When I first landed in London, my brother Scott’s friends let me doss on their couch while I got myself sorted with a job and shit. Like all newcomers and tourists I wanted to see the sites and soak up the atmosphere, so Madame Tussauds was to be my first port of call.
I was at Madame Tussauds, dressed in my All Blacks shirt (choice eh!) and with a red carnation thing wrapped in tin foil, that some lady outside had pinned on my chest for the grand sum of two pounds – while I was in happy, innocent cheerful tourist mode. When this early thirties something strutted over. I’d seen her earlier in the queue outside and at the time fantasized about what it would be with a woman as beautiful as she was.
‘Are you here by yourself?’ she asked in a husky German voice
Not for long I thought.

Pause for a second here. You remember rule number seven from In Brazil you would say, ‘Universo Parallelo’?

7. If, as more than likely you are travelling alone never let them know. You will be asked. Tell them people are waiting for you, even if they are not

Forget it. It doesn’t count in these situations. I was not trying to by crack from her.

‘Yeah I just got here, ahh, to England I mean. Anyway, umm. Hi, my name is Bryce.’
‘Hello Bryce.’ she said taking my hand and shaking, it all warm like.
This was too good. Put myself out there, been rewarded.
‘Nice to meet you.’
Me, melt.
Try and keep cool bro.
‘Bryce?’
‘Yeah Bryce.’
Me smiling
‘Where is zat from?’
‘I’m not too sure, my parents are both English, but I was born in New Zealand.’
‘Ahh, New Zeelaaand. I hear it is beautiful. How do they say it? It is ze land of ze long vite cloud yah?’
Sold.
‘Yeah that’s it. It’s fantastic. And you? Where abouts are you from?’
‘Guess.’
‘Deutchesland?’
‘Yah! Oh you sprechen sie Deutche?’
Elated laughter, then, ‘Do I speak German? No, no. That’s about my limit. Your English is very good though. Where abouts in Duetchesland are you from?’
‘Dresden. Do you know it?’
A little embarrassed and going red in the cheeks. ‘No. But I’d love to go to Berlin sometime, to the Love Parade. That’s one of my dreams in life.’
‘Ah zee Love Parade that is one of zee most amazing festivals in the vorld.’
Yep she was right. It turns out it was. Me and the beautiful Justyna went in two thousand and three, and man we tore that place up!
We stayed together as we passed through Madame Tussauds, and caught fleeting glimpses of a subtle closeness and bond.
And after Sandra – as that was her name – suggested that we go to the London Eye together. And hey, she’d even pay. Giddee up!
Done.
We got to that big Ferris wheel and it was sink or swim time. So as we crossed the street, just before we hit the Thames, I reached out for her hand, and together we ran across the road, both of us laughing although nothing had been said. We got to the other side and looked at one another, a knowing sparkle in our eyes. We kissed. Not heavily; tenderly, just brushing with the softness of our lips. We pulled back; another brief moment of each others’ gaze, then broke away from the moment, and hand in hand made our way to the back of the hour long queue for the ride. Long waits aren’t so bad when something like that is happening to you though are they?
We chatted like we’d known each other our whole lives, and the few silences that there were, weren’t uncomfortable, didn’t feel long and drawn out. Without a second thought, which may have caused us to over complicate things, we could just stand there for a few minutes, each looking in different directions at the scenes around us. And there, right there on the Thames with Big Ben just on the other side, to remind us of where we were, we fell in love in the way that only travellers do.
We didn’t kiss again till later on when we were down in front of Buckingham Palace, again it was sweet, electric. We had made it in time to see the changing of the guards, and just after, I guess, both of us decided at the same time that we needed to keep things rolling forward. So we kissed for just the second time on that warm day, down there at the forecourt in front of the gates to one of the world’s most famous icons. Then strolled, not hand in hand, but arm in arm through the park, and held each other close, thinking about, I guess the fabulous time ahead of us, and the wonders of life.
Just past the first lake with the ducks, as the clouds gathered we found a place under a great chest nut tree and embraced once more.
We lay on the ground, embraced as if one creature on a cold night. At first I touched Sandra through the layers of her clothing, then I touched her beneath those layers. I couldn’t quite reach her breasts, but together we undid the top of her pants and my fingers were welcomed deep inside her. We were kissing and laughing at the naughtiness of the situation. Both of us strangers in a strange land, not alone any more, and both of us strangers misbehaving. It was wonderful and as a rainbow of happiness emanated from us a few groups of people cheered as we lay there together, kissing in the rain. We made out like that for a time, I dunno’ how long. Does time have a meaning in a situation like this?
But time did matter, I had to get to my new job as a sous-chef in a gastro pub in Holland Park. We said good bye to one another on the steps of Piccadilly Circus, promising we’d meet again in the morning at ten o’clock. I started work the next day at two and tomorrow would be Sandra’s last day. There would be no more opportunities.
Everyone wasn’t carrying mobile phones back in that summer of two thousand, not like now. We would just have to trust one another. You know, put faith in the fact that the other would come. We would meet in the in the same place, on the same steps the next day.
As we parted, I guess both of us were silently hoping the other wouldn’t do a ‘No show’ so that we could carry on this fantasy.

