Bruce sat down on his aisle seat and strapped in. He was flying out to Paris, for his much awaited date with Lorraine. He had met her a few years ago when he was vacationing in Ibiza. They got on well and after a few nights decided to take it further. Lorraine was French, rich and a corporate lawyer. Bruce was a dreamy, slightly rumpled but handsome young man. He worked in a bank. He pushed other people's money around. His life was really forgettable. Meeting Lorraine had made him feel that it was worth remembering after all. They were going steady for almost six years now.

She was quite stunning, in fact and impeccably dressed. She found Bruce very good looking and was really into him. Bruce was in awe of Lorraine, and always wondered what she really saw in him except the fact that they had great sex. With Lorraine, it was mainly looks, sex and champagne. Bruce didn't mind the champagne.

As he strapped in for the short hop across the Channel, this woman walked in, stopped next to his aisle seat. Bruce looked up and she crinkled her nose with an apologetic smile. That window seat was her's. Always the gentleman, Bruce unstrapped himself, stood up and stepped aside. As she brushed past him he caught a whiff of her perfume. It was fresh, smart and cool. He wondered what it was? It wasn't cloying or excessively feminine, like ones Lorraine poured on herself.

She sat into her seat and smiled a bright, kind smile which went all the way upto her eyes. Bruce's heart suddenly came into play. It beat really fast when she smiled. Mildly disturbed, he mumbled a welcome. The flight took off. As London fell away below them, the sky had darkened, it was a late flight to Paris. He turned and looked at his neighbor. She was intently looking out over the darkening horizon.

He noticed that she had shiny soft slightly wavy black hair. Very nice lips, a nose pin on her left nostril. It glittered like a diamond. Bruce wasn't sure exactly why he was studying her so intently. She was warm complexioned. Suddenly, she turned around and looked at Bruce. It was so abrupt and direct her gaze, that Bruce felt like he had hit a wall. He stopped breathing. As abruptly, she smiled her crinkly, slightly crooked smile and his heart started jumping up and down. She looked up at his kind, blushing handsome face, and felt like patting him. Instead she introduced herself as Mizzy. Bruce introduced himself as well. He found himself smiling stupidly, even before she said anything funny.

They started speaking with each other, simple easy sentences, which are born of familiarity. It was so easy, like a flowing water, like a little mountain stream. Bruce gave up fighting with his heart, and left it to its own activities. He felt really happy after a really long time. Mizzy was enjoying speaking to this gentle voiced unassuming man. He had tall, broad shoulders and a shy charming smile. He got a deep dimple on his right cheek when he smiled. He listened carefully and responded quickly. She wanted to keep sitting next to him. He had nice muscled forearms and very nice large clean hands. She wanted to touch them. Why? Her mind asked, her heart answered, it didn't matter.

Mizzy mentioned a hotel in Paris, and suddenly Bruce also discovered that he was staying there as well. Quickly a plan was made to share a taxi to that hotel. Much safer. Her face glowed and throbbed and voice was pleasant with really nice words coming out of her mouth. Bruce wasn't listening much, his heart was swinging oddly inside of his chest. He felt rather clever having said that his hotel was the same as hers. He was to stay with Lorraine in her posh flat in Rive' Gauche. Right now, that hotel was the best place in Paris.

Soon, it was Paris. They both just had small carry on cabin luggage.. Chatting easily they negotiated the labyrinth of CDG. Just before the exit, Bruce could see out side the glass doors, people waiting for the passengers to come out. He quickly spotted Lorraine's striking tall sexy blonde figure just off to the left of the exit. Then he looked next to him, he could see the warm, curvy, fresh and bright figure of Mizzy who was smiling up at him, on the tail end of a sentence. Mizzy's shiny head reached a couple of inches below his shoulders.

Bruce knew it was now or never. He gestured Mizzy firmly towards another exit a bit further down to the right, and they both veered towards its. As he exited from Lorraine's life with a stranger, Bruce looked back. He could still see her, looking at her watch repeatedly and pacing in long sexy strides up and down near the other exit. He knew Lorraine would survive him, but he wouldn't survive if he let Mizzy go then.

