This story describes sexual acts and should be considered
adult entertainment. If you are not a consenting adult, please read no
further. This story is available in downloadable TEXT format at this
location: Lake Tahoe.txt
"It is now safe to turn your computer off."
I had just finished answering my last e-mail. It
was to Bronwen, one of the fearless leaders of the
Erotic Writers' Guild (of which I am a proud junior
I'd posted to our Internet newsgroup that I was
going to Lake Tahoe for a week, and she asked me
if going to Lake Tahoe was a good thing. I thought
it was; even if I had to work, I'd get some skiing
in. I replied: "I'll let you know when I get back."
Punching the off button on the computer, I looked
up at the clock on my bedroom wall and saw that I'd
been messing around a little too long. If I was
going to make my 4:30 flight I'd have to get my
butt in gear.
As I pulled out of the long driveway to my apartment
house and headed toward Portland up Highway 20, I
made a mental list of the stuff I was taking with
The whole trip was kind of weird. My boss had
called me only the day before to tell me that we
were to have a "Corporate Retreat" in a little town
called Stateline, just north of Lake Tahoe. He said
that meetings would be held on Wednesday, Thursday
and Friday. On Saturday we'd take the day off and
go skiing on Mount Rose.
I think the idea was to make us more like a team.
Well, so long as I have my skis on my roof rack,
I'm up for anything. It would be like a vacation
I love to travel. Any excuse for it is a good one
as far as I'm concerned. I'd fly to Buffalo, New
York, just for the fun of flying there. (You get
the picture?) I don't get to travel much, and,
being twenty, don't have loads of cash.
Basically, I live in three rooms in a huge old
farmhouse/mansion off Highway 20, on the edge of
Deschutes National Forest. It's a neat old house,
but my space in it is small and only costs me
$350 a month.
Since I own my 1977 Jeep (built a year before I
was born) and my computer belongs to the company
I work for, my actual expenses are pretty low.
Somehow, though, I always manage to live just a
little above my income.
Contact with the outside world is pretty limited
when the biggest city near you is a place called
Bend (It's OK if you've never heard of Bend. It's
sort of in the middle of Oregon, and there's not
much reason for anyone to know it even exists.)
At any rate, I was stoked, and heading up the
fog-shrouded highway to fun and adventure, with
only a slight guilt pang that my boyfriend Jeff
couldn't come with me. But this was business and
I'd be working for three days (sort of - wink,
Jeff, who's a structural engineer, was in the
middle of a project anyway, and had been up in
Seattle for almost a week when my boss called.
I made Portland just fine. Got parked and through
the construction-wracked terminal just in time to
be one of the blessed first thirty passengers on
Southwest Flight 1709 to Sacramento. (They don't
have assigned seats, and even though I like
people I hate having to sit in a middle seat.)
We boarded, and left right on time. My plan was
to catch up on reading several of my friends'
Internet stories via the old laptop during the
hour-and-a-half flight to Sacramento.
I was sitting next to an older man (forty-ish)
and made a special effort to introduce myself
to him, and get to know him a little. He turned
out to be a salesman, and also a reverend. He
had his own church; his little congregation
met at his house each Sunday.
I usually draw my neighbor into reading my
stories during a flight, unless I'm traveling
with Jeff, when we keep each other busy. I
like to get their reaction; it's fun to let
them know that I write erotic stories for the
Internet. It's also fun to see if they get
aroused sitting next to me while we read a
story together. (I've had several interesting
encounters doing this on a flight, which I
probably ought to write about some time.)
However, I didn't think my salesman/preacher
would appreciate what I did, so I positioned
the computer screen to face the window so that
he couldn't read it. I was determined to read
without giving any outward signs that might
indicate what I was doing. Luckily I'd already
read Woodsmoke's story (It really makes me
crazy when someone uses my name in their story;
it turns me on to imagine myself into one).
Fortunately no other authors had used my name,
and I was able to get through all the stories
without making a spectacle of myself, though
some of them did make me feel kind of crazy.
Anyway, everything went all right, and we
landed at Sacramento International at 6:45pm.
I was walking through the rather seedy-looking
terminal when an announcement came over the
loudspeaker: "Kristen Becker, please pick up
a white courtesy phone."
I'd never had that happen before. As a matter
of fact, I wasn't sure what a white courtesy
phone was. But, being smarter than your
average blonde, I soon figured out that the
white phones on the wall must be what was
It turned out that Andreaus (the big boss)
had a son who was also attending our little
retreat, and he wanted me to meet him at the
Southwest Baggage Claim and bring him along
with me to the meeting.
