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From: myerslongbranch@hotmail.com (Myers)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 28 Jun 2004 06:04:55 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} O'Hare Snowstorm [MF]
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Date: Mon, 28 Jun 2004 07:10:03 -0400
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http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/myerslongbranch/www/oharesnowstorm.htm

O'Hare Snowstorm [MF] 
by Myers Longbranch
Copyright (C) 2004 by Myers Longbranch. All rights reserved. 

This story contains material that is sexual, explicit, and adult. If
you are offended by sexually explicit content or language, please exit
this site. If you are under 18 years of age or local laws prohibit you
from viewing this material, please exit this site.

This story is fantasy, so its imaginary characters face no
consequences, physical or emotional. Real life is fraught with
consequences, so please be careful. In particular, please practice
safer sex.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CANCELED. CANCELED. CANCELED. 

"Looks bad," I said, scanning the flight departures screens. 

"Who would have thought O'Hare would have such problems with snow?"
sighed Madison.

Madison and I were returning from a press tour, visiting trade
reporters and industry analysts. She worked in corporate
communications, while I was product manager for this launch. After a
week on the road, airports and hotels had grown as tedious as the
PowerPoint we repeatedly pitched. But a snowstorm blanketing the
Midwest looked ready to ground the last flight for home.

I fished my mobile phone from my pocket, and dialed corporate travel.
When the agent answered, I said, "My colleague and I are trying to fly
home, but the snow may strand us in O'Hare. Can you reserve us two
hotel rooms, just in case?"

Madison sighed and slumped onto a vinyl bench. Already other travelers
were staking out territory for the long night ahead. O'Hare is always
busy on Friday afternoons, and the canceled flights were turning it
into a refugee camp.

"How'd we do?" asked Madison a few minutes later, as I hung up. 

"Some good news and some bad news," I answered. 

"Good news first," she said hopefully. "I need some good news." 

"Somebody must have just canceled their reservation. The Hilton on the
airport property has a room."

"A room?" she asked dubiously. "Only one room?" 

"That's the bad news," I confirmed. "Everything else in the area is
booked. Lots of stranded people."

She looked into the middle distance, taking in the news. Despite this
new stress, she still exuded a self-contained calm, a quality I'd
grown to admire during the crazy week. Her clear eyes, above high
cheekbones, gave strength to her naturally pretty face. And though I
always treated her with the professional respect she earned and
deserved, I couldn't help but secretly notice her taut body, with
confident breasts and a hint of hips.

I chased such thoughts from my mind, and offered a proposal. "Let's
walk over right now. Maybe they can give us a suite, or at least a
room with two beds. Otherwise, I'll sleep on the floor. Anything would
be better than the terminal."

"Well, no point staying here," she agreed, scanning the departure
screens one last time. "Let's go."

After a long hike through the huddled masses yearning to fly home, we
arrived at the Hilton front desk. The clerk found our reservation
(miracle!), but could offer nothing but rooms with a single king-sized
bed. I looked at Madison and she looked back at me, shrugging with her
eyebrows. Soon we were checked in and heading upstairs with our
luggage.

Our working relationship had always been business-like but friendly,
and we'd traveled together for the past five days and four nights.
Still, entering a hotel room together created a sudden awkwardness,
particularly with a large bed looming before us.

"I don't usually come to hotel rooms with strange men," she said, with
mock solemnity.

"I'm not that strange," I protested. 

"Stranger than most," she countered. "Anyone nattering about our
products for days on end probably has serious psychological issues."

I laughed aloud and the awkward moment passed. "I'm starving. Let's
eat."

"First let me change," she said, opening her bag and retrieving some
casual clothes. While she disappeared into the bathroom, I called home
about the delay.

"I know, I miss you too," I told my wife. "I hope we can get home
tomorrow. At least travel found us some rooms." A white lie, to match
the snow falling outside the window. I hung up as Madison came out of
the bathroom, in a loose blouse open at the neck and slacks that
showed her curves nicely.

As I took a turn changing in the bathroom, I noticed I'd grown hard in
my shorts. I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered what had got
into me. I could hear Madison talking on the phone, but not the words.
Then she knocked at the door. "Ready?"

"Just a moment," I said, pulling on my jeans. 

After a round of drinks at the bar, a table opened for us in the hotel
restaurant. We ordered our meals, and Madison chose a decent bottle of
red from the wine list. "The least the company can do, to make our
unscheduled stop a little more festive."

