@lter Ego (12)

Looking back I now realise my "other self" was physically born that December night.

Bruce Wayne had the Batcave.

Clarke Kent had any handy telephone box.

Bastian Dash had the gents' toilet on the fourth floor of Archer Publishing.

Not exactly comic book stuff...

Nobody saw me emerge so luckily there was no one to ask what I was doing, where I was going or why I had my coat done up so tightly.

Well, so far so good.

Even better was the fact I was heading for Holborn so I doubted I'd meet up with anyone from Archer's there as they usually hung around Soho and Leicester Square way.

On the tube, stuffed like a sardine and hoping beyond hope that my hair wasn't being ruffled or my shoes scuffed, tides of doubt drifted back in. What the hell was I doing? I mean what I was about to do was truly terrifying; hoodwinking some sassy American tigress into thinking I was this assured adventurer Bastian Dash; both bawd and bon vivant of the West End. And even though I'd seen her picture, she'd not seen mine. What if, despite all my recent "cosmetic surgery", she was still unimpressed? How was I going to pick myself off the floor from that?

And then an even more daunting prospect hit me.

But what if it worked? What if I did pull it off? What if the evening was a resounding success? Then what would happen? With all the stories she'd told me, I imagined Tammy to be something pretty wild. Would that mean sex? And if it did, would I be up to it? Considering that the carnal knowledge on my school report was a fairly average C+ (and that was being generous) this started to make me even more nervous.

You know there's nothing more humiliating for the male ego than being a flop in bed. Especially as from what I knew about Tammy already she was obviously quite demanding and thus the type of person who'd make it very clear indeed if she wasn't getting what she wanted.

The butterflies hit the stratosphere...

When I emerged from respectable Holborn tube, I headed for Tammy's hotel that was a short walk away towards Covent Garden. My legs felt like jelly now. And yet at the same time they were propelling me faster towards my destination than I would have liked. Destiny was obviously in a hurry that night.

Glancing at my reflection in the window, I saw a very nervous me staring back. Even though it was cold I then decided to take off my coat so that my new improved image appeared in the window instead. But unlike when I'd first caught sight of him in Archer's loo, even he looked nervous too.

"This will not do..." assessed a stern voice in my head that I think came from a Pink Floyd song about a court case. Immediately following it however was a far more encouraging burst from Elvis crooning, "It's now or never..."

I restructured my expression into something a little more assured and determined, and then dived in...

Tammy had said she'd be waiting at the hotel bar around 5.30pm. Well it was gone 6pm so I'd already blotted my copybook a little by being late.

Still, while tardiness is usually the woman's prerogative, I felt that this was perversely acceptable this time. So far this whole experience had been a kind of role reversal with Tammy effectively asking me out, so why shouldn't the guy be late instead.

Looking fairly lost in the spacious and swanky hotel reception area I finally saw a sign to the bar after almost making myself dizzy. Now my stomach was really screwing itself into a ball while my heart pumped like I was running a marathon. Calm, calm, calm, I tried to sooth.

Just before I made for the bar I saw a full-length mirror mounted on a support column. Walking over to it, and by now totally oblivious to anyone who might be watching, I made one final check.

I still looked nervous. My shoulders were hunched and my coat was hanging clumsily off my arm so that part of it trailed across the polished floor. Again there was that admonishing, "This will not do..."

I straightened my body, squaring my not so broad shoulders as best I could, just like I had back at Archer's loos. Next I carefully folded my coat and hung it over my arm in a more purposeful yet "casually cool" way. Then, and for reasons I can only attribute to my Freudian Id rather than purely my subconscious, I grinned and even winked cheekily at myself, trying to see if Bastian Dash was still there.

And lo and behold he was.

Thank Christ for that.

Well what the hell are you waiting for? Go get 'em tiger!

I all but marched into the hotel bar and whatever else lay in store for me there...

Remember my little James Bond scenario I told you about. Well what happened next wasn't quite like that, but then again it was too.

The first thing I noticed, even before I caught sight of Tammy herself, was that the bar was nearly empty. But then who the hell populates a hotel bar on a Friday night, however stylish it might be with its cream décor, lounge furnishings and mellow jazz.

