Justin and Rick took turns driving. They were unstoppable. We stopped a few times to rest and get gas, coffee and food but other than that, they were ...etermined to get there. The following night, we finally saw the sign "Welcome To California" and headed straight for the ocean. I would be glad to be seeing the ocean again, albeit the Pacific this time. My dream had always been to see San Francisco and it looked like it was coming true. But what an unsettling trip it had been. My thoughts were. I sat at the desk in front of the computer. I tried to stand up and found myself unable to move for a moment. I sat until pressure built up inside me to a point that I began to scream. Grabbing the chair I began to hit it over the monitor until with a crack it exploded into fragments. Breathing deeply, I stared at the monitor, no longer seeing it. I remembered my parents the last time I had seen them, standing in the doorway waving at me as I drove away to this job. I remembered my father's hug. Anytime I got that feeling down there, I'd close the door to my room, slip under the covers, and play music loudly or turn up the television. No moans heard and if someone barged in, no hands caught moving. Still, deny deny deny. So Maria, still unconvinced, stood up quickly and yanked the blanket off me. I immediately take my hand from my happy place but my legs are still slightly opened and she’s staring down there. “Perv!” I said as I looked down at the wet spot on my sweatpants. I had. “About time. I was beginning to worry we wouldn’t have time to hit the slopes before dark,” Phil said, echoing my unspoken sentiments. I got out of the truck and looked around at the very nice mountain cabin surrounded by a positively stunning vista. This was no ski resort, this was a privately owned lodge not too far from the middle of nowhere, rented out only to small groups. Stan’s family was a bit on the wealthy side, and every year they let him treat his college buddies to a weekend ski.
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