Boston

The shiny midsized black limousine rolled sleekly through the streets of the city. Winter had descended on Boston like a chisel, turning trees and buildings in to ice sculptures among the streetlights. Mary glanced at Matthew who sat in the seat across from her and George. He had his black top coat, wheel hat and gloves on and was staring down at the cell phone in his hand. His body swayed with the movement of the car, but he was preoccupied by his messages. Something made him smile & chuckle softly. A girl? Mary wondered. She had caught him looking at the legs of one of the flight hostesses as they left the airport a few moments earlier. She self consciously looked down at her well tailored wool pants and regretted not wearing the skirt she had thought about.

The Parker House Hotel sat like a jewel on the edge of blue-blooded Beacon Hill, where it had hosted guests since 1855. Its limestone and pale brick edifice was dotted with the familiar dark green awnings and amber lighting; a welcome oasis from winter's bite.

"I feel like a night cap," George announced as the car pulled up to the hotel entrance. "Any takers?"

Matthew looked up. "After a long day and a transatlantic flight, I'd say that's a brilliant idea!"

Mary sniffed. "It's one in the morning."

"Don't be a spoil sport." George chided her as the chauffeur assisted him out of the car.

Matthew found the stately Parker House to be just like George: dignified, charming and old. They found the lobby bar still open and landed at a small table with leather chairs.

George sipped his drink and softly smacked his lips. "I always drink bourbon when I'm in the colonies. Damned good booze."

Matthew had ordered the same drink as George and swirled his glass. He eyed Mary. "Have you ever tasted it?"

"Bourbon?" She asked. "No, I never I have. And I'm afraid this white wine isn't doing much to take the chill off."

"Here," he said sliding his glass over to her. "Try it."

She smiled, lifted the glass up to her mouth and took a dainty sip. Matthew watched as the crystal rim pressed against her and the nutty amber liquid flowed between her lips. She swallowed and closed her eyes and then looked at him. "Oh, my."

"Good?"

She nodded. "Strong but quite good. I feel much warmer, thank you." She slid the glass back over to him and he smiled at the pinkish red lipstick mark on the rim.

Mary fingered the stem of her wine glass. "The Parker House is like a second home for you, isn't it George?"

George savored another sip and sighed. "Yes, quite." He thought for a moment. "I lost my virginity here." Mary's eyes flew open and Matthew slightly choked on his bourbon. George regarded them matter-of-factly. "I'm sorry if that shocks you but it's true. And it was a million years ago, so nothing to be shocked about." He took another pull on his drink.

Mary was curious and lowered her voice. "Was it one of the girls who worked here at the hotel?"

"Not at all. She was the younger wife of a much older diplomat. I was here with my parents; my step father was a keen investor." He smoothed a hand down his necktie and straightened up at the memory. "We met various people including the diplomat and his lovely young wife. There had been a party here at the hotel where everyone was staying. One thing led to another, and we slipped away to her room, which was separate from her husband's. She was a patient teacher and I was an eager pupil. " His eyes sparkled at the memory. "It was 1939….my nineteenth birthday."

Matthew leaned forward on his elbows, a broad smile on his face. He nodded in a knowing manner. "That's a charming memory. You should write a book, George."

A gentle smile curled up at the end of George's mouth. "It is." He took another drink, feeling audacious. "What about you, young Crawley?"

Matthew looked surprised, glancing between George and Mary. "Me?" He cleared his throat not sure how George's story of manood suddenly turned to his.

"Yes, you. I don't mean to embarrass you, but where were you?"

"Erm, well," Matthew took a small gulp of bourbon. "It was the summer of my sixteenth birthday. My family went on holiday to the coast of France with family friends who had a daughter a few years older than I was, and I suppose one thing led to another." His voice trailed off and he smiled.

Mary watched him. "Sixteen seems young."

Matthew shared a knowing glance with George and looked back at her. "Well, yes I suppose it is for a girl but for a boy—for me anyway—it was just about right."

