he said and held out her passport. She made sure to gently touch his hand with her fingers as she took it from him, holding his eyes with her mischievous sea-green ones, watching the blush colour his cheeks, as she smiled, "Thanks, Officer Prescott."

"H-have a good stay, Miss Morgaine."

"Good grief," thought Alice as she headed for the baggage reclaim. "I am such a flirt!" She grinned and then conceded to herself that she needed to keep those skills honed; in her line of work, it was important to be able to get an "edge" sometimes.

Glancing up at the electronic notice board, she headed for the conveyor that would shortly disgorge the luggage from Lufthansa LF 990. She shrugged off the comfortable old sweatshirt, revealing her svelte, toned body in the lacy black halter neck, far more suited for the temperatures here in Sydney than those she had left behind in Frankfurt. She was also very aware of the appraising looks being cast her way as she folded the sweatshirt and tucked it into the big pocket in her laptop bag as she waited. She was very proud of her appearance and worked hard to maintain it. It had been difficult to find a dojang in Frankfurt. Taekwan-do did not seem to be as popular as other Asian martial arts, and initially, it had been difficult to gain acceptance from the brawny German practitioners. She had persevered. She had shown them that she was their equal despite her diminutive size...

The luggage began emerging from the underground conveyor onto the carousel, and she quickly hooked her single suitcase off and headed for Customs. Despite the single small suitcase, the official decided to insist on Alice opening it. Alice took the opportunity to put her sweatshirt into the suitcase while the Customs man pawed through her underwear. She maintained a stony stare, fixing him with an icy gaze, sighing inwardly, glad that she had packed everything in transparent plastic bags, and hoping he didn't decide to open the individual bags... he probably had sweaty hands and she'd have to wash the bloody things before she could wear them again.

Eventually, he waved a hand, indicating she could move away, so she rearranged the contents and shut the lid down. It took a few moments to thread her way through the milling crowds in the concourse and out to the taxi rank. She glanced at her watch: ten to eight. It had been a good flight; they had landed slightly earlier than scheduled, and she had cleared customs relatively quickly. Even so, the temperature was rising already; there had been an information board in the concourse giving the weather for the day, and she had noted that the temperature was 23 degrees and was likely to rise to around 29.

She prayed that the taxi would have air-conditioning as she opened the door; negotiating Sydney in the back of a taxi with the window open... she shuddered a little. As she approached the rank, the driver popped the boot open from inside and started to get out to help. "Just the one small one," she grinned at him as she slung her case into the spacious boot, and he sat back in his seat with an answering grin of thanks. A wave of cool air washed over her as she sank gratefully into the back seat of the Mazda, clutching her laptop.

"Good morning, Miss, and where can I take you?"

"118 Campbell Parade, Bondi, please," Alice said. "You do take cards, don't you? If you don't, can you detour by an ATM, please?"

As he started the meter, the driver said, "Yes, we take cards, and there are two options, Miss: the longer route, about 20 km via the tunnel, which has tolls that aren't included in the fare - they will be automatically added on to the standard fare - or 13 km through the city. The longer route is faster at this time of day... well, it's more free-flowing anyway!"

"Oh, go via the tunnel, please!"

"No worries," said the driver as he pulled out into the stream of traffic heading away from the terminal. "That's the Ravesis, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's right."

"No worries, I'll turn at the lights and drop you just round the corner in Hall Street. It's easier to pull up there, and that's where the main entrance is, anyway. Is that all right?"

"Yes, of course, thanks," said Alice, resisting her Mischief Imp's urge to repeat "No worries" back at the driver, and lapsed into silence, hoping that the driver would not insist on making inane conversation throughout the 20-minute trip. He didn't, and Alice stared out of the window, mentally drifting, the city streaming past, virtually unseen.

She blinked as the car entered the tunnel and headed under Bathurst Street to emerge a few minutes later on Bayswater Road. She was still mentally drifting as the car went around the roundabout at Sir Thomas Mitchell Road.

"Bondi Beach just up ahead, Miss," the driver's voice broke her reverie, and despite her self-control, she yawned... a huge, jaw-cracking yawn, accompanied by a long inhale and a seemingly longer exhale. The driver chuckled sympathetically, "Rough flight, Miss?"

