Oh, this again, he thought.

Daisy opened her eyes. Blinked and frowned.

‘Who’re you?’ she asked the man directly above her. He had a very goofy expression on his face.

There was no reaction, no change to the rhythm, nor a hint that he’d even heard her.

She rolled her eyes and repeated the question.

‘Who…are-’ she said, then exclaimed: ‘ohmygod!’

Marcus was on top of her, having his manly way with her. It was the absent beard and slicked back haircut that had confused her.

It was a pity he’d lost the goatee; it was actually a turn-on and useful in ways other than just looks. Without it he looked like a square-jawed 1960′s secret agent, which had never been her thing.

Her mind raced, trying desperately to work-out where the hell she was. As she glanced from side-to-side she realised the room was decorated in the unmistakable style of the decade of protest; and it wasn’t just cheap knock-offs either.

‘Hnyahhhh…’ gasped Marcus, then collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily. After a moment, he rolled onto his back, and reached across to the bedside table where he picked up the telephone and dialed a number that appeared to feature mostly fives.

‘All done here,’ he said. ‘You can come at any time.’

Nice, thought Daisy. First I’m subjected to the Missionary Position and now I’m brushed-off like cat fur.

He hung-up and picked up a small, flat silver box.

‘Cigarette,’ he asked, offering her one, speaking with perfect the perfect intonation of a BBC announcer. ‘My own blend.’

‘No thanks,’ said Daisy, conscious of her slack Australian accent. She only smoked Menthols anyway.

He reached over and picked up a zippo lighter with an engraved bird on the side.

Daisy slipped from the bed and picked up a robe that had fallen onto the floor. Putting it on, she stepped past the underwear, the shirt, trousers, top, shoes, socks and skirt, and wandered over to the window.

‘You’re a quiet lover,’ he said, exhaling the smoke. ‘Different to other girls.’

That would be because you’re crap, thought Daisy, but ‘hmm’d’ a bemused affirmative. These curtains were amazing and the view beyond was stunning. They were quite high-up. She glanced down and tried to orient herself.

‘Lazenby is Bond,’ she read from a large poster in the distance. ‘Diamonds are Forever.’

Well, that nailed it; definitely a different world. She made a mental note to go see that movie. She’d often wondered how the Bond series would have worked out with a different actor in the part.

‘Why do Australian girls taste different from other girls?’

© Lisa Sinclair 2004-2009 All Rights Reserved

The Grand Adventures of Daisy Donnie by Lisa Jane Sinclair is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 Australia License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://www.daisydonnie.com/contact/. 9ae3f9335452f165d38cf62b412d20be (38.107.179.210)