Madison Daniels: 18th October: Virgin, mile high club, and all things considered..

By hook or by crook

Or in this case, as Byron, the cheapskate had stated so elegantly, by taxi or by bus.

“I think I’ll just get my own driver on a company retainer Byron. Good grief, for how much we’re paying you for these stories, to which I might remind you, you’ve just received a bonus for, you think that stating you’d pick me up by bus is a bit cheeky. No, lets mark that down as parsimonious. Cheapskate.” She muttered darkly under her breath, but just loud enough for him to make out what she was saying.

“I’ve booked my flights; Virgin’s the only way to go. Bless Richard Branson. Pure luxury. Forget just first class. Oh no. First Class with business is the way to go. Laptop ports and everything. And yes, that IS how I will be arriving. I will need to leave in a couple of hours, which gives me about an hour to travel home, to do a bit of ~light~ packing.. say, what’s the weather like there? I do intend on hitting the shops whilst I am there of course. You know how it goes. Cheap flight to New York, I might as well make the most of the strong sterling to the dollar, no? she stated, her voice hinting at the smirk that played across her positively impish features at the moment.

“Somehow I have to get from the Spa to home, and then to the airport.. unless I instruct my PA to pack for me. She has done worse I suppose..”

Madison’s mind was already whirling with the different possibilities..

“What is the weather like out there currently Byron? And please, do be a dear and peek outside and tell me what colours the ladies are wearing?”

Madison had a sneaky suspicion that it would be grey, plum, and Carmel-beige. Honestly! BEIGE?! It was a classic colour, for sure, but it was boring. She longed for her showstopping red Chanel cocktail dress, her Manolos and whatever else she could get her hands on, but knew it would be strictly a no-no. Her mind then flew through her different closets, each one a different season. Within the closet, they were organised first by colour, then by designer, then finally by whatever function it was.. ie dress, skirt, etc. She was very picky as to how she would pick out her clothing. Everything was dry cleaned, and a small bit of masking tape or non-marking label was attached to the hanger to let her know when she last wore that particular piece, and where, so she’d never make the mistake of being seen twice in the same outfit. It just simply wouldn’t be done. Especially as she owned her own fashion magazine.

 Already, she had pulled out her Blackberry and as she listened to Byron, she typed out a message to her PA, instructing her which clothing, bags, and shoes to pack, along with accessories, and what airport and time to meet her at. She was taking absolutely no chances..

“I’ve booked the VIP Suite at the Hilton Byron. I should be in check in at the hotel by 7. I am sure you will not want to see examples of my crass consumerism, so how about I ask you to meet me, by bus if you want, at the Hilton’s lobby at, oh, 8? That will give me time to freshen up, and ensure that I am at my best for witty conversation, and perhaps have a drink or two? Does that suit?”

Idly, her mind drifted to the thought of the flight again. The bathrooms were quite decent, she supposed, but the idea of joining the mile high club, well, she wanted the overnight sleepers, and one heck of an adorable pilot. Idly she wondered if it were possible to get permission beforehand to do an article on the pilot.

A flush tainted her cheeks, and she realised with a panic, that time was ticking by far too fast..

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