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From: [e-mail] (Edward L. Stauff)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: NEW STORY: Educating Maria, chapter 1 of 3
Date: 7 Oct 92 00:24:46 GMT
Organization: Minstrelsy & Lutherie

I am posting this at the request of the author, who wishes to remain
pseudonymous.  I didn't write this one.

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

Because you asked for it... Nay, you demanded it! Erotica on an epic scale!
Bigger than the Bandit! Sexier than Shauna! More dialogue than Churche
House!  Coming to you over the next few weeks or months, we have the saga of
Maria, very loosely based on real-life experiences (not necessarily the
author's).  Have patience -- sex is hardly even mentioned in the first few
chapters, but it'll be worth it.

Disclaimer: None of the authors, artists, musicians, airlines, hotels,
museums, bookstores, hospitals, conventions, candies, soft drinks, or
anything else mentioned in this story has given permission of any sort.
Therefore, use of their names should not be considered in any way an
endorsement of kinky sex with minors, or of anything else.

            Educating Maria -- Chapter 1
                   "Fly By Night"
                   by Ghostwheel
                        ----------------------------

  I wasn't looking forward to the flight. San Francisco to Boston, with a
three-hour stop in Phoenix -- not the easiest way to make the flight, but I
was flying on my own funds this time, so I had to keep it cheap. If you want
cheap, and inconvenient, American West is the way to go. Worse, we were
leaving San Francisco at midnight, and even if I could get to sleep on the
plane, the Phoenix stop would eliminate any chance for real rest. Worse
still, I was horny. It had been about two months since the woman I'd been
seeing had unceremoniously scrapped the relationship, and my need for sex
was starting to get to me.

  I had packed for the trip as I usually do -- walkman, assortment of tapes,
a few apples, a package of cookies, and a couple of books. I don't generally
sleep on flights, and being a night person anyway, I figured I'd be awake
the whole way. Settling into my seat, I pulled out my book and started
reading.  The book was "Sundiver," by David Brin, an excellent piece of
science fiction.  I didn't have very many pages to go, so I was glad I'd
packed a second book.  With so many other passengers getting on the plane, I
had a hard time paying attention to my reading, so I put it aside for a
moment, and watched the moving crowd. I was quite pleased when I noticed a
very attractive young woman sitting down across the aisle from me. Not that
I expected anything to happen, of course, but having a nice looking woman
nearby can often make a flight a little less tedious.

  A moment later, though, I realized that I'd gotten my hopes up for
nothing.  First, at a closer look, I realized that she couldn't be over
sixteen, probably more like fifteen. Second, she was sitting all the way
across at the window. And third, the two people seated between her and me
were undoubtedly her parents.  My dirty mind was going to have to look
elsewhere for entertainment. Although, when it comes down to harmless
fantasy, there's no reason why a sixteen-year-old can't be the subject,
right? I stole another quick look at her, to confirm that she was as
beautiful as I'd thought, and she definitely was. Dark skin, long black wavy
hair, perfectly clear complexion, large dark eyes, delicate nose, slender
body, and a surprisingly full bust. All of which, I suspected, would
probably be destroyed by the time she was 21 or so.

  Now, this wasn't just random speculation on my part. As I said, her
parents were there, too, and if she was heading for the same life they
seemed to have, her best years might already be behind her. Her father
looked like a low-rent drug dealer from an old episode of "Starsky & Hutch":
hispanic, with a bushy mustache and long, black hair -- probably trying to
compensate for the widening bald patch on top of his head. He wore half a
dozen gold chains around his neck, and several rings on his fingers. And
while he looked to be in his early forties, he looked like one of these guys
who would never really leave adolescence. He also walked with a cane, and
had a very bad limp. I could see when he walked that there was something
seriously wrong with his right knee.  The girl's mother, on the other hand,
was white -- or closer to the truth, grey, with pale skin that had acquired
that unhealthy tinge that comes from years of smoking.  Her hair was also
black, and while I could see faint echoes of her daughter's beauty, they
were buried under at least 20 extra pounds, and further blurred by age
lines.  I could see her nervously clutching at a pack of cigarettes, and
wondered how she would make it through the flight without lighting them.