Mary reached for Matthew's glass again and took another sip. She smiled. "It's funny how men always use the phrase 'one thing led to another' when they're politely referring to sex."

George laughed. "Well, it is a rather delicate subject in polite company, but it seems in this day and age a genteel reference isn't entirely indecent, now is it? Besides, when one is my age it's important for people to know there was a time when I was young and reckless, too."

They shared a laugh and Mary watched the men as they took another sip of bourbon. "Well what about me?"

Matthew and George looked at her. "What about you, my dear?" George asked sweetly.

"What about my story? Don't I get to share?"

George looked shocked. "Absolutely not! You're a woman and a lady, and…."

Matthew held up a hand and interrupted him in good humor. "Hold on George," he said politely. "Mary's got a point. It's the twenty first century and times are much different for women. And she sat through our little tales."

The waiter delivered another round of drinks and returned to the bar. George studied them and sighed, clearly seeing the point. "Yes, of course, I suppose." He waved a hand at Mary. "Share your story, but be gentle with us. I still have a double standard."

Mary smiled and reached for Matthew's fresh glass, taking another long sip. "Well, it was after the Christmas party my family had been invited to at Buckingham Palace. He was a Naval officer."

Matthew winced. "Navy?" He rolled his eyes playfully.

"He asked me to dance and we spent the evening chatting. He asked me out to luncheon the next day, and we had a bit of a romance for several weeks….and I suppose one thing led to another." She smirked and took another sip before sliding the glass back to Matthew. "I was twenty one. I hope you're not disappointed in me, George."

George patted her hand. "Never, my darling. I only regret that so much of your youth is being spent looking after me." He looked between Matthew and Mary. "You ought to be in love and taking care of a husband, not an old codger." He winked at her and looked at Matthew. "I know what her story is, but what about you Crawley? How is it that a fine, dashing young lad like you is still single?"

Matthew blinked, selecting his words quietly. "Well, it's not by choice, I can assure you. There was someone, very special. We were engaged to be married."

Mary cocked her head in curiosity, keen to uncover the story behind the man who chuckled softly at secret mobile messages and glanced at air hostesses. "But it didn't work out?"

He looked down in to his glass, the dark liquid reflecting pieces of light, like the memories in his head. "Not exactly. Her name was Laura and her father was my C.O when I was stationed at R.A.F. Mumford. It was pretty instant and we were together for several years." He turned the glass on the table top with his fingertips, as though the motion could turn back time. "She was diagnosed with cancer a year before the wedding, and insisted on calling it off. Said she didn't want me feel obligated, which of course was ridiculous, but she was adamant." His voice grew quiet. "Her funeral was three days after the date we had selected for our wedding." He lifted the glass and took a long pull on his drink. "That was four years ago and there hasn't been anyone since."

George leaned forward, speaking gently. "I'm terribly sorry, Matthew. People your age shouldn't know death. But how fortunate she was to have had a lad like you in her life."

Mary couldn't help but ask. "And all this time there hasn't been anyone? With all your travels?"

He assessed the empty bottom of his glass. "I think I'll have one more of these before calling it a night." He excused himself and got up and walked to the bar.

Mary tutted. "I wonder what that's supposed to mean?"

George leaned over and whispered. "It means don't' ask any more questions about it."

When Matthew returned, George looked at his watch. "Well, I should be getting to bed. It's late and the nap from the flight is wearing off." He said, pushing himself up with his cane. Both Matthew and Mary stood up to assist him, but he waved them off. "I'm perfectly capable of getting to my room. I fought the Nazis for god's sake…I think I can manage to get myself to the room without incident."

Matthew noticed a bellman in the lobby and held up a hand. "No one is saying you can't do it, George, but the hotel has been remodeled. Someone from the staff might be helpful."

George reconsidered. "You know, I hadn't thought of it that way. Quite right. Might be a good idea after all. A navigator, so to speak."

They watched as George walked away under the escort of the bellman. Matthew smiled at Mary. "I'll check on him in a bit."

"That was very adept thinking about the remodel. He wants to be independent."

