This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to real 
persons is unintentional and strictly coincidental.  If you are below 
the age of 18, or 21 depending on your locality, stop reading right 
now. If your government prohibits erotic literature, stop reading 
now and delete this. If you choose to continue, that is your decision 
-- and your responsibility -- not mine.  
This is intended solely for adults, and any other rebroadcast, 
retransmission, and account of this game is strictly prohibited by the 
National Hockey League. Wait --The NHL doesn't care --I care. Any 
unauthorized redistribution of this is in violation of copyright. I 
authorize this to be archived in its entirety, except in those 
cases where a fee is charged.

This is Copyright 1999 by 
John3365A@aol.com. All rights reserved.

This is only the second story I've written. I'd like some feedback. Positive
or negative, I'll try to respond to everyone (except obnoxious flames). 
Thanks. My e-mail address is John3365A@aol.com.

This is Copyright 1999 by 
John3365A@aol.com. All rights reserved.



"Five Hours" by John A (M/F, Rom, anal)
------




"What time are you leaving tomorrow?" I asked my wife.

"No later than ten, it tends to fill up quickly."

"You should have a good day, the weather's supposed to be great. The 
kids will have a great time."

"Are you sure you don't want to come? You know they'll be disappointed."

"Positive. I brought my clubs all the way to Florida, I'm determined 
to use them at least once." I smiled.

My wife and I had brought our three kids to Florida during spring school 
vacation and were spending the week at Walt Disney World. Yes, we were 
suckers for the mouse. Our kids loved to go there, and I loved to watch 
them have such a great time. And yes, I like it a lot too. We'd had a 
great week to that point, visiting all of the theme parks. The next day 
my wife was taking the kids to River Country, a beach park right on the 
Disney complex that's perfect for little kids. 

I was, however, not going. I enjoy the theme parks as much as the next 
overgrown child, and I love going on all of the attractions with my kids 
but if I have a choice between sitting at a beach or playing golf, golf 
wins every time. I just hoped my daughter wouldn't use her puppy-dog eyes 
on me in an attempt to convince me to go with them. Four-year-olds can 
be particularly persuasive.

When I called the Magnolia course I was assigned a tee time of 8am. Since 
I was going to be playing alone, they would arrange for me to be set up 
with a playing partner who was also playing alone. We were to meet at 
the club house at 7:45.

I hated to be set up with an unknown playing partner. Not that I'm a 
great golfer, it's more the unknown of playing four hours with a stranger. 
I don't enjoy playing with someone who wants to get really competitive, 
or someone who has a temper and throws his clubs all over the place. I 
play golf to relax and because I enjoy it. I have enough stress in 
my life without adding more from a game. I harbored no delusions -- 
unlike many fellow golfers -- about becoming a great player, or 
chucking it all and being a pro. The difference between 70 and 80 is 
exponentially greater than the difference between 80 and 100 in terms 
of talent. I was in the latter group and there was no way I would get 
to the former, and I really didn't enjoy playing with someone who 
played as though his life depended on every shot. 

I arrived at the course at 7:40 and went to the starter. He brought me 
over to my playing partner and I was slightly taken aback. I just assumed 
that my playing partner would be a man. I'm not sure why, many women play 
golf. I just never considered the probability that my partner would be 
a woman. 

"Hi, I'm Sarah Singleton," she said in a lilting, airy voice.

I introduced myself as we shook hands. She had a firm, yet tender grip 
and I looked at her more closely. She appeared to be in her mid to late 
30's with medium length dark hair. Pretty, pleasant features. Very cute. 
The thought of golfing with this charming woman was much more pleasing 
than most alternatives. I was a happily married man, but I was not averse 
to spending a few hours in the company of a pretty woman.

As we began play, we made polite conversation, warming up to each other. 
She was in Florida with her husband and two teenage children. Her husband 
was some sort of a sales manager for a corporation in Philadelphia. He 
had to be in Orlando for a conference that week, so the rest of the family 
tagged along with him for a vacation.

It didn't take me very long to notice that she was a better player than 
me. She told me her handicap was four; very impressive. I had told her 
that mine was eight, even though it's actually 12. Male ego, I guess. 
We talked and joked as if we were lifelong friends and found that in addition 
to golf, we both shared many similar interests, and had much the same 
taste in music, too. 