We'd dined together every night that week, but always with an editor
or analyst, so mostly we'd talked shop. By ourselves tonight, by
unspoken agreement, we talked about anything but work. We compared
notes on books and movies; her praise for Charlie's Angels: Full
Throttle was enthusiastic, but unconvincing, while we shared an
appreciation for Jackie Chan. She talked about her quirky family,
centered on the stormy relationship between her parents. I talked
about my wife, and how, after so many anniversaries, we still
sometimes wonder who is this person I've married.

The dishes and empty wine bottle were cleared away. Instead of more
wine, I switched to cognac, while she ordered calvados.

"Get the tiramisu," she instructed. "That way I can eat from your
plate, and the calories won't count." I informed the waiter, who
smiled and said, "With two forks."

When the drinks arrived, I asked her why calvados. She explained she'd
been an exchange student in Normandy. "I stayed with a family in an
old stone house near Saint- Malo. The rest of France grows grapes, but
Normandy grows apples. So I developed a taste for calvados. I also
developed a taste for their son, Roger."

"Sounds very romantic," I said, smiling. 

"I suppose," she admitted sheepishly, "particularly to a college
sophomore. And a bottle of calvados helped me decide to give Roger my
virginity, one evening when his parents were out. Not that he fully
appreciated the gift. Despite the reputation French men cultivate as
magnificent lovers, teenage boys are speedy the world over. Tres
rapide!"

I laughed and lifted my glass. "To Roger, wherever he may be. That
he's mastered his hair trigger."

"I'll drink to that," chuckled Madison. As she set down her glass, she
asked, "How about you?"

"Oh, much more control than Roger, I'm sure." 

"That's not what I meant. How did you lose your virginity?" 

"Also during college, but in a dorm room, not a French villa. And
tequila, not calvados. Her name was Meg, and we were so into each
other. I was done in moments, but Meg was undeterred. She coaxed me
back to life, and let me try again."

"Ah, yes, teenage boys," smirked Madison. "Rapid fire, but loaded with
multiple rounds."

We shared dessert and finished our drinks, then signed the bill to our
room. She stopped briefly in the lobby shop for a magazine, then we
headed upstairs. In our room, I opened the closet to get a pillow and
blanket from the top shelf.

Madison saw what I was doing. "You know," she said. "It's stupid for
you to sleep on the floor. This bed is huge. We can each have a side,
no problem."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "No concerns for your virtue?" 

She snorted. "I told you, I left my virtue in Normandy." 

Gathering her nightclothes and toiletry kit from her bag, she headed
into the bathroom. I replaced the pillow and blanket, and changed into
the t-shirt and shorts that serve as my pajamas. I sat down and
flipped through some papers from my briefcase, waiting for my turn in
the bathroom.

I was startled when Madison emerged. She'd let down her hair and taken
out her contacts, and her clear eyes looked at me through black-rimmed
librarian glasses. Her nighty came down to mid-thigh, and though not
sexy lingerie, the thin flowered cotton hung over her breasts in a way
that made clear she'd removed her bra.

"I didn't pack a robe," she said, a little shyly. "I didn't expect to
have a roommate."

I retired to the bathroom and brushed my teeth, but had trouble
peeing, I'd grown so hard. I managed somehow, then tried to arrange
myself in my gym shorts to conceal my unbusiness-like reaction to the
situation.

Madison was sitting on an easy chair when I returned, her head on one
of its arms, her legs dangling over the other. She was sipping
something amber from a glass, and flipping through her new magazine.

"More calvados?" I asked. 

She shook her head. "Not in the mini-bar. Just brandy. See if there's
something you'd like."

I poured myself a scotch and sat in the other chair. She showed me the
cover of her magazine: Cosmopolitan. She handed it me and said, "Quiz
time."

I opened the magazine to the page indicated, and read, "What Kind of
Sexy Are You?" I laughed out loud, but asked her the multiple-choice
questions, covering what kind of date she preferred, what movie stars
she identified with, what sort of guy attracted her. In the end, she
was "Fun-Loving Sexy... You're the quintessential natural-yet-naughty
chick. You feel sexier on a fun day date than dressing to the nines to
go out for a superchic evening."