I have to admit I was a little put off by
this. Apparently Antonio (seems like all the
men in my boss's family have "An" names)
wouldn't be 18 for two more months, and
therefore couldn't rent a car on his own. So
I was stuck.
You know what I mean; it's hard to say no to
the boss when he's covering your expenses for
a day on the slopes.
I was wearing my black cold-weather outfit,
and when I walked into the baggage claim I
got a good response from the men there. (I
like wearing tight outfits. It's fun to watch
the lengths to which some men will go to to
look at some leg. It's not that I'm a tease;
I just know I look good in tight pants.)
There was Antonio, standing by the carousel
and undressing me with his eyes. I was a
little taken aback by the unrelenting stare
he was giving my body. And I do mean my body;
I don't think he looked at my face until I
was standing right in front of him, offering
him a hand to shake.
Looking back, it was kind of funny, because
his hand was real sweaty, and he was super
embarrassed, realizing that he'd been staring
like an idiot.
His dad is around 50 and has gray hair, so
I didn't know what color it had been when
he was younger. Apart from his sweaty hand-
shake, Antonio's outstanding feature was his
lovely, wavy, auburn-red hair, the kind that
seems to fall into place without doing any-
thing to it. (I suspected it was an expensive
He was also quite handsome, but, then, I find
most men handsome, in one way or another.
When the introduction was over we grabbed a
luggage-cart and filled it with our baggage
and skis, then headed toward the buses that
take you to the rental cars.
Going out of the terminal doors I saw that
the weather had turned ugly; you could
actually see the clouds moving overhead.
The wind is something else in Sacramento;
it cuts right through you, even in cold
weather clothing. But I didn't mind; I
just walked faster and made Antonio run
after me to keep up.
Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a little
bit pushy. It's not that I'm at all rude or
mean; I just find it hard to be around slow
people. I'm very athletic, and feel that men
have a big advantage over women, strengthwise,
and I've little patience with men who
complain, or can't keep up with me.
I gave little Antonio a hard time when he
began whining about the pace I was setting;
I just walked faster...
I also said something that apparently
offended his masculinity, and he was
pretty morose for a time. Things livened
up, though, when we got into our 1998
Blazer and it wouldn't start.
I had to get an attendant to take a look
at the vehicle for me, and he kind of
pissed me off when he took the attitude
that I was just another dumb blonde who
knew nothing about cars.
Well... anyway, it was a bad fuse, and it
took him awhile to figure it out. I was
ready for another car, but they had no
more 4WDs on the lot, and I thought, what
with the crummy weather, it would be wise
to stick with the one we had since we would
be doing some mountain driving.
We finally left the Sacramento airport about
7:30pm, heading south on Interstate 5. I had
no trouble finding the junction to Hwy 50,
and then pushed the pedal to the metal.
South Tahoe is a little over two hours from
Sacramento, and I wanted to reach the hotel
long before 10pm, so I was hurrying things
About Plaserville the fog and snow started.
The snow began falling like we were in the
middle of a blizzard. I had to slow down
to fifty just to see twenty feet in front
of me (so much for 10pm!).
I started getting worried when I saw the fog
thickening, and, slowing the Blazer down to
twenty-five, we began creeping up the two-lane
road. I knew we were in trouble just
after we passed Kyburz when the side of the
hill to the right of us slid down into the
river that ran along the side of the road.
There had been a forest fire sometime in the
past year or two and the soil erosion was
obvious, even in the dark. I stopped the
truck in the middle of the snow-covered road
and we watched soil and tree stumps tumbling
into the rushing river. It was pitch dark,
and the only reason we'd seen the hill go
was that the area had been framed in the
Blazer's headlights at the moment it let
Realizing that the weather was turning even
worse, I pushed on, hoping to cover the
remaining twenty-nine miles to Lake Tahoe
before anything else nasty happened.
About ten miles farther on we had the big
nasty, when the truck stopped. I mean,
everything about it stopped. The headlights
went out, the engine cut out, and we just
sat there in the middle of the road.
I kept trying to re-start the engine, but
after turning the key fifty times with no
result I finally gave up.
Antonio, in his helpful, male, adolescent
way suggested that the problem might be a
I knew that! - it's just that it hadn't
yet occurred to me. So I scrunched down to
look at the area the rental guy had been
working on, and started picking at the panel
that covered it.