"And who can blame him? I hope when I'm his age I'm in as good a shape and under the steam of my own legs and a cane as well. Not to mention reminiscing about steamy nights of spent youth. Good lord!" She laughed and they remained at the table, talking and laughing, gradually sitting closer and closer as they chatted and spoke in the quiet of the evening. They shared another glass of bourbon before following George up to the seventh floor.

~~00~~

Arriving at her hotel room, Mary fidgeted with the key card between her fingers. "Well, here we are. This is me. My room is adjoined to George's." She felt slightly light headed after the bourbon and leaned against the wall.

He stood in front of her. "I had fun tonight."

"Me, too. Thank you for flying me to America and for the bourbon. Although my head may not be thanking you in the morning."

"You're welcome." He felt flushed and bold and placed a hand against the wall, beside her head, leaning slightly toward her. His voice became a decadent whisper. "Was that true what you said? About you and the sailor? About being twenty one?"

"He wasn't a sailor. He was an officer and an attaché." She laughed and smiled alluringly. "Was it true what you said, about not having been with a woman in four years?"

His expression challenged her. "Ladies first." A whimsical smile covered his face and his eyes glittered at her.

Mary held his gaze and weighed her options, finally acquiescing. "Yes, I was twenty one. Probably makes me sound like a fuddy-duddy."

His eyes grew soft. "Not at all. Makes you sound like a nice girl." He kissed her cheek, his lips tickling her skin as he whispered. "And yes, it's been four years since I've been with anyone."

Mary's head fell back against the wall as his lips traced a line of subtle kisses from her cheek to her mouth. She felt breathless as he brushed his soft lips against hers, silently pleading for permission to kiss her. She sighed and parted her lips and he kissed her sweetly, pressing his lips against hers, until the tip of his tongue discreetly touched her lower lip and she slowly granted him permission with her mouth.

He kissed her tenderly and the sensation overwhelmed him as he felt the joy of kissing reverberate through his body, down to his feet. He angled his head and Mary quietly gasped in to him and a small bolt of electricity shot from his lips to his abdomen as he felt her breath mingle with his, their tongues swirling together inside their mouths. He moaned and leaned against her, and he felt one of her hands travel around his neck and in to his hair. He put his free hand on her waist and his thumb rubbed against her rib cage, rewarding him with another little gasp of pleasure, which he swallowed as he leaned in to her.

Mary's head was spinning, every pulse point in her body sparking and tingling at the feel of his mouth, his body, his touch and the scent of his lemony-spicy after shave enticing her nose and her sensibility. His kiss was intoxicating and she felt light headed and reached up and put one of her hands on his chest, needing to catch her breath.

Feeling her hand push gently against him, he paused and pulled away. He rested his forehead against hers, pressing his lips together. "I'm sorry. I know it's late and we've both had a bit to drink. I didn't mean…"

"No, no," she reassured him, patting his chest and catching her breath. "I'm just a little light headed. That' all."

His voice was playful. "From the bourbon or the kiss?"

She nuzzled his nose with hers. "What do you think?"

He smiled. "Well it's been a while for me but my needy, male ego is going with the kiss." His fingers reached for hers and slipped the key card from her hand. He reached up and swiped the card, and opened the door. He reached around for the light switch and a soft glow suddenly bathed the room. He held the door open for her and held out her key card. "Here you are."

Mary smiled again. "Goodness, British Airways literally does offer door to door service. I'm surprised you didn't deliver the luggage." She eyed him teasingly.

"To fly and to serve." He added suggestively, repeating the company motto.

"Thank you." She laughed and kissed his cheek, lingering for several seconds. "George was right. Your girl was lucky to have you."

"I loved her." He whispered against her forehead and then kissed her above her brows.

"I'm glad." As she said a final goodnight and closed the door, Mary leaned against it and listened to the sound of his steady footsteps disappear down the hall, the taste of his kiss still on her lips.

Dear God in heaven, she mumbled to herself as she slumped against the door.