"Your turn," said Madison, grabbing back the magazine. I protested
that I couldn't figure out what sort of bra I should be, or which male
fantasy I most wanted to fulfill, but we did our best and discovered I
was "Siren Sexy... You emanate sex appeal with just a bat of your
eyelashes or shake of your booty. And when it comes to being fun,
fearless and frisky, you wrote the XXX book."

"Goodness," she said, mock seriously. "I should have quizzed you
before I agreed to share the bed."

We laughed, and talked a while longer. Then Madison yawned and said,
"Well, that was a long, tiring week. I'm turning in." She set her
magazine and glasses on the bedside table, slid between the sheets,
and let out a long satisfied sigh. I looked out the window at the
snow, still falling thickly, then shut the curtains. I walked around
the bed, shut off the lights, and climbed in.

"Good night, Madison," I said. 

"Good night," she replied. 

The smooth sheets felt cool at first, then warmer with body heat. I
heard Madison breathing in the dark. I stared into the darkness, my
heart beating faster, and smiled at the strange excitement I felt.
Several minutes passed. I was wide awake.

Madison broke the silence. "Do you feel it?" 

"Feel what?" I asked. 

"The tension," she replied. 

"Huh?" was my clever response. 

"The sexual tension," she said, a little exasperated. "I started
feeling it during dinner. I feel it really strongly now. It's like a
third person in the room. Don't you feel it?"

"I suppose I do," I admitted. My persistent hard-on brooked no denial.

"Look, I know you're married," said Madison. "Say goodnight again, and
I'll roll over and try to go to sleep. I just had to say something."

Lying in the dark, I pondered the dilemma. But truthfully, not for
very long. I didn't say goodnight. Instead, I slid over to Madison's
side of the bed, and kissed her.

On the eyeball. In the dark, I missed her mouth completely. We both
giggled, a little nervously, but then I found her mouth and kissed her
in earnest. Her full lips were thrillingly unfamiliar, and soon they
parted so our tongues could meet. Each person's way of kissing is
unique, and I enjoyed learning Madison's style.

She rolled toward me, and I put my arm around her. My hand slid down
her back and thigh, to the hem of her nighty. It slid the nighty up to
the waistband of her panties, then it crept under the waistband to cup
her firm round ass.

"Mmm," she purred against my lips, the scent of brandy on her breath.
My heart pounded, and I felt her muscles ripple as she slid her leg
between mine. We kissed in the dark for a while, then she knelt up and
pulled her nighty over her head. I could see only the silhouette of
her breasts in the dim light peeping under the door. She gathered my
t- shirt and, as I half sat up, pulled it over my head. Then we
returned to kissing, her bare tits pressing firmly against my bare
chest. I ran my fingers from the small of her back, up the smooth line
of her spine, into her thick hair.

Madison reached under the sheets, and grabbed my stiff cock through my
shorts. "Feels like you're ready," she said softly, and before I could
respond, she climbed from the bed and turned on the bedside lamp. She
was gorgeous in the soft glow, her hair tousled, her breasts firm and
round, with surprisingly small, dark nipples, and her white panties
fascinating in how ordinary they were.

After slipping on her glasses, she scanned the room and walked over to
the plastic bag from the lobby shop. She reached in and pulled out a
small box of condoms.

"So you had mischief on your mind earlier," I said, grinning. 

"I didn't know what would happen," she said, defensively. "But like
the boy scouts say, be prepared."

She returned to the bed, turned back the sheet, then tugged down my
shorts. Removing them past my ankles, she glanced at my stark
erection, and said wryly, "I seem to have your full attention." I
giggled, slightly embarrassed by my display. She unwrapped a condom
from its foil, and carefully unrolled it down my full length. The
light touch of her fingers gave me goose bumps.

She stood back, as if to admire her handiwork. Then she slipped her
hands under the waistband of her panties, shimmied them down to the
floor, and stepped toward the bed. She reached for the lamp, but I
stopped her. "Leave it," I said. "You're wonderful to look at,
Madison" Now she smiled shyly, as my eyes ran down her body. She had a
slight bulge of tummy that told of a person willing to savor dessert
and other pleasures. Below, her triangle of hair revealed the outline
of her pussy beneath. Her legs were full, not spindly, with strong
curving thighs.

Madison climbed back into bed and straddled me, a knee on either side
of my hips. She bent forward, her lips touching mine as her nipples
brushed against my chest. Almost involuntarily, my pelvis lifted
towards her, and several times she arched away, teasing me. But then
she reached down with one hand, and firmly guided me deep inside her
pussy.

