***

She stands backlit in her doorway. An exotic silhouette. Harem pants, translucent enough to outline her hips, thighs, all of her slender long legs. A shimmering silk top drops off one shoulder, softly draped over her breasts, barely covers her flat belly. Hair tied into her loose blond braid. A couple of brushes stuck in to hold it up. Barefoot. Just standing there waiting for her delivery. Or is it her deliverance?

I know she finally sees me coming when she startles slightly, backing a little into her open door. A huge, hulking dark shape of an old man is approaching her slowly, stooped, with a large overcoat, dragging his left leg. Looks like I am not quite what she expected. Soft, old felt hat hides my face; even bending down I probably still am much taller than she would have remembered. Besides, she never saw me standing, so she doesn't know my real height. Movies lie. And now I am coming after her. As I get closer, her eyes finally find mine. I look back at her face, still in the shade but now bright enough to see that she recognizes me under my disguise. Her body relaxes, but I hear her soft laughter getting louder very fast. She laughs now so hard that she has to bend down, and cover her face, laughing even harder yet… As I limp the last few yards to her door, I see tears running down her face. She is now hysterical, laughing so hard her body shakes uncontrollably, and she gasping for air. She looks like she is going to wet her sexy harem pants. And she is even hotter than I remembered. I am a goner.

"Oh Toby… You have outdone yourself, "… she chokes out between her spasms of giggles… "But I guess I should have expected…this…from you. You don't do anything half way, do you?? Ha-Ha-ha-You fooled me. Thanks for the effort. ….and….and…ha-ha-ha…no tag-a-longs behind you. Well done. You are even better than I thought." And she bursts out again.

Even so close to her giggling her heart out, I manage to keep my face straight. "Hello, Dear Sam I Am Ma'am. A great pleasure to make your acquaintance. Mr. Roberto Thelonius Enamorato, at your service."

Despite her laughter I try very hard to stay in my character, a somber old man with a deep voice and slow drawl of John Wayne. I reach for her hand and bowing down tenderly kiss her fingertips.

"It is such a pleasure to see you again, my fair lady." Her laughter is start to undo me: "I … I .. he…he.. I traveled a veeery long way with this special package for you." Working hard not to laugh, I ask: "May I come in and rest my weary bones? I will be in for only as long as you wish me to." Then I give up and just flash at her my huge happy grin I have worn on my face since hanging up with her last night.

She holds my hand and leads me inside, still chuckling out loud, letting me go to close the door behind us. We stand in a small, warmly lit hallway. Distant music plays inside, smell of linseed oil and paint and clay, mixed with fresh coffee and hot baked bread. I pull off my heavy coat and fake beard, and my old man's hat, and drop it all to the floor on top of my old-fashioned travel bag. Then I rest my back against the closed door and just look at her, softly laughing along with her for a while longer. Slowly, we both quiet down. Her eyes still sparkle, but now there is much more seriousness there. And hesitation. I can see she is holding back - afraid to reach out, to take a step that could bring me closer to her. Afraid or unwilling? I sense not fear but indecision. I haven't convinced her all the way yet. I will, and it will be worth it.

We keep standing facing each, now silent and serious. Just looking at each other, barely breathing. Slowly I start unbuttoning my shirt. She startles, tensing up. I hold her eyes with my gaze, my fingers going steadily down my front, pulling the buttons apart and moving the fabric aside, gradually revealing her Crash Course hidden beneath my clothes, next to my skin, across my heart. Without a word I reach out for her hand and bring it to rest on my bare chest above the book. Her touch is soft and tender. The henna pattern on her hand now a bit more faded. Long slender fingers are slightly trembling under mine.

We just stand and get lost in each other, tuning back into the intimate bond from my song on our flight. She moves her hand and runs it slowly down to my stomach, gently taking the book from me, her other hand closing on the cover. She brushes it softly, its worn out suede holding the heat and new to her scent of my skin. I want her to touch me again, so I can touch her back, all over. She reads my desire, and looks down at her book, flushed, breaking our connection. She isn't ready for more yet. I will not press on with her unwilling, either.

"Thank you, Mr.. Mr. Roberto Thelonius Enamorato, was it? What a great incognito you have... Please come in. You traveled a long way for me." She smiles at me then looks away, serious again. Standing quietly for a while, she looks within; her averted eyes pensive and soft. She turns back to face me, and simply says: "I forgive you. Please don't do it again. That is your one and only break you'll ever get." She means every word.

Turning around, she quietly walks ahead of me, and I follow her into her sanctuary. I am home.