Well... I couldn't get it off. Antonio
eventually got tired of me hitting the
dashboard and swearing at the plastic
covering, so he got out of the passenger
seat and trudged round the Blazer.
Opening my door, he leaned in and flipped
the hatch open. He flicked a Bic lighter
to help him see what he was doing and
soon found the bad fuse. He kept changing
the fuses around as if he knew what he
was doing, and eventually the headlights
flashed on. I turned the ignition and the
engine started up immediately - to stop
once again as soon as Antonio had
reclaimed the passenger seat.
Cursing, he went to open his door again, but
I grabbed his arm and said: "Just climb over
me and I'll move to your side. The snow's
getting too deep, and it's colder than the
North Pole out there."
Little Antonio hesitated, then did what I'd
I hadn't planned on him rubbing his face
across my chest, but I gave him the benefit
of the doubt, and didn't punch him in the
nuts to wipe the dumb grin off his face.
Anyway, we couldn't get the Blazer to start
again; Antonio reckoned that the lower-rated
fuses were just popping their little filament
thingies whenever we turned on the ignition.
So there we were, stuck!
The snow was coming down in bucketfuls, and
the wind was whistling through a crack I'd
left open in the driver's side window and
then couldn't close because they were power
windows (and we had no power).
I suppose it took about ten minutes for all
residual heat to be sucked out of the truck.
It was about this time I realized that no
cars had gone by us for almost a half-hour.
I could barely see any tire tracks, since
they had mostly filled up with snow.
We learned later that when that hill slid
down into the river it had made a kind of dam,
bringing the water level up far enough to
overflow the pavement. The authorities had
caught on to the situation and stopped both
the uphill traffic and the traffic from the
top of the mountain until morning, making
everyone go a different way.
It really PO'ed me, though, that no-one
checked the road to make sure it was empty.
I guess they figured that everyone on it
would keep traveling, and the people at the
slide couldn't see us because we were miles
up the road.
I figured right away that something must be
wrong, because Hwy 50 is quite an important
artery between Lake Tahoe and the outside
We waited another hour before I decided to
put on the rest of my ski clothes over what
I was already wearing. This is when I found
out that sweet little Antonio only had a
shaving kit and his laptop in his carry-on.
He said his dad had everything, and that he
was supposed to pick his stuff up at the
consignor when we arrived (Oh great!).
It wouldn't have mattered if we hadn't found
ourselves stuck in a fog-blown snowstorm in
I'm 5'4", and at my heaviest have never
weighed more than 115 lbs (well, maybe 120,
for six months, back in eighth grade).
Antonio, on the other hand, was an inch over
6 feet and probably weighed 175 lbs (yes, he
is big for his age, isn't he?).
I hated doing it, but I told Antonio to put
my parka on (it would probably never be the
same again), and since there was absolutely
no hope of him fitting into my pants (Damn
those tight pants, anyway!) I had him wrap as
much spare clothing as we had around his legs.
Our one remaining problem was that we were
still freezing. We talked for what seemed like
days. I found out that Andy (he preferred that
to Antonio) was a musician, and that his dad
didn't like that one bit. I also found out that
he thought of himself as a square peg being
forced into a round hole (His words, not mine),
and that he wanted nothing more than his
father's approval for what he was, not for
what he wanted him to be.
I could identify with that. Not that my folks
harassed me or anything; they had my older
sister Amy for that. I was an angelic fair-haired
child compared to her. Amy did things
like sending naked pictures of herself out on
the Internet, then getting caught when a friend
of the family told our dad about it.
The point is that Andy and I were connecting;
I was starting to think there was a person
behind those handsome blank eyes. Inevitably,
though, being a teenage boy, Andy brought the
subject around to sex. We were talking about
the Internet, and where the company's future
might be heading, when little Andy said: "You
know, I probably have the world's largest
collection of pornography on my computer."
I raised an eyebrow. "What kind of pornography
are we talking about, little man?"
"Nude pictures and dirty sex stories." He
looked me in the eye, waiting for me to be
shocked and horrified.
I just smiled my most innocent smile and
asked him: "Do you have any on your
lap-top?" I think he was shocked that a
female would respond with a question like
that instead of being indignant.
"Uh, yah, I do. You want to see some?" he
asked, a little worried now.
I asked how many pictures and how many
stories he had in his collection, and he
replied proudly that he had hundreds.
