Chapter 1

I glanced at my phone as the Airbus A320 banked left and passed low over Phoenix, downtown and Chase Field seemingly at arm’s length out the port side window. It was showing 11:30 p.m., having automatically adjusted to Mountain Standard Time. It was only another two minutes before the slight jolt as the wheels touched down on the runway and shortly after that we pulled up to the gate.

My knees were cranky when it came time for me to stand and retrieve my duffel bag from the overhead compartment. After sitting for nearly four hours, they balked at bending again as I shuffled down the aisle towards the front of the plane.

Once inside the terminal I texted my wife “arrived” knowing she’d already be asleep. Then I glanced around so see which way to the SkyTrain. After four years, memories of the layout of the airport were starting to surface. Once onto the platform where the monorail would collect its passengers, I wondered whether I should be on the right or left to be taken to the Metro light rail station. 24^th or 44^th street? I couldn’t recall. Shortly a train arrived on the left and everyone piled in so I followed. At the end of the line I slung the bag over my shoulder and made it down to street level. Lots of airport parking. Where’s the street? Finally I found a security guard.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never arrived in the dark before and I’m kind of disoriented. Where is the Metro station?”

Pointing back up the escalator he said, “Get back on the train and go to the other end.”

Fuck.

It was past midnight when things finally looked familiar at 44^th Street Station. At street level a light rail train was heading east, away from the city center. I saw yet another security guard and asked, “Are there still trains going downtown?”

“Not at this hour. You’re gonna have to call a ride share – but make sure to go on the other side of the street to get off airport property or they’ll charge you another ten dollars.”

Having travelled to the intersection so as not to walk across the tracks, lest the guard would have to arrest me, I waited for the light and made it to the opposite corner. Lyft said a driver would be there in seven minutes. Thirty-five dollars.

There were no residences in sight, just businesses, shopping and a couple hotels. It was in the fifties with a slight breeze as I waited. My light jacket looked nice for a business trip but was only adequate against a chill. A middle aged, gruff looking black man crossed the street and approached. “Hey man, can I have your coat, it’s cold out here.”

“Sorry, no.”

At least he didn’t argue and moved away, joined by several others who paid me no attention. I saw a white sedan do a u-turn behind him and then pull up to the curb. The window rolled down and a Hispanic man said, with no accent. “I’m Michael, are you Joe?”

I tossed my bag in the backseat and slid in beside it. We made good time down Washington Street, only hitting a few lights. Michael said he didn’t follow much politics or sports as he worked two jobs. Soon there was a right, a quick left and another u-turn in a street closed off for repairs. “Here you go sir.”

I said “Thank you” then dragged my bag through the door and up to the front desk. Once checked in I had my room card and took the elevator to the fourth floor.

In the room I texted again. “In the hotel, 3:30 your time, it’s 1:30 here.” I reckoned I should be able to be up at eight and at the conference for registration at nine.

Stretched out on the bed, waiting for sleep to catch up with me, I recalled four years earlier, before all the covid bullshit shut down the conference’s in-person gatherings. I pictured meeting Gabby at the bar. Medium height, a little stocky and a bit of a nose but rather attractive.

I didn’t have a smartphone back then and as such wasn’t able to order a ride to go out to where my cousin was hosting a beer fest so instead I wandered down to the hotel bar where I ran into Gabby and several members of a team who invited me to join them. All twenty somethings being entertained by an old fogey like me who’d been in the business for decades.

She had been out of college for a few years and working in finance but was looking to get into sports analytics, hence the trip to the conference.

It was likely two hours later and after I’d have a few beers when Gabby excused herself for the evening. I yawned and said, “It’s about time for me as well” and left a twenty for the waitress. Gabby waited for me to catch up with her and we continued chatting on the way to the elevators. Once inside she gazed up at me and after staring for a second or two, thinking of what to do next, I leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her lips.

When I Googled her later, I found out she was a nationally ranked squash player in college. I can say from experience that her thighs could snap a man’s neck. Afterwards we had exchanged business cards and connected on LinkedIn. It’d been years since I even looked up a pic of her.

I rubbed one out remembering the sensation of her bouncing on my cock. I tossed the tissue in the trash and rolled over for the night.