Alice grinned, "Not really, but a bloody long one!" Staring out through the windscreen, she could see the shining sands of Bondi Beach and wondered if she would have time... or, indeed, the inclination, to go for a swim before heading back to Frankfurt.

The driver laughed as he swung the car left onto Campbell Parade and around the roundabout. He stopped at the traffic lights about 100 metres further on, and when the lights changed, he turned left and almost immediately pulled up. He handed the card machine to Alice after inputting the fee showing on the meter and got out to collect her suitcase from the boot, while Alice swiped her card, added a good tip... for the blessed silence on the ride... and tapped her PIN in. The driver opened the door for her, and she handed the terminal back to him as she got out. He glanced down at the screen: "Oh... thank you very much, Miss!"

Alice gave him one of her "dimple smiles" and said, "Merry Christmas!"

"And a very Merry Christmas to you too, Miss!" He got back into the car and started to pull away. Alice picked up her suitcase and turned to walk across the pavement to the entrance of the hotel...

... and walked straight into something far bigger than her that was firm, but at the same time slightly yielding. She staggered a short step back, her eyes closing instinctively, dropped her suitcase and, caught off balance, sat down very hard on the pavement! The shock of her rear hitting the pavement sent a shock up her spine which exploded with stars behind her eyes: "What the f..." she yelled and stopped as she looked up at the girl who loomed over her, her eyes went up... and up... and up, to lock with a pair of eyes so blue that they practically took her breath away!

She gasped, speechless, as the incredibly tall girl stared back in shock, absently rubbing a pair of magnificent boobs, where Alice guessed her head had hit the other girl, as she stared back into Alice's eyes and stammered: "Oh my god, I am so sorry... here let me help you", her deep contralto drawl sending shivers down Alice's spine, as she reached down with both hands to grab Alice's.

Alice almost squeaked as what felt like an electric shock sparked between their fingers as they touched, her eyes still staring into those beautiful, bluer-than-blue eyes that opened wide as if the girl had felt the shock too! "Ooh..." the tall brunette gasped, "... here, up you get..." Alice allowed herself to be hoisted back onto her feet, her eyes never leaving those azure eyes. Her hands tightened on the tall girl's, and she just stood speechless, staring up at her face. Apart from the blue, blue eyes, there was a long mop of chestnut brown hair which tumbled in waves over the tanned, bare shoulders, a pair of full lips that curved up at the corners. "Oh..." Alice gasped, "Oh... thank you...," all anger gone in an instant, to be replaced with consternation at the effect that this chance, rather physical, encounter was having on her. She could feel her heart thumping fit to burst, her stomach felt like it had tied itself in knots, and she was breathing so fast she was almost panting.

The two girls stood and stared at each other for almost a minute, each clutching at the other's hands, the tall brunette's breasts heaving as she breathed deeply. Alice was mesmerised by their rapid rising and falling, almost level with her eyes in a pretty, white, off-the-shoulder shirt with a line of embroidery around the low-cut neck. She gasped again and looked back up at those gorgeous blue eyes and the flush rising up the tall girl's cheeks. She shivered and said, breathily: "Oohh... no, I'm... sorry... I should have been... watching where I was going!"

"What the hell is happening to me?" Alice thought, "I feel like a schoolgirl on a first date!"

"Uh... no harm... done?" said the tall girl, almost panting as she said it. Mutely, Alice shook her head, frightened to speak in case her voice cracked, realising that she was still clinging to the other girl's hands like an exhausted swimmer clings to a life buoy. The tall girl glanced down and broke the spell, and they both almost jumped apart. "Oh... sorry..." said Alice, very, very reluctantly letting go of the big brunette's hands.

"No... no worries..." The look of disappointment in the blue eyes was almost palpable as she let go of Alice. "If you're OK, I have to go to work. I'm late already... sorry about the bump..."

She turned rapidly and almost ran towards the corner, as Alice stared after her, almost in shock, although a part of her mind seemed to have detached itself and was taking note of the other girl's rapidly receding appearance... the white top, a pair of three-quarter length grey cotton slacks and a pair of blue espadrilles. She was perfectly proportioned and had to be at least six feet tall, if not more. Alice found herself mesmerised again by the sway of the girl's hips and found that she had been holding her breath! She exhaled with a massive gasp as the girl disappeared round the corner and, rather unsteadily, bent to pick up her suitcase and laptop... "Thank goodness it's padded", she thought absently.

