DRUNK

"You haven't understood the true nature of the erotic until you've made love to your partner whilst playing Act Two of Wagner's 'Tristan Und Isolde' on the stereo," the overdressed woman said, staring bird-like at the handsome young man. With her grey hair, bloodshot eyes and thin, colourless lips parted just enough for him to detect the ever-so-subtle scent of vodka on her breath she looked quite the sight: part goth, part old money divorcee, part retired crystal healer.

"You know, I was just a little girl when I first went to see the opera. It made a big impression on me."

"I can tell. What was your first opera?" Scott said, desperately trying to be polite.

"Parsifal. All five hours of it."

"Wow! That was quite the baptism of fire then?"

"It was my first brush with the infinite in art."

Then, as she edged closer to Scott and grabbed a tight hold of his wrist, it suddenly occurred to him that the inebriated woman more closely resembled a strange cross between Cruella De Vil and those touchy-feely friends of his mother who'd converted their book club meetings into group sauna therapy sessions where they'd be uncompromisingly honest with one another, telling each other raw, painful truths about where they'd gone wrong in life whilst wilting like salads bags left out in the sun.

"I doubt you'll ever have an orgasm like the one I had with my ex-husband Jerome just after he'd finally agreed to a divorce. It was both the saddest and most fulfilling night of my life and we played Tristan as if we were about to die in each other's arms. I actually thought for one horrible moment he had died after his face became discoloured, you know, just like expired ham does? But thank god, it was just indigestion. I know what you're thinking. Did we go ahead with the divorce after this momentous night of passion?"

Scott was actually thinking about how he might disentangle himself from the woman's vice-like grip more than whether she'd divorced her husband but could see she was singularly focused on telling him about the best sex she'd ever had and so obliged her with a query.

"Well, did you?"

"No. That was in fact the last time I ever made love. Nothing could top that. We'd both reached the summit and there was nowhere else left for us to go."

He finally freed his hand to slyly check the time on his watch but it was too late; the woman had seen he was distracted and became instantly agitated.

"You're not interested. That's fine. You just go and have your simulated movie sex with your bots and be done with it. Or maybe you're scared of what I'm telling you. Erotic transcendence is not for everyone."

Careful not to offend the eccentric woman, Scott cleared his throat which had become unusually dry all the while she'd been talking at him.

"I really appreciate what you're telling me. It's just ...

"What is it just? Tell me!"

"It's just. My bus has arrived."