I’d dreamed about Emma instead. I rolled onto my back, trying to piece together the fragments of my fading recollection of the dream as the early morning sun streamed through the window.

It had been six months since our tryst. Afterwards things between us had returned to normal with no outward signs of what we had done that Saturday morning during her soccer tournament. I confess to being jealous that Dean, another of the church youth, appeared to be getting close to her. There were never any personal displays of affection. No kissing or holding hands, although once he approached her from behind and let his hand bounce off hers in passing. Lots of jokes, teasing and play-fighting. A few weeks ago after the service they passed right in front of me as Emma chased Dean. She laughed even louder when I said, “Hey, quit beating him up!” Then last week when they returned from a camp retreat they were wearing each other’s school sweatshirts. Did he know her the way I knew her? He’s a good kid, so probably not.

There hadn’t been any new photos of her as several weeks later my wife became disgusted enough with my pointing the camera more often at the cheerleaders than the football players that she threw me out of the house for being a pervert. I couldn’t return until I’d had a good, long talk with the pastor. Surprisingly he sounded sympathetic to manly desires and thankfully he never asked whether I masturbated or if there were any particular girls in the congregation I was interested in, therefor the deflowering of a certain fourteen year old not long before was never discussed.

I didn’t even pull out my camera again until our first-grade grandson began basketball in January. His girlfriend, Emma’s sister, is going to be a knockout in another five years.

So, in the dream I was wandering around a large house with many people, both adults and teens. I few times I approached Emma from behind bet never seemed to be able to get her attention, even when I flicked her hair and leaned into her ear to call her name.

Then we were alone in a room, face to face. She broke down and started sobbing. I pulled her in tight to my chest and held her head on my shoulder as she continued to weep. I realized she was straddling my lap, she in panties and I in my boxers as her sex pushed up against my manhood. I wasn’t fully erect but was sure she could feel me as I continued to embrace her.

After several minutes, a stream of adults walked in, including my wife halfway through. Emma and I broke the embrace and she stepped off my lap. No one spoke of what they saw, and a conversation ensued on other topics.

I’ve missed her touch all these months, but the dream felt strange and wasn’t even enough to get me up while I showered. I dried my hair, got dressed and headed down to breakfast.

The hotel had a hot buffet with omelets, sausage, potatoes, waffles and several more items that was enough to satisfy. I sipped some orange juice and took a few bites of egg as I glanced about the room. There was a Japanese with a rather attractive wife and mother, all decked out in “Cubs” gear who were obviously there for spring training, and then several tables of families in town for what I reckoned as some “dance moms” events. Girls from six to sixteen were adorned in tight fitting uniforms and were applying glitter to each other’s faces. None really stood out from the crowd.

The conference venue was right across the street where the longest time was spent waiting for the traffic to clear. I walked up to the registration table outside the main door and found my lanyard. I spotted the society’s president and reached out my hand. “Joe Long, nice to see you again.”

“Yes, glad you could make it.” I could tell he didn’t remember me after at least four years since we’d last met but he was polite and I brushed it off.

I went inside to check the layout and walked by several rooms full of college students presenting their solutions to a theoretical management case presented to them. There was an empty room with a whiteboard covered with handwritten flow charts and equations that had in the corner “Do Not Erase!”

I’d always found the student presentation to be rather boring so headed back outdoors to observe the attendees strolling in.

I spotted a group of four college girls all dressed similarly in tan khakis and white dress shirts, lanyards hanging from their necks. None were ugly but one just leapt out from the crowd. Medium height, brown hairs with loose curls over the shoulders, a killer smile and a world-class pear-shaped ass.

Oh, hello!

I tried not to be obvious trying to catch the name on the card bouncing around in front of her chest. Bella, no, Annabella. Louisiana Tech. The president yelled out that it was time for lunch. There was a long table with boxed meals. Everyone grabbed one then found a table in the open-air courtyard. Miss Bella was two tables over, looking in my direction. I slipped my phone out of my pocket, aimed, zoomed and snapped the shot. The pic was then emailed to my account and deleted from the phone. Once back at the hotel room I’d save them all to my USB drive.