CHAPTER 2

“I don’t mind telling you—this gives me the creeps!” Maggie told Pat as she shed her panties and took her position lying on the guestroom bed.  Pat knelt beside her with a razor in her hand and a can of shaving cream in the other.  A towel and washcloth sat on the floor alongside a wash basin full of water.   Pat was bare below the waist, having just received the same treatment as she was about to render to her friend.

“I don’t know why.” Pat answered calmly as she carefully worked the razor.  “You just did me.” 

“That was different,” Maggie asserted.  “I’m a nurse.  I do that kind of thing all the time.”

As she patiently worked Pat stretched the skin of Maggie’s vulva this way and that to make the coarse hairs stand at attention and ready for shearing off.  As Pat’s fingers delicately touched her, she saw Maggie bite her lip to avoid showing a reaction to her touch. 

“Spread your legs a little more so that I can get at this last part better,” Pat instructed.  She noticed that Maggie’s eyes were closed and her breathing was regulated in an unnatural way, as if she was struggling to hold back her urge to pant.  Pat pressed the top of Maggie’s slit lightly.

“What do you do to relieve yourself when Fred is out on the road?”  Pat asked in a casual way.

“What do you mean?” Maggie asked after a pause, feigning naiveté.

“You know what I mean!” Pat scolded in a mild way.  “I always had a little implement or two when Fred and I were married.  Those road trips of his can be long and lonely.”

“I just save it up and jump him when he comes home,” Maggie confessed.

“You poor neglected thing!” Pat exclaimed.  “You’re thinking about it right now, aren’t you?” she asked in a softer voice.  It was more of a statement posed as a question.  She continued to work the razor and gently pressed that special spot again.”

“I’m…Ohhhh…trying…Ahhhh…not…to think of it,” Maggie panted.

“Well, I know that you’re about to climax.” Pat said as she stroked her thumb up and down the sides of Maggie’s labia inspecting her handiwork with the razor.  “Why don’t you go ahead and do it?—it’s been so long for you,” Pat urged as she added the thumb of her other hand to the gentle stroking under the guise of checking her work.

“I… can’t!  I shouldn’t!” Maggie panted.

“I’ll do myself at the same time.  That’ll make it easier,” Pat soothed.  She guided Maggie’s hand to her labia.  “I’m doing it to myself right now,” Pat assured her.

Pat watched as Maggie finished herself off.  It didn’t take long.  Maggie tensed her muscles and held her breath.  Her orgasm took about five seconds.  After it passed she relaxed and slowly exhaled.   She kept her eyes closed all the while.

“Doesn’t that feel better?” Pat asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.” Maggie admitted.  “But I shouldn’t have done it.  Please don’t ever tell anyone about this.”

“We’re friends.  We can have some secrets,” Pat assured her.  “Have you ever done it with women?”

“No.  I thought about it in college once,” Maggie confessed.  “Some girls in the dorm were doing it to each other every night and invited me to join in.  While I was mulling it over they were found out by the dorm advisor out and the whole thing broke up.  I never considered it again.  What about you?”

“No, it never came up before.  I’ve just read about it in a few erotic stories that I came across.  It’s only a fantasy, but it can get me excited!”

Each woman carefully cast furtive glances at the other in silence, waiting for the heavy question to fall from one of their lips to their ears.  Pat broke the spell.

“Hair and horns both trimmed!” she happily sang out.

“Let me have that aloe lotion that I brought from the hospital.  You should use some, too.  It will help take away razor-burn,” Maggie advised.

Thus, the burning question was quenched for the time being.

*********** 

The two women put their bikinis on to test the shaving they had just been performed on each other.  As they inspected themselves in the mirror, they judged their mission accomplished.  Pat had put a pot of coffee on earlier.  They kept wearing their bikinis at the kitchen table as they drank their coffee.

“We should get used to wearing them so that we look comfortable at the lake when we put them on,” Pat declared.  “We could go out on the patio to get some sun, but I have too many neighbors with teen-aged boys who can see across the hedge in the back yard.”

“It would be nice to get some sun in advance of the trip to the lake,” Maggie sighed

“Yes,” Pat agreed, “and I wouldn’t mind giving a few of those young studs a hard-on while they peered at us over the fence, too. The problem is, I might have some of them in class this fall.”

 “Have you told Charlie yet?” Maggie asked as they sipped her coffee.

