An Unusual Date, Part II

Continued from Part I.

“You went on a date with the Foreign Secretary?” Max repeated.

“Yes.”

“Wow. She’s young.”

“Actually, she’s a little older than me,” said Tom. “Friend of a friend of my sister, that’s how we met.”

“So what did you… you know?” asked Max.

“Talk about? Realpolitik, the African situation, our relationship with Germany…”

Max laughed. “And you’re an expert on that?!”

“Well,” said Tom. “Thanks to a few hours with the Economist yesterday morning, yes. Enough to hold a decent conversation.”

“So go on, did you, you know…”

“What?” Tom teased.

“Tom!” screeched Max, apoplectic. “Did. You. Kiss. Her?”

“Well,” said Tom, looking out the window. “Not at the restaurant.”

The car was filled with Max’s roaring, whooping battle cry. Tom winced.

“I am so excited!” yelled Max. “Oh! Just wait till I tell The Balls!”

“No, no,” said Tom. “Please don’t tell The Balls. He’ll want to celebrate.”

“Yes, we need to celebrate!” said Max. “So did they intervene?”

“Who?”

“The bodyguards!”

“They’re not chaperones, Max. She’s a grown woman. They do what she says.” Tom’s phone rang. He answered.

“Hello sweetie,” she purred. “I’m schmoozing in Brussels.”

“Brussels?” he spluttered. “You were schmoozing me about four hours ago. How did you get to Brussels?”

“They’re called planes, dear. They go in the sky, very fast. Anyway pack your bags right away. Date two is tonight, in Geneva. I’ll send a car.” <Click>.

“We need to celebrate tonight!” said Max. “Bring her!”

“Sorry,” said Tom. “We have plans.”

The End

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