The first few holes just flew by for me and I realized that I was enjoying 
Sarah's company more than the golf. I found myself watching her; looking 
at her as she walked to approach her ball, or watching her intently as 
she swung. She had firm, muscular thighs that descended from a beautiful 
bottom. It wasn't one of those tight teenage asses, but the behind of 
a woman. It was a little full, but firm and well shaped and it looked 
very delicious beneath her white shorts. I admonished myself for my thoughts. 
I was a married man after all, she was a married woman and I was acting 
like a kid. Still, there was no harm in looking and I knew that was all 
that would come of it.

We were laughing and joking quite a bit by the time we got to the seventh 
hole. 

"What do you say we make this interesting?" she said with a little twinkle 
in her eye.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Whoever wins has to pay for the other's lunch," she paused for a moment, 
"that is, if you don't mind having lunch with me."

"I'd love to," I said a little too eagerly. "But handicaps are included." 
I was truly enjoying her company, and anything to lengthen the amount 
of time we spent together was fine with me.

She smiled broadly. "That's fine. Unless you're lying about your handicap, 
trying to snooker me." I actually was lying, but not in the way she suggested. 
I was really a worse player than my handicap suggested to her. She was 
going to crush me. Male ego. Damn inconvenient at times. She laughed 
and agreed as we walked to the eighth hole tied. Sarah had a laughter that 
seemed to spring up from deep inside of her. Not a superficial polite 
laugh, the type you hear at cocktail parties. She was warm and had an 
ebullient charm only possessed by the truly genuine and I couldn't help 
but be very enchanted by her. 

The rest of the round was a blur of laughter and playful flirting and 
in no time we were at the 18th hole. I had used every opportunity I had 
to gaze at her; I was fascinated by her every movement, becoming more 
captivated by her as each hole passed. As the round progressed, I also 
noticed that she was glancing at me, as well; stealing surreptitious 
looks when she felt as if she could get away with it. I was quite sure 
that it was all in good fun and I tried to convince my ego that there 
was nothing going on between us. Still, I wondered. 

We were tied and the 18th was the 6th toughest hole, so I got a stroke 
due to the handicap and she didn't. All I needed to do was tie her on 
this hole and I would win. The cost of the meal was inconsequential to 
winning. Male ego. Dumb. As it turned out I three putted the hole for 
a bogie 6, while she hit a great approach and sank a 15-foot putt for 
a birdie 4 to beat me by a stoke. 

She teased me playfully about her victory as we walked off the green 
toward the club house. We decided to eat lunch at the Rainforest 
Cafe at the Downtown Disney Marketplace. Since I had taken the shuttle 
to the course, she offered to drive me. 

While awaiting our lunch, we had a few drinks and began to talk about 
our lives. Sarah spoke glowingly about her children; her brown eyes 
sparkled and her face lit up as she did. She had a 16-year-old girl 
and a 15-year-old boy. Today they were both at EPCOT together. She 
bragged about their achievements with the pride of a loving parent. 
She looked beautiful. 

Her eyes darkened and her face lost some of its effervescence as she 
started talking about her husband. Sarah finished her second glass of 
wine and ordered another. She complained about her husband being on the 
road so often; she was grateful for the life that he provided her and 
the kids, but it wasn't enough. Even when he was home, it was as if he 
wasn't there; he was always working, always setting up the next deal. 
He was apparently very good at what he did -- they lived in an exclusive 
Philadelphia suburb -- but their family life had suffered because of it.

I told her about my three children and my wife, opening up to her about 
how things had been strained at home between the two of us lately. Part 
of it was my fault. I worked long hours, and rarely took time off. In 
fact, this was my first time off in over nine months. I was a consultant 
in the burgeoning data-communications field and I had more clients than 
I knew what to do with. My wife understood this and tried to be sympathetic, 
but I knew that it was tough for her. I worked out of an office at home, 
so we saw each other quite a bit, we just didn't spend much time together. 
I was either working or off visiting clients, and she was bringing our 
oldest boy to little league or our daughter to ballet. And the baby took 
up a lot of time too. Already two now, he was a handful and Abby -- my wife 
-- was always tired. We'd read an article that suggested that busy married 
couples should try to schedule sex, so we did. But that was futile -- 
and seemed a little ridiculous, too. You can't turn on intimacy like a 
light switch. She became less and less in the mood as the years went by 
anyway. We were drifting apart, we both knew it, we both didn't want it 
to happen, but there wasn't a damn thing either one of us could do about it.

