Come fly with me.

Piya takes my hand in hers as we make our way to the Qantas check-in desk. The crush of bodies and all-around busyness of the airport terminal soon distracts me from the send-off we received outside so that I'm soon able to walk without having to clutch Piya’s large carry bag in front of me.

Piya, however, doesn’t seem to want to forget about the sight of three sets of breasts pressed up against the car windows so soon, “if Dawn doesn’t stop growing soon Aor won’t be the biggest chested out of us for very much longer.”

At the reminder, I ease Piya’s bag back into its covering position.

“Do you think Aor will be okay with that?” I ask.

Piya takes a moment to think. “No. Well not until she gets even bigger ones put in.”

“Aor’s tits are fake?” I ask incredulously. They always seemed so real to me.

“Of course, but you didn’t hear that from me,” Piya confirms giving me the first hint of her gossiping about her friends.

“Wow, I never knew.”

“Yeah, we have really good surgeons over in Thailand. Although next time she won’t have her husband to pay for her boob job. Hope your rum business starts making a profit.”

“I’m working on it,” I say as we join the back of the small queue for checked luggage.

“All boobs and none of the brains those two,” Piya continues about Dawn and Aor as we make out way through the line.

“How about Lawan?” I ask, think no boobs and no brains for a moment.

“Oh, she has brains, she just… unfocused. She’s just Lala,” Piya says with a shrug as if Lala perfectly describes everything.

Reaching the front of the line, Piya steps up to the counter when the lady calls next. Handing over the ticket information as I take care of the bags to be weighed.

“Off for a holiday?” the airline worker says in an attempt at small talk.

Piya quickly glances at me sideways before replying, “Oh no were running away from my abusing husband.”

The ladies mouth drops open and I almost knock over Piya’s suitcase as I’m putting it onto the conveyor belt.

“Yes, he’s very very violent. Oh, I hope he doesn’t catch us here at the airport,” Piya continues as she glances around nervously as if she might be attacked at any minute.

The lady regaining her tongue, “Oh you poor thing! Here, let me give you some passes to our VIP lounge. You’ll be able to hide out there and they have their own private boarding corridor.”

I swear I can see tears in the corner of Piya’s eyes as she thanks the lady for the VIP passes, putting them and our boarding passes into her carry bag.

I wait until we’re out of earshot before I ask Piya what on earth that was all about. She grins at me and tells me, “We’re on holiday. I’m practising my roleplaying.”

The passes to the VIP lounge work and we are soon seated in the exclusive lounge area amongst the wealthy business crowd. We’re offered complimentary glasses of champagne on arrival and Piya toasts to another wonderful few days alone together. We treat ourselves to a wonderfully prepared wok tossed stir fry and decadent hot chocolate lava cakes for dessert. Piya is helping herself to her third serving of the lava cakes when we are called to board and shown onto the place with priority boarding.

As we take our seats, I go to put Piya’s bag in the overhead compartment when she tells me, “I’m going to need that when we get to Sydney so don’t go peaking in it.”

I promise not to and close the lid to the compartment and take my seat next to Piya who had wanted the window seat.

The flight is smooth and event free. I watch a little of the in-flight entertainment to keep myself distracted. Where I would normally be tense and anxious during a plane ride, I find having Piya’s soothing and nurturing presence next to me helps me from stressing nearly as much as I would of.

We touch down and jump a taxi out to our hotel in Potts Point.

Spicers is an amazingly restored old colonial building that has been converted into a beautiful luxury hotel. The lobby looks amazing, so fresh, modern and vibrant with the most gorgeous arrangement of freshly cut flowers. I’m absolutely gobsmacked that the university has put Piya and myself up in this beautiful place, the otherworldly-ness of the hotel driving home to me what a truly important and prestigious event this must be for Piya. I take our collection of bags to the counter as Piya checks us in with the concierge, handing over her credit card for safekeeping despite assurances from the staff that everything has been covered for the entirety of our stay.

We’re handed a pair of electronic room keys and pointed in the direction of the elevator. As we’re waiting for the doors to open Piya asks me for her carry bag, saying, “I’ve just got to run to the ladies down here. Be a dear and take our things up to the room and I’ll be up shortly.”

I’m pretty sure there will be a toilet in our room but I kiss Piya on the lips as the elevator door opens and take the remaining bags up to our room.

I unlock the door to our king room and am taken back by the insides. The room is beautifully decorated in an array of cream and grey colours with beautiful blue highlights. The feature of the room beside the giant king bed is definitely the ornate pale marble fireplace which I guess would have to be purely decorative. I bring our bags in and wander around our room taking in the exquisite setting.

It’s only when some fifteen minutes have gone by and Piya still hasn’t come upstairs that I begin to wonder what must be keeping her. I’m about to pull out my phone and check on her when I hear a knock at the door. Piya has a swipe card, same as me, so I wonder who that could possibly be.