Who knows. They are spending a lot of credits on this thing, so you know it’s important to them. I told the director we would go.”
“What about my report?”
“Screw the report. Let’s play hooky.”
She thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Why not? We deserve some time to ourselves. Besides, I can get in some shopping.
#
“I love Boston!”
The two of them were in an autocab, slowly making their way toward the suspension bridge over the Charles River. The night was overcast and the only illumination came from the lamps of other vehicles and indirect radiance from passing buildings. Ahead of them, the lights of Cambridge and the towers of Harvard were visible through a light haze of fog. The heated roadway glistened with a thin layer of moisture left over from newly fallen and melted snow.
The flight in from Colorado Springs had been uneventful. They arrived at dusk the previous evening and took a water taxi across the harbor to their hotel on the Long Wharf. Their room overlooked the harbor and they left the curtains open so they could be awakened by the dawn.
Mark woke at first light. The previous evening’s weather prediction had been for light snow, and a glance out the window showed the clouds already gathering. It had been several decades since the Weather Authority had been caught wrong in a local forecast.
As he stretched, he thought back to the previous night’s lovemaking. He and Lisa had settled into a comfortable routine with one another. They were starting to act like an old married couple. Not for the first time, he wondered if he shouldn’t do something about that.
Rolling over, he ran his fingertips down the protrusions of her naked spine, reversing the action when he reached the swell of her buttocks. On the third transit, she stirred and asked sleepily, “What time is it?”
“Just after 07:00 hours.”
“Let me sleep!”
“No can do. Time and tide wait for no man. Besides, we have shopping to do.”
They ate a late breakfast in an alcove overlooking the harbor. They finished just as the shops around Fanuel Hall opened for business. That was their first stop. They shopped until lunch. Rather, Lisa shopped. Mark held her packages. Like most men, he failed to see the fascination shopping holds for women. Was it really necessary to try on everything in the store before making a selection?
After lunch, they took an autocab to Newbury Street, where the serious shopping began. Since Newbury was under the weather dome erected late in the last century, there was no problem with inclement weather. By the time they returned to their hotel, Mark was referring to their afternoon as the “Newbury Death March.”
Upon reaching their room, he dropped the packages on the bed and they began their preparations for the evening’s festivities. They showered, shaved, powdered, and primped. At precisely 19:00 hours, they called for an autocab and set out for the wilds of Cambridge across the river.
While Lisa studied the city out the cab’s bubble window, Mark studied Lisa. Her profile was silhouetted against the passing lights, showing a turned-up nose and lips that had been made for pouting. Her hair was piled high on her head in a formal style that reminded him of a wave breaking on a rocky shore. Her blonde tresses were sprinkled with artificial gemstones, making them sparkle in the passing lights.
Nor were they the only thing that sparkled. Long diamond earrings dangled from each earlobe, and a matching pendant hung around her neck. The pendant was set off by bare shoulders. The shimmering gown she wore was low cut, revealing more than it concealed, and expensive.
“Aren’t you cold?” he asked, gesturing toward the fur stole that had slipped down her arms to rest in the crook of her elbow. The fur was expensive, but synthetic, having been purchased that afternoon. A real fur would have cost a year’s wages.
She turned to him and smiled, “Some sacrifices must be made for
“What about my report?”
“Screw the report. Let’s play hooky.”
She thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Why not? We deserve some time to ourselves. Besides, I can get in some shopping.
#
“I love Boston!”
The two of them were in an autocab, slowly making their way toward the suspension bridge over the Charles River. The night was overcast and the only illumination came from the lamps of other vehicles and indirect radiance from passing buildings. Ahead of them, the lights of Cambridge and the towers of Harvard were visible through a light haze of fog. The heated roadway glistened with a thin layer of moisture left over from newly fallen and melted snow.
The flight in from Colorado Springs had been uneventful. They arrived at dusk the previous evening and took a water taxi across the harbor to their hotel on the Long Wharf. Their room overlooked the harbor and they left the curtains open so they could be awakened by the dawn.
Mark woke at first light. The previous evening’s weather prediction had been for light snow, and a glance out the window showed the clouds already gathering. It had been several decades since the Weather Authority had been caught wrong in a local forecast.
As he stretched, he thought back to the previous night’s lovemaking. He and Lisa had settled into a comfortable routine with one another. They were starting to act like an old married couple. Not for the first time, he wondered if he shouldn’t do something about that.
Rolling over, he ran his fingertips down the protrusions of her naked spine, reversing the action when he reached the swell of her buttocks. On the third transit, she stirred and asked sleepily, “What time is it?”
“Just after 07:00 hours.”
“Let me sleep!”
“No can do. Time and tide wait for no man. Besides, we have shopping to do.”
They ate a late breakfast in an alcove overlooking the harbor. They finished just as the shops around Fanuel Hall opened for business. That was their first stop. They shopped until lunch. Rather, Lisa shopped. Mark held her packages. Like most men, he failed to see the fascination shopping holds for women. Was it really necessary to try on everything in the store before making a selection?
After lunch, they took an autocab to Newbury Street, where the serious shopping began. Since Newbury was under the weather dome erected late in the last century, there was no problem with inclement weather. By the time they returned to their hotel, Mark was referring to their afternoon as the “Newbury Death March.”
Upon reaching their room, he dropped the packages on the bed and they began their preparations for the evening’s festivities. They showered, shaved, powdered, and primped. At precisely 19:00 hours, they called for an autocab and set out for the wilds of Cambridge across the river.
While Lisa studied the city out the cab’s bubble window, Mark studied Lisa. Her profile was silhouetted against the passing lights, showing a turned-up nose and lips that had been made for pouting. Her hair was piled high on her head in a formal style that reminded him of a wave breaking on a rocky shore. Her blonde tresses were sprinkled with artificial gemstones, making them sparkle in the passing lights.
Nor were they the only thing that sparkled. Long diamond earrings dangled from each earlobe, and a matching pendant hung around her neck. The pendant was set off by bare shoulders. The shimmering gown she wore was low cut, revealing more than it concealed, and expensive.
“Aren’t you cold?” he asked, gesturing toward the fur stole that had slipped down her arms to rest in the crook of her elbow. The fur was expensive, but synthetic, having been purchased that afternoon. A real fur would have cost a year’s wages.
She turned to him and smiled, “Some sacrifices must be made for
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