This is a continuation of my story about Juliet. You can catch up here for part 1
Juliet and her travel mate Liz, met my friend and me at the door. Juliet was a very good friend from their home of the woman in the couple who lived in the house, but the couple had decided to prolong their stay away. They had known Juliet and Liz were coming, and had left a key with one of the village elders.
I also knew they would be there, but was told nothing of what to expect. You think Cindy Crawford is heading this post for no reason? Yes, that is almost exactly what Juliet looked like, sans the beauty mark. The 20-year old Marty froze at the doorstep. Unable to say a word. It was left to my older, more mature, and still sick friend the task of explaining who we were, how the couple would not be returning for a couple of weeks yet, and that the four of us would be sharing this small house for a time.
Juliet and Liz, who had only arrived the day before, seemed to take it all in stride. All part of the adventure, I guess. It was a few minutes later that I began to recover my composure. We stored our gear in the room where we would sleep, and came out into the small open courtyard to chat with and learn about our new housemates.
I’m all about observation and analysis. As I was trying to be discrete in checking out Juliet, I suddenly realized, unbeknownst to me, this was very much a two way street. Juliet was taking charge of the conversation, but at the same time, and in no uncertain terms, it was clear I was being sized up. It’s not that I felt uncomfortable at all. I had spent considerable time in London earlier, and had met and been involved with several women. So meeting and learning about new women, new beautiful women, and quickly was something I had jumped into with both feet. This whole trip I was on was to be one great adventure, and this looked like a new chapter with hints of great promise.
But having said that, I remember there was this doubt in my mind. Clearly she was older, very experienced, and no doubt given her stark beauty, would have men falling all over her wherever she found herself. So I did have concerns with what she would find interesting in a 20 year old, fresh from the road in dirty jeans and tee, with no particular intriguing life stories to share.
But fairly quickly I determined from the stare of those deep, dark, chestnut eyes, it wasn’t my stories or background or even keen intelligence that were going to influence Juliet.
This was going to be interesting. Was I equipped to handle this?
To be continued …