Sunday, January 25, 2009

My Night With A Playboy Model

On my way home from Europe in 1980 I was unable to connect to a flight to Seattle from London because of a snowstorm. I had been traveling throughout Western Europe for nearly 8 months, at that point living like a bohemian and busking in the street with a troupe of street performers. It was winter, I was nearly broke and I was anxious to get home. Even though in reality at that time my home was more or less where I could hang my hat for a few days.

On the boat and train ride from Calais, France to London I had struck up a conversation with a attractive young Eastern European woman. Her English was great and she had a very sexy Eastern something accent. I think she told me she was from the Ukraine. I told her I had previously been married to a woman of Ukrainian decent and had learn little in the way of understanding Slavic women based on that experience.

We shared a compartment and some of our experiences and I’m sure my story of traveling and performing seemed quaint and amusing. Not to mention the rather odd way I must of looked because I was dressed with clothes I had found on the trash heaps of the well to do neighborhoods of Paris, Barcelona and Amsterdam.

She was friendly and down to earth and seemed happy to have someone to talk with during the trip to help kill the time. When we reached Dover we stayed together and walked to board a waiting train for the last leg of the trip to London as we shuffled our bags we decided we share a compartment on the train as well. I was having fun talking to her and wanted to continue the conversation.

When the train arrived at Victoria Station in London I managed to get the woman’s phone number on the very real premise I may be unable to fly out when scheduled later that night because of the weather and I had confess to her I had little money for a hotel. In fact I had about $10 US and a return airline ticket to Seattle to my name.

Maybe I'd been a bit overbearing in asking her for her number and if there may be a possibility of stay at her flat, "just in case", since we had really just met. I also had grown somewhat fond of her and wanted to continue to learn more about her. There was something about her that seemed unique and special and I thought it be odd to have her walk away where I would never see her again.

We parted at the train station and I grabbed something to eat, spending carefully so as to have a few dollars left for later, Then I went to a phone box and I called the airline only to find that all flights out of Heathrow had been canceled. It was getting dark and it had been snowing on and off. I was cold and tired and had to find a place to stay or I'd have to go to the airport and sleep there. An idea I dreaded.

I gathered my courage dropped some coins in the slot and I called the woman I'd met thinking the number she'd given me probably was bogus and something she did to be rid of me. I had to admit she was strikingly attractive when I watch her walk off into the distance at the station. I figured she had probably little interest or concern about a ne'er-do-well like me trying to crash at her flat.

The phone rang and someone answered, I recognized her voice. I ask her if she’d mind if I came over and crashed at her place for the night like we talked about. She said fine and she commenced to give me directions on how to take the tube to her flat, which as it tuned out was in a very upscale London neighborhood near St James Park.

When I arrived the doorman was very suspicious of me because of my dress, shoulder length hair and 5 o’clock shadow, and I’m sure I looked rather out of place and probably smelled of cannabis but after he call the flat and spoke to the woman I was allowed entry. I then when up to the flat and the angelic young woman greeted me and showed me where she had made up the sofa for me to sleep for the night. The apartment was modern large and well appointed. I knew I had enter a world that appeared expensive and chic.

Before she when to bed we were making small talk and having a cup of tea. I ask her what she did for a living. She told me that she was model. I was single at the time and I began flirting with her a bit, wanting to know more about her. She asked me if I be interested in seeing her modeling portfolio. The portfolio was amazing and included photos from well know fashion magazines. I couldn’t believe I was sitting in the flat of an obviously well known fashion model wearing my 2nd hand mohair trench coat that looked like something you’d wear after being released from a prison camp.

As if that weren't enough she then handed me a recent issue of Playboy magazine and opened it to the page where she was featured in a set of nude photos, “and here my Playboy layout”. she said. I did a couple of double takes looking at her and then at the photos in the magazine. My god was I dreaming?

I tried to act sophisticated and worldly about seeing her naked in Playboy while at the same time she was there ten feet away from me on the same black leather chesterfield, but my Catholic school boy upbringing made me have a short term brain freeze and I awkwardly tried to think of something to change the subject in my mind to something besides her wonderful looking naked breasts. I think I ended up asking if the weather had been bad for very long, once I could get my synapses firing again.

After a few more minutes of conversation she matter-of-factly excused herself saying she needed to get up early for a job and she left the room and went to bed. I lay on the sofa rather stunned think of what could of been. The next day I left early in the morning before she awoke, I let myself out and I headed to Heathrow airport to catch my flight. I thought none of my pals are going to belief what just happened to me. She gave me a business card with a fashion picture of her on it that she used to promote herself. She sign it with her autograph. I soon misplaced the card and I never saw her or talked to her again, although I wished I had on several occasions as the years when by.

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