II. How Tall is She?
On his way to Covent Garden, he recalled their first encounter. It was, indeed, on Nick's party. Robin didn't tell his mother, but apart from sake, there was a waterfall of wine and spirits, and close to midnight, he found himself really drunk and hugging a pretty girl. They were in a lounge with 12 or 15 others, and they were sitting on a sofa, and Robin understood with his subconscious that something was wrong, but his intoxicated brain couldn't catch the exact reason of it.
The girl's mobile rang, she began to talk. Of course, Robin knew that mobiles nowadays tended to be smaller and smaller, but this one seemed particularly tiny. This, again, caused some sort of discomfort in his mind, and again he couldn't quite understand it. He wasn't bothered too much though since the girl was a great kisser with long blonde hair, big blue eyes, thin waist, and fairly large breasts - just the type he'd always liked, the same as Margie belonged to. Once again, he felt bitterness that never left him altogether lately, but this time it was more sweet than sour.
He excused himself and went upstairs: the toilet on the ground floor was engaged. As he came down the stairs to the lounge, he met her again. She was standing there with glass of orange juice (screwdriver?) in her hand. Gosh, she's beautiful, he thought and preached himself for not being able to recall her name, and was grateful when she started talking to him herself.
He was amazed: in addition to her stunning appearance, she was very intellectual, too. He couldn't understand why he noticed all that only now, when the party was nearly finished, but there was a black hole in his mind, and he felt that something else inside kept disturbing him, and again he was too weak to realize exactly what.
It was only several minutes later that he lowered his eyes. Immediately his jaw hit the floor the girl was standing on. The girl, but not him - that was the point! He rewinds his memories 10 or 15 minutes backwards: he is going down the stairs from the first floor; he is seeing her standing on his way; she is intercepting him in the middle... There: in the middle! Only now Robin realized that he never finished his way down. He was still standing where she stopped him - several steps away from the floor. Away and up!
It was clear now what kept his mind busy ever since he woke up after that strange dive into alcoholic inexistence. Her size! She was bending down kissing him while sitting on sofa. It was her hand that made the phone look ridiculously tiny. It was her height that made him nervous as they were talking to each other at this very moment. He was looking UP at her face despite he was standing several steps higher than she (he couldn't afford to be inattentive to her words for a long time - and long time he needed to concentrate and count the steps).
How tall is she?
She must be wearing heels, was his saviour thought. He did not dare to look directly on her feet, but it was unlikely that she would have come to the party on a circus spikes, wasn't it?
How tall is she for God sake??
He couldn't guestimate; his only idea was he'd never met anyone even close to her height, but this admittance didn't help much. So, he just stood there, listening to her and not hearing. The girl paused. A second ago she made a question mark - he could judge on intonation of her voice, but he would never recall the question even if destiny of the whole world would depend on it.
'You weren't listening to me, were you?' the girl laughed. 'Where are your thoughts if you don't mind me asking?'
'Um... Erm... Just how tall are you?' Robin felt embarrassed. Never before had he asked a girl a question like this. Even his wife. Oh, ex-wife, corrected he. Margaret was some five inches taller than him, so he concluded she was around 5'10". She wouldn't talk about that: she considered herself too tall - for him especially - and was reluctant to emphasise their difference in height in any way.
'Taller then you,' the girl laughed again. 'Much taller, apparently.'
He decided to accept the game.
'I can see that. The question is, exactly how much. You seem to be taller than me even though you're standing one or two footsteps lower!'
He couldn't believe his own words. An average footstep is somewhat eight inches high. If he's right, then 2x8=16. My brain's gonna explode... No, I'll manage somehow... The level difference is sixteen inches. Plus her eyelevel is couple of inches higher than mine. That means she's around 6 feet 11 or 12... But 6'12" is actually 7'. SEVEN FEET?! No way! A foot high heels, maybe? Do they do heels that are a whole foot high?
His calculations were promptly interrupted.
'Well,' the girl smiled, 'In fact, you're tree footsteps higher.'
That was too much for him. Robin gave up and decided just to finish his way down - all the way to the floor.
On every step he would stop and look up at her face. More and more up. And with every step her face with those laughing blue eyes became more and more distant. It wasn't something he'd experienced before. And with every step his head became more and more clear. The situation, however, became more and more sophisticated at the same time.
Can this be true? No, of course not. There are no women in this world - let alone young and beautiful women - as unimaginably tall as this slender blonde tower in front of him. She must be not shorter than Big Ben, and against all odds, here she is. Three steps - three new equally incredible dimensions of his experience - three brand new levels of himself next to her.