  It seemed a shame for a lovely young girl like that to face such a
disappointing future, but who ever said life was fair? Anyway, the plane had
finally finished loading, and we were taxiing out to the runway. Figuring I
wouldn't be disturbed any more, I plugged in David Bowie, pulled out my
book, and forgot about the people across the aisle. Forgot about them for
about half an hour, that is. That's when the stewardesses (or flight
attendants, I suppose) came to serve drinks to us. I asked for a Diet Coke,
as had the girl across the aisle. Her parents had both asked for beer.
Unfortunately, the stewardess had just run out of Diet Coke, and had to go
get a couple from another cart. While her parents sipped their beers and
talked to each other in Spanish, I noticed the girl looking at me. Being in
a mood for trouble, I looked straight back at her, threw my meanest eye-lock
on her, and gave a slight smile as I looked away again. It's a technique
I've used on unsuspecting high-school girls and cashiers all over the
country. It's got nothing to do with my appearance -- it's all in the
execution. The look has to tell the girl that you want her *badly*, but you
know she wants you worse.  None of it has to be true, but the right look
will convince her of it.

  Well, this time it worked, because a moment later, when the stewardess
came back with our sodas, I glanced over again, and the poor kid was staring
at me and looking like she couldn't make up her mind whether she should have
an orgasm or burst into tears. Her mother had to address her twice to get
her attention and get her to take her drink. I caught her name then, by the
way.  It was Maria, just like in "West Side Story."

  I figured that I was in for a little bit of fun this flight, at the young
lady's expense. I went back to my book and my music, and tried not to pay
too much attention to her, since I didn't want to get either of us in
trouble with her parents. But, from San Francisco to Phoenix, every time I
glanced over her way, she was sitting there staring at me, with that
gorgeous, wide-eyed innocent look. I would smile at my private joke, or
raise one eyebrow slightly, or just shake my head and look away. Each time,
the result was the same -- she'd give a little swallow, and then shiver
slightly, as if somebody had just run their fingers up her spine. And of
course, from the way I was looking at her, there was no telling what kind of
touches she was imagining. Anyway, her parents didn't seem to notice, or
mind, and I figured my fun would be over when I had to go to my connecting
flight in Phoenix.

  The plane touched down, and the pilot came on announcing that we had
landed, and that all passengers should leave the plane, and told us where to
catch our connecting flights. Throwing one last smile at Maria, I grabbed my
backpack and suitcase, and headed for the waiting area to wait out the three
hours for my connecting flight. Needless to say, I was a little surprised
when she and her parents came and sat down in the same area, just a few
seats away from me.

  To Be Continued in chapter 2: "Getting to Know You"

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

NOTE: I (Ed Stauff) did not write this one, I just posted it.


=============================================================================
Edward L. Stauff, Nashua NH; [e-mail] *or* uunet!mv.com!gozer!stauff!ed
        "Specialization is for insects." -- Lazarus Long

From: [e-mail] (Edward L. Stauff)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: NEW STORY: Educating Maria, chapter 2 of 3
Date: 7 Oct 92 00:25:29 GMT
Organization: Minstrelsy & Lutherie

I am posting this at the request of the author, who wishes to remain
pseudonymous.  I didn't write this one.

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

            Educating Maria -- Chapter 2
               "Getting to Know You"
                  by Ghostwheel
                ----------------------------

  I resumed reading my book, by this time almost finished with it, doing my
best to ignore Maria and her parents. What had been harmless fun on the
plane could get me into serious trouble if I kept it up here in the
terminal. But, I could feel her eyes on me, and occasionally glanced over.
She had a book of her own, one of those teen romances written specifically
for girls like her, but she didn't seem to be making much progress with it.
I noticed at one point that her mother had gone off, probably to the ladies'
room or to have a cigarette. Starting to feel a little uncomfortable myself,
I put down my book and headed off in search of the men's room. Seeing that
she was still watching me, I said to her, "Could you keep an eye on my stuff
while I'm gone?"

  She smiled (gods, what a smile she had) and said, "Sure, no problem." I
crossed paths with her mother as I was leaving the waiting area, and then
decided to take a little walk around and get a snack. I knew I'd left my
luggage in good hands.

  When I got back, about fifteen minutes later, the boredom of the trip had
finally gotten to her parents as well. Although the waiting area wasn't
deserted, at that hour the few other people around seemed to be more
interested in sleep than talk, so Maria's mother started up a conversation
with me.

  "Are you going all the way to Boston, too?" she asked.

