Heavenly Yours

Author's Note: This story is completely fictional and did not happen. All characters and names are fictional and were made up. I do not make money from these stories. Please do not copy and plagiarize my work.

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London, England

The wind made a presence through the early morning hours, rustling through the trees and shaking leaves across the paved road. A hard winter had finally began fading into the long awaited season of spring. Central London was the place to be for this time of the year, an old feeling that someone walking the road knew all too well. Today had brought an all too familiar feeling to Claude Boche. Feeling the wind blow in his direction, the man of short stature continued to walk from the side of the road. Through the distance, the sound of cars passing and the usual ambience of the morning had come to greet the thirty-nine year old man. Gazing up with an almost tired face, clean shaved with eyes of brown that matched his short slicked back head.

It would only be a matter of time at this point in his life when his natural locks of hair would fade in a touch of grey. The thought had been at the center of his mind almost daily moving forward in life. Stuck out here in Westminster, the place had become a new home for him in life. The place offered a sense of familiarity, though it was far from his previous home. Before the pandemic had struck two years ago, Claude took a journey back from across the pond. He left home from New York, taking up a flight back to London as an American still clinging to a dream he had yet to let go of. It had been more than sixteen-years since the first time he stepped foot in England. A young man ready to chase fame and glory through the act of an up and coming rock band. That was a lifetime ago at this point in time.

The high peaks of cathedrals in the distance were visible from the corner of his eye. On a day like this, Claude took the time to appreciate the architecture surrounding him. Freshly painted houses and apartment buildings had given him a sense of home, far more beautiful than his hometown back in New York. Whatever was left of back home, Claude was sure he didn't want to return back there. The rush of the coronavirus pandemic had put a quick end to his latest journey back to England in hopes of finding a new job oriented around music. All he had come April was three grand worth of money in a transfer, one guitar and a small practice amp. With no hopes of playing live music any time soon, everything came down to waiting the pandemic out. There was a chance to leave and go back home, but Claude refused. Instead, he settled back into England eventually finding a local job not far from where he had rented a flat all to himself.

For five days a week, Claude took the same walk to his place of work. The Steam House was a local sauna. A business that typically rated four out of five stars online, giving a high reputation among customer satisfaction. To him, it was of no care how well the business ran. Claude seen it as just another job to earn a pay check and continue his current living situation within England. When he had first resided in the country over a decade ago, he had successfully filed for dual citizenship. That came in handy for playing in a band regularly gigging across London nightclubs and a few pubs. The band finding a home in England was the result of a contract linking them to a small record label outside London. There was no chance for them to get signed back home in the US, so the trip had been made. Claude once had the luxury of his band members. Four men comprising of the traditional rock band lineup.

That lineup would be short lived with the inclusion of another guitar player to complete a quintet lineup. For three years, Claude enjoyed what he had come to know as the high life playing in a traveling rock band. While they had been signed and recorded an album, it failed to move any units in sales. Management was consistent with keeping the band as a local gigging piece, playing in clubs and bars. Night after night, he took to the stage, living out a rock star fantasy plucking the strings of a Gibson Les Paul while the rest of the band carried on. Rock is dead, or so that was what Vincent used to tell him. A singer who could've been diagnosed with the iconic 'lead singer syndrome' disease. Egos were quick to clash, forcing a revolving door of drummers and bass players. A loss of identity with the band's traditional sound was next to come.

By 2011, the band was no more. Disbanded and broken up with former friends scattering for the next stages of their lives. Claude didn't think twice about his band members after they were done. Though they had lived it out as gigging musicians, they had yet to reach a true level of fame. One album recorded that flopped in sales was nothing close to stepping a foot through the door of success. For the next two years, Claude looked for studio musician work. There had to be producers and bands willing to pay for the services of a rock guitarist. Or so he thought, as reality came back to him with a harsh reminder that his reputation didn't matter. The chance had come for an open slot in a David Bowie tribute band that needed a guitar player who could add the flare of Mick Ronson's lead style. That earned a suffice paycheck, but didn't fill the void left within his heart for achieving the dream of making it.