While they were chattering, he was staring directly on her chin.
First step - and his eyes levelled with the girl's chest. He can now see her well-formed breasts without lowering his head, therefore without hesitation. Her yellow blouse is tightly stretched, and he can swear, these twins make a deep valley between them, and only fabric hides it away of his view.
Second step - and her bosom's now much higher than his eyes. I wish Margie was here and see what the words 'tall woman' really mean! She probably couldn't be able to suck this girl's nipples, even on her tiptoes. The idea makes Robin excited, he's starting to imagine his wife... his ex-wife... next to this incredible girl and what could two beauties make to each other, how could they play... and he almost faints. His body moves forwards by itself, he's holding the rail - and makes
If he was sober, he'd probably call to his tabloid's office at this very moment and persuade an editor to reserve 200 lines and a space for picture on the first page, then arrange photo session and interview with - no doubt! - the tallest woman on Earth. He would, of course, publish it under his nickname: he's a respectable current affairs reporter, not a member of Yellow section... But who knows, he might even be considering to put his real name on the interview which would definitely attract a lot of attention, and he could become a star, THE star in fact, not just one of hundreds respectable current affairs reporters...
But he wasn't sober, and all those thoughts had come and gone in the blink of the eye, which was now - after the third step - at impossible level of the girl's hips.
Hips? Yes - he turned his head left and right - no mistake, hips. Hips, for Christ sake!
He looked down. No spikes, or even high heels, just casual shoes on an inch-thick sole. How damn tall this girl is?!
His eyes go up. A fraction of second - enough to have a good look on two legs each as long as his mother if not longer, legs that upper half is hidden under a navy midi-skirt with a belt as high as the top of his head. No way! Just too much rum and sake and who knows what else inside of me!
He is keen to ask her a question, but to do that he needs to look her in the eye, so his look continues to move further upwards.
Waist now. Not seen under the blouse but surely thin, very thin for such an immense frame. And higher than his 5'5" plus tropical boots on his feet. My, my!
Up, up, where're her eyes? Oh, it's still a long journey ahead. Chest. Well, this chest would be certainly able to comfort the most requiring BBW pervert...
Question, I must ask her a question... Which one? Name? Height? No, this can wait! Is she real? That's the question! Or is he dreaming? But why his dream took a form of impossibly tall female? Yes, his wife is... was... whatever - she's fairly tall, and he loves... loved her, but he had never even considered to dream about a girl of Big Ben's height!
Where are her eyes? Unexpected obstacle: boobs. They obstructed his view, and his arm even moved up instinctively to get rid of unwanted - or wanted? - next time, next time, now I must ask her - barrier, but he realized, the breasts were probably to high for him to touch. Now what?
She helped him: leaned forward and let him see her face. With a broad smile.
'Got lost? No worries, it's OK for a diminutive guy like you!'
'I'm not diminutive! I'm five feet five - almost normal for a guy, so don't offend me! It's you who's abnormal here!'
He instantly understands that he's rude himself. That he's gonna lose her right now, and his exclusive interview, and his prosperous future as a tabloid superstar.
'Listen erm... I'm truly sorry. I mean it. I beg your apology. I'm just a little drunk and confused with your... um... unusual appearance... Please, please, please forgive me!'
His speech's so passionate; she can't just go away now. He cranes his neck even more as she straightened up after his defiant words, and finally he sees a forced smile on her lips way, way, way up above him. Like Cheshire Cat on a high tree.
She gives up. Sits on a footstep, holds her glass with both hands. 'I've heard a lot about my... abnormality. That hurts, you know. But your apology seems to be genuine... Please, don't do it again. Ever.'
He feels it's inappropriate now to ask how tall she is. But the main question is more neutral - and much more important for him. He sits down beside her. A step higher, in fact.
'Are you real?'
No hint of surprise. She glances at him and shrug her shoulders. 'What do think?'
If only he knew. 'I'm not sure. I can touch you, I hugged and kissed you half an hour back, I can see your face, your legs, your...' his eyes stopped at her breasts, 'your whole figure, but you are the most incredible thing ever happened to me. It's strange, you're so beautiful and so tall, and I've never been attracted to taller women, maybe...'
He cannot finish. She seals his mouth with her lips.
She is a great kisser. And this time Robin enjoys the sensation even more: a mysterious bug at the back of his mind has gone.