Off Flesh

Travel, they say, broadens the mind. It�s a truism if ever there was one. What they fail to tell you is that it can scare the living crap out of you, too. I travel a lot, visit a lot of places, stay at a lot of hotels. I�ve been to some crappy hotels, some really luxurious ones, too. But never been to one like The Cliff�s Edge in Torquay. It was a business meeting about selling outboard motors, pretty tedious stuff, really.

Things started going weird on the Saturday after we�d all arrived. The actual meetings weren�t to begin until Monday, which left us the whole weekend to pal around and get to know each other. You know, chill in the sauna the way half-naked men seem to like to do, play tennis in the convenient courts located beside the hotel, or just go for a stroll into the nearest little town.

After finishing breakfast, scrambled eggs on lightly buttered toast and a couple of glasses of milk, I came out of the dining room just in time to catch Mr. Wyndham entering the lobby. He was dressed in his tennis whites, so no prize for guessing where he�d been. Something of a fitness fanatic, really, which came as a bit of mystery to me seeing as he didn�t eat breakfast. Something told me that Mr. Wyndham, who had a few years on me, would not be around on this little world of ours for longer than I. Still, he seemed a nice enough chap. Like me he had arrived a few days early, so we had the chance to get to know each other a little bit more than the others. I still think of him as Mr. Wyndham, even though by Saturday morning we were already on first name terms. Mark of respect, I suppose. It�s �a thing,� as my niece would have said.

�Hey there, Sam,� I said to him.

�Alright, ----,� he said to me, with a wide smile, and after a failed attempt to juggle his tennis racket and bag gave up on the offering to shake my hand. I laughed and asked him if he fancied a meander into town later. We both shared an interest in antiques, and I�d noticed a little shop on the drive here. Mr. Wyndham said he�d be more than happy to accompany me once he�d had a shower. No problem, I could find something to occupy me while he was getting rid of all that manly sweat.

I watched him walk away, my eyes lingering on his pert ass beneath the white shorts, and only turned away when he entered the lift. I glanced around the lobby, hoping no one had noticed where my eyes had looked. Not that I�m in the closet or anything, it�s just there was something about him that I couldn�t resist. And yes, it�s true; I�m a married man. So sue me.

So, there I was, not much of anything to do except wait. Once I was certain no one was paying me any attention my eyes returned to the lift. Going up, of course. Mr. Wyndham was on the first floor, so I guessed he wouldn�t be too long. I turned away, intending to find something to occupy me, but before I could come up with anything even remotely interesting there was the ding of a bell and the sliding noise of metal on metal as the lift doors reopened. I turned around. Maybe Mr. Wyndham had left something in the courts.

It wasn�t him. A couple emerged from the lift, so caught up in their own world they were totally unaware of this casually dressed thirty-something man watching them. I suspect they were having an affair�only people in the midst of a clandestine affair would be so wrapped up in each other.

For a moment I was puzzled. Surely there had not been enough time for the lift to reach the first floor? I dismissed this. Not like I wasn�t in a world of my own for a while there. More time could certainly have passed than I realised.

Once again I turned away from the lift.