After turning thirty-years of age, Claude encountered something of an identity crisis within himself. The reality of his failure had set in, as he no longer had a band or any drive of ambition. His existence had been reduced to playing a cover band, no longer writing his own music or searching for a new opportunity in music. It was a tough pill to swallow and go back home and admit to a bitter defeat. Playing guitar and bass had been the only true skills Claude believed he possessed, as he traveled back home unsure of what to do for the future. Avoiding a day to day, nine to five job, Claude found himself in a trade school. He tried to learn photography, spending two years in a small community college back home in New York. A similar problem would arise, one he knew all too well when the struggle came to find work.

The next several years of his life were spent juggling one job after another in photography. Without adoration for artistic photography, the job would have been impossible from the start. It lacked the sheer thrill of music, but Claude found appreciation in snapping photos. Black and white photography in particular, carried a refined beauty. Lacking the higher education in photography, Claude found it difficult to maintain jobs outside of working with cheap camera set ups for small studios. All the while he tried to earn a living, there was the lack of partnership in the household. He longed to feel the sense of companionship. A bond, anything involving a woman. During his music career, he had enjoyed a long term relationship with a hometown girlfriend who had followed the band to England. It should have become a marriage, until a decade had passed and Claude looked back on lost time.

Commitment to last more than ten years should have finalized in marriage, so thought. Instead it was an ugly breakup. Other women had come and gone through Claude's life since then, but no bond of devotion. The thrill of one night stands probably would have been more fun back in his twenties, rather than now. His ex-girlfriend was now married and had a family of her own. Just another reminder that his own life was reaching a fateful collapse. What kind of man would I be in my forties to live alone? That was one question Claude kept asking himself, all before he took that trip back to England two years ago. An opportunity had come up after saving enough spare cash from paychecks. Knowing no friends or any old connections, it was a risk in itself to go back to London and try to gig again. Not wanting to be a failure for the rest of his life, Claude made the choice. Only a pandemic of global scale could send his one last shot at glory crashing down.

Or so he thought. After the months passed by under lockdown, Claude knew in the back of his mind that the chances of making it in another band were slim to none. By this point in time, the internet had completely changed new music. Fearing that it was too late to adapt to that change, Claude still had his mind set on gigging. Deep down, he was aware that he still would not have achieved much success. At most, he likely would have been lucky to find another David Bowie tribute band. Some would call it a mid-life crisis of sorts, but he was a desperate man clinging to any hope of living out his passion. As the pandemic began to fade, he made one fateful choice to auction his beloved Gibson Les Paul Custom. It was the last guitar he bought over a decade ago and luckily was in good enough shape to still command high value. An old piece of treasure was sold off, leaving him to immediately replace it with a cheaper Fender Telecaster.

His musical taste had changed as time continued to move on. Still a rocker at heart, a different style guitar was to mark a new beginning towards the mid years of his life. In the end, Claude knew he was still lying to himself deep down. Regardless the damage that the pandemic had caused, he would have only continued to fail in music. The last thing he wanted to do was go back home and face the scorning words from his relatives. Matters were not aided by the simple fact he had a younger brother who had proven to find success in life, now married with a family of his own. Claude was certain his hair would fade with grey hairs before his younger brother, another reminder to his lack of triumph in life. Downhill with a wounded spirit, Claude still hoped to find some comfort back in England. The past two years had proven quiet, far away from home where he did not have to face reality. He had to appreciate the fact that this job did not leave him in fear of having to move to another one any time soon.