She almost staggered the few paces to the hotel door and into the cool of the reception area. She went through the registration process like a zombie. Thank God for German efficiency. The company had booked and paid for her stay, and all her details had been forwarded to the hotel beforehand. Alice wondered how much of a mess she might have made of it otherwise in her current state.

Bemusedly, she allowed herself to be shown to her room, and once she was alone, she dropped onto the edge of the bed, head bowed and her hands clasped in her lap. "What on earth just happened?" she thought.

She felt almost stunned; every time she blinked, those beautiful blue eyes stared back at her, sunlight dancing in them. She'd had flings with girls before, so she was no stranger to feeling attracted to another girl, but she had always felt that she was more comfortable with men. She shook her head and looked at her watch in a daze. Part of her brain took control as it registered that it was just after 9.30... there was a first-floor terrace that served food, and almost certainly coffee, which would be very welcome right now.

She had planned to take a shower as soon as she'd checked in, but coffee was probably more important now; she could take a shower later and then have a nap, and then a long, slow walk along the beach, maybe after lunch, to clear her head and relax before mentally preparing for Christmas Eve, the day after tomorrow. Breathing deeply, she marshalled her thoughts as she headed for the café. Ordering a large Americano and a croissant, she charged it to the room and sipped slowly, breaking off pieces of the croissant and nibbling them as she gazed up and down the street. The coffee wasn't the best she'd had, but compared to the glop they'd served on the plane, this was nectar.

The terrace itself ran around the front of the building, and she had a good view up and down Campbell Parade and across to Bondi Beach. There were buildings only on this side of the Parade, giving an uninterrupted view of the southern end of the famous beach, and there were all sorts of shops and a few restaurants up and down the sunny street.

With a start, she realised that she was carefully, almost desperately, inspecting every single tall girl who passed by! Angrily, she banged her coffee cup onto its saucer and stormed off to her room. Stripping off her clothes, she went into the en suite and turned on the shower, deliberately turning the temperature down. She gasped in shock as the cold water hit her and allowed more hot water through the mixer, although it was still cold enough to bring her out in goosebumps. The tedious task of washing her long, thick hair focused her mind for a time.

Finally, satisfied that she had got all the detritus of the flight out of her hair, she soaped and lathered from head to toe, eventually stepping out of the shower with a satisfied sigh. The room was a large double, so there were big, soft towels aplenty, and she wrapped one around her lithe body and then began the long task of drying her hair, wrapping another towel around it and squeezing gently. Finally, the thick, sodden cable of hair was merely damp, and she began to brush gently, the rhythmical strokes of the brush cathartic as she felt her emotions getting back under control. She was grateful that the company had sent her out early; it gave her 48 hours to get over the flight and rest before she had to do her job. Christmas Eve, and she was going to be cutting off people's livelihoods... she needed to be utterly emotionless, ruthless and bitch-hard. There would be no negotiation, no leeway for those people she would be cutting down. They were faltering, she told herself; sacrifices would have to be made, or they would cease to be. No quarter given.

She sighed and shrugged out of the towel wrapped around her, scrutinising her naked body in the full-length mirror on the wall. "Narcissistic?" she thought, "Yep, but you can't stay fit and properly in shape without keeping an eye on things." Satisfied that all was in order, she set the alarm on her phone for one o'clock, turned on the "Do Not Disturb", lay down on the bed, and began to run through the relaxation routines she had practised for many years.

She dozed, drifting in and out of a light sleep, and when her phone chimed, she woke, feeling refreshed and a lot more level-headed than she had been earlier. Grabbing clean clothes, she dressed quickly, brushed her hair quickly and headed back to the terrace restaurant. She ordered a large Americano to supplement the one she had left half-drunk a few hours ago while she scanned the menu. There was an empty pit below her ribs that was demanding to be filled, and she realised again that she had eaten very little since she had left Germany... "pasta then... linguine carbonara... mmmm!" She ordered a small glass of Jacob's Creek Merlot and finished her coffee as the waitress brought the glass of wine.

Back in her room, she kicked off her shoes and started to empty her suitcase. She hung the smart trouser suit up, smoothing out the few wrinkles that had appeared, and emptied the plastic bags with her underwear into the cupboard drawers, folding the bags neatly into the bottom drawer.