“Tonight’s the night,” answered Pat.  “I don’t expect a big problem.  He’ll complain at first, but in the end he’ll think if it as a big adventure.”

“He’s a teenager at heart,” Maggie acknowledged.  “I can attest to that from experience.”

“It’s partly that,” Pat instructed.  “Some of it is that Charlie is cooped up in that accounting office all the time.  People expect him to act in a staid, conservative way—and he does.  When he gets some time off, he wants some excitement.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Maggie admitted.  “In all the years we were married I thought that he was a big kid.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Pat said.  “It’s live and learn.”

“It’s something like that in reverse for Fred,” Maggie continued.  “When he’s on the road as a salesman it's always go-go-go; open bars and dinners at restaurants.  When he’s home he wants a change of pace.  He told me that you thought that he was a stick in the mud.”

“True enough!” Pat agreed.  “Anyway, I like the way it is now.”  The two clinked coffee cups to toast the revealed wisdom.

“You haven’t told Fred yet, have you?” asked Pat changing, the subject.

“No, I’m going to wait until he gets home and tell him in person,  I think it will be better that way.  I don’t want to give him a lot of time to think about it.  He’ll come in Friday night.  We’ll be on our way on Saturday morning.  I’m going to spend Friday packing.”

“Not giving him a chance to say ‘No’?”

“That’s about the size of it,” Maggie confessed.

“Tell him that I’ll be on my best behavior,” Pat joked.

“I’m not worried about that,” Maggie said.  “I am wondering about something else, though.”  Pat raised her eyebrows, waiting for more.  Maggie continued.  “It’s just that I’m uneasy about how the men will react in the situation where we’re living in the same cabin.  It won’t be easy for them to see their former wives in these new skimpy bathing suits and for them to be aware of us sleeping in adjoining bedrooms with new mates.  It’s easier for us women to put these things aside than men.”

“And just what do you think their reaction will be?” Pat asked

“I think they’ll become jealous!” Maggie answered emphatically.

Pat set down her coffee cup and leaned sideways, closer to her friend.

“What do jealous men do?”  Maggie shook her head silently.  “They become competitive, that’s what!  They’ll both give their all to show everyone— including themselves—that they are the best swordsman on the planet.  So, I wouldn’t plan on getting much sleep, if you know what I mean.”

“Do you really think it will happen that way?” asked Maggie.

“They won’t be able to help themselves—they are men,” Pat insisted.     

“That sounds interesting,” laughed Maggie.

“It’s more than interesting—it’s positively delicious,” Pat blurted out, her excitement growing.  “It’s all that I’ve been able to think of since we planned the trip.  It’s probably the reason that I got carried away a little bit while I was shaving you.”

“I plan to give Fred every opportunity to prove himself,” giggled Maggie.

“That’s the spirit, girl,” declared Pat.  “Those new bathing suits won’t hurt our chances, so don’t hesitate to let it all hang out.  There’s no point in being subtle or shy.  Once the ball gets rolling, there will be no stopping it.”  She peered at her friend to be sure that she understood her meaning.  “I just love it when men let themselves go back to being cavemen!  Their animal instincts are the best ones that they’ve got,” she added as she stretched herself from fingers to toes like a lioness.

The two women paused for a second, looking at each other with wide eyes and unabashed grins.  They shared the enjoyment of the moment, the anticipation of the adventure.  They were bonded in the conspiracy, looked forward to the action.  It was all innocent enough on the surface—a plan for lovemaking with their spouses.  Beneath it there was a thrill they did not quite understand.  It was unconventional, perhaps a bit naughty.  They sensed a power being unleashed that they were unsure they could control.

“What if the boys get so wound up that they want to…you know…for old times’ sake?” Maggie couldn’t quite get out the words.

“You mean swap?” laughed Pat.  “Let them think that they are.  That will just get them charged up even more.”

“Things could really get out of control, Pat.”  Maggie was the sensible one.

“They won’t,” Pat assured, waving her hand.  “But…,” she leaned close to Maggie and her voice turned to a husky whisper, “whatever happens…happens.  We’ll leave it at the lake.  When we come home we won’t talk about it or let it bother us.  This is just for fun and nothing else.” 

Pat and Maggie looked at each other, forming a silent pact.  Pat reached out and placed her hand atop Maggie’s.

