RightTurnOnBlack Chapter3: HotDog [Part 2/4] (mm/f, rom, fp, or, an, (voy))
 
	We arrived at Hunter Mountain around 8:45, and the sun was shining
brightly on the white-brushed pine limbs and pristine trails leading
down the mountain.  A twinge of anticipation set in as we turned left
onto the bridge that led to the main lodge.  Soon we would be
attacking the mountain.
	Michelle got up and turned in her seat, kneeling and facing me over
the seat back.
	"So what do you think?" I asked.
	"Looks good.  A bit small though, compared to what I skied in
Colorado."
	"I can imagine.  The vertical here is only about 1600, with summit
height at 3200."
	"Yeah, well that's why it looks smaller, I guess."
	"Good thing we came here then," I commented, "because this is the
biggest mountain around in the Catskills."
	"What's the hardest trail?"
	"Mossy Brook," piped in Kevin, without looking up from his magazine,
now about hot rods and muscle cars.
	"Pfff, shut up," I said to him, laughing.  "Don't listen to him.  By
the way, do you know Kevin?"
	"I've seen him around.  Hi, I'm Michelle."
	Kevin looked up from his mag.  On the two pages he had open was a
black car with a blonde girl lying on the hood.  She was wearing just
a small black string bikini-bottom, covering just a small triangle of
crotch.  Two fingers of each hand covered nipples that adorned two
somewhat fake looking D-size breasts.  The picture was pretty erotic
and I stared at the crotch area while he said "Kevin" matter-of-factly
and held out his hand.
	"Yeah, I know."  We laughed.  "So what is the hardest trail?" she
asked again.  Kevin turned the page, revealing a different car with a
redhead in a blue miniskirt.  The skirt was short enough to show all
of her tan, sleek legs.  She was sitting on the window edge, one long
leg stretched out to the floor, reaching only with the help of a
four-inch heel.  The other leg was bent up against the door, as if she
had just exited from the car through the window.  Her breasts were
struggling to get free of the tight zip-up top, which was open a few
inches already.  Her breasts were big enough that if the zipper were
to open even another inch, there would be more D's showing than on a
dentist's diploma wall.  I was about to answer, but the momentary
distraction with the mag allowed Mike, who had popped up over his seat
back, to reply.
	"Probably K27," he said.
	"Yeah, but it depends," I countered.  "If you just mean steepest,
then the upper part of K27 wins it.  But some of the trails on Hunter
West are almost as steep but 2 of 3 times as long."
	"Rob, remember when Annapurna was open last year?" asked Kevin.
	"Yeah," I answered.  "That was a heck of a run.  We hit it early the
morning after a two-foot blizzard fell, and it was a wash of powder
all the way down.  It's the only time I've ever been on that trail."
	"Sounds fun," said Michelle.  "Do they only make snow on the easy
trails and then wait for the natural snow to cover the rest?"
	"No, they can make snow on every trail.  Usually they don't make it
on Annapurna and Westway, which are around to the right of the summit
there."  I pointed out the window.  We were slowly moving in a line of
cars approaching the load off zone.
	"It doesn't look too crowded," said Kevin, looking out.  "Sometimes
we wait on line here forever."
	He had another page open.  A blonde chick in a white thong was bent
over the waist in the open hood of a red rod.  She had some grease on
her face and a few tools in her hand, and was looking back at the
camera.  The thin strip of fabric separating her crotch from the
public didn't hide much, running string like through her ass crack and
then widening slightly to cover her pubes.  The thong was too small,
and was pushed up into her cunt lips, revealing their form.  Up top, a
ragged greasy T-shirt did only a marginally better job of covering her
nice breasts, which were hanging loose.  Her thigh concealed one
breast conveniently, and the shirt covered only what was necessary of
the other to keep the photo from being a nude shot.
	It was a sexy pose, and I gave it more than a moment's look.  Some
numbers ran along the edge of the layout; apparently it was a
calendar.  This was the picture for April.  I took a mental count
backwards and briefly wondered what I had missed in January.
	"They don't wear much do they?" said Michelle, breaking into our
private thoughts.
