'Local' by Rob Walton

“You’re not from round here, are you?”

That’s what I thought she said.  There were words coming out of her mouth and they didn’t sound like the words from my mouth.  But it didn’t bother me.

Our skin was of a similar shade, but her eyes were other-wordly.  Something going on here.  Did it appeal?

The clothes too.  Slightly over-dressed for a sauna, even this sauna in an international hotel where you didn’t know who you were going to meet, and you didn’t want to offend sensibilities.  You were after a bed for the night, possibly with extras, but you didn’t want scenes.

“Your first time here, is it?”

That’s what I thought she said.  I could be wrong.  There were sounds coming out of her mouth and they didn’t sound like the sounds from my mouth.  It was starting to bother me.

“Shall we kiss?”

As clear as a bell: heard; understood.

“No.  No, thank you.  I’m here for the – for the perspiration.”

She fastened her jacket, pulled her hat down and turned on her side.

“I knew you weren’t from round here.”