Taing a Chance

Most of the mail I get is ordinary. Number ten sized business envelopes, white, with an address label affixed and a return address. A few have unusual stamps but most have the Liberty Bell stamp in the corner or a thing that says they sent so many of these letters that they got a special price. I average maybe twenty letters a day in my mail box. Mostly ordinary, uniformly boring. On the fifth of January there was only one envelope in my mailbox. One.

It wasn't a number ten business envelope. It was that length but taller by almost an inch. The paper was lavender, not white, of a velum texture and heavier than the standard weight of paper used in envelopes. The letter was addressed in a flowing hand written script of purple ink. Very feminine looking script.

"Ok," I said out loud, even though no one else was in the house, "You have my attention."

I carried the single envelope back to my office and sat at my desk before opening it. I used the sharp letter opening knife I keep in the top center drawer of my desk to slit the letter open. Even the sound the knife made was different from the sound it made slicing through all those other envelopes in the past.

Inside was a single sheet of matching lavender paper. A hand written invitation.

Mr. Nick Peterson

You are Invited

To

A Small Select Gathering

At

Greybrook Lodge

18 Greybrook Road

N45.33694 -- W110.69179

Montana

Your Reservation

Begins

The First of March 2004

And is good for seven days.

Your lodging, food and activities are all prepaid.

Your cost is for Transportation to and from

Greybrook Lodge

Please respond to this invitation in one of these ways:

•If you will be attending.

•If you will not be able to attend this Gathering,

Please call 1-800-555-2324... a machine will answer.

Please state your response and your name.

The page was signed Alison and made more personal by the imprint of her lipstick lips next to her name.

Alison. My mind wandered back over the years touching the names and memories of the women I have known, lusted after, loved, wished for and a few who I disliked. I was looking for Alison. She wasn't there.

I looked at the computer screen and saw that I had no meetings, no travel plans, nothing that would prevent me from accepting the invitation. I read the invitation again.

Ayla had left my life five years before and no one had moved into that space since. I had not started looking for a companion, lover, wife, girl-friend in the five years since Ayla. There were nights where the loneliness was physically painful and days where it was hard to concentrate on my work, but not painful enough to get me out and into the hunt, yet.

The phone rang and I put the invitation on the desk, answered the phone and went to work. Over the next two days that lavender sheet of vellum was moved quite a few times on the top of my desk. Never thrown away. Not read again, just moved to make room for papers to do with business.

On Friday I went to the mail box and again found only one envelope. Lavender and just like the one that had arrived on Tuesday. How could someone arrange to have it delivered by itself? Impossible, yet it had happened twice.

At my desk I slit the envelope open and withdrew a single sheet of the same paper.

Mr. Nick Peterson

You are Invited

To

A Small Select Gathering

At

Greybrook Lodge

18 Greybrook Road

N45.33694 -- W110.69179

Montana

Your Reservation

Begins

The First of March 2004

And is good for seven days.

Your lodging, food and activities have all been prepaid.

Your cost is for Transportation to and from

Greybrook Lodge

Please respond to this invitation in one of these three ways:

•If you will be attending alone.

•If you will not be able to attend this Gathering,

Please call 1-800-555-2324... a machine will answer.

Please state your response and your name.

We Need Your Response.

It was again signed Alison and personalized with a lipstick imprint.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number, not sure which of the possible responses I was about to give. Was I willing to go to Montana for a week?

The phone rang twice and was answered by a machine. The voice was sultry and said, "This is the response line for the gathering that begins the First of March. At the tone, please state your name and then your response. We hope to see you on the first." After a three or four second pause, the tone sounded.

"Nick Peterson. I'll be there." I waited ten seconds and hung up.

The phone rang twenty or more times that day. Lots of business got done and I felt good about almost all of it. As was my habit I reach for a switch at seven in the evening that stops the phone from ringing and sends all calls to a machine. As my hand reached for the switch the phone rang.

My hand lifted the handset and I said, "I almost missed your call. This is Nick. How may I help you?"

The sultry voice from the answering machine at Greybrook Lodge said, "Good evening, Mr. Peterson. Thank you for responding that you will be here on the first. I have some information for you. Do you have a moment now?"