The subject changed when lunch arrived and the discourse lightened. As 
we ate our meals we engaged in light, small talk. She was very witty and 
I felt alive being able to flirt with someone I found as attractive as 
Sarah. At one point I felt her foot bump against mine. She looked at me 
and smiled shyly as she removed it. As I was looking across the table 
I took more of a notice of her. Sarah was perfect. Not that most men would 
find her perfect; in fact I doubted that many would find her beautiful. 
Most, certainly, would find her attractive and very cute, though. But to 
me, everything about her was what I found attractive in a woman. From her 
lips to her breasts, to the way she walked and the way she laughed, to 
her smile and her legs, from her brown eyes that sparkled when she was 
excited about something to the way she tossed her hair absentmindedly, 
everything she did was perfect to me. I knew she wasn't the most beautiful 
woman I'd ever met, there was just something about her; the totality of 
her. To me, her whole was much greater than the sum of her parts. I was 
a man married for eleven years who was developing a crush on another man's 
wife. I felt guilty. I felt giddy.

My reverie was broken by the touch of her foot against mine again. This 
time she let it linger for a moment and she blushed. I smiled to reassure 
her and her face relaxed. She began rubbing her foot against my leg and 
I could feel myself becoming aroused from the contact. She worked her 
foot up my calf, stroking it slowly, seductively.

"Bill, please don't think I'm a terrible person but would you like to 
go back to my hotel room with me?" She was barely audible.

I was speechless and could have been knocked over with a feather. My 
mouth was open but nothing was coming out. Here this beautiful woman had 
just offered herself to me, and I was at a loss for words.

"Oh God, I'm sorry," she was bright red by now. "You probably think I'm 
such a slut or something like that. I've never done anything like this 
before. My husband is the only man I've ever slept with. I'm just so 
attracted to you I don't know what I'm doing. I'm so sorry."  

I could see tears roll down her cheeks as she was staring down at the 
table. I was really torn about what I wanted to do, but I knew letting 
this lovely creature writhe in agony wasn't an option. 

I reached across the table and took her hand in mine. I tried to give 
her my most reassuring smile, but I was as confused as she appeared to 
be. She clasped it tightly, like a liferope, and smiled slightly as she 
wiped her tears with her free hand. I had a million conflicting thoughts 
all at once colliding within my mind. Lust however, as it often does, 
won out and I quickly paid the bill before either one of us changed our 
mind.

"What about your husband?" I asked as we rose from the table.

"His conference will last until at least nine tonight, my kids are at 
EPCOT, and they won't be meeting me until six for dinner."

I looked at my watch, it was only 12:45. My only response was a smile 
-- actualy more of a shit-eating grin; words escaped me at the moment. 
We left the restaurant like two high school kids cutting class to go make 
out. Hand in hand, we practically sprinted to her car as if something 
were chasing us. She was giggly and I had a spring in my step that I hadn't 
had in years.

The ride to her hotel was tense, anxious; neither of us able to speak 
for fear of the great unknown that we were about to plunge into. For my 
part, I was locked into a strenuous wrestling match with my conscience. 

Why was I doing this, why was this happening? Eleven years. Eleven years 
of marriage being risked for what? For an afternoon of sex, a tryst, with 
a woman I'd known for all of five hours. Eleven years versus five hours. 
Vegas wouldn't give very good odds on that bet. 

I tried to convince myself that I was nuts. It's not as if she were Cindy 
Crawford or Kathy Ireland, either. Although, if the offer were made, there 
would probably be less of a chance of me doing anything with either of 
them than with Sarah. There was just something about this woman that I 
found irresistible. Yes she was attractive, pretty, flirtatious; but many 
women were and I'd never considered this before.  There was something 
more, something that drew me to her like a moth to a flame. No matter 
how hard my rational side tried to resist, she was a magnet. Everything 
between us just meshed perfectly. At the restaurant our conversation 
was so relaxed, so familiar, as if we had known each other for years. 
We were even finishing each other's sentences -- after only five hours.

Yes, she showed an interest, but she had not been the first. I valued 
my marriage vows. Those weren't just words I'd spoken. I believed them, 
honored them. Over the years of my marriage there had been several women 
with whom I could have shared a bed. Women I'd known more than five hours, 
too. Female colleagues on business trips; two old friends from college -- 
friends of Abby's, too -- who discretely alluded to their 
availability to me on several occasions; my former secretary, enticing 
me with overtures both subtle and overt. I refused them all, politely, 
diplomatically. I was a happily married man. Or so I thought. But here 
I was with a woman I'd known for all of five hours; a married woman, no 
less. Infatuated like a teenaged boy overflowing with hormones. But I 
wasn't a boy. I was a man about to commit adultery, and I was powerless 
to stop it.

I removed my clubs from the trunk of her rental car; I had to bring them 
in with me. Her room was at the Grand Floridian and I was staying at the 
Polynesian, and I would be taking the monorail back to my hotel. I wasn't 
sure if I was Moe, Larry, or Shemp, but I certainly felt like a stooge. 
No, I wasn't exactly handling my affair with the grace of Cary Grant. I 
was a stuttering, stumbling fool. I dropped my golf bag in the parking 
lot and my hands were sweating -- not just because of the Florida
heat. I think I was more nervous than on my first date when I was a 
teenager.  It was at least relieving to me that she wasn't staying at 
the same hotel as I was. The last thing I needed at that point was for 
my wife or my kids seeing me with another woman. 

I tried to relax myself as we rode the elevator up to her floor. We smiled 
nervously at each other, both excited and terrified at what we were about 
to do. She slid the card into the electronic lock and swung the door open. 
Sarah and I entered and immediately pressed ourselves into each other's 
arms. We kissed hungrily, replacing the last vestiges of doubt with animal 
lust, erasing all tension. She began stroking my hardening cock through 
my pants as we frantically struggled to remove our clothes.

"How about if we get in the shower?" Sarah asked coyly as my cock sprang 
from my underwear. It was a good idea. We were both hot and dirty and 
sweaty from playing golf in the Florida sun for nearly four hours. The 
awkwardness of a first sexual encounter didn't need to be compounded by 
being filthy.

Sarah adjusted the temperature of the shower as we soaped each other. 
She expertly fondled my balls with her soapy hand as I played with her 
breasts, bringing the nipples to pronounced erections. Sarah had beautiful 
tits. Barely more than a handful, they were perfect for her. Slightly 
weighty, but still standing proudly they were smooth, creamy globes topped 
off by very red, very pointy nipples. 

Our soapy hands explored every inch of each other's bodies, as we kissed 
deeply. After what seemed like hours of just kissing and caressing, I 
placed a soapy finger on her pussy and began to massage her clit. Sarah 
groaned and she immediately began to shudder in orgasm. She became more 
aggressive at this point and grasped my cock tightly and stroked me 
insistently with her right hand. I inserted my finger into her wet 
opening, fucking it in and out of her with the same rhythm she was 
using to stroke my cock. Her pussy was hot, and I enjoyed the feeling 
of its tight wetness.

"Please, Bill, fuck me now," she implored, lifting one leg and placing 
it on the edge of the tub.

Never one to disappoint a lady, I removed my hand from her sex and angled 
my penis toward her awaiting flower. 

"I take it you're ok?" I asked with a pant as I place the head of my 
prick at the entrance to her vagina.

"No," she put her leg down and stiffened. "I just assumed you were, I 
guess. Dan had a vasectomy, I really didn't think about it."

"Oh, shit. Abby's on the pill . . . and I haven't had a condom since 
I was in college." We began laughing in spite of ourselves, comforting 
ourselves in an embrace, chuckling at the absurdity of it all. Oh yes, 
I was indeed one of the Three Stooges. Only Shemp could fuck up a 
situation like this. 

Sarah pulled away and released my prick from her grasp. She gave me a 
peck on the lips and grinned coyly while she lathered her hand with even 
more soap. Then she proceeded to soap my dick in earnest. But just as 
I was getting very excited she stopped abruptly.

"Soap up my ass for me." Her voice was a whisper and she was blushing 
as she turned away from me. "Just be gentle, I've never done this before."

Sarah was truly an amazing creature, willingly giving her virgin ass to 
me. I was taken aback but tried to be as careful as possible. I began by 
first inserting one soapy finger just up to the second knuckle. Sarah moaned 
as I worked the finger around, her anus adjusting to the intruder, gripping 
my finger snugly. As I worked another finger inside her, she started playing 
with her pussy and was moaning softly.

"Are you sure about this Sarah?"

"Yeah, do it," she moaned.

I removed my fingers from Sarah's ass and gripped my cock firmly as I 
pressed its head against her tight rosebud. I pushed onward, inserting 
the soapy, helmeted invader just past the anal ring. She grunted, and 
I didn't move. I wanted her to get accustomed to the feel of my erect 
penis before I began thrusting. 