"Not really," said Kevin.  He turned another page, and I turned to
look outside, not wanting to seem a pervert in front of Michelle.  I
was surprised, though, to see her looking at the new page Kevin had
opened.  Imagine if she were a lesbian, I thought.  A brief scene of
her dressed in the white thong leaning over with the blonde girl in
the mag pulling the material aside and pushing a finger into her cunt
flashed through my mind.  Nah, that would be strange if she were.
	"Oh there's a good one," said Michelle.
	"May I never see that lady again," said Mike, punning "May" since it
was the page for the fifth month. I turned to look back at the mag.
	"You are a jokester, Michael," said Michelle.
	A big brunette in a leopard catsuit was on all fours on the roof of a
white car.  The chick had big breasts and a curvy body, but her face
was a huge detriment, with narrow eyes and a pointy witch nose.  All
that was missing was a big wart on her cheek and she'd win Miss
Negative USA.
	"Change that crap," I said a bit excitedly, before I could help it.
	"Getting' into the pics, eh, Robbie?" taunted Mike.
	"Not that nasty shit," I replied emphatically.
	"She was pretty gross," agreed Michelle.  It felt weird talking about
women's looks with Michelle there, probably because it was the first
time I'd ever done that.  At least she is not a prude, I thought to
myself, somewhat excited about that fact.
	The next month's picture was a lot nicer.  It was a side view of a
pretty girl with short brown hair seated in a roadster, wearing
nothing but a racing watch.  A seatbelt covered one breast.  Her close
arm was holding her leg bent up to cover her other breast and pubic
area.  No bikini adorned her hip, proving her nakedness to all.  She
had on a hearty smile, as if she was gonna fuck the cameraman and crew
all at once after the shoot.  I tried to see this chick being
gang-banged by three or four guys in camera vests. I had just seen a
porn movie where three guys did a chick every which way, so it was
still fresh in my mind.
	I started imagining Kevin and I nailing Michelle.  I was pumping her
cunt doggie style, while she slurped Kev's dick.  He was still reading
the mag, showing the good pictures to Michelle and me, and getting her
hornier.  Then I'd have Michelle straddle Kevin and impale herself on
his dick.  I briefly wondered how big his dick was.  Very briefly. 
Then she was sucking my dick, licking off her juice as well as mine,
and mixing it with Kevin's still left in her small mouth.  I snuck a
peek at her; she was still looking at the magazine, with a small smile.
	Her lips were full, and rosy.  They would make for good sucking.  I
imagined her taking in my cock all the way, slurping it.  Then I
pictured getting behind her, and pushing in to her ass slowly, letting
Kevin stay buried in her cunt.  I wonder if she would ever do that. 
It probably would hurt, or maybe not, if it was well lubed up.  I had
never really thought of doing anyone in the ass before, and the
thought of it was a huge turn on.  I readjusted my position in my
chair, very discreetly, to accommodate my growing penis.  There was
erotica in the air, and any suspicious movements would clearly
indicate motion in the pant area.  I especially did not want Mike to
let out some wisecrack about erections.
	Whether or not Michelle would ever be an anal girl in real life
(something I would probably never find out anyway), she could darn
well be one in my thoughts.  I pushed my dick into her ass, trying to
imagine what it would feel like.  If the porn movie were any
indication, an asshole looked pretty small, so it would be tight, I
thought.
	The picture for July was a blonde lady washing the back end of a car.
 She had a huge sudsy sponge in her two hands and was leaning into her
work.  An American flag bathing suit matched the print on the car.
	Isn't that nice, they matched the bathing suit with the Fourth of
July!" said Michelle, teasingly.  "That," she paused, "is great
journalism."  Her forwardness was taking me by surprise!  She suddenly
looked prettier to me.  It is true, when you like someone's
personality, they are more beautiful to you on the outside too.
	The bathing suit on this girl was, as expected, minimal.  Two
definite nipples were silhouetted against the background suds.  Her
hips were curvy, and exciting.  Her backside was turned only enough to
see the top of a T-back starting its descent into her ass,
unfortunately leaving most of its beautiful trip to the viewer's
imagination.
