Tom stood having a cigarette in Chapel Allerton’s main street.
He was awaiting the arrival of a work colleague Victor.
Bar Seven has an artistic trendy kind of clientele, and is situated in the North Leeds suburb which prides itself in a sort of bohemian self-satisfied manner.
A Seat Marbella drew up alongside the bar.
Out jumped Carla Victor's Spanish girlfriend.
Victor was from Jalisco in Mexico, an I.T. Consultant who supervised a computing project specialising in Latin American clients.
Carla grinned at Tom.
“No es posible esta noche compa …!” She informed him that her man wasn’t going to arrive this evening.
She hugged him then disappeared in her car as fast as she had arrived.
He finished the cigarette, then felt at a loose end.
Turning back towards the door close to the entrance he crashed full-on into a blonde who was just leaving.
They both temporary lost balance and gripped each other till they were both stabilised.
She was a shapely tall lady in her mid-twenties (approximately 26 or 27 he estimated).
Her breast had hit him on his chest, she was 5’8” and he 5’10”.
She smiled seductively as they both apologised then she left.
The following week he was in Morrison’s supermarket on Albion Street in Leeds city centre when he spotted the exact same lass, dressed in a very short blue mini-skirt and a tight white blouse.
Tom’s eyes lit up as she approached.
“Hiya you are the girl from the pub in Chapel All the other night huh?” he shot her a grin.
Her hair was brunette today instead of blonde
... but she was a very beautiful curvaceous woman.
She kissed his cheeks.
“Soy Mercedes … y tu?”
“Mi nombre? … Tom!”
He replied shocked that she had sussed he spoke Spanish.
“How did you guess?” he continued.
“Ohh I heard you speaking Spanish on your mobile phone as I was collecting drinks from the bar that evening … I am going for a coffee over there … want to join me?” she pointed at a café across the street.
They crossed the street then entered.
Male heads turned in admiration as she confidently breezed in.
It was mid May 2010, the Tories had just won the General Election the previous week and an important announcement was expected that day from the dithering Liberal leader Nick Clegg.
Mercedes sat down and he went to fetch the young student lass waitress. He sat opposite her when he returned.
“Where ya from?” she smiled as she grinned ‘I want you’ with her eyes. He replied that he was from Helensburgh a small Navy dominated Scottish town near Glasgow.
“I am from Madrid but my mum was from Skipton, North Yorkshire and married my Spanish dad in 1982 the year I was born, then divorced and moved back here in the late 1989.”
He calculated that made her around 27 or 28.
Tom was 34.
Her eyes continued to gaze appreciatively directly into his.
... to be continued ...
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