He had piqued my curiosity; it's not every
day you meet a fellow collector of erotica.
Andy pulled out his laptop and turned it on,
then smiling coyly, brought up picture after
picture. I was surprised by the screen quality.
(My laptop has a liquid crystal screen, and
pictures don't look that great on it.)
It was soon obvious that little Andy was a
"doggy-style" man. Just about all his pictures
were of couples having sex doggy-style. (It
amazes me that people can get caught up in
one thing to the exclusion of all the other
good stuff in the world.)
After I'd gone through just a part of his
picture collection, I could tell he was
becoming aroused. This I didn't need. However,
his computer was sitting on my lap, and its
warmth was heavenly. I couldn't believe he
didn't know I was getting all this great heat.
If I said I'd had enough of his pictures he'd
probably turn the computer off, and I definitely
didn't want him to do that.
So we continued looking at his adolescent
dream-scapes for another hour or so, when the
computer started to beep a 'low battery'
Disappointed, but now reasonably warm, I
watched him turn it off and stow it in his
Andy had surprised me with a "guy" collection
just before the battery warning went off. He
had a nice collection of men, and I have to
admit that looking at them had made me a little
warmer than I would have been otherwise. I've
always loved to look at naked men - not that
I've had all that many chances to do it.
It took Jeff a little while to get used to me
always asking him to take his clothes off.
As far as I'm concerned, if the heat's up in
the apartment there's no reason for him to wear
clothes. And he looks so nice naked.
We sat for another hour in the cold, when I
felt that I had to pee, and it soon became an
urgent problem for me. If I'd been alone I
might have just used the Burger King coke cup
that was sitting in its holder, but with Andy
in the car that was out of the question.
At last I said: "I gotta pee. I'll be right
back." I'd been gone no more than a couple of
minutes, taking care of my urgent business,
before I was back in the driver's seat.
I immediately felt like knocking little Andy
Pascoe's block off, even though his dad was my
boss. The little shit had dug my computer out
of my carry-on and was running it, warming his
"HEY! BOZO! What the hell do you think you're
doing?" I yelled in my most commanding tone.
He looked up at me, a cherubic smile on his
face, and said two words that stopped me in
my tracks: "Kristen's Collection."
I was speechless. I'd never thought about the
consequences of having someone actually find
out my other identity. I thought about being
fired from my job; about this little jerk
telling the whole world who I was. I mean,
he had access to my home address, my home
Then he said: "Guess I didn't know what I was
talking about, did I? So you're Kristen, huh?
He looked at me when the computer battery
started beeping. "You ought to keep it charged
better," he said, as he shut it down.
"I was using it on the plane. Now give it
here! If you say anything to anyone I'll
have to have you murdered. I hope you know
Andy just smiled and said: "I hadn't thought
about it before, but this gives me a little
power in our relationship, doesn't it?"
"Relationship? We don't have a relationship.
You're just a twerpy snoop who should have his
legs broken at the knees." I knew I probably
sounded pretty stupid, but I was flustered,
and didn't know what else to say.
"God, it's cold in here!" he said. "Don't worry
about me saying anything. We're going to freeze
to death tonight, anyway. I'm starting to wonder
if we're going to make it." His teeth had
started to chatter from the cold.
I was worried too. Not so much about dying, but
frostbite was a real threat. "Come on," I said
"let's get in the back of the truck. If we lie
down next to each other and cover ourselves
with everything we have, maybe our combined
body heat will give us some warmth."
It was all I could suggest. Ever since I'd been
outside to pee, I hadn't been able to get warm.
I was starting to lose feeling in my toes, and
the last thing I wanted was frozen toes.
We climbed into the back of the Blazer and
threw all my spare clothes on top of us. I
rolled over on to my side and told Andy to
spoon me. I thought I'd better throw in a
warning. "But don't get any stupid adolescent
After what felt like weeks I looked at my
lady's Swiss Army watch. It glowed back at me,
almost mockingly. We'd lain there for less than
twenty minutes. My toes were completely numb,
and the cold was creeping up my legs. In fact,
I was so cold by then that I knew I wouldn't be
able to walk, even if there'd been some place
to walk to.
I asked Andy: "How do you feel?"
"I'm really cold; what's worse, I'm horny. Have
you any idea what lying like this is doing to
me?" His voice cracked on "this".
