This time the arrival was even harder to miss. When we heard loud voices from outside and saw a huge crowd through the glass wall of the lobby, Lisa shouted 'It's Breta,' and rushed to the door. Definitely, it was she. You could judge on ecstatic Japanese men and women gathered around undoubtedly the tallest girl they've ever seen towering above them like a pine would tower over bushes.

I wasn't sure that majority of them could reach her breasts with their arms fully stretched up. They didn't actually try to that, but were pretty close to. They didn't hesitate to put their hands on top of each other's heads and level them with Ms Sorenssen waist, they jumped up and compare heights whilst in mid-air (even then her bust was higher than their heads), they clung to her legs (and those legs looked particularly long in comparison even with their whole bodies), and they shouted all the time...

Therefore, Breta was too busy smiling and shaking hands to greet her friend in an appropriate way. She just bent down and gave Lisa a short hug, but the crowd became ecstatic as they saw another very tall young lady. The hotel staff, however, performed better this time, and two minutes later there were only Breta and Lisa standing at the receptionist's desk accompanied by the same short manager who seemed a real dwarf with his head at the level of the Swede's hip but incredibly happy.

I stood up expecting them to come over after checking in. In the mean time, I enjoyed a view of Lisa's nice bum which was positioned so low comparing to her friend's one. I knew, it was even with my abdomen, yet it was situated somewhere at the middle of Breta's thighs. And she was in sneakers while Lisa still had her two inches heeled shoes!

They didn't fulfilled my expectations; finishing with formalities, girls moved towards lifts. What could I do? Giving Lisa's sexual preferences, they didn't need me. I took a drink, but even gin and tonic tasted bitter now.

I've already finished a can and though about getting another one when lift belled, and out they came - Lisa with a broad smile, and then, bending down at the lift door, Breta.

She obviously had enough time to have shower and change her clothes. Her blue eyes were shining with happiness, blond hair splendidly fell down on her round shoulders fully visible because of a sleeveless pink top that also revealed flat stomach above wide brown leather belt and narrow blue jeans long enough to cover her knees yet short enough to show her ankles. Further down were her feet in brown boots with tree or four inches heels. And this tower of young fresh beauty was heading to me leading by another tower who now looked rather as a dwarf next to a preliminary grown teenager. The sight was so fantastic, that was THE dream came truth.

As the girls approached, I stood up to greet them.

Unimaginable! Incredible! I couldn't believe my eyes - my eyes that were at the level of Breta's exposed belly button!

Of course, I knew she was amazingly tall and I saw her in comparison with other people, but it was the first time that I met her in person, and it was completely different. Thrilling, and embarrassing, and exciting, and thousands more - all at once...

'Bret, this is J I told you about. He's a nice guy and unlike our so-called male colleagues, he appreciates women. Especially tall ones,' Lisa made me feel uneasy. 'J, meet Breta, my best friend. Do you remember I told you that you would instantly fall in love with her? Now you see why? Is she tall enough to meet your criteria?'

Definitely she was. More than enough. I took a hand she kindly gave me - I couldn't believe how long her thin fingers were, - and craned my neck to look vertically up, and said hello Breta, nice to meet you. I was just about to add 'finally' but managed to stop.

'Hi, I'm glad too,' the same charming accent, but now she was not on a TV screen but stood right in front of me smiling way down. My neck started to get tired. 'You'd better ignore Lisa's remarks as she's always into some fun and sometimes appears to be rude, but she's very soft inside.'

I knew that. I was just wondering whether I could move my neck downward at the end of the day.

Again, as if she heard my thoughts, Lisa took an initiative. 'Bret, I'm afraid our little gentleman can't stand this position any longer. J, how about call your Japanese friend and ask her to show us around?'

'Sorry, I don't think I'll join you,' said Breta. 'It's pretty hard to walk after 15 hour long flight.'

'Oh, sure, I forgot they never provide enough leg room for you,' replied Lisa. 'To be honest, I can't blame them', and she playfully stroked Breta's thigh.

I finally got out of the stupor. 'Can I get you both drinks in a hotel bar then?'