She squinted out of the window that looked over the beach and wished that she had brought a hat. She did not want to go to an important meeting with a red, peeling nose, and she really wanted to get some fresh air and exercise. Slipping her shoes back on, she tucked her phone into her waistband and headed to the hotel reception.

The same girl who had checked her in that morning smiled warmly at her. Alice asked about getting a hat, flicking her auburn mane, she smiled ruefully: "With my hair and skin, my face will be one big sunburn blister if I'm not careful!"

The girl grinned, "Yeah, I get you... you should get some of that stuff they use on their faces at the cricket matches, that'll stop everything short of a bullet. The best one's called Sun Zapper and comes in a load of colours! You might look a bit odd, but better than the alternative! Look for a red and yellow ball with Sun Zapper written across it."

Then, she gave Alice directions to a couple of shops that she thought might have big hats, and Alice wandered slowly out into the afternoon sunshine. She very quickly realised that she would be far better in the shade; the sun was very hot, far too hot for someone who had been in a snowy city a day or so ago.

She dived into the air-conditioned oasis that was the first shop the receptionist had suggested and found a wide-brimmed hat with a plastic sunflower sticking out of the hatband. Plonking it on her head, she giggled at how ridiculous she looked in a nearby mirror and decided it perfectly suited her current mood.

As she reached the counter, she spotted the logo the receptionist had described and hesitated, looking at the different colours that were available as a stick rather than a tube. She was trying to decide which of the flesh-coloured ones would be best for her when the young man behind the counter said, "Pardon me, Miss, but with your colouring, you aren't going to get a natural tone light enough. If I were you, with that red hair, you'd be better off with a big splash of that green one down your nose and across your cheeks... and, trust me, if you're heading for the beach, you won't look out of place at all!"

Alice almost switched on the eyes of ice when he spoke, but quickly realised that he was only trying to be helpful and gave him one of her dimple smiles, grinning inwardly as she watched him get flustered... he was only young! She nodded and picked up a small green stick dispenser. "No point getting a large one, I'm only here for a couple more days," she thought, as she laid it alongside the ludicrously big hat and paid for them.

Back out in the street, the hat came into its own, shading her face from the scorching sun as she wandered along the road, looking into the storefronts but not really seeing anything. She sighed, crossed the road at the next convenient place and dropped down onto Queen Elizabeth Drive to walk along the top of the beach.

She leaned idly on the railing opposite the Life Saving Club. There wasn't a lot of surf, but there were still people paddling their boards out to deeper water to catch the small waves back again. The sun was hot on her back, and she thought that beating a retreat to some shade might be prudent.

There was a café or restaurant just behind her, so she went and sat at a table under a big umbrella and ordered a cold beer. She sat watching the people milling around on the beach and promenade, idly tracing the runnels of condensation on her glass, enjoying the slightly bitter fizz of the beer as she sipped.

It was so odd, she thought, a couple of days before Christmas, and she was sitting under an umbrella in the blazing sun, with temperatures around 30 degrees. Realising her glass was empty, she ordered another beer from a passing waiter.

She could feel the alcohol lurking at the periphery of her consciousness, blurring the edges with a warm fuzziness, what Sheryl Crow had aptly called a "Beer Buzz" in her song from the 90s. "Hmm," she thought, "Glass of wine with lunch, two beers in the afternoon... anyone would think I was on holiday!"

Reaching the bottom of the glass, she toyed with the idea of getting a third, then checked her watch. No. Back to the hotel, maybe another glass of wine with dinner and an early night. She still didn't feel as sharp as she normally did, and she couldn't afford distractions or to be less than at her peak the day after tomorrow.

A quick shower to get rid of the afternoon's sweat, and she headed to the terrace restaurant. Dinner was not in the slightest bit memorable, and she went back to her room, where she got the small tube of travel detergent out of the suitcase and proceeded to wash her used items of clothing, which she draped around the room to dry. "One of the penalties you have to pay for living out of a suitcase is falling over damp knickers," she thought grimly.

It was dark now, so she closed the curtains and stripped off, revelling in the sense of freedom that total nudity gave her, and walked to the bathroom to get her hairbrush. She paused briefly in front of the full-length mirror and grinned. "Yep, definitely narcissistic," she thought, but you had to admit that no matter who you were, what was currently visible in the mirror was worth looking at!

