Olá

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As always, all participants are over eighteen
"Olá." Said a voice from nowhere, and not expecting to meet anyone I knew, I ignored it.
"Olá." It said again, so I looked up. Even in the dark and dimly lit street I could make out a curvaceous female shape leaning over the balcony looking in my direction and waving, clearly the owner of the voice.
It was my first visit to this typical Algarve holiday beach town, with its white buildings and bright blue door and window surrounds. I often took a walk round the narrow cobbled streets of the village at this time of night, once the heat of the day had gone, and the cool air of the night brings some welcome relief.
This particular night I had stopped by the local mini market, just before it closed, as I had remembered I was running out of gin and, of all things, breakfast croissants. So, armed with my purchases, I was on my way back to my compact holiday let and enjoying the sounds of the holiday makers enjoying whatever it is that holiday makers enjoy at that time of night.
As I looked up, the owner of the voice waved again and repeated the greeting.
"Olá. Boa noite." I replied, pretty certain that the owner of the voice was actually English, or at least English speaking.
"Don't know about that," said a slightly husky voice, "what you got there?"
"Croissants and gin." I replied, not knowing where this was going.
"Bugger the croissants but if you're willing to share the gin, you'll be helping a maiden in distress."
Maiden, I thought, might have been overstating it a bit, but what an invitation.
"Where do I leave my horse and shining armour?"
"Just outside number four, I'll buzz you up."
I made my way to the door of number four and there was an electric buzz as the gate came unlocked. I started up the narrow, winding, marble, stairs. There only appeared to be one door on each floor so by the time I got to number four I was short of breath and panting a bit.
She opened the door just as I arrived and ushered me in to the tiny but neat apartment.
"Welcome, Sir Galahad!" Said the owner of the husky voice, ushering me in with an exaggerated bow. She was a little younger than me, about thirtyish, with dark hair cut in a boyish style and a generous chest that was only just hidden by the rather short crop top. The stud through her navel naturally led your eyes down to the cut off denim shorts that were only just decent. Lovely!
"I'm not sure why I'm accorded this honour." I replied.

"Easy!" Said the husky voice. "Angie's pulled. She's in her room with Mr Beach Bar, and the spare booze is in there. I didn't want to disturb them and you walked by my window. Fortunately the tonic is here, so Sir Galahad, G