	Michelle's hips were also curvy, but beyond that and her medium small
breasts I didn't know much what her body looked like.  I hadn't really
looked at her until this last week, during which the cold spell had
forced everyone to wear bulky, unrevealing clothing.  Her ski pants
betrayed legs that could be well-toned, and at least they were thin,
but ski pants can add shape to any legs.  Still, she was no model, nor
was she shabby.  That much I could tell from jeans and sweaters, but
it is nice to know the details of your fantasy's body.
	I pushed further into her ass, grasping her nice round hips, feeling
her ass cheeks in my hands.  I tried to visualize my dick in her
crack, penetrating her hole.  It could be glistening, or dry.  Who
knew.  Glistening would feel better, though.
	"December will probably have a Christmas outfit theme," she said.  We
laughed.
	"Maybe the chick in November will be dressed as a Turkey," quipped
Mike.
	"Yeh, that would be real attractive!" said Kevin.  He turned the page.
	"Better than that lady in April," I said, "or May, or whatever it
was.  Bluggh."
	"It was May, remember?" said Mike.
	"Oh yeah, MAY I never hear one of your dumb jokes again."
	"Shut up Rob," he said, punching me on the shoulder.  He was a
physical guy, always had been, and probably always will be.  I didn't
feel like acting puerile in front of Michelle, so I didn't return the
favor.
	August was a scorcher.  Leaning back against a black car with flames
was an extremely hot redhead wearing extremely little.  She had her
chin up and eyes closed, and a spray of mist was falling from a hose
she held up with her left hand.  A light gray T-shirt with some auto
part label on it was cut off just below the breasts.  Her right arm
was behind her on the hood, holding her up and stretching the soaked
shirt tightly against her boobs.  They were not huge, just nice and
round.  Just the way I like 'em.   Perfect nipples tried to break
through the thin shirt, and perhaps they did right after this picture
was taken.  The shirt was hanging off her right shoulder, showing an
expanse of chest and arm.  Her broad, flat tummy was very nice; the
line to it was quite pleasing.
	If you were shown this picture slowly, revealing her body millimeter
by millimeter from the top, when you got to a point well below her
belly button you would swear she'd have to be pantyless and with a
shaved crotch.  You would think she was going to show you her goods. 
If you then recovered the photo, and started revealing from the
bottom, starting with a look a some white heels, and continued
upwards, passing a stretch of gorgeously shaped calves with one leg
bent gently inwards, you would reach her long tan thighs, traveling
ever upwards, until you were sure you would see crotch in the next
millimeter.
	A close look then would reveal some white threads hanging down from
under your covering.  Revealing the entire picture would show, indeed,
a sparse cloth sarong covering the portions of her pussy that would be
X rated.  The white cloth was perhaps three inches wide hanging on her
left hip, and tapered down to a half inch by the time it reached the
knot on the left hip.  A few threads dangled from the hem, covering
nothing.  The cloth was about two inches wide when it traversed her
pubic area.  You could see the faint outline of shaved skin above the
cloth, and the thin diagonal line separating the pubic mound from the
thigh.  Tracing that line down you reach almost to the place where the
lips must begin, and then, alas, the cloth takes over.  The line
emerges from under the cloth as the space between her legs.
	Kevin let out a low whistle.
	"Jeez," said Michelle, "just when you think they can't show anymore!"
	"Damn, isn't that illegal?" I said, trying to say something.
	"Obviously not," said Mike, staring appraisingly.  "Lemme see," he
said, and yanked the mag out of Kevin's hands.
	"Don't drool on it too much," I said.
	Michele leaned over and peered at the picture with Mike for a few
seconds.
	"Yep, she's practically naked alright."  Mike gave the magazine back
to Kevin, who closed it and stood up to stretch.  I was a bit
disappointed at not seeing the last four months, but maybe they would
come out later.  I wondered if he was adjusting his dick.  My dick was
rock hard, and not in a comfortable position at that.  I tried to
adjust my seat but I couldn't free my penis from its pressure.  It was
throbbing.  I thought about going to the bathroom to readjust it, but
that would be even more suspicious, especially with Mike there ready
to comment on anything.  I sat back again, trying to ignore it, but I
was feeling just a bit too horny to stop the thoughts.
