A Chance Encounter

“Would you like an ice-cold towel, madam?”

Melinda raised her head from the sun-lounger and peered at the young waiter proferring her a bowl piled with neatly rolled up white flannels.

“Thank you,” she said, taking one from the top and removing her sunglasses before settling it on her face, grateful for the coolness against her hot skin. The temperature today was 40 F — normal for this time of year — and laying by the pool on the weekend was all Melinda was fit for after working ten-hour days all week at the American Law Firm, where she worked as a Legal Assistant.

As the cool flannel began to warm in the intense heat, she removed it, and there he was again the super-efficient pool-side waiter but this time, he was offering a tray of assorted sliced melon with cotton napkins. She took one slice, and a crisp white napkin while he efficiently removed the used face towel with a bow of his head and a beautiful smile, backing discreetly away, leaving Melinda with her thoughts on another day in the opulent metropolis that was home.

The Address Downtown hotel was actually her home; she rented a suite on the twelfth floor which she could only afford since the financial crash of 2008. She had been living in shared accommodation at Marsa Plaza, another imposing modern building overlooking Dubai Creek, but sharing with three guys wasn’t ideal. They each had their own rooms and ensuite bathrooms but unruly late-night gatherings in the lounge kept her awake into the small hours so, when she woke up one morning in February 2009 to see no cranes moving on the horizon as she stood at the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of her shared apartment, she knew something was seriously wrong. The stillness was eerie; no worker ants scurrying around in the desert heat, no movement at all save for cars glinting in the distance as they snaked their way along the Persian Gulf state’s roads. That was three months ago.

Working in a Law Firm had been fortunate for her due to the nature of their work, but thousands of expats had been forced to flee the Emirate after their jobs had simply disappeared, dumping their cars at the airport before they left. Melinda was glad she had decided not to buy a car but instead used taxis to travel back and forth to work. A good move in hindsight; if a debt is not paid in Dubai, foreigners can be sent to debtor’s prison.

With so many people having lost their jobs she was grateful that hers was safe; in fact, she had been asked by the Office Manager to work extra hours if she was able to but she had declined; a 48 hour week was quite long enough for her.

As Melinda made her way to the Zeta bar for a refreshing drink and a light lunch, she walked briskly to the elevator to take her down the three floors, which was preferable to walking in the intense summer heat, which was stifling and almost unbearable.

As the elevator slipped elegantly into position and the doors opened, she was conscious of somebody running behind her.

“Hold the elevator, please,” and as she stepped inside, she pressed the ‘door hold’ button.

“Thank you,” a man with olive skin and a very seductive voice said, as he stepped inside the capsule next to her.

“Which floor would you like,” he asked, his elegant hand hovering over the numerous buttons.

“Three, please,” Melinda responded, clutching her pool-side bag and feeling slightly disheveled after her morning’s sunbathing.

“Ah, me too. I’m heading to the Zeta bar for lunch. Would you care to join me?”

Melinda was taken aback but there was something very attractive about the man’s personality, as well as his suave, chiseled features which she thought may have Omani origins. Living in Dubai, she met such a cross-section of people from so many different nationalities, she was quite good at guessing where people were from.

“Um, well, perhaps we could have a drink, but I need to get back as I’m meeting friends a little later,” she lied.

“Okay,” he said, sounding disappointed. “A drink it is, then.”

The perfect gentleman, he stepped to one side as the elevator’s doors slid apart and she stepped out onto the terrace of the bar. As a single woman living alone in Dubai, she was all too aware of the dangers of meeting strangers and was careful not to let too much slip about where she lived.

“Are you visiting Dubai or do you live here,” her companion asked.

“I live here. I work at an American Law Firm.”

“Ah. Interesting. My name is Adnan, by the way. You are?”

“Melinda,” pleased to meet you, she responded, stretching out her small hand. He had a firm but gentle handshake and a frisson of excitement shot through her and she smiled at the handsome man who had already caught the eye of a waiter and was speaking perfect English. The waiter led the way to a table shaded by an enormous beige parasol so it was completely in the shade.

“I think perhaps we should arrange to have dinner another time because very disappointingly, you have other plans for later today.” His smile was mischievous yet alluring and he had a wonderful depth to his eyes. He looked wise and intelligent and sophisticated and Melinda’s stomach was doing somersaults. She wished she would have checked her appearance in a mirror before leaving the pool area and surreptitiously tidied her blonde hair, hoping it didn’t look too messy. At aged 34, she knew that her make-up-free face, which was tanned and glowing, wasn’t too bad but again, she wished she had made more of an effort.

“What do you do, Adnan,” she enquired as the waiter promptly brought their drinks and discreetly set a glass of sparkling water in front of each of them.

“I am a businessman here on business but unfortunately, I leave tomorrow,” he made a sad face, and Melinda smiled.

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you to delay seeing your friends and accompany me to dinner this evening?”

Melinda thought it couldn’t do any harm, especially as he was leaving tomorrow, so she agreed.

“Fantastic! I will send a driver to collect you at 7 pm, if that’s OK for you?”

Melinda nodded, trying not to be too enthusiastic.

“Yes, seven o’clock is fine.” She smiled warmly at the man opposite her.

“That’s settled then.” With that, Adnan caught the waiter’s eye, whispered something in his ear, and before Melinda knew it, he had gone, saying how much he looked forward to seeing her later.

As she made her way back up to her suite, Melinda wondered whether she had just dreamt the chance encounter with the handsome Omani man; perhaps the heat was playing tricks with her mind.