"One thing's for sure," she thought, "I need to do a bit of hair removal." She'd be wearing trousers, so her legs weren't particularly important, but she remembered one long meeting that she had been to, where she had sat, trying not to squirm, for seemingly hours upon hours as the short stubble itched and itched against the material of her knickers. She grimaced at the memory and laid the hair removal cream on the sink to remind herself in the morning. Switching off the main light, she sat down on the side of the double bed and stretched, feeling the joints loosening up.

She spent twenty minutes or so languidly brushing her hair, delighting in the way the silky strands slid gently across her skin. The rhythmical strokes were calming and pleasurable, and she eventually stopped with some reluctance, knowing that sometimes overbrushing could be counterproductive. She yawned and, laying the brush on the bedside table, settled herself down and switched off the bedside light.

Sleep eluded her for a long time as she tossed and turned. She just couldn't get comfortable, no matter how many calming and relaxation exercises she did. The low rumble of the traffic in Campbell Parade died away, and she guessed it must be around midnight but resisted the impulse to pick up her phone and check.

She lay on her back, staring into the half-dark at the ceiling, and gently drifted off. She was sitting on the pavement outside the hotel, being hoisted to her feet by a tall girl. Above her were a beautiful pair of blue eyes, full lips, and a mop of chestnut hair, apologising to her for knocking her over. Their hands were locked together, and they were gazing at each other as if the other were the only thing in the world. Alice glanced down, and the spell was broken, and they almost jumped away from each other.

"No! NO!" gasped Alice and seized the other girl's hands again, "No, don't go... please!"

"Why, are you all right? Do you need help?" came the breathy reply.

"No," Alice swallowed hard, "I'm fine... but... can I buy you a coffee or something?"

"Oh! Err... yes... yes, I'd like that very much, thank you!" the tall girl stammered.

Without letting go of the girl's hand, Alice led the way across the pavement into the coffee shop. (A tiny portion of her mind objected because there should be a hotel there, not a coffee shop, but Alice ignored it.) They sat at a table that already had two coffees on it (strange, but again, she ignored it) and just sat and sipped and stared into each other's eyes, smiling at one another.

After a while, Alice reached forward and took the tall girl's hand across the table with both of hers, and the tall girl placed her free hand over the top. "My name's Alice..."

In her deep drawl, the other girl said, "Hello Alice..." and leaned forward and kissed her full on the lips. Alice felt as if she was melting as she returned the kiss with fervour. "Wooh..." said the tall brunette in her deep drawl, "I've been wanting to do that since I first saw you. I'm so glad we're on the same wavelength..." Her blue, blue eyes sparkled, and Alice felt herself sinking into their depths...

The moon was shining through the partly open curtain directly into Alice's eyes, so she got up sleepily and padded across to the window to close it. "What an amazing dream! What an amazing girl!" She smiled gently to herself and stared out of the window for a few minutes... such a pity it was only a dream. A little tear of longing, of missed opportunity, prickled behind her eyes, and she brushed it away angrily and went back to bed.

This time, she slept well and woke thoroughly refreshed. The habitual check of her phone revealed that it was just after seven-thirty. She hopped out of bed and went to the bathroom. The tube of cream on the sink jogged her memory, as she had intended, and she spread it where necessary, wrinkling her nose at the rotten eggs smell that always accompanied the process. She remembered having read somewhere that the smell was caused by the chemical reaction between the active ingredient and the hair itself. "Knowing what it is," she thought, "doesn't make it any better, but it's definitely better than cutting yourself with a razor... oooh, no thanks, not there!"

She made sure that the shower was warmer than the one she had yesterday morning, keeping her hair away from the stream of water as best she could. "Shoulda brought a shower cap. Tch!"

She switched off the shower and, grabbing a towel, wrapped it around herself and sat down on the bed to brush her hair. While she brushed, she wondered what she would do to pass the time, and a snippet of a song popped into her head: "Busy doing nothing, working the whole day through, trying to find lots of things not to do..." She smiled and gave her crowning glory a last brush. Yes, that would pretty much sum up what she intended to do, but breakfast first!

She picked a table in the shade and ordered some orange juice and a large Americano to start with while she looked at the breakfast menu. The OJ was ice-cold and just sour enough to be very refreshing. The coffee was strong but not too bitter... it was already beginning to look like a good day! It was always the simple things that made it so.