I emerged up the escalator from the tube and made my way to Exit 3 – the one that leads up to Lower Regent Street – full of hope and doubt. I prayed that I wasn’t going to be feeling foolish in twenty minutes time, and worried about how long I should wait if she wasn’t there.
I reached the bottom of the steps that led up to where the rest of London rushed about with their lives. She wasn’t there. Wasn’t stood in the same place where we had last kissed, the last place where she had filled my vision with dreams.
And then I heard that almost deep sounding husky whisper in my ear ‘Bryce, Guten Morgen.’
Oh my God she was there!
We met each other, our eyes connecting straight away. A warm aura was released from the both of us, the other one in this magical web had shown up. Neither had let the other down, or in turn been let down. We hugged tightly, lips locked longingly, tongues cautiously explored.
‘Do you want to come to my place?’ I said.
‘Yes let’s go.’
I was staying in Willesden Green, which at the time was the most happening Kiwi town in London, although I had no idea of this because my brother’s mates hadn’t really invited me out anywhere. Guy’s like Macey and his Torque parties were part of your staple diet every weekend.
Anyway it was a Wednesday and everyone was at work.
We got inside and began to pull each other’s clothes off. I laid her on the couch whilst unbuttoning her bra with one hand. I pulled down her pants as she unbuttoned mine then tasted her while her hands were clenched in my hair, before sliding so welcomingly inside her pussy.
I managed about three strokes before I blew my load, then panicked. I kept quiet, not wanting her to know I was done, and willed myself to stay hard, cursing myself, and making the situation worse. Think dirty thoughts, anything, fuck surely just thinking about the situation I was in should be enough, but no. I was finished and my cock needed a break.
I gave up, there was no hiding I wasn’t stiff anymore and deflated, I told her I was gonna’ need a few minutes. I got that reassuring look and rub on the back that chicks give ya’ when ya’ve fucked up, and vowed not to give in.
We kissed; I took her breasts in my mouth, teasing her firm nipples, while stroking her on the inside. Her smooth pussy was soft, warm and waxed, waxed to within an itch of its life. It was my first one. Waxed pussy that is, and I blessed the Gods for European girls, and cursed them for all those Kiwi ones back home who didn’t do it.
Slowly I came round again, but time wasn’t on my side. I would need to leave for work soon. So we showered together and made love whilst trying not to fall on our heads. She leaned forward so I could take her from behind, and we fucked like lovers who were strangers. Like it was the first and last time we would.
Sandra joined me on the tube ride with a promise to pick me up at eleven when I finished. Time passed like a dream and Sandra appeared at about ten thirty. We went back to her hotel in Gloucester road and shared a night with each other; the neighbours banging on the wall every now and then.
In the morning we kissed goodbye at the station. We embraced there on the platform of Gloucester road station, as we waited for the train that would take her to Heathrow, this time in front of all the masses going to work in their suits and ties.

We never spoke to, or saw each other again.

But that is ok.

I will carry that moment with me forever.

Author’s note: The twisted travel tales are the series of novellas and short stories that I have self published over the years. Here you will find segments from the actual stories that I have written. You may find these novellas all available for free @ … http://twistedtraveltales.com/ … My stories are all based around the themes of, drugs, dancing and travel. I hope you enjoy, and please PM me and provide feedback. I am self publishing my third book on line, £700 and a one way ticket to Amsterdam very soon. My other titles include, South East Asia, a tale of drugs and debauchery, and In Brazil you would say, ‘Universo Paralello’

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