  "Well, if they put enough gas in the plane I am," I told her. I usually
don't like to be bothered by people I don't know, but she seemed like a nice
woman, and my book could always wait. She laughed a little at my joke, which
was good. Nervous fliers tend to make me nervous as well. "Are you going on
business or pleasure?"

  "Some of both," she said. "My oldest daughter is in school at Boston
University, and she decided to stay for the summer term, and my husband is
going to have an operation on his knee. And do you live in Boston?"

  "No, about an hour outside the city, but it's close enough." I turned to
her husband, who had been listening to us. "So where are you going?  Mass
General?"

  "Yes, that's right," he said. His voice was remarkably soft, not at all
what I'd have expected from his appearance. "They wanted to take care of me
at the VA hospital in San Francisco, but my doctor persuaded the
penny-pinchers that this specialist in Boston is the only one who can do the
job right. Have you ever heard of Doctor Steven Brookfeld? He's going to be
operating on me."

  I'd never heard of Doctor Brookfeld, but I assured him that Mass General
had an excellent staff. "You said VA hospital. Were you injured in the
service?" All this time, Maria was sitting beside her mother, looking like
she was looking for a way of getting into the conversation, and now she saw
her chance.

  "Papa fought in Vietnam. He was a corporal, and got hit with a grenade
fragment, and got a purple heart and a letter saying that he was a hero.
And now they're going to fix his leg so he can walk without his cane. I'm
Maria, and this is my father Miguel, and my mother Donna. And my sister's
name is Consuela, and she'll be meeting us at the airport in Boston." Just
about then, she realized that she was babbling, so she shut her mouth and
looked embarrassed for a moment. Since she'd introduced them all, I
introduced myself, and we all shook hands.

  We continued the smalltalk for a while. I found out that Maria was going
to be sixteen in a few weeks (sweet sixteen and never been kissed? I
wouldn't have bet on it), just as I'd figured. My first impression of her
parents had been a little off the mark, though. Miguel had his own business,
customizing cars and vans, and of course San Francisco still has a pretty
good market for that. He had six people working for him, and was making
enough to put his daughters through college (Maria said she was hoping to go
to CalTech), so I guess he had a right to wear gold chains if he wanted to.
Donna handled the bookkeeping and billing for the company, and Maria did
some airbrush work, so it was a real family operation. Miguel even had a
little portfolio of some of his finest creations, and I was very impressed.

  Maria turned to one picture, a black van with big chrome wheels and a
painting of the side of a beautiful nude woman. The lettering over the
picture announced the van's name to be "Love Shack." Not surprising. "This
was my best one," Maria said, "until I had to change it."

  I could tell she wanted me to ask, so I did. "What did you have to
change?"

  She giggled. "Some judge ruled it pornographic, so I had to airbrush a
bikini on her. Don't you think it looks better this way?"

  Now, how do you answer a question like that? Fortunately, if her parents
let her do paintings like that, I figured they couldn't be too uptight.
"Yeah, I suppose it would be kind of like painting sunglasses on the Mona
Lisa."

  "Do you know who that is, in the painting?" she asked, obviously pleased
by my comment. I shook my head. "That's my sister, Consuela. But I think she
looks even better than that. Her boobs aren't quite as big, though. The guy
who owns the van said to make them real big."

  At that point, her mother drew the line. "Okay, Maria, we don't need to
discuss your sister's boobs with our friend. Your painting is a work of art,
and we can leave it at that."

  Maria noticed my book, on the chair next to me. "Could I look at that?"
she asked. I handed it to her. "This is the kind of painting I want to do,"
she said, examining the cover. "Do you know who painted this? It looks like
a Jim Burns...yes, there it is, see?" Sure enough, the signature on the back
cover said it was by Burns. She knew her art, that was for sure. "He was at
BayCon last year. I wanted to get some of his work, but even his roughs were
too expensive for me, and nobody was buying my stuff." She'd shown her
artwork at BayCon? I was even more impressed. "Is that a good book?" she
asked next.

  "Oh, yeah, it's really good. It's the first of a trilogy, and I've got the
other two at home. I can't wait to get to them. I've only got a few pages
left. If you want to borrow it on the flight, you're welcome to. I saw you
were reading something yourself."

  "Yeah, one of those dumb kid romances. I like SF better, but I didn't have
time to get to the bookstore before we left. I'd really like to read this
one." I told her about the great bookstores in Harvard Square, and said she
should try to visit them, if they had time.