Normally I'd have good-naturedly teased him
about his voice, but at that moment I was in
Slowly I came to the realization that we were
in terrible trouble. If someone didn't come
down the road soon, we might both be damaged
for life. I pictured my feet with no toes, and
me hobbling around on stumps for the rest of
my life. The vision sparked me into action.
The same thought kept running through my head.
It was a saying that a girlfriend of mine used
a lot. "Have you ever noticed that having sex
will make a head-cold or an allergy go away.
It's as if, while you're 'doing it', your body
corrects any malfunction, or your mind regulates
the body to make it feel better."
She thought that this proved that mind always
won over matter.
A little hesitantly, I asked Andy: "How do your
His response was muffled. "Like needles are
being stuck in them. I'm so cold I don't think
I can take it much longer."
With a resigned sigh, I reached out my hand
behind me and cupped his crotch. "How does this
feel?" I asked.
"Hey!" he yelped, his voice breaking again in
I felt his body jump when my fingers gripped
him through his pants.
Many thoughts ran through my mind right then.
I listed the reasons why I shouldn't be doing
this, and almost as quickly answered myself.
I said to myself: 'I shouldn't do this because
it would be cheating on Jeff.' I answered that
objection with the argument that he would understand
that the situation called for drastic
Then I thought: 'I don't have any condoms',
and just as quickly my brain manufactured the
obvious answer: 'Andy's obviously a virgin,
so I won't catch anything from him'.
Boom, another problem: 'You'll get fired if
his dad finds out you fucked his little pride
and joy'. Of course, the choice between death
and dismissal was easy to make.
Soon I'd reconciled myself to what I was going
to do. I began to massage Andy through the
material of his pants. He quieted down for a
bit and just lay there, letting me fiddle with
Very soon, however, he began writhing around
behind me. It occurred to me that it wasn't
good enough just to get him off. We needed to
generate some serious body heat, and for both
of us. At the same time I realized that Andy
wouldn't last very long the first time. So I
rolled over to face him and started kissing
him. (I love kissing guys. It's even better
than dancing with them, and I LOVE to dance.)
It never fails to get me going when I kiss a
guy, even Andy, and I badly needed to get
myself in the mood for what I knew had to be
He was kissing me back now. I could barely
make out his face in the dark as we kissed.
His eyes were closed tight and he had this
desperate look on his face. I could tell he
was lost in the sensations of the moment; it
was touching to see his urgency. I kept my
eyes open and watched him responding to me.
After a short while I steeled myself to take
the next step. Andy needed to get that first
orgasm out of the way, and I didn't want to
have to lie in his wet spots the rest of the
That left me with a decision: which way to
take him. I decided quickly, and used both
hands to unfasten his pants. I figured he'd
last about ten seconds, and I didn't want
him spurting all over everything.
Pants unfastened, boner out and waving. I
shut my eyes and kissed it. I was worried
that if I played around he'd make that
mess I didn't want over me, so I gave him
one of my Jeff specials.
Jeff likes it best when I give him lots of
lip friction in fast, deep dives, at each
withdrawal swirling my tongue on the underside
and at the little flange round the head.
I do that ten or twelve times, then take him
in my hands and slowly jack his long wang,
then make the dives again. I repeat that
till he can't hold back any more, and I
either take him internally or let him shoot
all over the place. I only do it, though,
when I want to reward him for something
really nice he's done for me; otherwise
I'm a little more selfish about sex.
With little Andy it took just three dives
before he was groaning and jerking around
under me. I was enjoying myself until an
uncomfortable thought popped into my mind
while Andy was pumping his sperm down my
I was 'cheating' on Jeff. Next moment I was
mad at Jeff for making me feel guilty. Didn't
he want me to stay alive and in one piece?
It's not as if I was going to run away with
this kid or anything. (Isn't it funny how we
can turn blame around for anything if we need
I continued swallowing Andy's sperm, though
I was beginning to find it heavy going. By
the time he had his last spasm in my mouth
I was feeling a little bloated.
Although I was a little queasy from taking
so much of a strange guy's spunk, I preferred
that to having it freeze on our skin, or on
the carpet underneath us.
Andy's eyes were still closed, and my hand
was still on his nice looking cock. I took
the opportunity to examine it as it stuck out
of his pants fly. It had the nicest shape.
I've only seen a few guys' cocks in real
life, but his was one of the nicest weenies
I'd ever seen. It was kind of thick, and
probably about five inches long; it looked
like a sculpture.
