Reunion, Workout, First Date (Female-primary version)
Despite the miserable weather outside, Cindy walked through the terminal of Logan airport with a spring in her step for two reasons; her plane had landed safely, and since she had only carry-on luggage she could head straight home. Both of those were unusually significant since the ice storm made flying treacherous and had caused chaos in flight schedules and on the ground. Judging by the announcements on the public address system, hers must have been one of the last flights permitted to land, and no more were departing. As she walked past the sorry collection of stranded travelers her gaze was attracted to one tall, handsome guy. He was obviously tired, but seemed less angry and frazzled than most of his companions. Something about him made her smile unconsciously. The features of his face were reminiscent of...
"Mark! Mark Morse!" she cried out. "It's me, Cindy Wheeler... from high school."
"Cindy?" Recognition slowly dawned and he added, "Sorry I didn't recognize you sooner, but I'm so wiped out." With significant effort he roused herself up to the obligatory pleasantries and asked, "It's nice to see you. How are you these days?"
"Fine, but the more important question is 'How are you?' You look like you got stranded by the storm."
"Yeah. They re-booked my ticket for tomorrow night and gave me a voucher for some hotel in Burlington. I've been waiting for the shuttle bus they promised."
"With this storm," she replied, "traffic will be a total mess. I can put you up for the night. It's only half as far as Burlington, and since I live right next to the Malden T stop, we won't need to drive at all. We can be there in twenty minutes, long before your bus even gets around the airport access road."
"I couldn't impose..."
"It wouldn't be any trouble. You can have my room to yourself; I'll sleep on the couch."
"Absolutely not! I won't come unless I get the couch."
"In truth, I won't feel very guilty about that," she smiled, "since it actually pulls out into a very comfortable sleeper. No more arguing. Grab your bag."
The ride was as easy as she had promised and gave them a chance to exchange stories of the intervening years, up to the point of Mark's trip to check out the Boston area options for law school. The streets he did see were completely blocked with lines of cars, and the one block walk from the subway station to Cindy's building was slippery enough to convince him of the wisdom of her plan.
She had a third floor condo in a refurbished industrial building, combining high ceilings and exposed vintage brick with modern amenities. His immediate impression was that her place was pleasantly uncluttered, tastefully designed, and very comfortable. Three of the spacious rooms were straightforward: an eat-in kitchen, a living room with the promised sleeper sofa, and a master bedroom. The fourth looked like the dojo where he went for karate classes. It had a resilient floor and the walls seemed to be a continuous set of natural wood louvered doors. The room was entirely empty except for a weightlifting bench, but Cindy didn't seem to have any weights. This made it look like a useless piece of modern sculpture, but at least it hadn't been turned into a clothes rack like most neglected exercise equipment.
The dinner Cindy whipped up was impeccably seasoned grilled chicken and vegetables over rice. Mark was sure it was the healthiest and most delicious meal of his entire trip. Despite the pleasantness of the company, Mark ran out of energy after the dessert course of fresh berries. Cindy made up the sofa's sleeper mattress, gave Mark a hug, and went back to clean the kitchen. Since the rest of his luggage was trapped at the airport, Mark switched into the tee shirt and gym shorts from his carry-on and fifteen minutes later, he was fast asleep.
* * * * *
Slowly, the morning intruded on his dream a bit at a time, while his groggy brain attempted to sort out the pieces. The freshly-laundered scent of the sheets and the aroma of just-brewed coffee must mean that he was in his old bedroom in his parents' house and it must be the summer before leaving for college. If he were to open his eyes, he would see a poster of the college campus he was anticipating attending in fall and a bigger poster of the Baywatch beauties from his earlier infatuations. A quiet, repeating, clinking sound must be his father's keys and pocket coins as he walked down the hallway.
Not wanting to leave the delicious world of sleep quite yet, his thoughts drifted to his usual fantasy of his secret crush. She was a fellow "geek freak," one of the few smart and shy students in his high school who still thought that academics were cool. She had a kind sense of humor and was a wonderfully dependable lab partner. "Oh," he thought, "if you only knew how much I want you, Cindy!" His hand strayed toward his morning erection to play out his usual fantasy, but when he felt gym shorts in the way, he realized something was wrong. Sleeping without pajamas in those days would have been unthinkable. Jarred out of its reveries, his brain scrambled to catch up to the present.
He pried open his eyes to see warm sunlight filtering through decidedly coordinated drapes, illuminating his suitcase on a living room chair. As the context of the airport and the ice storm came back into focus, he smiled over the good fortune of meeting Cindy. In this unfamiliar city, it had given him a sense of calm very much like that of being in his parents' house. He didn't remember all the details of their conversations yesterday, but he did remember that she was single, employed, a great cook, and even more beautiful than he remembered from high school.