	I wondered what it would feel like to stick my dick in Michelle's
pussy while Kevin was in there already.  They had done that in the
porn flick too.  I wonder if it hurt the girl's pussy.  It sure seemed
like it would.  The porn girl seemed to be enjoying it, but then
again, she would probably enjoy being stuffed up the ass with a live
extension cord.  I imagined pushing into her pussy, fighting the
pressure pushing me out.  How would you go about pumping?  Alternate
like pistons in an engine, or double-barrel her for maximum size.  It
seemed weird to think of my dick touching another one, but I decided
to look at it from the point of view that Kevin and me were pleasuring
her and ourselves, not each other.
	I looked at Michelle again.  I thought of her face twisted in
pleasure as we fucked her hole deeply, in unison.  Her eyelashes were
long and pretty, I noticed.  She'd look good with her eyes closed too.
 I wondered what she'd look like with a shaved bush, but it was hard
enough imagining her nude accurately, forget details like bush quantity.
	"ALRIGHT, SETTLE DOWN!" yelled the director, suddenly.  The bus
quieted a bit, and I noticed that we were at the lodge.
	"We are here," he said ("No shit," whispered Kevin, under his breath,
making us laugh), "and I'm gonna get the lift tickets first, so please
remain seated until I get back."
	Damn, I was hoping for some relief, I thought.  At that moment, Mike
got up and started gathering his things.  Kevin got up and stretched
his legs, turning to talk to Luke, who had just woken up.  Michelle
also turned away, though just to lean against the window and look
forward.
	My rod was hurting; it was pressing against my leg like a bitch.  I
had to do something or I'd be in pain for an hour.  I stood up, but my
long underwear was too tight to allow my dick to return naturally to a
comfy position.  I sat again and subtly but quickly reached under my
coat and down my pants.  I grabbed hold of my rock solid rod and
pulled it up, relieving the stress.  Meanwhile I had peeked over to my
left; Kevin was still pretty much blocking any view from there.  No
one looking from behind.  I turned back; Mike was still facing away,
Michelle - 
	Michelle, I could swear I saw her turn her eyes away as soon as I
turned towards her.  Had she seen?  The thought surely must have
crossed her mind: I wonder if these guys are all getting hard-ons? 
Maybe she didn't think that way, but it was unlikely.  I quickly
pulled my hand out, making a fuss with my hat and gloves to pretend it
was a different movement.
	Damn, she's smiling a little, it looks like.  I thought of something
to say, but I was still horny so all I could think of was either
stupid, or about sex.  Michelle yawned for a second.  Maybe she didn't
see.  It didn't matter anyway, I thought suddenly; a man's gotta do
what a man's gotta do.  That was cheesy, I thought to myself.  It
didn't matter though.  Maybe it even turned her on.
	I sat back again, and thought of cumming on her ass cheeks after
pulling out of her pussy.  Kevin was still pumping away.  I spewed a
load onto her ass.  It dribbled down her crack.  Actually, it would
probably not dribble, I wondered.  That's the trouble (and the beauty)
about fantasies, you never know what the real life event would be like
until you actually do it.  And cumming on a girl's ass while my friend
fucked her cunt was not something I did everyday.  Hell, I had yet to
even see a girl's ass in the flesh, yet to touch one, yet to touch
some breast, or even put my dick in a pussy for a handful of seconds
before losing my load like an uncontrolled teenager.  Without any of
that, imagining an orgy is definitely a fantasy and nothing more for a
while.
	Actually, though, I had seen enough porn that I knew pretty much what
sex would be like in theory.  What it would feel like would be a
different story.
	I spewed another load into her crack.  Maybe onto her asshole.  Yeah,
and then push back in, lubricating her insides with my sperm.  Or
maybe rewind, I'll shoot it at her pussy, adding to the wetness there.