“We leave it at the lake!” Maggie repeated.

************* 

“I’m so glad that you’re home.  I’ve missed you!” cooed Maggie to her husband. 

The room was dark, but Fred could see Maggie in the sparse light, or a shadowy, darkened version of her.  They were both nude.  He could feel her smooth, warm skin against his.  Maggie had planned to greet him at the door in her red baby-doll nightie, but Fred arrived home an hour earlier than planned.  Maggie had just stepped out of the shower when he came in.  He had already dragged his bags into the kitchen when she came downstairs in her terrycloth bathrobe.  That was enough for Fred.  They would save the negligee for another time.

Fred lay on his back in their king-sized bed; Maggie was prone and lay between his knees. 

“I missed you, too,” Fred responded.

“Mmm, that’s good!” Maggie purred.  Maggie’s face was posed inches over Fred’s erection and her tongue snaked from between her lips and danced on the tip.  Fred pressed hip hips up slightly, stretching the skin to bring the nerve endings closer to the surface and the warm, moist tongue.  Maggie’s arms were wrapped around his thighs.

Maggie retracted her tongue and bent her head lower.  She clasped his mushroom head within her pliant lips and sucked it ever so gently.  She tasted a droplet of fluid, as she knew she would, and nibbled a bit.  She alternated between sucking and nibbling. 

Her sensitive lips could feel Fred’s pulse, and it was quickening.  It was a good sign.  She opened her mouth and dove downward, until his pulsing tip touched the back of her throat.  She quickly bobbed back up.  It was a teasing torture by interrupted pleasure.  As Fred recovered from the near climax, his breath was ragged.

Fred had pulled into their driveway at eight.  She led him up the stairs to the turned-down bed.  Bathrobes and clothing were quickly stripped away. Time passed to nine thirty.  Fred had been Maggie’s ‘project’ for over an hour.  She loved giving him head.  For Maggie, fellatio was an art form.  Fred knew it.  His role was to lie patiently and graciously receive.  She would take her pleasure from him later.  For the moment, they would follow her prescription.

Maggie resumed her cycle of lick, suck, nibble and swallow.  It was so predictable; yet, impossible to tire of it.   When she thought the moment was right to grant his climax she would break the cycle, submerge even deeper and swallow him.  She would gulp him until he released and poured himself into her eager throat.  She would milk every drop.  Maggie loved using her skills on him.

She wasn’t sure how much longer she would continue.  She knew when she tasted that first leakage he could be coaxed to climax in a short time with little effort.  Then it would be her turn.  There were other times when she could bring him to the brink of orgasm, just to back away at the last second.  She would wait until his urge subsided.  It would relieve the pressure to ejaculate.  The pleasure cycle could continue much longer.

Maggie heard Fred’s shallow panting.  She could control it with her practiced maneuvers.  She knew that he had lost himself—he was hers.  She could treat him to instant ecstasy at the moment she would choose, or continue the sweet torture.  He was her medium, the canvass that she brushed so delicately, the marble chiseled with such knowledge of the hardness and veins of the stone. 

She dove down on him deeply—more than normal.  His mushroom head popped into her throat.  She knew that Fred sensed that culmination was near.  She suddenly rose up.  He popped out of her mouth.  She crawled up several inches and encased his member in her breasts. 

“I forgot to tell you,” she spoke in a low voice.  “I asked Pat and Charlie Wilson to share the cabin at Raquette Lake with us.”

“Huh?” Fred grunted.  “Are you kidding?”

Maggie went back to nibbling.  “You said any couple I could find would be all right,” she reminded him between quick bobs of her head.

“But Maggie…” he started to protest.

“Please say ‘Yes’.  You know that Pat and I are best friends.”  She bent back to her task, glad that he wasn’t softening at the sudden bad news.

“If I say ‘Yes’ can we get back to what we were doing?” Fred pleaded.

Maggie answered by reapplying herself to the artwork in progress.  It didn’t take long to return to the magic place she had taken Fred.  It was a pleasure to hear him cry out as he released himself into her eager throat.

In the aftermath she took her place lying beside him with her head on his shoulder.  He was breathing returned to normal.  Soon he would please her with his own tongue and lips.

“It was nice of you to agree to go with Pat and Charlie,” she mewed as she played with his chest hair. 