A refreshing shower and an afternoon nap cleared her head and checking her watch for the umpteenth time, she made her way down to Reception, wishing she had had the foresight to get Adnan’s mobile number because she was wondering whether to decline his invitation. After all, she knew nothing about him. What did ‘businessman’ mean exactly? He could be in any sort of business from dealing drugs (which was highly improbable) to selling fake art (also very unlikely).

Dressed in an elegant black cocktail dress with shoestring straps, she had piled her hair into a chignon and made a special effort with her make-up. Her eyes were sparkling at the prospect of seeing Adnan again but she suddenly realized that she didn’t even know his driver’s name. Clutching her delicate beaded handbag, she looked around the huge marble foyer which was full of Western and Arab guests out for the evening; the Address Downtown Dubai was a popular destination with its stunning array of award-winning restaurants ranging from the Cigar Lounge for light bites to The Garden, which overlooked the Burj Khalifa and Souk Al Bahar.

“Miss Melinda?” a young Indian man inquired, having just spoken to a waiter.

“Yes. Are you Adnan’s driver?”

“I am, madam. My car is outside; Adnan has asked me to take you to him.”

Suddenly, Melinda felt incredibly nervous. Why wasn’t Adnan in the car? Where would this young stranger take her?

Sensing her discomfort, the young chauffeur introduced himself, “My name is Rahul, madam, and Mr. Adnan was called to an urgent meeting and sends his apologies.”

Melinda’s heart sank. Was her date off? She hesitated as she stood next to the black limousine where Rahul was waiting with the door open.

“Is Adnan coming this evening?” she asked tentatively, standing her ground firmly with no intention of getting into the back seat of the imposing car.

“Of course, madam. He apologized because he was not able to come in person to collect you. He is waiting for you.”

With a slight hesitation, Melinda decided to get into the back of a complete stranger’s car driven by somebody she had only just met. As they pulled away from the hotel forecourt very slowly due to the heavy traffic of people being disgorged and milling around and others waiting for taxis who were queueing up the driveway, she pulled out her mobile phone and dialed her friend, Angelique, an Indian lady she worked with and was here in Dubai with her husband, Rohit.

“Hi, Angelique. How are you?” she inquired when her friend answered after the second ring.

“I’m okay; how about you? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I’m just being driven to meet Adnan, a man I met at the Address Downtown today and he invited me for dinner.”

“Wow! Lucky girl. You have a date, at long last,” she teased.

Slightly embarrassed that the driver could hear her conversation, but that was the whole point of the call, she said, “I don’t know where I’m going but I’ll let you know as soon as I arrive.”

Angelique immediately picked up on what her friend was asking her to do.

“Of course. Please keep me informed, she replied with a serious tone in her voice.

Melinda ended the call and was slightly perturbed when the driver took the road to the airport.

“Rahul, where are we going?” she asked, trying to keep the hysteria out of her voice.

“A surprise, madam. Adnan asked me not to tell you. He loves surprises. Do you, madam?”

“Well, that all depends on whether it’s a nice surprise or a nasty one,” she replied sarcastically.

“Don’t worry, madam. You will have a wonderful evening, I am certain,” he said in his sing-song Indian accent.

The car pulled up next to a helicopter with a pilot waiting and before she knew what was happening, Rahul had opened the car door and was offering his hand to help her out. Her high heels were hardly conducive to a helicopter ride and she felt rather foolish for dressing up so smartly.

“Good evening, madam,” the pilot greeted her, “This way please.”

Taken aback by the speed with which everything had happened, the next thing Melinda knew was that she was hovering over the city of Dubai and headed out to sea. Her stomach was in knots but she couldn’t help but enjoy the ride; the view was spectacular and the city in the desert sparkled in the shimmering dusk light beneath her.

Suddenly, the pilot’s voice cut into her thoughts, “Our destination is just ahead of us, ma’am. The Burj Al Arab — Adnan is waiting for you in the Skyview bar.”

Melinda took in the amazing Palm Island just beyond the magnificent sail-shaped Burj Al-Arab, which was situated at the end of a long causeway out in the azure blue sea; it was as beautiful as it was iconic.

As the helicopter approached, she spotted a tiny white car pulling up at the main entrance of the hotel, which was sitting on a triangular plot in the Arabian Gulf. It was almost surreal in its beauty and opulence and as they rounded the back of the hotel, she spotted the sleek Skyview bar which looked like a small, white cylindrical mouth organ stuck to the side of the hotel on the 27th floor.

As they approached the circular landing pad, which looked tiny from where they were, Melinda felt a mixture of fear and excitement, and she waited patiently as the pilot skilfully navigated his way onto the helipad on the opposite side to the bar. The engine quietened from a high-pitched whine to a slower, mechanical sound and she saw a man waiting on the steps, his grey suit billowing in the strong downdraught from the helicopter. He had the biggest grin and was waving furiously.

“I have delivered you safely to your Prince Charming, ma’am. Have a wonderful evening.”

“Thank you so much!” she enthused.

Adnan was walking towards her and in all the excitement, she had clean forgotten to ring Angelique back to tell her where she was.

“Melinda! I am so sorry I could not come to the hotel to accompany you here with Rahul but my meeting has only just finished. Do you forgive me?” he half shouted, helping her out of the helicopter and holding her to him. His expensive cologne tantalized her and she resisted kissing him there and then, in front of the pilot.

As they walked hand-in-hand down the steps from the helipad and into the quiet calm of the seven-star hotel, Melinda felt an excitement that she hadn’t felt in such a long time. This was one hell of a first date.

This short story was first published on Medium, where you can find more of my work. I also post a weekly newsletter on Substack called Rosy's Ramblings. Check it out!