"Yes."

"Good. You may want to write some of this down. The first is a Sunday and you are welcome to arrive any time on Sunday. If it would make your travel better for you, you may arrive on Saturday evening, any time after dark. If you would like to arrive Saturday evening please call the number on your invitation any time on Saturday and tell us what time you anticipate arriving."

"That is quite considerate."

"We realize that weather and road conditions vary and our best laid plans sometimes do not work just as we planned them, Mr. Peterson. When you arrive, if it is Saturday evening, you may feel free to pick any one of the eight rooms. Please put your name on the card on the door so that anyone else arriving will not select the same room. You are welcome to anything you find in the kitchen. Breakfast will be served beginning at eight on Sunday morning. Unless you request something else your breakfast Sunday morning will be eggs, over medium, French toast, sausage, patty style, sugar-free syrup, Navy coffee and a very small glass of orange juice. Will that be satisfactory?"

"That is my favorite breakfast. It will be fine. Would you please tell me who else is coming to this gathering?"

"I'm sorry, that is not permitted. You know them, or knew them at some point in your life. Each of them considers you a friend."

"I was just curious. Ok, anything else?"

"No. Have a safe drive. I look forward to meeting you at breakfast on Monday. I will not be at the Lodge until then."

"I look forward to that as well."

She said good-bye and the line went dead. The evening was spent making preparations for the drive and the week long stay in Montana. Once I was packed I used my computer to map my trip and plan my stops. I found that from my home at the edge of Los Angeles to the area of Montana where the lodge was located was about an eighteen hour drive, if the roads were clear and the weather good. I like driving, but don't like rushing.

If I drove to St. George Utah and spent the night, drove on to Idaho Falls the next day, then the final drive would only be about two hundred fifty miles and maybe five hours. Working backwards and picking an arrival time of four Saturday afternoon I calculated that I would need to leave Idaho Falls sometime before eleven Saturday morning. To arrive in Idaho Falls at or before about dusk I would need to leave St. George by nine Friday morning. Since the drive to St. George would take about seven hours I needed to leave home before ten Thursday morning.

It was Friday evening when I made the calculations. On Saturday I took my car in and had it serviced for a road trip. My mechanic had taken care of all my vehicles for the last ten years and he was someone I counted on. He installed a GPS unit in my car, to make the trip easier. He said I could either return the GPS to him when I returned, or stop by and pay for it. I guess that makes me a good customer in his eyes.

I made reservations in St. George and Idaho Falls for my stays, for the trip up and a week later, the trip home again.

The woman who comes and cleans my home once a week, Carmen, came on Saturday. I arranged with her to house-sit while I was gone. I knew she loved house-sitting for me. She lived in a very modest one bedroom house-behind-a-house and the neighborhood was noisy. When she stayed in my home it was quiet, there was a pool, a hot tub, a big kitchen and a media room. She would indulge all those pleasures while I was gone.

Between my conversation with Carmen about house-sitting and Thursday morning I focused on business. Wednesday evening I packed my suitcase into the car and loaded my snacks and beverages into the cooler that would sit next to me in the car. During the day I generally stop for gas and bathrooms, not food. I graze while I drive.

When I turned north onto Interstate 15 I turned on my XM radio and listened to bluegrass music. As I pulled out of the gas station in Las Vegas I switched to classical music. Getting the broadcast from a satellite meant I was never out-of-range and didn't need to search for a new station once.

In St. George I ate a good meal, watched some basketball on television and went to sleep pretty early. In the morning I ate a good breakfast and was on the road a little ahead of schedule. The weather was cold and threatened a little snow as I drove.

I listened to Cajun music for an hour or so and then changed to the blues. When I stopped for gas and a pit stop I bought some bottled water and a box of cookies being sold by a Girl Scout Troop. I tossed the box in the back seat, out of easy reach, to lessen the temptation. I like supporting kids in good things, but eating the cookies would not be a good thing for me. Truth be told, if I opened the box I'd eat every cookie. Safer not to open the box.