“Actually,” he informed her, “Charlie called me this morning and told me.  I’ve had since ten this morning to get used to the idea.”     

Maggie sat up with a start.  “You tricked me!”

********** 

The drive to Raquette Lake would take four hours.  They would go to the public boat launch first.  Fred would take the boat across the lake to the cabin, while the others trekked in their SUVs over the dirt roads. 

In the morning the two couples got started at ten o’clock.  It would have been a tight fit in Fred’s SUV with four people and luggage for a week, so they decided to take two cars.  Charlie and Pat would follow Fred, since they didn’t know the way.  An added benefit was that they wouldn’t be tied to one car.

“Call them on the cell and ask them if we can skip lunch,” Fred said to Maggie as they exited the Interstate at Utica.  “I want to get there before it starts getting dark.”

“If I do that,” she retorted, “they’ll think that you don’t want to talk to them over lunch.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Fred snapped.  “I just want to get to the cabin while we still have some daylight.  I know they have some snacks in the car.  We have the steaks in the cooler; we’ll have a big get-reacquainted cookout tonight.”

Maggie didn’t answer and didn’t make the call either.

“I’m sure that Charlie will agree—and I don’t care if Pat agrees or not,” Fred insisted.

Maggie made the call.  “Daniel Boone says that we have to make the lake before nightfall so we have skip lunch,” Maggie spoke with sarcasm into the cell phone.  She listened for a few seconds.  “All right, I’ll tell him.”  She ended the call.

“Pat told me to tell you that ‘Davy Crockett’ says that he understands.”

“See?  What did I tell you?” Fred snorted.

“Don’t you want to know what else Pat said?” Maggie challenged.

Fred rolled his eyes.  He sensed irritation on its way.  “No!” he sighed.

“I’ll tell you anyway,” Maggie continued.  “She said that she would agree to anything if ’Daniel Boone would stop driving like a maniac and making Davy Crockett do the same to keep up with him’.”

“The more things change, the more they stay the same,” Fred muttered to himself out loud.

Fred could see that the week was shaping up as ‘girls against the boys.’  It was the last thing he wanted, but he hadn’t the foggiest idea on how to deal with that problem.  He had looked forward to a nice weekend of mixed activities with a couple that had a talent of joining when the time was right and staying out of one’s hair when it wasn’t. 

“Where are the Martins when you really need them?” he quipped.  Maggie kept silent.

************ 

It was two-fifteen when the two SUV’s arrived at the public boat launch near the Village of Raquette Lake.  The sun was shining on the hot summer afternoon.

The Adirondack Mountains are drained by the Raquette River, and the Lake is its source.  It’s really a basin, carved by ancient glaciers where the waters of Blue Mountain Lake and the Fulton Chain join to wait for their turn to travel to the St. Lawrence River.  The lake is about five miles long from north to south and two miles wide.  Along the way, the flow is joined by those of Long Lake, the Tupper Lakes and others.  Raquette Lake is calm and shallow.  There are many areas of marsh and reeds.  The shores are a collection of fingers of land that create numerous coves and secluded havens.  It isn’t over-built with tourist sites, like some areas.  The fishing is fantastic, the pace is slow.  A canoe is a better choice than a speedboat or jet-ski.  If you are looking for action—forget it.  If you want relaxation at your own pace, you’re in the right place.

Fred backed the SUV and boat trailer down the ramp.  Charlie and Pat parked nearby and came over to help.  Floating the boat wasn’t really difficult; Fred could have handled it by himself, but let Charlie lend a hand.

A casual observer seeing the two couples, the men attending to the boat, the women on the shore watching, would have seen that they were traveling together.  The conclusion on which spouses belonged together would have been a mistake.

Charlie was tall and lanky.  He had dark features and black hair, where he had any hair left.  He looked like a basketball player of old with a little paunch.  The description was accurate.  He did play forward at the Division III college where he majored in Accounting.  That was in the past.  He had become the managing partner of the accounting firm that he started with friends of his from the Big Eight firm where they began their careers.  Just to use the ‘Big Eight’ nickname dated him.  According to appearances, he was Maggie’s perfect match.

Fred was shorter than Charlie and stocky.  He had a full head of light brown hair that had been invaded with shreds of gray.  He had actually worked himself into decent physical condition in the last few years.  He realized the hazards of food and drink when he was out on the road.  He determined to fight back by joining a gym and following an exercise regimen that kept him trim.