Heady with his great escape, he calmed down in the taxi ride into Paris. Mizzy had visited here before. She was excited and soon both were drowned in conversation. There was so much to talk about. He told her to check in first. And once she checked in he quietly booked himself into a nice large room.

He called Mizzy up and they agreed to meet in the restaurant for a light dinner. He asked if she wanted to drink anything. ' A Merlot please!' came Mizzy's prompt response over the house phone.

Bruce, usually lazy, even when he was with Lorraine, shaved and scrubbed and pulled out his smartest black roll neck and dark blue denims. As he went down the stairs, he wondered what he was doing, But he was very happy doing whatever it was. Lorraine just evaporated from his mind. As if she never was.

He went in and ordered a couple of glasses of Merlot. He had always drunk champagne with Lorraine. Never any wine. He was a beer or scotch man. He looked at the dark red colour of the wine. He smelled it and found that he rather savoured the aroma. It smelled of a summer in the country, with berries, birds, bees and a meadow. Plain clusters of daisies, bobbing prettily in the breeze. A little laughing mountain stream, like Mizzy, next to him. Cool, fresh, trickling, gentle, simple.

Mizzy stepped into the shower and could feel a strange joy. Bruce was really nice. It was so easy to be herself with him. She was sure sure they had never met each other before. She was sure that this wasn't the hotel he was supposed to stay in. But she was piqued that he carried through the intent of being with her. She felt alive. Like a sunflower glowing and basking in the sun. It was years of tears, and suddenly this man, on this flight.

She scrubbed and shined and in a chiffon moss green dress with layers and delicate embroidery, went down to the restaurant. Bruce's heart stood up before he did, when Mizzy walked in. Then his heart sat down quickly, before he did. She was wearing a sleeveless layered green dress, very pretty, nice heels and her smile.

They smiled and sipped the merlot. Bruce felt as if Mizzy was merlot. Both were a new experience for him. Nothing exceptional, but beautiful in every, abrupt surprising way. That in itself was exceptional. It was surprising, full of aroma, rolling around his mouth with great familiarity. It was most natural, that they kissed and then made love with urgency and utter joy. They were not strangers, but friends who had never met each other till that fateful flight.

They spent ten beautiful days and ten loving nights. Then they promised to meet in a years time. Same hotel same dates. Same thirst. Mizzy before parting a year ago told him she was married, with a child, a possessive husband, who would never divorce her, never let her leave. Mizzy wanted Bruce more than she wanted to live. Every year she would escape without fail to come to Paris.

It was that day today. One year for Bruce was focused on urgent phone calls between them. For Mizzy that year was full of secrets and lies. Her husband, cruel, hawk-like, watchful was suspicious. A few times he had punched her, in anger, in arrogance. Those phone call were difficult for Bruce. Her little boy was loving and kind and not like his father at all. Her bruised body hid her secret well. Her boy loved her so much. The year passed in doubts and tears for Mizzy.

For Bruce it dragged on in it's sameness. He broke up with Lorraine with a gentle letter and a phone call. Lorraine said not a word, just hung up and moved on. Bruce was not the last man on earth. Bruce wanted to run and meet Mizzy, but she never told him which city she lived in. She called him and his heart tossed and turned and yearned to run to her. They waited for that flight. That moment.

That moment was now. Bruce was waiting for Mizzy when she walked in, glowing in a salmon pink trouser suit. Her dark hair was styled fashionably and her smile. Bruce was looking leaner and stronger, in a charcoal grey suit. The Merlot was present. He had wondered many times in the year gone past, if meeting her again after a year he would still feel the same? As she came in, his heart recognised her and went dancing. As they hugged each other tightly, it was stronger than before. The naked wanting in each others eyes was raw and without limits.

The merlot brought back memories. And every sip told them clearly, this yearly escapade could not be a regular thing. The merlot put its seal on their fate. They must now be together. This parting would be even more difficult this time around. The next 10 days were no longer an escape, it was a destiny writ in stone.

This was a love meant to be, not sipped sneakily in dark corners. As Bruce kissed and caressed away her bruises, Mizzy knew. This was a love meant for sunshine, joy and laughter. It may be without worth for the world, but it meant the world to those two. It meant something exceptional to Bruce and Mizzy. As they smiled and laughed the Merlot with its throbbing red punctuated their dreams.

----------------------The End---------------------------------------------