  "Oh, she'll have plenty of time. We'll be there about two weeks, since
they want me to start my physical therapy there," Miguel said. "Maybe you
could give us directions to Harvard Square?"

  It seemed strange to me that anyone would actually need directions, but I
guess I would've been equally lost in San Francisco. I gave them a few
notes, and suggestions of other places they might like to see. Maria seemed
crazy about the Museum of Science, and Fanueil Hall. She was an amazingly
bright kid, and I enjoyed talking to her. I liked her almost enough to
forget how much she was turning me on. But not quite.

  To Be Continued in chapter 3: "Would You Like Some Candy, Little Girl?"

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

NOTE: I (Ed Stauff) did not write this one, I just posted it.


=============================================================================
Edward L. Stauff, Nashua NH; [e-mail] *or* uunet!mv.com!gozer!stauff!ed
        "Specialization is for insects." -- Lazarus Long

From: [e-mail] (Edward L. Stauff)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: NEW STORY: Educating Maria, chapter 3 of 3
Date: 7 Oct 92 00:26:09 GMT
Organization: Minstrelsy & Lutherie

I am posting this at the request of the author, who wishes to remain
pseudonymous.  I didn't write this one.

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

This is currently (06-Oct-1992) the latest chapter, but others should be
coming soon.

--

            Educating Maria -- Chapter 3
             "Would You Like Some Candy, Little Girl?"
                        by Ghostwheel
                 ----------------------------

  After talking for about an hour, we gradually went back to our own
entertainments. I read my book and listened to some music (I'd finished with
Bowie and was working on INXS -- Maria seemed to share some of my musical
interests, too), and finally finished the book. I asked Maria if she wanted
to borrow it, and she eagerly put aside her Sweet Valley High and started in
on Sundiver. Not wanting to shift gears to Dean Koontz quite that fast, I
again asked Maria if she'd keep an eye on my things, and headed for one of
the overpriced airport snack bars. I asked her if she wanted anything, but
she politely declined.

  After walking around for a while, I finally bought a Coke and a Snickers,
then went to check the monitors to make sure our flight was on time. I
dumped my trash, and headed for the men's room. Somehow, I wasn't surprised
when I crossed paths with Maria. "I saw you checking the monitor. Is the
flight still on time?" I told her it was. "Where are you going now?" she
asked, falling in step beside me. I gestured down the side corridor to the
restrooms.  "Oh. Me too, I guess. I mean, the ladies' room." Once again, she
was a girl who had embarrassed herself by talking too fast. And it is kind
of awkward walking to the restrooms with someone. I mean, everybody uses
them, and everybody knows it, but it's one of those things that we still
think of as private.

  "See you back at the lounge," I said, turning into the men's room. She
nodded, still blushing a little. I went in, and took care of my business,
then stopped to comb my hair and look at myself in the mirror. Considering
I'd already been up for 20 hours, I was holding up reasonably well, and the
caffeine from the Coke hadn't even kicked in yet. Over my shoulder in the
mirror, I saw the door swing open, and then was startled to see Maria walk
into the men's room.

  "Whoa -- wait. Wrong room, Maria. I haven't been in here that long, have
I?  I'll see you outside." She hesitated a moment, looked around, and kept
coming toward me.

  "No..." she said, barely above a whisper. "I wanted..." her voice failed,
and she tried again. "I wanted to give you something. You loaned me your
book, so I wanted to give you something, too." She reached out and pressed
something small and soft into my hand. Looking down, I realized what it was:
a pair of panties. Very small, lacy, still warm and slightly moist.

  "Well, I..." It was my turn to lose my voice. What the hell do you say to
a gorgeous underage girl who's just given you her panties in the men's room
of an airport? Let's face it, "thank you" doesn't quite make it in that
situation. "These are...great." And what if her father walks in? "Why are
you giving them to me?" Do you want to get me killed? "I mean, it's kind of
an unusual gift." And please, please, can I put my face in your sweet little
panty-less crotch before someone catches us?

  "I could tell from the way you were looking at me that you were wondering
what I had under my skirt. Just like I was wondering what you had inside
your jeans." With that, she stepped right up to me, took the panties out of
my hand and stuffed them in my jeans pocket, and started to fumble with my
belt.  Something inside me said to stop her. Something louder said not to. I
decided to listen to reason, and stopped her.