The ringing of the front doorbell greeted anyone who stepped in, customer or worker. Their eyes were greeted to red brick walls as the artistic interior into the entrance, complete with a dark wooden front desk and metal chairs in the waiting lobby. Due to safety protocols, the lobby had mostly become abandoned in the past two years. Appointments to the sauna were usually made over the phone or through emails. The option for walk-in dates was still there, for the business still had regular customers that came and went without scheduling ahead of time. Entering the office, Claude was greeted by Paul, one of his co-workers. Both men had arrived in uniform. A freshly ironed black shirt with the company logo on the left side and a pair of blue jeans to go with it. The manager would come and go, making sure that all employees fit the proper dress code. Back in the office room, Claude noticed Paul had left a magazine sitting across the white table carrying the company computer.

"Hey Paul, another slow morning?"

He spoke up while reaching for the magazine and then laughing to himself when he saw the bold red letters spelling Zoo. It had been some time since Claude's eyes scanned the cover to any lads mags, reading a raunchy headline to go with a pinup photo of Keeley Hazell across the cover. The magazine itself had to be over a decade old, probably from Paul's own collection, Claude thought to himself. Witnessing the smiling face of an old glamour model was enough to brighten the day, bringing back memories. There was a time when he lived in London and used to collect the same magazines, spending weekends looking at topless babes between traveling for gigs.

"It's always slow on Tuesdays, you should know that by now."

Paul replied while reaching to snatch the magazine back away from his friend. He was taller with a heavier build and short brown hair to go with a clean shaved face. Claude chuckled since he did not have a chance to flip through the pages.

"Got a spare copy of that lying around somewhere for me?"

"Nope, this one's mine and I don't like to share."

"Can't say I blame you. I remember buying copies of those mags years ago. Nuts was the best, remember that one?"

Ignoring Claude's words, the other man had left the room, carrying his magazine in such a way that he did not want anyone else to see it. Claude did not need to take too many guesses to wonder what his friend was doing with such a magazine.

"Want some coffee, Claude?"

His voice rang out from the other room.

"No, I'm fine. Just had breakfast before I got here."

No reply was spoken, as the sound of the coffee machine was audible from outside. Claude sat down into the black desk chair, looking over the computer screen. Only two appointments had been scheduled for the sauna room today. Two men who had booked a single hour, only four hours split between the time frame. A slow day may have been on the horizon but there was still the chance for a walk-in. Upstairs was the sauna rooms, Claude assumed they were prepared in advance for the waiting customers. When he got up from the chair, the service door came open again. This time he was greeted to a different co-worker checking in.

"Good morning, Claude."

A blonde haired woman spoke aloud in a clear Cockney accent. Her height elevated from a pair of black heels, matching her skirt as part of the work uniform. Claude glanced up to see Abby's deep blue eyes and bright smile. Her hair was properly fixed up in a high ponytail to reveal her emerald stone ear rings.

"Hey Abby, you're looking ready for the day."

"You don't look bad yourself."

Paul's voice could be heard giggling from the doorway as he came in to greet the other co-worker. Usually it was the three of them operating the sauna during the week. The manager would come in on Thursday and Friday to have a look. Other times, a different crew did the weekend shifts.

"Good morning Abby, you want some coffee?"

"Sure, only if you're making it for me."

Abby had a habit of playing up the flirt in the office. A confident woman when it came to her looks and one who reveled in capturing the attention of both men. Paul was quick to wander back to the coffee machine, leaving Claude there alone with her for the time being.

"Would you mind doing me a favor today, Claude?"

"Depends on what you're asking."

She crossed her arms over her buxom chest, as if knowing his eyes would glance at her cleavage eventually. Quirking her eyebrows up into a mischievous grin, she spoke again.

"It's been over a week since you last worked the front desk. I know you don't like it, but..."

Her heels clicked and clacked across the floor as she continued speaking.

"You could do me a lovely favor if you moved your arse and sat out front today. I'm not in the mood to deal with any customers today."

"What's the matter then? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

Her blonde hair sway as Abby glanced from across her left shoulder, snickering back at him.

"Maybe, maybe not. You should prove yourself useful today so I can have some time to myself upstairs."

