I snapped back to reality when I realized I had been staring at Mr. Johnson the whole time. "You okay, boy?" he asked. "You've been staring at m... for a few minutes." Just as he said that, we both saw my dick twitch in my shorts. Fucking hormones. "Have anything you'd like to say, Tom?" he inquired. "No, I, uh," I stammered, desperately trying to formulate a response. "It's alright, I get it," he said with a smirk on his face. "Hormones. You must be horned up all the. Invoking this service by a DUAT terminal in the now deserted flight operations room, Brad and I soon discovered that his trip to Minneapolis and mine to Boston were on indefinite hold for at least twenty-four hours, courtesy of the Alberta Clipper.His passengers - who turned out to be honest-to-goodness Eskimos from the Northwest Territories - had left for more sensible quarters at the "American Inn" just off the field, alert now to the inevitability of having to spend an unplanned day in North. More

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