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Cole had prepared my spark and me an occasion field-bed, to which we retired, and there ended the night in one continued strain of pleasure, sprightly and uncloyed enough for us not to have formed one wish for its ever knowing an end. In the morning, after a restorative breakfast in bed, he got up, and with very tender assurance of a particular regard for me, left me to the composure and refreshment of a sweet slumber; waking out of which, and getting up to dress before Mrs. Cole should come in, I found in one of my pockets a purse of guineas, which he had slipt there; and just as I was musing on a liberality I had certainly not expected, Mrs. Cole came in, to whom I immediately communicated the present, and naturally offered her whatever share she pleased: but assuring me that the gentleman had very nobly rewarded her, she would on no terms, no entreaties, no shape I could put it in, receive any part of it. Her denial, she observed, was no affectation of grimace, and proceeded to. At work when I do see her it's a group setting so I don't have a chance to talk to her. Sometimes I'll see her and my friend which for me is super weird. By the time I come up with my game plan I'm pretty tipsy. I figure I will only see her in groups of people, never be alone with her in Daytona I tell myself! And for the love of God don't check her out at the beach. Seeing her tits busting out of a bikini would be the death of me. Approaching my seat on the airplane, a quote by The Eagles comes to mind, "this could be heaven or this could be hell." There she was sitting next to my empty seat. I give her smile that says I'm tipsy as I sit down. She returns the smile. There is a moment of silence that seems like an eternity. "Do you fly much?" She asks me. "Some" I reply. I could tell she was nervous but not from me sitting there but from the fear of flying. "How about you? You fly much?" I ask. "Huh, no, not much." She said as she twirled her blonde locks in her fingers. I bite my.
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