She ordered what the menu claimed to be a full Australian breakfast, which looked, from the menu items, to be suspiciously the same as a full English. The only problem was that it seemed to be about twice the size! Alice looked at it, aghast when it arrived, she doubted very much if she would be able to manage to even eat half of it.

Seeing the expression on her face, the waitress asked anxiously, "Is everything all right, Miss?"

"Oh... oh, yes," stammered Alice, laughing. It's a lot bigger than I was expecting!"

The woman laughed warmly, her face relieved: "Ah, we Aussies like to have a good meal first thing; sets us up for the day!"

"Wow!" Alice returned, "I think that would set me up for a week!"

"No worries!" the waitress said, grinning, "I'm sure the hotel cat would be only too happy to finish off what you don't!"

The Mischief Imp threw her a vision of a fat black cat tucking into bacon and eggs with a knife and fork, and a napkin tied around its neck. She dimpled back at the woman, who smiled again and went to take another order.

She ate far more than she intended to and eventually surrendered to the Great Australian Breakfast with a satisfied and replete sigh. The waitress caught her eye, and Alice ruefully shook her head and grinned. She pointed to her coffee cup, and the woman nodded, smiling, and brought the fresh steaming cup a minute or two later.

"The cat will eat well today, Miss", she laughed.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," said Alice, "but my excuse is that I don't need to eat much anyway!"

Feeling very full, Alice left the restaurant and went up to her room, where she put away her now-dry clothes and pondered what to do. Something to switch her mind off, something mundane so that she didn't start to overthink the potential outcomes of the meeting tomorrow... not that it really mattered, it was pretty much cut and dried, but: "I'm not all hard bitch," she thought, "I do have a conscience... sometimes, but this is business, and it's survival of the fittest in that shark pool."

"I think a long walk along the beach, and maybe a beer in that café again, and a bit of people watching..."

She stretched, arching her back and reaching up as high as she could, feeling the stress knots unravelling. She shook her arms, letting her fingers go limp, and then picked up her hat from the bedside cabinet. The green sunblock stick rolled off the cabinet onto the floor. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she picked it up, then grinned and went to the bathroom and proceeded to apply broad stripes of green sunblock down her nose and across her cheekbones, under her eyes. She raised her eyes at her reflection, sincerely hoping that she didn't look too out of place.

She crossed Campbell Parade and made her way down to the tarmac walkways above the beach, turned right and set off at a brisk walk. Some hardy souls were out jogging. To her, it was far too hot, even before ten o'clock, to be running. She could feel a bead of sweat running down between her shoulder blades and grimaced.

She reached the stairs at the end of the beach and climbed up past the public toilets. "Ugh!" she thought, "Why do public toilets always smell so bad, no matter where you are in the world?"

Reaching the top, she stopped, grateful for the cool breeze which was blowing in off the sea, and she wished that she dared to wear anything but long sleeves in this sun. She had noted that she didn't look out of place with the green sunblock; there was a rainbow of stripes and circles, smears and careless scribbles, but what made her stand out, she thought, was the long sleeves and trousers. Everybody seemed to be wearing shorts, vest tops, t-shirts... not a single pair of long sleeves anywhere apart from her own.

It wasn't until she overheard a small child behind her say: "Mum, look at that lady's hair! How does she get it so long?" that she realised that a good number of surreptitious glances that she had noticed from behind her sunglasses, could very well have been at her hair, not her clothes! She smiled, and, a little cooler than she had been, she set off back to the beach and the cold beer she had promised herself.

It had got a lot hotter by the time she walked past the lifeguard tower. She stopped and leaned on the railings above the beach to let the cool breeze work its magic again and stared out across the sea. She watched the people milling around on the beach, laughing and splashing each other in the water, and wondered whether she should go back to the hotel and change into the little pink bikini that still had the tags on it -- never been worn, and she remembered the salesgirl's face in Frankfurt as she insisted, in the middle of winter, that she did want to buy a bikini. She smiled, lost in her thoughts.

From just behind her, a deep contralto voice spoke, cutting across her wandering thoughts. As it did, her heart lurched: "It couldn't be... could it?"

"Hello! How's your lovely bottom after that bump the other day?"