 Maybe Kevin and I shoot it at her ass and pussy simultaneously.  Ahh,
who knows what it would be like.  Maybe I'd fuck her mouth again, and
let her nice lips pull on my skin, and then back off, and target into
her open mouth like every porn movie scene ends.  I just saw Michelle
yawn, I can imagine her waiting for my cum pretty easily.  It would
probably hit her face and hair and shit, I thought.  Get all the floor
fucked up.
	Actually, if I had been really horny, it'd probably shoot right over
her.  Once I had been watching porn movies for hours without cumming,
as a test to see how long I could hold off.  I stroked myself until I
almost came, and then chilled for a bit and then went at it again. 
After three and a half hours my balls were aching suddenly.  I got up,
and it felt like I had pulled a muscle in my testicle.  I could barely
walk, so I went up to the bathroom, and turned on the shower.  I got
in to the bathtub and stroked myself to completion.  When I shot out
the first jet, it took me by surprise, arcing up about as high as my
neck and falling to the tub.  I quickly turned and faced the far wall
of the tub, and pointed up and out.  The second burst shot across the
tub and hit the tile wall three feet away with a splat, about the same
height as my dick!
	I was amazed.  Usually my cum spews out in thick bursts that shoot a
few inches; if I am really horny, maybe a foot.  This cum now was a
bit more liquid, and I was intrigued at the distance achieved in the
tub; I barely got the shower curtain out of the way in time to send
the third jet streaming across the bathroom.  I watched greedily as it
traversed the air in a long graceful arc, beads of cum tumbling over
each other, reflecting the light.  It landed near the door.  A fourth
burst was on its way, but it landed a foot nearer to me.  It was over,
so I drained the rest of my cum into the tub.  I got out to clean the
spots; the furthest was about six feet from where I had stood!
	I redirected my aim at Michelle's face then and let out a comparable
jet.  It smacked her in the cheek.  That's kind of nasty though, I
thought to myself.  I wouldn't want a load of slimy shit all in my
eyes and mouth and nose and hair and shit.  Nah, I'll go back to the
rear end and push into her asshole again.  I pushed into her tight
hole and pumped until I felt the burst approach, then buried it hilt
deep and let 'er rip.  I wonder how far up her butt my sperm would
travel, I thought.  Probably not that far, but it would have some
power to it.
	My dick was probably purple by now, and thankfully the director
returned with the passes and told us to exit the bus.  Just in time,
because another minute would have had me going to the bathroom, and
not just to readjust my dick.
	I stepped off the bus onto the gravel ground with a crunch.  The warm
breeze blew away my crazed horniness a bit, and I was ready to ski. 
It was startling to see snow and have the air feel like spring in
November.  
	I grabbed a lift ticket and metal holder from Roger, the rec.
director, and headed back to the cargo bays where the driver was
unloading skis and poles.  I pushed through some kids who were
standing very much in the way and started handing out skis.  It had
stayed together amazingly well in the hold of the bus, and in five
minutes everyone had their skis who had brought some.  Some were
renting; they were already on their way to the chalet with vouchers in
hand.
	I had just finished putting on my ski boots when Kevin came up to me,
looking mad.
	"Did you see this shit, Rob?" he said angrily, pointing to the lift
ticket.
	"What's wrong with it?"
	"It's for lower mountain only."  The ticket had a large red stamp on
it, "NO SUMMIT."
	"That's fuckin' bullshit, man, what does Roger say?"
	"He says that he can't let the young kids up to the top and fall on a
tough trail," he said in a mock whining voice.
	"What about us?"
	"One for all, all for one.  This is such crap!  Man, we've skied
every damn trail here, and they're tellin' us we can't even go to the
summit.  Fuck that shit."
	"Yo, chill, maybe we can just go up anyway."
	"He said that the only way to go up is to test out with an
instructor, and then they'll stamp you for the top."
	"How d'we do that?" I asked.
	"Meet at the instruction lodge at 10, they said."
	"Damn, that's in an hour!  What the fuck will we do 'til then?"
	"Ski on Mossy Brook.  Fuck.  Shit!"
	Michelle came over.  She was all ready.
	"Did you hear about this ticket bullshit?" I asked her, looking
longingly up the mountain.