I'm not making a lot of sense, am I? I guess
you had to be there to know what I'm talking
Although I felt a little better, blood
circulation-wise, my toes were still numb,
and I knew that I needed some real exertion,
and also what I had to do to get it.
So I unzipped my black ski pants and pulled
one leg off. Andy was lying on his back
watching me struggle with my pants. He looked
amused, the little crud.
I knew I'd lose body heat by taking my pants
off, but couldn't figure out any other way to
do what I had in mind. I also knew I needed
to be on top if I really wanted to get my
circulation to flow properly.
When I'd taken my pants off one leg, I put on
one leg of another outfit on my other leg,
leaving the essential area bare while at the
same time protecting my legs from the cold. I
mustn't lie; I was dripping with anticipation.
My sex life had focused on Jeff for the past 18
months, and before that, sporadically, on two
other guys. So this was new and exciting to me,
no matter how much I wanted to pretend it was a
I knelt beside Andy and unbuttoned his pants,
opening his fly completely. Then I tugged at his
waistband, and pulled his pants part-way down
YES! He really looked good to me. What I could
see of his stomach was really tight. He didn't
have a lot of hair on his body, reminding me a
little of a muscular female, except that his
cock was fully hard and waiting.
I didn't want to wait any longer myself. I knew
I was wet enough for him, so I straddled his
body and took his shiny cock in my hand, then
sank down on it.
I've another confession to make: he felt lovely
inside me, his thick cock completely filling me
up. I immediately started to ride him; his father
couldn't have stopped me at that moment if he'd
shown up and knocked on the window.
Andy was watching me; I could tell, even with my
eyes closed. I was thrusting my hips forward
without rising up, like a lady bronco rider,
rubbing myself as hard as I could against him,
luxuriating in the feeling of him inside me.
It had been a long time since I'd experienced
the thrill of sex with a stranger. I thought a
little guiltily about Jeff, and then about how
it had been with him the first time.
I'd seduced him on the balcony of my little
apartment. I remembered how good it had felt
to have Jeff on top of me that lazy afternoon;
to have his strong, Nordic cock thrusting deep
"Ooooohhhh GOD! YES!" I was coming on top of
Andy in one of the most intense orgasms I think
I've ever had. Thinking about fucking Jeff while
I was really doing it to Andy just seemed to
push me over the edge.
My body was shivering on top of Andy's, and he
was gasping as I rammed him as deep as I could
into me. He felt so good!
I watched his stomach muscles flex as he thrust
back rhythmically at me. He suddenly looked as
if he found it hard to catch his breath, and
began gasping for air.
As he raised his upper body to hug me I knew
he was having his own orgasm deep inside me.
The thought of a stranger coming inside me
brought on another, more leisurely, orgasm as
I continued to rub myself luxuriously against
him, taking him in as deep as he would go.
He held on to my neck for almost a full minute
before falling back to the floor of the Blazer
with a sigh that told me he was done. I leaned
forward and kissed him, making sure he stayed
inside me while we embraced.
Meanwhile I realized my toes were feeling normal
again; in fact I felt quite flushed and in rude
health. I looked up and noticed that the windshield
was completely fogged up, and tried to
calculate how long we could keep our pleasant
I figured we'd be OK for a half-hour or so. I
looked at my watch and saw that it was 1am.
Hmmm, at this rate we were going to be awfully
Let's see, 1am, half an hour of warm blood
circulation... say, dawn at 7am, maybe 8 before
anyone gets down here. Let's see... How often
do we need to...?
It was almost 8am before a snowplow came down
the road, with the highway patrol following
The patrolman was amazed that we were so fit
after the night we'd endured. He fixed our fuse
and let us go on our way.
Andy and I dragged ourselves through the
Wednesday morning meetings. His father let us
go after the noon break because we looked so
I let Andy stay with me that afternoon, as a
special good-bye for both of us. We'll always
be special friends, and I don't think I need
to worry about him giving any secrets away.
He's now on my story list; in fact, he'll be
getting this. (I tried to encourage him to
write the same story from his perspective, and
hope he does; it would be interesting to read.)
Oh, one more thing. I kicked some butt on the
slopes on Saturday - though my ski outfit did
look a little rumpled.
Acknowledgments: All my thanks to Ian for
doing such a good job editing my little story.
© April 1998 Kristen Kathleen Becker (Last edit 3/00)
This work is copyrighted to the author.
Please do not remove the author information or make
any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-
commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of
commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration.