If They Are A Virgin And Beautiful In America

“Yes?” Ted asked.The little boy hung his head, but somehow didn’t quite manage to look contrite.“We ... did something last night. Something we weren’t supposed to do.”Ted thought he knew where this was going.“Actually,” Paula was telling the grown man now, “we did something we deserve a spanking for.”Last night as he had sent the children out to the treehouse he had mentioned that he needed to express a concern to his friend Cassandra.“Kids,” he had told them, “I need you to leave the room a minute early so I can tell Cassandra something. Now, that means you aren’t in the room while I’m talking to her. For instance, don’t you dare go just around the corner and listen in.”The kids looked at him as if not sure what to make of this.“It would be easy enough for you to do,” the man continued, “but you absolutely must not eavesdrop. Of course, I wouldn’t really be able to tell if you did, but if you did and I did find out, well, I would be very angry.”Paul and Paula were grinning. I went faster and faster but my Anna-memorywas telling me I was getting nowhere near my top speed. Why? Alarm bellsbegan to ring in my mind. I'd flown maybe thirty miles and was almost downto my energy reserve, so I slowed down and began to curve back, coasting,trying to keep enough gravity power to fly. At this altitude I couldnavigate by the light of the sun just below the horizon and I almostglided to Adams Lake where I took the left turn back to my cabin. When Ilanded I had little of the science energy left in my body. I was exhaustedand troubled.It was a warm night and with the screened windows wide open I stripped andchanged into a simple cotton nightgown, which felt cool and comfortable.Over a small glass of single malt, I pondered. Anna's recollections toldme that I should be able to get close to the sound barrier at top speed.But tonight I maybe made no more than, what, 450 or 500 knots? Maybeeighty percent of my maximum velocity. I seemed to be burning through my'battery'.
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