In the afternoon it started snowing. I slowed down and tucked in behind a semi. He was easy to follow and his rig blew lots of snow off the road for me. I switched to a trucker's station and listened to road and weather the rest of the way to Idaho Falls. The forecast said it would snow all night, but not enough to stop road travel.

When I parked at the hotel it was twenty-eight degrees, according to the digital sign on the bank across the street. I hurried inside. Over dinner I watched the other people in the dining room. They were dressed for warmth and comfort, not an evening out. I was the only one alone. I saw couples, families and three tables with two couples at each. I heard laughter, conversation and saw three couples kiss as I sat alone and ate my salmon dinner.

The bed was good, not great, and the hotel room was a duplicate of most hotel rooms the world over. A little older perhaps, but clean, devoid of personality and smelled of whatever industrial cleaner they all seem to use. The wake up call came and in spite of knowing it came from a computer I said "Thank you" before I hung up.

When I stepped into the hallway I almost bumped into a tall blond walking towards the elevator. She was wearing high heeled boots, dark tan pants and a sweater that was filled with promises. She looked great for eight in the morning.

"I'm sorry. I almost knocked you down." I said.

"Don't worry about it!" She smiled and gave me a little extra room. "Being knocked down could be better than being knocked up."

"At this point in my life, I would agree. Twenty years ago, I might have taken issue with you."

"Twenty years ago I might have volunteered to let you do both!"

We laughed a little and entered the elevator.

"Headed for breakfast?" I asked.

"Yes, then it's on the road again. You?"

"Just like you. Eat and drive. I'll get there today if the weather cooperates."

"Amen. Is your wife joining you for breakfast?"

"No. I'm traveling alone. No wife, girl-friend, business partner or sidekick here or at home."

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to pry."

"You didn't. If it isn't prying, is someone joining you for breakfast?"

"I'm hoping you might."

"Great idea. By the way, I'm Nick." I stuck my hand out and she took it. I was impressed. There are still women who shake hands like they are offering you a dead fish. She wasn't one of them. Her hand was firm and friendly. She said her name was Amanda.

We had a great breakfast and better conversation.

When it was time we walked back to our rooms and got our bags. I carried her bag and mine to her car. She opened the trunk and I said, "If I put my suitcase in there maybe we can meet again to trade back."

She handed me her card and said, "I wouldn't look good wearing your clothes for a week. If you want, give me a call and we'll see what we can start. I'd like that."

Her card gave her name as Amanda Stark, Consultant. I put her suitcase in the trunk, closed it and took one step back, unsure how to handle the parting ceremony.' Should I shake her hand, hug her or just say "Good-bye"?

She solved the problem. She wrapped her arms around me and pressed her chest and the rest of her body against me. She tilted her head just a little and said, "I'd like a kiss."

She got at least one. Not three. It was too cold out there in the parking lot for three. I reached for my card to give her and she stopped me. "Don't give me your card. If what I offer isn't enough to get you to call me, then I don't need your card. If it was, I'll get all that information next time we're together."

She slipped into her Mercedes and fifteen seconds later I was alone in the parking lot. Less than half a minute after that I was in my car, starting the engine and the heater.

The radio told me the roads were clear and it would snow lightly all day. I drove carefully. My calculations had me driving five hours that day. That would be averaging fifty miles an hour. I looked at the speedometer and saw I was doing thirty-eight. Five hours changed to six and a half.

I listened to a station that played pop music. Mostly ballads and songs where the words mean something. The first song was by Paul Simon. Over the first hour I heard from Paul Simon, Alison Krauss, James Taylor, Lionel Richie, Barbara Streisand, and Ella. Most of the songs were ones I knew. Since I was alone, I sang along.

I wondered what Amanda Stark was doing as she drove along. I wondered where she was headed. We hadn't exchanged that information. Was she on the same highway as me, headed north? Or south? Or, had she turned to the east or west?

I resolved to call her when I got back home.

An accident slowed me some more. For an hour I made two miles progress. I was now looking at arrival after eight. At the junction where I could go east into Yellowstone and up to Pray, Montana I decided to stay on the bigger highway. It would take me to Bozeman.