I breathed out a long sigh, and she smiled down at me, pleased by my
reaction. Then she began to ride me, up and down, as I held her hips.
Looking down, I saw my shaft slide out of her, the latex slick with
her juices. Then it disappeared back inside, our pubic hair curling
together in dark combination. Looking up, I saw her breasts, round
like pears, slightly swaying in rhythm with our hips.

I'd like to say I went all night, or at least twenty minutes, but in
fact the excitement was too much. Not long after we'd started, I
looked in her eyes with sudden urgency. "Oh God, Madison," I
whispered. "I'm coming." And come I did, deep inside her, lifting her
with my final thrusts, then collapsing.

I suddenly felt bashful. "That didn't last long," I said, a little
discouraged. "I was fast as your French boyfriend."

"No worries," she said, looking down at me with a bemused smile. "I
take your enthusiasm as a personal compliment." She climbed off me,
freed my wilted dick from the soggy condom, wrapped it in a tissue,
and tossed it in the trash can. Wiping her hands with another tissue,
she climbed back into bed.

I rolled toward her, my left hand propping my head, my right hand
resting on her tummy. Looking up at her face, I said, "Seems like a
shame to stop now."

"Oh?" she said, arching her eyebrows. "What did you have in mind?" 

Rather than answer, I let my right hand wander lower and lower. Her
thighs slowly parted, until I could cup the full mound of her sex. I
ran my fingers along the length of her pussy lips, feeling them part
to reveal her moist opening. I teased out her moisture until she was
slick everywhere. She breathed in through her teeth, as I traced lazy
circles near her hood. Her hips twitched, seeking real pressure to end
the teasing. When her clit finally found my fingertips, I relented and
massaged in earnest.

Meanwhile, I kissed her lips, her cheeks. Near her ear, I breathed a
whisper, "You are so sexy, Madison." Then I kissed her neck, her
collarbone. I paused to admire her breasts, then covered the one
closest to me with kisses. My mouth found her nipple, and my tongue
circled it, firm like a pencil eraser nibbled during an exam.

Her chest rose and fell more rapidly now, and I moved my hand against
her in broad, firm patterns. Suddenly she arched her entire body, and
as she tensed, I slid two fingers deep inside her. My fingertips felt
pulses deep inside her vagina, as she exhaled a long moan of release,
and eased back on the bed.

She rested her head on my shoulder, and I wrapped her in my arms. We
lay quietly a few moments, until she murmured, "I really liked that."

"Better than your French boyfriend?" I teased. 

She punched me lightly. "You men. It's all about competition, winners
and losers."

"And national pride," I added. 

She chuckled, and lay back against me. "Well, you were quick, but much
more considerate. He never realized that I might like to keep going."

"Wisdom hard won over my many years," I intoned solemnly. 

"Not that many years," she replied, turning to face me. "You still
have a hair trigger like a teenager."

"Only for you," I answered, with a soft smile. 

"Hmm," she said, her gaze lowering toward my crotch. "I wonder if you
can reload like a teenager, too."

She sat up, and reached to grasp my cock. Sure enough, as she ran one
hand up my shaft, and cuddled my balls with the other, it began to
stir.

"Aha!" she said with a little grin. "Signs of life. Just needs some
mouth-to-mouth resuscitation." With that she leaned forward, kissed
the tip of my dick, and ran her tongue several times round its head as
it grew more and more erect. Then she slid most of my now-stiff cock
into her warm moist mouth.

I shuddered and arched with pleasure, watching through her disheveled
hair as her mouth moved up and down. Her full lips stretched and
pulled with the motion, and I was soon glistening with her saliva.

Moments later, she stopped. My naked dick stood cold and neglected,
and I whimpered pathetically. "Don't stop, please keep going. It's
heavenly."

"Oh, please," she said, rolling her eyes and smiling. "I just need to
move around to a better position."

Madison climbed over my thigh, between my legs, and faced my cock
directly. With a look of concentration and a quick lick of her lips,
she grasped me and engulfed me with her mouth again. Now her right
hand was free to stroke my slick shaft, amplifying the sensations from
her sweet lips and tongue.

