That Friday afternoon, the shared van pulled up in the driveway of my hotel. It was the end of a week long spring break in Miami with my friend Rick. We stayed at an amazing art deco hotel on South Beach. Unfortunately the week had to come to an end eventually, and the two of us parted our separate ways. Rick went to college in North Carolina while I go to school in Boston. We ended up booking flights at completely different times that Sunday, so we needed separate transportation to the airport.
With the help of the driver, I loaded my duffel bag into the back of the van. I was the first person to be picked up, so I leisurely threw my backpack over the middle row of seats and sat down. We picked up two more people on Collins Avenue before we made our way to the airport.
The first was an older man from the Caribbean, who seemed a little crazy. He talked to the driver for most of the trip, mostly about how college students need to follow "the lord's teachings" when they go on spring break. I kept quiet during most of the conservation. The second passenger was a dark haired woman in her early 40's. She sat next to me in the middle row of seats, but also kept quiet during the drive listening to the crazy man's rant.
When we arrived at the airport, I took my two bags out of the van. I was actually almost two hours for my flight. After checking my bag, I grabbed a quick bite to eat in a Mexican restaurant that was showing NCAA tournament basketball. My cell phone rang and on the other line was Rick telling me he made it home. We ended up talking for nearly an hour recapping our trip.
I showed up at the gate 20 minutes before boarding. Five minutes later there is an announcement over the loudspeaker.
"Flight 287 Service from Miami International to Boston's Logan Airport has been cancelled due to weather. All flights going to the northeastern United States have also been cancelled."
I was not happy. I rushed to get in line to rebook my flight, but the line barely moved. Eventually I was able to call the airline's customer service number who rebooked my flight, but not until Monday. I was stuck in Miami for 3 more days. Rick was long gone, and I couldn't afford to go back to South Beach.
I went to baggage services to get my checked bag back. On the line in front of me was the dark haired woman from the van ride.
"Let me guess. You were trying to fly to the Northeast too," she said to me.
"How'd you know? Flying into Boston?" I replied back.
"No, Philly. But now it looks like I'm stuck here for a couple days."
A couple minutes later, an airport employee makes an announcement. He yells, "I'm sorry folks, we can't pull any bags today. They will all be sent to their final destination."
Now I was very unhappy. The only clothes I had were the clothes that I was wearing -- shorts, a t-shirt, boxers and sandals. That would have to last me all weekend.
I found a courtesy phone, and picked the first hotel that looked decent from its picture. I booked a room through Monday. The hotel van picked me up and brought me to the hotel. When I checked in I gave them my parents frequent guest number, and they actually upgraded my room to a suite.
My phone's battery was about to die, probably because I talked to Rick for so long. And the worst part was my charger was in my checked bag. So I ask the front desk if they happen to have any spare chargers lying around. They hand me a huge cardboard box full of tangled charger wires.
I sort through them trying to find one that will fit my phone. Of course I can't. I hear a familiar voice so I look up. In front of me is the same woman from the van and baggage line.
"Mind if I have a look?" she asks.
"Sure, but don't expect to have too much luck finding the right one."
"It's probably a lost cause. Looks like we are in the exact same situation. I have no other clothes expect for a bathing suit that I happened to put in my carry-on bag. What about you?"
Her clothes consisted of a red tank top, khaki shorts and sandals.
I answered her, "Nope, all I have is what I am wearing. Nothing else."
"Well I am going to go check out my room. I guess I will see you around."
In the elevator I pushed the button for the 9th floor. I opened the door to my room, which I completely forgot was a suite. It was actually really nice. I had a separate living room and bedroom, each with a plasma television. It made me feel a little better being trapped in Miami. By then it was dark out and I was dead tired from being at the airport. I ended up going to sleep for the night.
I woke up around 10 am, and figured I had no other options except for lounging by the pool. I grabbed my backpack and headed down.
The pool area wasn't too crowded, only a couple families and some older grandparent types. Somehow I got the impression that this wasn't exactly South Beach. I grabbed a lounge chain, took off my shirt to tan, and pulled out a book. About 30 minutes later, a shadow formed over me. I looked up to see the woman again.
"Hey there. Mind if I grab this chair next to you?"
"Absolutely. By the way, my name is Paul." I reached out to shake her hand.
She shook my hand and gave me a big smile. "Hi Paul. It's nice to formally meet you. I'm Veronica."
Veronica unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them to the ground. Then she took her tank top off over her head. Beneath she had on the bathing suit she was talking about. It was a one piece. After spending the last week looking at girls in thong bikinis, I wouldn't have thought a one piece could be sexy but somehow it was.
The swimsuit was diagonally striped Turquoise, Black and White. .The front was cut pretty low in a U-shape. It showed a nice amount of cleavage, even when she was standing up in front of me. Her tits were actually pretty big, like around a C cup. It may have been the suit, but they were pushed together nicely, and looking rather perky for a woman her age. The swimsuit tied at the top, leaving her back relatively bare. The bottom sides were cut to hip length, which showed off her tanned legs. Right before she sat down she pulled the bottom out so it would cover her ass better.