As the day and the miles went on the snow began piling alongside the road. I called the number and said I would be in at about eight, but possibly as late as nine o'clock.

When I entered Bozeman I saw an open gas station and pulled in. When I got back into my car and started up the voice on the radio said what I didn't want to hear. Interstate 90 east of Bozeman was closed until some time the next morning. I could see a hotel from the gas station so I drove there and hoped they had a room available. Their parking lot wasn't completely full, but close.

At the desk I asked for a single room, non-smoking. The young woman looked up and didn't smile. "I'm very sorry Sir, we don't have any available rooms. The storm has closed the Interstate. You're welcome to stay in the lounge or the lobby but we have no rooms."

"Is there another hotel nearby?"

"Yes, there are some, but I've been checking and there are no rooms available. For safety sake you should stay here."

She was right. I found a comfortable chair, sat down and used my cell to call the lodge. I let them know that the weather had delayed me until sometime on Sunday.

Ten minutes of sitting in the lobby and I was dozing in the chair. Sometime later something bumped my foot and I woke up. I opened my eyes and saw Amanda's smile. Then I noticed the rest of her. She was still dressed as she had been when we parted and she looked as fresh and ready to go as she had at breakfast.

"You couldn't get a room?"

"Seems there's a convention in town and all the rooms are taken. How was I to know the Snowball Association of North America was meeting here tonight?"

"I must have arrived a few minutes before they convened. Are you going to eat dinner?"

"If I may buy you dinner, I'd enjoy that." I stood and as we walked to the dining room I was aware that my comfortable chair in the lobby had a new occupant.

If we were grading the dinner and the service they would both get a "C". The company got an "A". When dinner was over we stood and walked towards the lobby.

Amanda said, "If you'll allow me, I'd like to show you something." She hooked my arm and guided me to the elevators. We went up three floors and down the hall to her room. Inside I saw the standard hotel room, with one big exception; this one had Amanda in it and she was pulling her sweater up over her head.

Her large breasts were encased in lace and structural magic. She was tanned everywhere I could see and it appeared she was pale beneath the bra. She tossed the sweater on a chair and picked up the TV remote. A few button pushes and music played in the room.

"It's warm here in the room, Nick. Take off your jacket, please, and get comfortable." She sat at the end of the bed and took off her boots. I draped my jacket over the back of a chair.

"We need to stay here until they plow the road tomorrow. We can watch mindless television. We can play gin if we want to, or we can get better acquainted. Which would you like?"

"Just how acquainted are you prepared to get?"

"I'm hoping for at least one orgasm and lots of foreplay and post play. I'd like some heart to heart conversation and perhaps a shared secret or two."

"I've been in a car all day and I need a shower before any of that is Ok with me. I think if we get started without the shower I'll offend you and I'll end up out in the hallway."

"Can we shower together?"

"That's a great idea." I started undressing. Amanda removed her slacks, nylons and panties. She walked to me and asked if I'd enjoy removing her bra. I enjoyed removing it immensely. I expected her large breasts to sag and the nipples to point at the floor. They did show that gravity worked on them, but her nipples pointed ahead, not down.

Before I reached for her melons she took me by the hand and into the bathroom. She started the shower and watched me finish getting naked. I was mostly hard. We got under the stream of hot water and soaped each other all over. I shampooed her hair, and washed every inch of her skin. As I washed I noticed a scar near the crease where her butt met her leg. My memory went back to high school where a girl I knew got cut in that same spot during a harvest. She had backed into a machine and gotten cut. Her name wasn't Amanda. It was Pat. As I remembered Pat was thin and had almost no chest at all.

She washed me and finished the job by stroking me until I threatened to cum.

"So, Cum! I love making a man cum! And, it means you'll last longer the second time."

I came all over her bare pussy and legs. We rinsed, shut off the water and dried each other. We opened the big bed and Amanda put herself on her back with both her arms and legs open to welcome me.

"Do you like to be eaten?" I asked.

"It's one of my favorite things, if the person doing it loves doing it."

"Then you'll love this." My mouth aimed at the junction of her legs and my hands held her legs. The instant my mouth touched her she arched and said, "I knew it!"