Lauren, Part One

My telephone rang incessantly and was obviously not going to stop in a hurry, so I rolled over in bed and answered it. I was amazed that anyone had my new Mexican mobile number, since I had only bought the card the day before, just as I had arrived back in the country in mid-December 2011.

"Bueno," I muttered blearily into the receiver.

"Hello," answered a female voice that sounded American. "Are you Nick? I would like to speak to Nick, please," the voice went on, speaking in pitch perfect English.

"Yeah, that's me," I replied, as I started my body in motion towards the bathroom.

"My name's Lauren and I'm from Chicago. I read your blog and your Facebook page, so I know that you are in Mexico City right now," the girl said.

"How did you get my phone number? I only got the Sim card yesterday," I told her.

"I'm not speaking on the phone," Lauren said, sounding thoroughly puzzled by my question. "I'm on my laptop, speaking to you on Skype."

I looked at my phone. Skype was installed on it, but had I fired up the programme? Of course I had, last night, when I configured the handset to the house's WiFi connection. I had just not switched Skype off afterwards, which was how Lauren had managed to get in touch.

"OK, I have Skype on the mobile and I thought you were ringing that," I explained. "What can I do for you, Lauren?"

"Well, I am a real fan of your writing, and I just love your blog," she squealed in those delightful tones that young girls often have when they are excited about something. "Can we do breakfast today? Or maybe just a coffee, if you are not a breakfast person?

"Are you in Mexico City?"

"Sure am!"

"It's a big place and I don't fancy travelling today after yesterday's flight. Where are you located?

"About a mile from you - you said which borough you would be in on Facebook. Why don't we meet  at the Vips restaurant on the main avenue heading downtown?" So she did know the area and could name one of the more popular chain restaurants. Funnily enough, it was the one that I used to breakfast at regularly when I lived permanently in Mexico City, so I was happy to agree to meet this curious female there.

"Wait, before you go," I said. "You had better tell me what you look like."

"OK, I'm 25, with long black hair that hangs right down my back. I wear long skirts," Lauren said, before pausing for a moment. "I have tattoos, a couple on my neck and face," she concluded at length.

I could feel my ears and cock perking up at this news. Lauren was 25, and read my writings. Did she have unresolved daddy issues that a 55 year old Uncle Nick would be perfectly placed to deal with? We would find out the answer to that over breakfast!

To be continued.