Then I heard that laugh, louder and more raucous that it had ever been on the phone. I turned and there she was, ManhattanGal herself - Tammy - sat on a barstool with her back to me, and sharing a joke with the barman.

My adrenaline rush now became a torrent. Paradoxically though, in that same moment my next move was suddenly all so very clear to me too and I strode right up to the bar just as Tammy was being served what looked like a cocktail (while the two tall, empty glasses on the counter beside her told their own story).

"Now have yah got it right that time?" I heard her say.

"Third time lucky I hope," the barman grinned back (nervously I thought). He was a young, thin guy, shaven haired in a black waistcoat.

"Yeah? Well we'll see won't we?"

I got there as Tammy was about to take an experimental sip. Seizing my moment I winked at the barman and said, "Is she giving you grief?"

"You could say that mate."

"Hah!" roared Tammy in mock offence, and right then I knew I'd made the right intro. "HI, how you doing?" She pretty much leapt from her seat, grabbed my hand and plonked a tellingly intimate kiss on my cheek.

"So good to see you." And then. "You're late!"

The touch of her hand on mine was strangely arousing. It was soft, very soft, and yet at the same time quite firm. The nails were pink, false and a little claw like too.

Tammy then sat back down again and I climbed onto the stool next to her. There followed a pause as we both appraised each other more fully.

She wasn't quite the man-eating vamp I'd seen in my head, all strapless and red lipstick. However she hadn't been lying when she'd told me she liked to make an impression and had even styled her blonde hair to look like Melanie Griffith's in Bonfire Of the Vanities too although there was a touch of Meg Ryan around the eyes too, which was no bad thing either.

But if I'm truly honest I've got to confess my eyes and my attention swiftly if subtly dropped downwards to first her breasts and then the rest of her body too. She was wearing a pale blue designer suit which was sheer class yes but the top was very tight indeed and underneath I couldn't help but notice she was amply endowed, particularly as the neckline was open to the point of "not quite revealing but pretty much borderline".

Far more striking however was her skirt. If indeed skirt there was: I don't think I'd ever seen so short a skirt on anyone. I mean it hardly covered her rather shapely thighs and her legs were bare too, right down to her pale blue stilettos that looked like they'd cost more than my entire outfit combined.

You know as I describe this now I feel we're almost in Raymond Chandler territory and yet that's exactly how it was. And I have to say she was very, very sexy in da flesh! What with the sensuous touch of her hand and now looking at her, I couldn't help being turned on.

And yet at the same time I saw this whole thing for what it was, and perhaps in hindsight, that was what got me through the evening.

I was attracted yes. And I'd been attracted since we'd chatted on the phone, indeed since we'd first chatted online. But I knew it was pure lust too, an evaluation of the "Tammy Situation" (as Tarantino might have called it) that made things easier. After all I'd given everyone the impression online that Bastian Dash wasn't the type who acted like a lovesick puppy the moment he met someone he fancied. He worked on a much more chemical level.

Still I wasn't totally comfortable yet by any means. After all, if Tammy didn't fancy me then I knew I was going to be crushed because she promised a zillion of my sexual fantasies rolled into one. In those short moments as we eyed each other up I watched for a hint; a smile, a nod, a lick of the lips, hell anything that might tell me she was also suitably impressed and riddled with all manner of lustful urges just as I was.

But of course her face was unreadable. Which wasn't that surprising. I mean women have always been much better at not giving this kind of thing away than men don't you think, and of course for them sexual attraction is based on many more levels than it is for some of us blokes for whom just a pair of great tits will often suffice.

So even if she did fancy me on sight, this was only another part of the test I'd passed.

"You look just like I thought you would," Tammy at last smiled.

I took that as a compliment and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Nice suit too."

"Thanks. You look great as well. Better than your picture in fact. How was your meeting?"

"Well they love me yadda yadda yadda," she declared without surprise. "But man that office is just way too boring. Nobody smiles! Yeah I know this is a fun city and all but come on Bastian, can you see me working in a place like that? Still it was cool to meet them again though and I had other stuff to do anyhow. And hey, I get to be taken out tonight in London too so it was worth the trip just for that."

A cocktail or two later we were laughing just as we had done during our online and phone chats. We'd even engaged the barman in our banter. He still looked a little anxious but was obviously enjoying himself too. Besides there wasn't much else to do as the bar was otherwise still empty.