With a reply like that, the situation made more sense to Claude. Abby wanted to avoid working the front desk today so she could arrange her own hour up in the sauna. A simple courtesy to the comradery of to the work force, Claude accepted Abby's wish.

"Alright, that's fine by me. I'll handle the front desk for you."

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4 HOURS LATER

Daylight peeling through the windows from the front lobby was a common sight, layering a pattern of squares from outside. Sitting back to greet any customers walking in was the only job Claude had for the rest of the day. Lunch break had come and went with Paul leaving to order some takeout. That would have been a proper time to ask him again about borrowing his Zoo magazine, but Claude passed on the opportunity. Stuck at the front desk, he occupied himself by playing a game on his smartphone. The business telephone sat undisturbed on the base. Maybe this truly was going to be a slow day where no one bothered to ring up for an appointment. While sitting quietly there, Claude couldn't shake the name Keeley Hazell from his mind. That old magazine had brought back several memories from the past. Old days that were long gone when he used to waste hours of the day looking at topless glamour models printed through the pages of a Nuts issue.

The PM hours had rolled through with the clock striking at two by the time one man had entered the building for his scheduled appointment. It was only the first customer interaction Claude had for the day, leaving Paul to the duty of setting the thermostat and steam room controls for the guest. For the time being, Claude was thankful that he wasn't required for that job today. Some minutes had passed while the man was checked in upstairs when the front door came open across the room. The ringing sound of the door bell had caught his attention, prompting Claude to glance up and see the figure of a woman entering. Her brunette hair was visible, radiating from the sunlight outside. Her legs were covered in black pants, matching a short sleeved shirt that revealed her slender arms. A pair of matching dark sunglasses covered her eyes, soon pushed up onto her head to reveal deep brown eyes. Claude offered a smile as the woman approached the desk.

"Hi!"

She spoke in a deep English accent, causing Claude to immediately blush to the tone of such a voice. A large black purse was strapped across her left shoulder, soon moved to the desk.

"Welcome, how can I help you?"

"I would like to book an appointment to use the sauna."

"Very well, did you call us yesterday or have you scheduled anything with us in the past?"

The woman shook her head. Claude had another question as a result.

"Are you looking to schedule anything for today or-"

She raised her right hand index finger, talking over him as he did not give her the chance to reply.

"Actually, tomorrow was what I was hoping for. A friend told me about this place. She said that you do advanced booking and I thought I could pay for a visit tomorrow."

"Yeah, we do that here. I checked the computer earlier and no one is booked for tomorrow."

Quirking her eyebrows up in surprise, she answered back with a smile that flashed perfect pearly white teeth.

"Oh really?"

Claude nodded, carrying on.

"Yeah, it's been a slow week. What time do you want tomorrow? I'll get you booked for a session."

"One P.M. would be splendid. I want two hours."

She held up two fingers with her left hand. When Claude looked, he noticed a small series of tattoos in the shape of stars down her left wrist. Another tattoo was in the underside of her right arm, but he could not make out the artistic black ink design. Her entire chest was covered by a black shirt, but it was not enough to contain what had to be a massive set of boobs underneath. Something about the shape of her face carried a level of familiarity that made Claude feel he should recognize her from somewhere. She moved her hands to her purse, the button audibly snapping open as she spoke again.

"How much is the charge for two hours?"

"That will be one-hundred and thirty pound."

Letting out a sigh and unable to shake that feeling inside him, Claude spoke as she grabbed her wallet.

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

Her big brown eyes glared back at him. The woman clutched her wallet, slowly opening it as Claude spoke again.

"I mean, sorry if I'm being rude but I feel like I've seen you somewhere before."

Flashing her teeth in a full smile, the woman gave Claude a look that left him with the impression she would soon be telling him off. Instead, she softly smiled while folding her money before him.

"Maybe you have, but I can tell you right now I know I don't recognize you from any place I've been!"