  "Wait. Wait. Maria. It's not that I don't want to. In fact, if we weren't
in a public place, I'd probably say yes." What was I doing, arguing morals
with a teenage girl who was trying to molest me? "But even if this wasn't
illegal and immoral, somebody, like your father, could walk in any second."

  She was wavering, I could tell, but she decided to play it out. "You're
right," she said, "so we'd better do this fast." I told you she was a bright
kid. I stopped resisting, as she unbuckled my belt, opened my jeans, and
tugged my hard cock out of my underwear. She just held it and stroked it for
a moment, as if she were admiring it. For all I knew then, it was the first
one she'd ever seen or touched. By this time, I was leaning back against one
of the sinks, listening for the door over the pounding in my ears.

  Maria dropped to her knees and lightly kissed the head of my cock. Shy,
but not afraid. She dotted kisses along its length, from my crotch to the
tip, and then down the underside to my balls. She flicked her tongue over my
balls a couple times, and then kissed her way back up to the head. "Consuela
says guys love this. Is that true?" I couldn't tell whether she was serious
or teasing. Couldn't she tell I loved it from the way my legs were shaking?
She didn't give me time to answer, as she tentatively sucked the head into
her sweet, delicate mouth. She didn't take it far in at all, but she kept
swirling her tongue around the head. She moved back and said, "Consuela
tells me that I should learn to take the whole thing, all the way down my
throat. I think she called it 'Deep Throat,' but I thought that was the name
of a movie. I don't know how I'm going to get all this down my throat,
though."

  "Don't worry, you don't have to. What you're doing is great. Mmmm, oh,
yes!"

  Abruptly, she stopped and pulled away. "You're not going to shoot in my
mouth, are you? Consuela says I should learn to swallow eventually, but I
don't think I'm ready." Ah well, you can't have everything.

  "If you keep doing that, I'll come," I said. "But I won't do it in your
mouth if you don't want me to. Did Consuela say what you should do if you
don't want me to come in your mouth?"

  She got to her feet and nodded, blushing again. I figured our sudden talk
about coming and swallowing had embarrassed her. Wrong again! After a moment
she said, "Yes, she said that I should stop sucking you, and have you...I
mean, not you, but the guy...have him...eatmypussy." The last came out just
like that, in one word, breathless. She looked up at me and saw that I was
smiling, so she smiled herself. "Do you...do that?" she asked.

  "Oh, yes. I certainly do that." I took her by the shoulders and swung us
around, so that she was leaning against the sink, then knelt in front of her
as she'd been kneeling in front of me. "Okay, have you done this before?"  I
asked.

  She started to nod, and then shook her head no, then said, "Well, not
exactly, but close enough." I had no idea what she meant, but close enough
for her was close enough for me. I took the hem of her skirt in my fingers,
and gradually raised it up, savoring every inch of those perfect young legs.
These were legs that would've made most models envious. Not really muscular,
but obviously strong, with an ounce or two of extra flesh on each gently
curving thigh. The kind of legs, in short, that you just can't wait to get
around your neck. I swept her loose skirt up to where her ass pressed it
against the sink, and she obligingly wriggled for me to get it free. I had
my eyes closed, enjoying her legs, and now the perfect curve of her ass.
Forgive me if I overuse the word perfect, but the only other word I can
think of to describe her ass is flawless. I stroked it gently working the
fingers of one hand just slightly into the cleft, pulling her toward me. I
rested my cheek against her thigh, and inhaled deeply. According to one of
the cards in Trivial Pursuit, smell is the sense most closely tied to
memory. Thank gods for that, because I always want to remember the sweet,
clean, delicious scent of her pussy.

  Almost unwilling to break the spell, I opened my eyes. It looked just the
way it smelled -- clean, delicate, and innocent. The hell with innocent, I
wanted to get my mouth on it. Glancing at her once more for permission, I
dove in, but with as much restraint as I could manage. I gently pulled her
legs a little further apart to get a better angle, and started licking up
and down her dainty folds. She gasped once, then again. This little girl was
hot, and if the early signs were to be believed, this would be one of the
easiest orgasms I'd ever given a woman. I kept licking up and down, and then
moved for her clit. My luck held out, and I found it with no trouble. I felt
her go stiff, and then start to move in rhythm with my licking. Her juices
were starting to flow, so I pressed harder, working my tongue right up
inside her, getting the full, musky taste of at-least-close-to-virgin pussy.
She was starting to whimper a little bit, with pleasure, and I could see her
eyes were closed. Her hands were braced on the sink, and if her grip got any
tighter, she might have chipped the porcelain.