I began to buck my hips slightly, and as I lifted, she slid her left
hand under my butt. She grasped the round muscle firmly, pressing her
nails lightly against my skin. I felt her fingers running along my
crack, slipping between my cheeks, then the tip of her middle finger
brushing my asshole. It felt like an electric shock running to the
pleasure center of my brain. My hips moved in rhythm, rising to probe
her mouth with my cock, then falling to feel her finger penetrate my
ass.

"Oh, God," I grunted in a low voice. "Here I come." She pulled her
mouth away and stroked my slippery dick at a frenzied tempo, while
pressing into me even deeper from behind. My orgasm rumbled up from
deep within me, and strands of semen shot into the air like streamers,
across my belly and chest. She stroked me a few more times, until I
had to pull away in ticklish sensitivity.

I lay back, giggling and panting. "Amazing, Madison, absolutely
amazing. You elevate oral sex to an art form."

She grinned up at me. "An art form? Like Jackson Pollock?" she said,
pointing to my splattered torso. She ran her index finger through my
cream. "Or maybe more like finger painting."

I laughed at her, and she laughed back at me, pleased with her own
performance. Then she stood, retrieved a towel from the bathroom, and
wiped up our art project. I looked at her beautiful body, and said, "I
hope it never stops snowing."

As she climbed into bed next to me, she sang softly, "Oh the weather
outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful, and since we've
no place to go, Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!"

I pulled the covers over both of us and turned off the bedside lamp.
As I snuggled down next to her, I joined her song, "It doesn't show
signs of stopping, and I've bought some corn for popping, the lights
are turned way down low, Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!"

Soon, we both fell asleep. 

In the morning, I awoke disoriented, unsure of my location, as happens
after many nights in different hotel rooms. The previous evening
rushed back, though, when I saw Madison peering between the curtains
at the pale morning.

"Still snowing?" I asked. 

"Just a little," she said, pulling back the curtains to show me. A few
flakes still fluttered down over the white landscape below. Triangles
of snow lay caught in the corners of our window sill outside.

"Brr!" I shivered. "Makes me cold just to look. You must be cold." 

"Maybe a little." Madison smiled, suddenly shy. Still naked, her body
looked like sculpture in the cool light.

"Come back to bed," I invited, sweeping back the covers. She returned,
picking up a room service menu on the way, and sliding under the
sheets. I watched her in bed next to me, her hair askew from last
night, reading intently, occasionally licking her lips with appetite.
Feeling my stare, she turned.

"Hungry?" she asked, holding out the menu. 

"Hungry for more of you," I answered, and leaned over to kiss her. 

"Oh, really?" she replied, feigning surprise. "I thought I was just
taking advantage of you in the drunken darkness."

I slid my head under the sheets, and scooted between her legs. 

"Or was that you taking advantage of me? Hmm..." Her voice trailed
off, and I heard the menu drop to the floor.

My face hovered above her pussy, and I breathed in its warm animal
scent, redolent with sexual excitement from last night. My cheeks
brushed her pubic hair, surprisingly soft despite its tight black
curls. My lips gently pressed against her pussy lips, and my tongue
slipped slowly between them.

Her taste was exotic and exciting. Her legs spread wider, and her
vulva opened to my tracing tongue. Her vagina relaxed as my tongue
probed and slipped inside. Her hips rose eagerly to meet my lips, and
her hood slid back to reveal her tiny erect clit as I kissed her.

As her excitement gathered, she began to move her pelvis in rhythm
with my mouth, and she purred softly each time she exhaled. Then she
grabbed my left wrist with her hand, and slid it toward her bottom.

"Do me like I did you last night," she whispered. This request was new
territory for me, but I remembered the sensation fondly, so I was
willing to oblige. I moved my hand under her cheeks, and walked my
fingers between her crack. I traced my middle finger along until I
found her pucker, and pressed lightly. At first, her asshole tightened
against me, but a moment later relaxed open. I slid my finger just
inside her, slowly and gently.

She gasped with this added sensation, and the pace of her rising hips
quickened. Pressing her thigh with my right hand, to spread her
further open to me, I moved my tongue in long strokes, starting inside
her and lapping up to her clit. Every time she breathed out, more
rapidly now, she sang little high notes. As she crescendoed, I shifted
my full attention to her clit, engulfing it in my lips, tickling it
with my tongue. Suddenly, she pressed down hard against my finger,
then thrust up against my mouth. She let out a deep groan, almost a
growl, and came with a shudder through her whole body.

I slid up and held her in my arms as she settled down. After a while,
she opened her eyes, looked at me, and grinned.

