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I was beginning to consider returning to Phoenix when Linda walked in to the resort to register.I was standing next to the front desk and chatting with Patricia, as it was a Monday and my day off. I had purchased a used mini-SUV just the week before and planned to drive to the nearest mall for some new clothing. Patricia was suggesting some items I might consider, and at the same time she was teasing me by writing up a list of adult toys she thought might add spice to her nights with me when a waft of expensive perfume hit both of us.I did not recognize the woman who approached the counter, but she seemed to be studying my face. She had long hair, which clearly had been bleached to keep the blond color. Her face lacked any wrinkles, and her breasts were two perfect oversized melons sitting on her chest. Patricia muttered "trophy bunny", under her breath as the woman checked her bags to make sure they were inside and then walked up to the counter."Linda Tuttle, my husband and I have a. Complications.They didn’t tell Chuck about all this, of course. But they talked about it later that night in their room. They flipped for it. Matilda lost, which was why, the next day, she was the one who had to sneak into the men’s bathroom at the Apco gas station on the highway out of town, and figure out how to feed the machine the coins that would get them two extra sensitive, wildly colored, ribbed prophylactics.It was cold, but not bitterly so. There had been eight inches of snow during the night, and Bobby had shown up asking Constance if she wanted to go sledding.“We’re grown up, silly,” she laughed.“That doesn’t mean we can’t go sledding,” he said.She ended up going with him, muttering about how crazy she was, and how juvenile he was acting.The “sled” turned out to be the inner tube from a big rig truck, almost five feet in diameter, and totally un-steerable. The first time down the hill, she was scared, so he simply sat in the middle of the tube, and pulled her down on his.
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