  I stopped for a moment. "Maria? Maria?" She opened her eyes.

  "Are you done?"

  "No, not yet. I just wanted to make sure. You've had orgasms before,
right?  I mean, you're not going to start screaming or anything, are you?"

  "Oh, God, it feels so good, I've been trying not to scream the whole time.
I think I can hold it back, though. Or do you think we should stop?"

  By this time, I was too far gone to care if we got caught. I just had to
make her come, and taste her when she did. "No, I'm not stopping. I just
wanted to be sure. Ready?" She nodded, and I picked up where I'd left off.
She was practically dripping juices by this point, and I alternated between
driving my tongue way inside her and sucking at her clit. Another minute or
two, and I knew she was there. She started thrusting her hips back and
forth, almost crushing my knuckles between her ass and the sink (hey, I'd
rather get bruises on my knuckles than her gorgeous ass) and whispering
incoherently.  In a situation like that, whispers are definitely better than
screams. I kept at it, lapping up her thick, sweet juices until her
thrusting tapered off.  I licked her clean, then turned her around and
kissed her once more, right where the cleft of her ass started, and then
stood up, letting her skirt drop.

  She fell against me, hugging me tight. "That was great. Do you like to do
that?" I assured her that I liked it, maybe even more than she did. She
reached down and felt my cock, still hard, still poking out of my underwear.
"I guess it's your turn now. Maybe I am ready to let you shoot in my mouth.
Want to try it?" I didn't want to rush her, but I certainly wasn't going to
discourage her, either, so I just leaned back and relaxed as she dropped to
her knees in front of me again. She started off again by kissing my
cockhead, then took it into her mouth, and then a couple inches of the
shaft. I could feel her going for more, but she gave it up after a moment of
choking, and settled into a nice gentle sucking, tongue-swirling blowjob.
Until we heard the knock at the door.

  In a flash she was on her feet and panicking. I shoved her into a stall
and motioned for her to get her feet up out of sight, and got myself over to
a urinal just as a janitor walked in. "How's it going tonight, sir?"  he
said.

  "Fine, just fine," I said, trying to zip up over my erection.

  "You know," he said, "just between you and me, fifteen minutes is about
the limit. After that, people start wondering where you are. Might wonder
what you've been up to. Like that couple out in the lounge. Their little
girl went to the snack bar just about fifteen minutes ago, but they're
probably starting to wonder what's taking her so long right about now.  Of
course, she's just gone to get a soda pop and she'll be back any second, and
they'll never give it a second thought. Much longer than that, they might
start asking their little girl some questions. 'Course, you don't have
anyone waiting for you, but still, fifteen minutes is about the limit."

  "I think you've got something there," I said.

  "Well, you see just about everything in a place like this, if you keep
your eyes open. Don't see many little girls that pretty, though. I'll
remember her. Kind of makes me wish I had something more than just my old
tired memory to remind me, though. Girl that special, I'd like to remember
her special.  Well, I'll just get to work here."

  He went into the stall at the end farthest from where Maria was hiding,
whistling loudly to himself. I hustled her out of the stall and out the
door, making a quick inspection to be sure nothing was out of place. At
least, nothing visible. I took a couple of deep breaths, checked myself in
the mirror, and then left. Of course, first I left that sweet little pair of
panties hanging on the janitor's mop handle. I hated to part with them, but
one good turn deserves another.

  I saw Maria a little way up the corridor, heading for the snack bar. I
walked back past her Miguel and Donna in the lounge, and pretended to be
interested in the plane that was refueling outside the window. A couple
minutes later, Maria came back, and we both sat down again.

  "I thought you were going to get something to eat," Donna said to me.

  "Oh, I did. I finished it before I came back," I said.

  "Well, I hope it was good," Maria said. "I'm still looking forward to
tasting mine. I hope it's nice and sweet." She started to unwrap the
brownies she'd bought, winking at me when her mother wasn't looking.

  Oh, yes, I thought. I've got just the thing for you to eat. But how the
hell are we going to manage anything now?

  To Be Continued in chapter 4: "The Mile High Club"

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NOTE: I (Ed Stauff) did not write this one, I just posted it.


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Edward L. Stauff, Nashua NH; [e-mail] *or* uunet!mv.com!gozer!stauff!ed
        "Specialization is for insects." -- Lazarus Long