I was much more relaxed now too. Especially as Tammy consistently laughed heartily at my wisecracks, which seemed to be tripping as effortlessly off the tongue as they normally did off the keyboard.

Admittedly the two cocktails probably helped there; a vodka, JD and lemonade concoction that Tammy had been training our barman in. Although I drank more slowly (being very much aware that if a "performance" was required of me later, I didn't want it spoiled by alcohol of all things) they injected just enough of their magic to bring out more of Bastian Dash's reasoned self-assuredness.

Indeed before long I felt we were really clicking. I was certainly interested anyway; which I guess was something to do with her wicked smile, or the way she tightly grabbed my arm a couple of times to steady herself when she laughed, both of which really drew me to her. What I also think helped our rapport was my strategy of making Tammy very much the centre of attention. Every joke was at her expense, every conversation started or ended around something she said or did. Knowing what I knew about her already and how she very much enjoyed being the focus, I felt this was a good move. In fact far from offending her, she seemed to be lapping up the mock insults instead, which mainly centred on our stereotypical transatlantic differences.

How it worked was this: I'd come out with something that obviously implied British cultural superiority but leave the door open wide enough for Tammy to fight back with her own put down, so letting American hegemony even the score. It was just like when we'd chatted online.

"So where are you taking me then?" she said at one point.

"Oh here and there," I replied mysteriously.

"Like where?"

"Wait and see."

"Aw c'mon!"

"God you yanks are impatient," I mock sighed, rolling my eyes at our barman who grinned.

"Yeah yeah, gimme a break here! Can't a girl ask where she's being taken to dinner?"

"It'll be in a cab back to the airport if you're not careful."

Tammy roared with laughter, even as our barman winced. Points to me (or rather BD) there! But she quickly struck back.

"See how cruel he is to me? Yeah well just you remember who's getting dumped if I'm not having any fun Mister Dash!"

Touché!

"Speaking of which, it's time we got going."

"Okay, I'll go grab my coat, wait for me in reception."

Tammy downed her latest drink in one, got up and left. It was only when she'd gone that I realised both the barman and I had watched her depart in total silence.

"Bloody hell mate she's a feisty one," he said a little more courageously.

"Tell me about," I replied.

"Have fun!" I heard him call as I made my own exit. I gave him a casual wave with the back of my hand and headed for reception...

I waited about five minutes or so.

But while I was doing so my before self suddenly reappeared again, burdening me with more worries.

Okay, so maybe that bit had gone well. However, the real test was only just beginning...

Eventually the lobby lift fatefully pinged and out stepped Tammy, now dressed in a very long, black coat that I think cost more than my entire wardrobe.

She walked up to me smiling coyly.

"Ready?"

Looking at her then, I suddenly realised that if this evening was going to go any further, I just hadto know.

"Listen," I began (quite bravely I thought although I could tell there was a hint of edginess in my voice that I really hoped she hadn't caught), "am I really what you were expecting?"

Tammy looked up at me rather archly and then took a step closer. She was shorter than me but tall enough for her noticeable chest to cushion against mine. I caught my breath and couldn't help wondering what it would be like to touch the softer flesh beneath that coat of hers.

"Well am I?" was all she said, huskily.

For a moment our eyes locked, unblinking. And then instinct finally got the better of reticence and I bent forward and kissed her, even as I saw her neck stretch upwards to do the same.

Okay it wasn't the kiss of kisses but my lips were burning when we pulled away. So much so that I uncharacteristically couldn't help myself from bending forwards to repeat the experience.

But this time her hands came up to push me away.

"Hey, wait 'til later," she breathed heavily.

I snapped back to reality and suddenly felt very self-conscious.

Tammy though now wasn't looking at me at all but had instead turned to stare into that same mirror I'd preened in front of earlier. I followed her gaze and suddenly we were locked on each other through our reflections. And we were both smiling mischievously too.

On impulse I now took step behind her, my arms encircling her hips, and cautiously let my reasonably excited groin press ever so lightly against her bottom. Obviously this was the right move, as her smile in the mirror now grew decidedly wicked again.

"You know," she began, trailing some fingers down a sleeve of my black suit, "this is the same colour as my coat. We match Mister Dash."

She then hooked her arm in mine and led me out into the night...