'I-ah, I- er yes. Yes, I am looking for a room' was all I could manage in a breathless stutter.
I looked about the office certain in my panic that my colleagues could hear not only my hushed voice but also that of my caller.
'Well, we have - my wife and I, that is - we have a spare room in our big old house. Our children have grown up and flown the nest and we thought we might take in a lodger. Would you like to pop over and take a look at our house?'
He gave the address before I could answer. I was speechless again for a moment or two. This was unbelievable.
'I…yes, I would love to come over, if that's alright. I work not far away from you.'
We agreed a time of eight that evening with Chris, as he told me to call him, seeming quite excited by the prospect of meeting me.
Excited was hardly an adequate description of my feelings; Chris had sounded really nice, with a gentle, reassuring kind of voice. Terror mingled with an awful hope of things that, up until this moment I thought were unreachable, might actually be in sight.
The rest of the day dragged past in a haze of surrealism, my fevered imagination conjuring up daydreams of satin orgies. I became embarrassed by my frivolous fantasies, trying to get a grip on myself, certain that my thoughts would be completely transparent when I met Chris and ruining any chance of becoming a tenant.
