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He made his way down the narrow musty corridor, found room 406, gathered himself as best he could and knocked. The anticipation was making him light-headed, his heart pounding. They were equally committed to keeping things purely platonic, there was no doubt in either of their minds that that's how it would be - but they had agreed that they would first meet in her hotel room for one purpose only - to have that first purely platonic hug in private. Because for both of them, this was a very important purely platonic hug, perhaps even sacred - and it was no one else's business. They would leave right afterwards, so neither of them would have any time to get any wrong ideas, and walk about the city before the play.

'Oh right - Julia Roberts, the antithesis of acting,' he thought while checking his jacket pocket to make sure he remembered to bring the Dramamine, Advil, No-Doze, Zantac, Xanax, Prozac and (just to be safe) cyanide. They both were much older, wiser and more in control of their impulses than in those couple of decades ago and very proud of how sensibly and responsibly they were handling what otherwise could be a dicey situation.

The door opened and there she was - and they both froze for a few seconds, just looking at each other. God she looked good, with her near-shoulder length golden hair and dowdy reading glasses. ‘Don't even think about that repressed librarian fetish of yours! Don't you dare even think about that, you hear me Finkleberg!' And then there ...

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