After about a minute she began pressing herself back toward me, urging 
me inward. I grabbed hold of her hips and slowly inserted my erection 
deep into her ass. Pausing a moment to allow her to adjust to the feeling, 
I reached around and began fingering her pussy. I located her clit and 
flicked it with my forefinger. Sarah squirmed and groaned as I began my 
ass fuck in earnest, repeatedly pulling my cock almost all the way out 
before shoving it back in to its fullest.  Sarah's ass was tight, almost 
to the point of causing me pain, and it took every bit of concentration 
and self-control I had not to come after the first few strokes.

"Are you doing OK?" I asked, forced by my conscience, with ragged breath.

"Mm-huh, this actually feels good -- full -- but I like it," she grunted 
as she pushed her ass back toward me.

I took her encouragement to redouble my efforts and began thrusting into 
her backside with wild abandon. She grunted and moaned as my digital 
ministrations on her sex combined with my furious ass fuck were having 
the desired effect and she shrieked in orgasm. I could feel the spasm 
in her ass and that sent me over the edge just as she was coming down 
form her peak. I erupted deep within her bowel, experiencing one of the 
most intense orgasms in my recent -- and not so recent -- memory.

My softening penis fell from Sarah's ass and we spent the next five minutes 
washing each other in silence. We got out and dried off and she led me 
to the bed. We lay there holding each other, not saying a word for about 
fifteen minutes. Finally Sarah lifted her head from my chest and looked 
up at me.

"Do you think I'm a terrible person?" Her voice was quiet, childlike.

"No. I think you're an amazing person. You can't begin know how incredible 
I think you are."

"Yeah," she snickered, "a 38-year-old woman who cheated on her husband 
with a married man."

"Don't do that to yourself. This was very special for me . . . and I 
think for you too. On one hand, I feel guilty as hell about it, but on 
the other hand I don't. It was almost like we were fated to be together." 
I paused. "You know, I've never been with another woman since I've been 
married."

"Really?" She brightened and smiled. 

"Don't look so surprised," I teased. "It's not as if I'm some sort of 
a gigolo. In case you hadn't noticed, I haven't exactly been real smooth 
about this whole thing."

She giggled. "I'm sorry. I guess I was so self-concious, I didn't really 
notice that you weren't being very suave." We both laughed.

I smiled and looked at Sarah, who was idly running her fingers over 
my chest.

"I don't know what came over me," she continued. "I don't think I've 
ever wanted anything as much as I wanted this. I felt something special 
between us, and I knew I wanted to spend more time with you. I was so 
excited when you agreed to go to lunch with me. I felt like a schoolgirl."

We looked in each other's eyes and began to kiss. Not the hungry, violent 
kisses of earlier; these were gentle, passionate kisses -- almost playful 
in nature.

I felt the stirings of my penis and it seemed as if Sarah sensed that 
I was coming back to life, as well. She broke the kiss and slid down the 
bed and enveloped my semi-flaccid prick with her moist mouth. She sucked 
and bobbed on my cock until it was rock hard again and then started to 
stroke me with her hand while keeping her mouth busily at work.  

As I pivoted her around and pulled her hips up to my head, I proceeded 
to work on her pussy with my mouth and tongue. The sweet aroma of her 
sex drifted into my nostrils and I was in heaven. Never before had I smelled 
such a wonderfully delicious pussy.

I was struck by the thought of just how compatible we were sexually. 
She did things to me instinctively that were just perfect. I'd been having 
sex with my wife for almost 13 years, and she didn't have the instincts 
for what I liked that Sarah had. Five hours versus eleven years. I was 
amazed.

My reverie was broken as Sarah's legs squeezed my head and she was yelling 
muffled screams onto my cock. She ground her pussy hard against my mouth 
and I worked very hard to concentrate my attentions on her clit. She bucked 
against my face for about a minute as she paused from her own oral 
ministrations to descend from her climax. After she recovered some of her 
composure she resumed her expert blow job. I hadn't stopped licking her pussy 
and it was only a matter of minutes before she was coming again. She didn't 
yell as loudly this time, but she choked off my air once again as her legs 
tightened around my face. 

Over the next half-hour or so she came several more times, the last few 
blending into each other. She was so rigid that it seemed as if rigor-mortis 
had set in. When she could take it no more, she moved her hips off of 
my face and concentrated solely on my pleasure. Sarah bobbed her head 
up and down and her lips glided over my erect shaft. She slipped one hand 
under my ass and started to massage my prostate. This was too much for 
me. I indicated to her that I was going to come and I tried to pull her 
head off of my cock. She would have nothing of it, however, and clamped 
her lips around my cock's head and stroked me insistently with her free 
hand. With just a few strokes I exploded into Sarah's mouth, spewing my 
sperm deep into her throat. She milked my prick with her hand and swallowed 
every drop of semen, even licking what dripped down my shaft.


