They met by email and agreed within a dozen wry, decisive volleys that they should become lovers. Windows of opportunity were assessed, an equidistant hub city selected. They decided not to provide identity clues or fax through scanned photos, but instead unite blind, trusting the power of their mutual hunger, although

we may not be alone � what if
all over airport people straining to meet strangers � even if
up and down office hallway, in every workstation
                         each worker bee hunched
                                   over a
          [keyboard
          in fact setting up
                                        ]
               rendezvous                     with

� and here her message decomposed into bad line breaks, like e.e. cummings on peyote, so he could only grab the gist, and return the serve:
     Sure but only I have you
     Which was not, of course, strictly true, given her marital status and the children whose after-school fates had yet to be arranged, so plans were still subject to sitter confirmation; tickets had to be booked by midnight, whereupon they would be, at the very moment the credit card number was typed and "Enter" pressed, nonrefundable, testing, as he noted, their courage and resolve:

No cancellations, no exchanges
               wont need to
                              already know i
                    love you//(sounds
like country western song
          this is crazy but ask me      DO I CARE

     The craziness had to feel good. Elsewise what is point, she concurred, having learned the email affectation of dropping articles in nonchalant NASA fashion. Once all plans were confirmed they agreed not to speak, or "speak," until they were doing so in person. No undercutting the magic with dour doubts.
     Their doubts were not identical. Hers fell into two categories.
     1. Birth control. She had tried to cajole her husband into getting a vasectomy. He was not a fan of elective surgery. She volunteered to get her tubes tied so they could have sex whenever, wherever, like in the old days. Right, he said. Great idea. Maybe then you won't just fall asleep in front of the Weather Channel. Just make sure to increase your life insurance first, in case something goes wrong from the anesthetic.
     Her problem envisioning the meeting in the hub city was this: When and how was she supposed to pack a diaphragm? What if her husband wanted the cell phone, and rifled through her briefcase? (Cell phones cannot be said to be an entirely happy development for the adulterer.) Where would she remove the diaphragm afterwards and wash it out? In the airport restroom, with green liquid soap from the hand dispenser, under scrutiny from

-Page 2-

Other Stories Soon

Link to relevant site