Authors note: this is Harry’s 501st story. It is a short story of contemporary relationships with an erotic flavor disguised within a loose plot of Americana in the post Covid era.

I looked up at the large board on the far wall with the red lights flashing for both cancelled and delayed flights in every direction.

Please don’t ask me why I was here in Chicago at O’Hare airport at this ungodly hour only three days before Christmas.

I had the uncharacteristic bad judgement to schedule a trip from Atlanta to Sacramento to visit my older sister in her mountain home on the road between California and the biggest little city in the world ... Reno, Nevada.

On a rainy day last week, I had booked a flight out west because I wanted to visit the grave of my dear departed spouse of almost fifty years and my recently deceased daughter in their adjoining graves at a VA cemetery.

No, I was not drinking at the time, and I assure you that I was most decidedly not depressed.

Now, as to Chicago.

Our supposed non-stop flight was diverted to O’Hare airport due to weather conditions that were becoming progressively worse as Christmas day loomed on the horizon.

I had only been to Chicago a few times before and I had no urge to leave the airport and travel downtown to the free-fire zone of the city proper.

The large windows in the waiting area showed the falling snow outside and I wondered how our logical transportation system would change our flight from Atlanta to this snowbound location on the shores of the ice-bound Lake Michigan. It reminded me of the time before GPS or even usable maps that I arrived in Indianapolis on Memorial Day because I picked the wrong city in Ohio that started with a “C” in a driving stupor and silly attitude about asking for directions on my cross country trip out west. I wonder why Ohio has so many cities that start with a “C” like Cleveland, Cincinnati, and Columbus. I don’t mention that mistake to others until I have reached an age where it simply does not compute.

Excuse me, I digress.

So, here I was sitting in the airport waiting room with about a hundred thousand other poor souls lost in a world of cancelled and delayed fights fighting a fear of not making it to our destinations before the magical day of Christmas. (Forgive me for the exaggeration of numbers. I tend to be prone to that except in official military reports for intelligence estimates.} Unlike Las Vegas, which has a plethora of comfortable sitting places, the Chicago airport waiting room was short on comfortable chairs to the point that numerous travelers simply sat their ass down on the tiled floor like illegal aliens crossing the Rio Grande for a slice of the pie.

I was fortunate enough to find a nice chair with a curved bottom that fit my ass perfectly even if it was not cushioned.

The concourse on both sides was riddled with eating places.

The prices were upscale, and the neon lights garishly portrayed them to be easily recognized restaurants popular with modern society.

Unfortunately, the over-crowded conditions had reduced the level of service down to barely adequate, the logistical chains of supply had reduced the menus to bare bones, and the prices were astronomical due to inflationary pressures on the national economic system.

I did my best to ignore the stressed out passengers around me. I pitied the families with disorderly children and strived to not look like just another geriatric citizen with my cane and backpack.

I confess that my attention was focused mainly on the young females passing by with short skirts and obviously not wearing any bra under their tops. It gave me comfort to know that such crowded situations offered perks as well as stress.

A pair of Asian teen females were on the floor between our seats down on their knees and elbows with one of them pointing her rear end to my personal viewing showing me the delicate folds in her tiny panties displayed for my consummate enjoyment. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her frowning mother glaring at me with some degree of concern and I smiled hopefully with some charm hoping to dissuade her motherly opinion that I was just another perverted member of the opposite sex lusting after her female offspring’s goodies regardless of her child’s insolent disregard for modesty.

I saw the little devil looking over her shoulder at me alerting me to the fact that she was fully aware of her advertisement of her nubile status and that her suggestive movements were designed to enflame male libidos.

Just then, a chair directly across from me was vacated by a traveler responding to a call for passengers wanting hotel accommodations for delayed flights to Florida. It was obviously an attempt by the airlines to remove as many travelers from the airport as possible because they knew the situation was only going to get worse and the travelers might become unruly.

Much to my surprise a svelte petite female sat down in the chair and slowly crossed her beautiful legs to expose her lovely panty hose to my heated gaze locked onto her lower body like an advanced radar system looking for a target.

She could not have been much taller than five foot and her slender figure was top-heavy with her artillery shell boobs that threatened to spill out of her billowy top. I watched her squirm left and right in the hard plastic chair and I imagined her tiny anus adapting to the hardness beneath.

At that point, I believe she became aware of my studied interest in her goodie basket of feminine assets and she threw a tentative smile in my direction without casting any indication of a welcoming attitude.

I pretended supreme disregard for her spider’s web of feminine delights and focused my glance on the pretty panties of the Asian teen at my feet with her ass pointed in my direction with frustrating invitation.