'That's better,' smiled Breta. 'But you don't need to pay...'

'Course he does,' objected her friend. 'He's not gonna pay a penny anyway!'

I think, the locals of the bar got kind of used to my appearances with young tall women, but this time I beat all my previous records.

When I entered the room accompanied by Lisa and Breta, I felt air became solid of stunned looks.

As all customers immediately forgot about their drinks and meals, two Japanese guys stood up and moved towards us. One of them was pretty tall for a local - only inch or two shorter than my 5'6. His companion though didn't even come up to his mouth.

'Excuse me, I don't mean to offend you in any way,' said the taller in good American English, 'but my brother is keen to know how tall you are.' He was looking at the Swede. 'And, cannot deny, I'm intrigued too.'

Breta looked down at him - in fact, she looked down every time she needed to talk to someone - and said simply, 'I'm 242 centimetres or so. Plus these seven-centimetre heels.'

The taller guy turned to his brother and translated. As he proceeded, the shorty's eyebrows rose, and his eyes rounded. Suddenly he made a deep bow and began to talk really fast.

His speech was very emotional. 'I bet he's asking Breta to pose for a pic,' whispered Lisa bending down to my ear.

'I apologize for my brother - he's only eighteen, - but he's dying to ask you about a photo,' as the taller lad translated this, the Russian girl looked at me victoriously. 'It would take only few seconds of your precious time.'

Breta didn't seem offended at all: obviously, it wasn't anything she hasn't heard before: 'Of course, no worries!'

At this very moment - even without interpreting - camera appeared in little guy's hands. Is there any event imaginable that could catch a Japanese without it, I wondered. He quickly passed camera to the big bro and looked way, way up at Breta with a silent question on his face.

'Tell him to come closer,' she pointed at the floor next to her, and instantly the 18 years old toddler was standing right there. Lisa and I took two steps away to let him enjoy the moment.

To say truth, looking at the couple, I even felt some sort of envy - or was it jealousy?

Breta was terrific with her bright blue eyes and a little shy smile shining high in the skies, her long neck and pale shoulders smoothly turned into firm round breasts - relatively small for her towering frame but obviously big enough to make Pamela Anderson look like underdeveloped child, - her flat sexy belly being composed with sensual waist which slimness was underlined by state of the art broad hips without hint of fat.

Her magnificent legs deserved a whole chapter, but would I be able to find proper words?

Now I could easily imagine a short guy standing between those mile long legs of her! Even with Breta being on relatively low heels, the poor Japanese teenager stood up to her crotch, with his hand on her left thigh - just above her knee! He looked ecstatic smiling happily yet a bit lost. And I realized why I felt envy: he was considerably shorter than me and could stand proudly by the legs which inseam was as high as the top of his head.

Breta's hand was resting at the lad's head - right on his ear. Everything seemed to be ready but all of a sudden, the small guy said something in Japanese. 'He supposed it's unfair,' translated the second one to Breta, 'you're stooping!'

'Well, I am,' was the reply. 'But that's the only way I can kind of hug your brother.'

'It doesn't matter,' insisted interpreter, and the Swede straightened her back. Now, as her fingertips just touched top of little bro's head, camera finally clicked.

'Be warned: this picture is only for your private album,' announced Lisa after two fellows thanked us the most polite way imaginable. 'Not for media, including the Web!'

'What's wrong with the publicity?' I asked Breta as two of us proceeded to the table: Lisa went to a restroom. Fortunately, it was early afternoon; music in the bar was turned down, so I could keep a conversation without shouting, just talking in vertical upwards direction as my mouth was below her belly button.

'You know, there's some sort of publicity I don't actually like. The other day, a friend of mine sent me a link to a very tall women website. There was an amateur picture of myself, and not only all those people called me giantess and discussed some weird stuff like my weight and whether I was able to lift an average man which is disrespectful, but someone even stretched my body nearly twice in height as if I wasn't tall enough!' Breta smiled at me whilst we settled down at the table. 'Aren't I tall enough, J?'

'Just enough to make a guy happy.'

'Do you think so? My experience is different unfortunately. Men seem to be scared of my tallness.'

'Why do you wear high heels then?'

'You call these 7.5 centimetres high?' she laughed. 'Wait till you see me in 20 centimetres!'

Hope I will, I thought to myself and asked her what she was going to drink.

'White Russian,' was the answer.

'Not a common choice.'

'There's little common in me, haven't you noticed yet,' she smiled again. 'It's been my favourite cocktail since I've met Lisa. She's Russian, you know...'

A girl at the bar - a pretty Australian - appeared to be a full head taller than me, and at any other time I would inevitably make my best to try and date her, but I didn't care female heights anymore. First, I kind of got used to be around young beauties at least 6 ft 2 inches. Second - and most important - I've already met a girl who was incomparable, so I only automatically noticed the bartender's height, nothing else.

There was another problem though: she had never heard of the White Russian cocktail. I wasn't a big deal of help too, so I had to ask Breta. Instead of pass the recipe through me, she stood up and came over to the bar.

As she approached, the Aussie's eyebrows rose up and up. I even thought, they were about to be unfastened from her face completely but fortunately for her, Breta's movement terminated. The bartender instantly forgot about the cocktail: she jumped out and rushed to the Swede.

There must have been a high step behind the bar: now she was even shorter than me.

Even shorter than me! What a rubbish! Never have I considered myself short! Now though I began to get used to be one. I must get rid of this complex, I thought.

I don't know what the bartender thought at the moment, but I saw she was equally amazed with Breta's height as anyone else, and she was eager to stand closer and compare herself with the young blonde.

'Excuse me, miss,' she now stood right in front of Breta, staring way, way up at her. 'I've met a Polish girl who plays basketball and stands 7 ft 2 but you're definitely taller. In fact, you're the tallest person I've ever seen.'

'What a surprise! Do you want to know my height?' again, Breta didn't seem bothered.

'If you don't mind...'

'No, I don't. I'm about 7 feet 11 inches.'

'Oh my.' The bartender's full lips shaped a perfect 'O'. 'May I lean against you to realize just how tall you really are?'

'If you promise to behave, why not?' Was there a boundary for Breta's kindness?

The Aussie smiled and gently hugged her hips. 'Impossible! I'm up to your waist!' she proclaimed.

'Not exactly: I'm in heels,' was the answer.

'Me too!' and the girl showed her 3 inch spikes. 'Unbelievable!'

'Satisfied?' smiled down Breta. 'Can I get my White Russian then?'

'Definitely. Always at your disposal.' Lisa appeared unnoticed again. 'What's going on here?'

As Breta gave instructions to the bartender, I briefly described Lisa what just happened.

'All right then,' she laughed, 'nothing unusual.'

Finally, we took our drinks and returned to the table. But relaxation didn't last long.

I only started to gather myself in one piece, trying to collect all my thoughts and feelings being overwhelming by the events of the last hour when a bearded European man with bright red scarf around his neck approached our table. He had a large rolled paper sheet in his hand.

'I hate to interrupt your conversation, dear friends, but hope, you might be interested in my painting,' and he unrolled the paper.

It was a watercolour - that sort of quickly painted portraits that can be found at a tourist area in every big city worldwide. The unusual thing though was it wasn't a face in it but whole bodies. Three of them.

He was a good artist: I recognized us instantly. In fact, it was hard not to: I saw myself sandwiched between two towers. The image just blew my mind: I knew I was the shortest of the group, but, giving that I hadn't opportunity to see us in a mirror so far, I just didn't realize how exactly short I was!

On the picture my head was lower than Lisa's shoulders (which I already knew), yet at the level of Breta's waist! It was ridiculous, but I liked it: it was my first experience of looking at us from aside.

'Oh, it's so cute!' said Breta.

'You're really quick and sharp!' added Lisa.

The artist was touched. 'Thank you so much. You know,' he paused, 'I would love to give it to you as a gift, but I have to sell my works for living...'

'Yes, we understand. How much is this masterpiece?' asked Breta.

'With the discount I only give to the tallest and prettiest young ladies I have ever seen in my long life, it's 10 thousand yen.'

'What a shame!' claimed the Swede. 'I hadn't have time to find a cash machine in Tokyo yet.'

'And I don't have such a sum neither,' said the Russian girl, 'I left my wallet upstairs.'

It was my turn. 60 pounds was probably a bit too much for the picture, but I decided to show generosity.

'I buy it,' I said to the painter. 'And may I ask you to make two more copies of your work, please? Of course, I'll pay extra for them.'

'Very good: buy two, get one free. All three pictures will cost you 20 thousand yen,' the artist was excited. 'Would you like to meet me here later tonight or shall I bring them into your room if you don't mind stating the number?'

After art delivery has been arranged, Lisa gifted me one of the most promising looks I've ever seen and smiled, 'Look, Bret, I was right when I told you that he - despite his short stature - was much more a man than our so-called partners. I suppose,' she turned to me, 'you deserved a drink bought by the best half of our company.'

'Not a half,' corrected Breta, 'at least we are two third... But giving difference in sizes two of us could easily be four fifths.'

We all laughed, then Lisa pulled her wallet (which she 'left' in her room) and they both headed to the bar.

Again, as they stood up, the girls took all the attention in the bar, including other customers' 'non-deliberate' steps towards them and height comparisons made by others who didn't say a loud word, but expressions on their faces were obvious enough.

And again, I witnessed an amazing sight: the Russian's head was clearly below her friend's shoulders - and in no circumstances one could call Lisa short. In fact, I already knew that but I just couldn't help staring and gasping.

We didn't have plenty of time to waste as it was mid-afternoon already, and the girls rushed to prepare themselves for the show planned on that night. Left alone, I dived into my thoughts.

How lucky was I! How many chances I had to miss the TV programme and never see Ms Sorensen? How slim my chances were to get to Ritz the other day? How did I manage to become the winner of the lottery?! And how, for Christ sake, could Breta's friend find me attractive and therefore make me really acquainted to the girl of every tall women lover's dream?!! The girl three full heads taller than me! Thank you, my good luck, I thought, thank you for making me THE one of a million!

I daydreamed about the night that would follow when a familiar voice asked, 'May I?' It was Todd. His eyes shone with envy and excitement.

'Hey dude, it seems all the prettiest giantesses stick with ya. I don't know what kind of magician you are, but there's too much of them even for the strongest man in the world. Wanna deal?'

I wasn't interested in his ideas at all, but I didn't finish my cocktail yet, and I still had some time to spare, so why not?

'I know, the red hair is your chick, so why not acquaint me to the blonde? She's kinda too tall even on my standards, but I'll handle it somehow. It could be even interesting to have a lady's tits above your head, couldn't it? And, in my turn, I'll invite three of you to the most luxurious Japanese restaurant imaginable. It will cost me a fortune, but, after all, we only live once, don't we? So?'

'Mate, do I look like a pimp? If you like a girl, try and approach her yourself. I don't think you'll succeed though.' I hoped, after my last sentence he would just leave, but he didn't.

'Why?' asked Todd instead.

'You know, the blonde don't like short boys like you and me. And she's engaged to a 6'5" guy.'

'Still he's two heads shorter than her!' he wasn't convinced. 'What's the difference then?'

'Well, I tell you what - her date is a heavyweight boxer and really jealous. Just consider that.'

'Fair enough.' He looked frustrated. 'I'm staying here.'

Getting rid of the sticky chap, I finished my drink and went upstairs: I had only an hour to take a shower and change for the show I was a guest of honour on.

Thanks to the hotel staff that washed and ironed all my cloths, I was quick. I liked the way I looked in a smart black suit, expensive navy tie, and shiny black shoes. In the mirror I saw a real gentleman in his thirties, of average stature and height and better than average appearance.

Average height! That was the point. As I looked at my reflection, I couldn't believe that this average-sized man's eyes could be at belly button level of a young pretty woman. I stretched my right hand upwards pretending to touch Breta's shoulder. I wasn't sure It would be enough, so I rose on my tiptoes. No, it couldn't be true, it was just a dream! Or wasn't it? Time to clarify.

And if I'm lucky, I thought waiting for lift, she'll be on high heels tonight...