"Well!" she said. 

"Well what?" 

"Well done, I guess. Well pleased. Well, well, well." She closed her
eyes again, and let out a contented sigh.

After another while, Madison opened her eyes, and looked around the
room. "I think," she said, "that box had another condom in it. I think
you should put it on. Because I think I would like you inside me
again."

"I think that sounds like an excellent idea," I agreed, and climbed
out of bed. I found the box, unwrapped a new condom, and unrolled it
down my dick, so hard now it almost ached. She watched intently, and
spread her legs as I climbed back into bed, revealing her pink pussy,
glistening and ready. I slipped on top of her, and she looked up at me
with a smile in her eyes. I slid inside her easily.

Our strokes were less urgent this time, more luxurious. I buried my
full length, then paused to press my pelvis against her clit. She
rocked her hips up to meet me, then side to side matching my rhythm.
As my tempo increased, she pulled up her knees, so her feet swayed
open on either side and I penetrated her ever more deeply.

"That's what I like," she said, her eyes half closed. "You're not
always so quick, after all."

"I want it to last," I answered. "I always want to remember this." 

She reached for my hips, and pulled me firmly toward her. I thrust
faster and harder now, watching as she tilted back her head, lost in
the moment, looking down at her breasts, swaying with our motion. I
shut my eyes and focused on feeling her pussy, the tight circle of its
opening sliding down my shaft, the soft cushion of its depths
enveloping my head. The sensations overcame me, and soon my orgasm
rushed through me like an express train passing through a station.
With its dying pulses, I fell across her, my mouth by her ear.

"Oh, Madison," I whispered. "Madison, that was extraordinary." 

She hugged her arms around my back, and sighed softly. 

Some time later, I climbed from her and out of bed. She lay back on
the pillow, her fingers laced behind her head.

I was tossing the spent condom when my mobile phone rang. I read its
screen. "Corporate travel," I reported, and answered the phone.

Madison sat up in bed, the sheets falling away to reveal her lovely
torso, listening to my side of the conversation.

"Yes, that's me. Yes, my colleague is here with me." We exchanged
guilty grins.

"You found us a flight home? When does it leave? An hour and a half."
I looked at the alarm clock, then at Madison. Quickly, she slipped
from bed, gathered some things, and disappeared into the bathroom.

I jotted down the flight details and hung up. Listening to the running
shower, I pondered the situation. The marvelous time I'd had. The
complicated real world to which we'd soon return.

Madison emerged from the bathroom, drying her hair with a towel,
already wearing a shirt, reaching for her pants. She stopped and
smirked at me. "Much as I admire your nude male form, you'd better get
dressed if we're going to catch that flight."

Very soon, we were both showered, dressed, and packed. I scooped up
the express check-out paper by the door, and we hurried out of the
hotel and into the airport terminal.

The flight home was packed but routine. Madison read while I flipped
through email, distracted. Eventually, the sky grew dark outside, and
the seat belt light came on for descent.

She reached over and folded down my laptop screen. "Can we talk a
minute?"

I breathed in. Where would this take us? She leaned toward me and
spoke softly.

"Look, I know you're married. I have something serious developing,
too. At least, I think it's serious. Anyway, that was fun. Really fun.
But I think it was one-time fun. Know what I mean?"

I breathed out. "Once-in-a-lifetime fun?" I asked, smiling in frank
relief.

She smiled back. "Once-in-a-lifetime? You flatter me." 

"I'll remember it all my life. Seriously. But I understand what you're
saying. Next Monday, it never happened."

"No, that sounds like a mistake. It didn't feel like a mistake. It
happened. It just won't happen again."

"What goes on the road, stays on the road." 

"Exactly." 

The plane landed, and we walked together to the curb. She would catch
a cab home, I would retrieve my car from long-term parking.

"Well," I said, reaching out to shake hands. 

"Well," she replied, taking my hand and holding onto it. 

"Thanks for a good week and a good launch. It was a pleasure working
with you, Madison."

"The pleasure was all mine." She smiled, then leaned over and kissed
my cheek. "Well, maybe not all mine." She dropped my hand, and headed
for the cab line. She waved goodbye, and I waved back until her cab
drove off.

I shook my head and smiled to myself, remembering but not quite
believing our hiatus at O'Hare. I headed for my car, for the long
drive home.

-- 
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