We scooted under the covers and lay on the bed for a while; we may have 
even fallen asleep. After a while Sarah stirred and kissed me softly on 
the lips.

"That was incredible," Sarah broke the silence. "I've never ... come 
as many times as that. You're amazing, you know exactly what does it for 
me."

"You were pretty amazing, yourself. I can't remember the last time I 
was able to do it twice in such a short period of time."

"Why couldn't I have met you years ago?" She was smiling, her bright 
eyes looking at me, into me.

"It's funny, I was thinking the same thing. We just play our cards the 
way they're dealt, I guess." I always sounded like an idiot whenever I 
tried to get philosophical. "I do think that you're a very special woman, 
and I'm really glad that this happened."

"Whatever I feel for you," she paused and clutched my hands with hers, 
"and I DO have feelings for you -- we can't do anything about it. I love 
my family and I don't want to do anything to endanger that . . . no matter 
what I personally might want."  

She smiled her warm smile and looked up at me with those beautiful brown 
eyes and I knew she was right. We'd made our commitments and we had to 
live with them. That was another reason that I loved Sarah. We had our 
moment, and I wouldn't give it up for anything in the world, but that's 
all it was, a moment. I had a wife whom I loved and who loved me -- despite 
our problems -- and three beautiful children and I couldn't risk doing 
anything to hurt them. Sarah might have been the perfect woman for me, 
she just wasn't the perfect woman at the right time.  


I looked over at the clock. It was already 4:30. We had lain in bed together 
for over an hour just holding each other, content in our silence. My family 
would be wondering where I was and Sarah's kids could be coming back soon, 
too. I leaned over and gave Sarah a kiss and walked into the bathroom 
to wash the scent of sex off of me. 

When I got out of the shower, Sarah was dressed in a robe sitting on 
the edge of the bed waiting for me. I got dressed in silence and sat down 
on the bed next to her. She rested her head on my shoulder and I put my 
arm around her. 

"You know, Abby will be wondering what I'm always smiling about." I 
chuckled painfully.

She looked up at me, absentmindedly flicking her hair out of her face. 
God, I loved her. "You'll be the tears my husband won't understand."

I got up to leave and she walked me to the door. Then we kissed for the 
final time; softly, lovingly, sweetly -- just like Sarah. I grabbed my 
clubs and pulled the door open. As I stepped through the doorway, I turned 
and took one final look at her. She mouthed the words "I love you," to 
me. I brushed her cheek with my hand and told her that I loved her too. 
That was probably the last time I would ever see her. She had a tear 
rolling down her cheek. I did too.  

--------------------

I took the elevator to the monorail level and waited for the train to 
take me to the Polynesian. I was trying to sort out what had happened 
to me over the last nine hours. I had fallen in love with a complete
stranger and she had fallen in love with me. How does something like that 
happen? I didn't understand it, and didn't know if I ever would.


I got on the monorail and stared out the window during the not quite 
two minute ride to my hotel. The monorail stop was on the second floor 
of the Polynesian and I blankly got out, still lost in my thoughts. I 
entered the hotel, and walked past the gift shops to the elevators.

I got off the elevator and walked down the hall to the door to our suite. 
I stood in front of the door for over a minute before finally taking a 
deep breath and opening it. My life was inside and no good would come 
of hiding from it. When I went in, my oldest boy and my daughter got up 
from where they had been watching "Arthur" on TV and raced over to me, 
giving me big hugs. The baby dropped the truck that he was playing with 
and toddled over to me, lifting his arms over his head saying, "Get up, 
get up."

I hugged and kissed the older ones and picked up little Tommy as Abby
walked in from the other room.

"Hi honey, what took you so long? I was starting to get concerned." She 
gave me a peck on the cheek.

"After my round I went over to that ESPN restaurant at the boardwalk. 
I had some lunch and started watching a college baseball game that they 
were showing. I guess I just lost track of time. Sorry." I lied and hoped 
it wasn't transparent.

"Oh that's ok. I figured that I'd come back here with the kids and let 
them relax this afternoon. By the way, how did you do today?"

I reflected about Sarah and said, "Good. Really well," then I looked 
at my children and wife again and smiled, "then again, I'm a pretty lucky 
guy."


----------------------
Copyright 1999 John3365A@aol.com. 
All rights reserved.