After the two SUVs ambled away Fred stepped into his boat.  It was a modest skiff with an outboard motor, perfectly suited for fishing and the Lake.  Fred knew that by cutting across the Lake he would easily arrive at the cabin ahead of the caravan of SUVs, and he didn’t want to.  He started the motor and guided it to the public dock in the Village.  Maggie had given him a grocery list to fill.  It suited him.  He would rather kill some time while the women opened up the cabin and cleaned up.  He felt guilty for not asking Charlie to accompany him by boat.  He had considered it, but thought that the move would have been obvious to the women.

Fred wandered slowly through the small grocery store, picking up the items on Maggie’s list.  He noted that she had neglected to write down ‘beer’.

“No problem—I’ll fix that!” Fred said out loud to himself.  He strode to the walk-in cooler and picked out a case.  “That will get us started.”  He picked up two six packs of wine coolers for the girls.  They were made from limes and mangos, or some fruity concoction that Fred preferred not to think about.

It took two trips from the grocery store to the dock to get the bags of groceries and case of beer loaded into the boat.  “I hate warm beer!” he said to no one in particular.  He popped the cap on a bottle from the case he just bought, started the motor of his boat and took the long, slow way to the cabin.

The cold beer was refreshing.  As he looked about he noticed that the lake and surrounding forests hadn’t changed a bit and that suited Fred to a T.  It was his favorite place to relax and unwind.  His companions for the week were not his first choice, to be sure.  Charlie was okay.  He didn’t know him very well, but never had a reason to have anything against him.  It was Pat who loomed as the potential burr under his saddle.  He was determined not to let her get to him. 

The Daniel Boone zinger almost had succeeded in making him angry.  Pat had obviously passed the nickname to Maggie.  Only Fred and Pat knew that it was an allusion to an episode many years before when he had become lost while driving on lonely forest trails in Maine and wound up in Canada by mistake.  Pat had a great memory for those kinds of things.  The RCMP did, too, but that was another story.

It wasn’t as though he and Pat hadn’t seen one another since the divorce.  They, after all, had a daughter who had graduated college.  They managed to be civil to one another on that occasion.  The bitterness of the split-up was worn away.  She was happy with Charlie and Fred with Maggie.  There had been good times, too.  Why let it grind?  Still, it was a risky, new venture to try this reunion for a whole week. 

Fred reckoned that the group would be arriving at the cabin at about that time.  By the time he made his way across the lake the cleaning and unpacking would be well under way.  Fred had great timing.  He popped the top on another beer and turned the skiff toward the cabin, but not too fast.

********** 

Fred docked the boat.  The cabin was about fifty yards away.  He searched for signs of activity and saw none and that made him worry.  If Maggie had taken the wrong dirt road, getting back on course could take hours, especially with the boat trailer behind the SUV.  He wasn’t sure that Maggie would be able to turn the vehicle around.

He carried a bag of groceries up to the cabin and saw that neither vehicle had arrived.  Maggie had the keys with her, so he couldn’t get in cabin and didn’t want to break in.  He set the groceries down on the doorstep.  The sun was getting low in the sky; it was still quite warm out.  Fred immediately recognized a crisis—something had to be done.  It called for fast action.  The beer was already warm and he couldn’t get into the cabin to get it into the refrigerator.  If he didn’t do something right away it wouldn’t be chilled until the next day.     

Fred considered getting back into the boat and searching for a neighbor to store the beer.  He wasn’t sure that he would find anyone he knew, and it wouldn’t look good to count the bottles before entrusting them to an unknown party.  Fred, with his brain running at top speed, seized upon a sudden inspiration.  The temperature of the air was nearly ninety; the water in the lake was probably twenty degrees less.

The lake couldn’t chill the beer, but it would give him a head start when he could get it into the refrigerator.  It wasn’t perfect, but it was man against the wilderness and he had to improvise.  Fred went back to the boat and stripped off his shoes and socks.  He was wearing shorts.  He hopped into the water.  It was two or three feet deep.  He reached into the boat and set the case of beer on the silty lakebed.  He would retrieve the bottles later and clean up the soaked cardboard.  Problem solved!

It was the work of a dedicated genius.  He knew Charlie would be grateful.  He set out to find the lost caravan.  He had an idea where they might be, a fork in the road that was confusing.  He was sure that Maggie had chosen the wrong one.  It was about a half-mile away.

