Fouziah

I was visiting Greece one beautiful summer, and decided to stop by the jewelery store owned by one of my childhood friends. As we were chatting away, this lady that looked Middle Eastern walked in an flashed a huge smile at him, and with a heavy accent said "George how are you my friend?". "Oh just fine Fouziah. Let me introduce you to my friend David who is visiting from New York". "Oh Alo nice to meet, David". And at that we just gazed at each other for along time, to the point were George started feeling like the third wheel. At that moment we both knew it is just a matter of time before stuff happened. We just wanted to do each other, real hard. She was late in her forties, with a great body, as if she went to the gym 2 hours every day. She had come from France to visit Greece for the summer. Originally from Paris, but her parents were Moroccan, so while she spoke French, her looks were definitely Arabic, which made her look really exotic: European sophistication and dress up, combined with Arabic dark eyes. No sugar so far. That came later. She gave me her phone number which I made sure I did not lose, as I was going to the beach next. I called her the next morning and arranged for a nice diner with her that same evening. Afterward she really, REALLY wanted to go dancing. Which of course sucks, because I can't dance due to an old war wound. We entered the dance club, everybody knew her there, so we go in free, drinks were flowing our way and had a grand old time watching her dance while I was at the bar sipping cocktails. Funnily enough, the bartender thought I was Arabic, and as soon as I started talking Greek to him, he gave me a big hug. He figured I was a foreigner who had taken the trouble to speak Greek to him. After a few rounds she came back and said "You are not happy here, lets go home". And that was that. A wild night ensued (she loved doggy as it turned out), what a body!. "Oh, David, I wish I had met you months ago". "Don't worry dear, I will see you soon, here is my number at work in New York" I said as I was heading back to my place, around 5AM. I had to catch a flight out the next day.

Fast forward a few months ahead:

I was sitting at work, and the phone rings and guess who was on the other line? Fouziah. "Alo David how are you?. I fly to New York to stay with you". Now this was on the trading floor, and of course there is zero privacy, as I had 3 guys sitting next to me within an arm's length. So, between her broken English and my desire to maintain my privacy we switched to French, her native tongue:
"J'habite avec quelq'un" I said. "Tu'as une copine?" "Oui, je ne suis pas seul", basically letting her know that I was with someone at that point in time and would not be able to have her stay with me. So I offered a great alternative. "Je visite Londre la Dimanche prochaine". I had a business trip planned to London in just a few days. So I would see her there. I paid for her flight from Paris to London, and met her at my hotel right on Grosvenor Square. I made my way to the lobby at the appointed hour, expecting to see her, and she was running late, by about 2 hours! I checked the front desk for any messages for me, but nothing. What the fuck happened? Finally, she walked in with this giant suitcase and this desperate look on her face, like a beaten dog. I helped her with the suitcase and she slapped me in the face. "Why did you say the hotel was small? I got lost" "Uh, it seemed pretty small by American standards" I offered. We went up to my room and her suitcase weighed a ton. "What is in this thing?", I thought to myself. She opened it up and several bottles of liquor rolled out! A giant bottle of Champagne, and a couple of bottles of wine. What a sweetie. She had dragged them all the way from France. Now is that old world hospitality or what! Didn't sleep too much that night. But then the next morning, I remembered my Managing Director was staying at the same hotel, so if he saw me either one of two things would happen: I would be disgraced for mixing important business meetings with pleasure, or (more likely) he would want a piece of her as well. So I ushered her out into another room, discreetly, which totally pissed her off. She just could not understand the fine dynamics of finance: you just can't share with Managing Directors. They are too grabby. Between that, and the fact that I had CNBC Europe on at all times with that stock ticker running across the bottom, she was so upset to the point where she walked out for a smoke and never returned before I had to leave for work. I sent her some romantic postcards from New York, but nothing. I heard through the grapevine that she shacked up with a younger man in Greece.
In this instance I guess I was a travel daddy??