Fred hiked to the mischievous fork in the dirt road.  Sure enough, the two SUV’s were at the end of the dead end path about a quarter mile away.  Pat, Maggie and Charlie were trying to figure out how to get the SUVs, complete with boat trailer, turned in the right direction.  From the angle of the trailer, Fred guessed that Maggie had already backed the trailer into the drainage ditch and had given up trying to back the rig down the lane.

“Look!  Daniel Boone’s come to save us.” Pat quipped as she saw Fred approaching.

Fred didn’t like the remark, but had realized earlier in the day that it was going to be his fate to listen to Pat’s barbs for the entire week, so he decided not to care. 

“Fred, honey, I took the wrong turn,” Maggie informed him of the obvious in her helpless woman voice. 

“I see that!” answered Fred.  “You must have let Pat handle the map.”  He didn’t really care about Pat’s barbs, but it was a voluntary indifference and he had the right to suspend it when he so chose.  This was too good an opportunity to pass up, as Pat had to sit silently while he rescued them.      

The empty boat trailer wasn’t heavy and the trail was flat.  Fred and Charlie unhitched it from the SUV and pushed it by hand to the fork where they got things pointed in the right way.    They finally arrived at the cabin at just before five in the afternoon.

The four of them quickly emptied out the two SUVs and pushed the boat trailer out of the way.  The women set about making up the beds and cleaning, even thought they hadn’t been at the cabin long enough to get anything dirty.  Fred noticed that the landlord had already turned on the refrigerator.

“Perfect!” he exclaimed to quizzical looks from Pat and Maggie.  “Charlie,” he called out, “empty out that basket of clothes and give me a hand.”

The two men went out the front door toward the lake, empty clothes basket in hand.

“Where do you guys think you’re going?” called Pat after them.  Fred explained his ploy to cool the beer in the lake.

“Good thinking!” exclaimed Charlie.

“You mean you were here playing with beer bottles in the lake while we were stranded on that dirt road?”  Maggie accused incredulously.

“I wasn’t playing,” Fred argued back.  “I was protecting my investment, and it only took two extra minutes.”

“Beer wasn’t even on my grocery list,” snapped Maggie.

“I noticed, but I added it in.  I figured that you forgot,” Fred yelled over his shoulder as he strode out with Charlie toward the dock.

Pat could see that Maggie was starting to fume.  “Look, he bought us some wine coolers.” She pointed out to cool her friend down.

Fred waded into the lake and handed the beer bottles to Charlie who stood on the dock

“Maggie sounded mad,” Charlie warned.

“Forget it!” Fred reassured him.  “She’s just feeling guilty for getting lost and putting the trailer in the ditch.  She’s looking for someone else to shoulder the blame.  She’ll get over it.”

Back in the cabin the women were finishing their housekeeping.

“Want to break out our new bikinis?” Pat asked.

“It’s a little late.  It should start cooling off soon,” Maggie said.   Besides, Fred will think that it’s a peace offering for yelling at him over the beer.”

“You’re not still mad are you?” Pat asked.

“No,” Maggie answered.  “But it wouldn’t look good to go into full retreat—and the sun is getting pretty low.”

“Have a wine cooler,” Pat offered. 

The women fell silent as Fred and Charlie walked into the cabin with the beer and started loading it into the refrigerator.  He saved out four bottles and put them into the freezer to move them along faster. 

“Why don’t Charlie and I start the fire and put the steaks on?” Fred suggested.  Everyone remembered that they had skipped lunch.

It was seven before they sat down to eat.  Maggie’s and Fred’s sparring over the beer was forgotten.  Pat and Fred kept their barbs to themselves, at least temporarily.  By the time they finished dinner it was nine in the evening.  Charlie and Fred sat outdoors having another beer while the women cleaned up.  They discussed playing golf and fishing.  Fred promised to give Charlie a guided boat tour around the lake.  The women joined them with a wine cooler each. 

“I’m tired!” Pat declared.  It was heading toward ten.  “I think it’s this mountain air.”

“It was a long day traveling.” Maggie agreed.  “I’m going to turn in.”

They all decided that it would be a good idea.  They would all hit the sack and start the new day fresh and rested. 

********** 

TO BE CONTINUED