	"No, what?"
	Kevin and I explained the situation to her.
	"Ah, well then we'll just warm up on the lower trails for a while. 
It won't be the end of the world."
	"You must be an optimist," I muttered, although I felt a bit better
knowing she wasn't totally disappointed.
	"Always!" she said with a smile.
	We gathered our things.  I saw Luke and Deb nearby.
	"This is crap," I said.
	"I know," agreed Luke.  "Are you gonna test out?"
	"Have to," said Kevin.  If they catch you trying to get on a summit
lift you're gone for the day."
	"Harshness."
	"We are gonna wait for Tonya and Val, they're renting," said Deb.
	"Yeah, we'll see you at ten then."  Luke popped on his shades and
smiled.
	Kevin, Michelle, and I walked through the crowd of people that were
getting ready and trudged up the hill to the snowy basin lying at the
foot of the mountain.  Most of the major lifts left from the bowl.  We
put on our skis, adjusted our clothing, and looked around.  The lifts
to the summit were to the right, and a lift leading halfway up, to
lesser trails, was to our left.  We peered over to the triple chair on
our right, hauling up into the sky.  Longingly, we peered, and then
turned to our left.
	"Hey, ain't you gonna wait up!?!" we heard from behind.  It was Mike.
 I had thought we had lost him.  Once you lose someone on Hunter
Mountain, it is an easy trick to never see him or her again until 4:25.
	Mike hurried up, dragging his skis, roughly dropping them with a
clatter to the snow, and brutely forcing them on.
	"Alright, where are we going?"
	"I guess we'll hit this double chair here," said Kevin.
	"Wait, let's see if the triple chair down by the condos at the end of
Belt is running," I said, suddenly remembering that lift.  "That leads
up to some decent stuff."
	"Good call.  I never remember that lift because it is tucked away."
	We had to ski around the base of the summit lifts to arrive at the
chair, and when we got there I was breaking a sweat.  "Damn," I
exhaled, "I'm outta shape, and it's fuckin' hot."
	"Damn right.  I think I'm gonna get rid of this hat."  Kevin yanked
off his hat and stuffed it into his coat.
	We got on line, and soon we were getting on the chair.
	"How are we going," asked Michelle.  An awkward moment.  I was
somewhat next to her, and, at the risk of leaving Kevin with Mike
alone and having him hate me, I offered to join Michelle on the chair.
 I saw Kevin give me a smirk, and before there was any further
discussion I skied up and got on the chair, Michelle following.
	"Well, first run of the season."
	"Yep," I said.  "Looks like it will be good, once we get up to the
top later today."
	"So how long have you been skiing?"
	"Hmm… About… I'd say 8 years.  I started when I was 8."
	"You're already 16?"
	"Not yet, in just another month and a half, January tenth."
	"That's cool, you get to drive soon."
	"Yeah," I said, happy she noticed.  "How long have you skied for?"
	"About 6 years.  We lived right near a lot of resorts.  It was nice
in the winter, just a five, ten minute drive to the hill."
	"That must be nice.  My parents actually own a house up here in the
Catskill Mountains.  They used to ski a lot, but now my dad has a bad
knee and has to lay off.  They still come up to relax, and have
friends up for the week or something."
	"That's cool.  Is the house close?"
	"Yeah.  About fifteen minutes north of here, in a town called Cairo. 
It's nice.  The property is big."
	"Neat."
	The chair lift gently traveled over the bottom part of Belt Parkway,
where that trail emptied into the large expanse of snow called the
Battery; the Battery is where all base-seeking trails eventually
emptied into, and it led to the lodge and lifts.
	"This is Belt Parkway here," I said, pointing under us with my pole. 
"It's pretty easy, it wraps around the west side of the mountain and
ends up here."
	"Are we doing that now?"
	"No, you can only grab it from the summit," I said with some regret. 
"A lot of these lower trails are named after streets in New York City,
like Belt Parkway, Bleeker Street, Fifth Avenue, Hellgate."
	"What, that's not a name in New York."
	"Just kidding.  Could be though.  It is a trail here, though."
	"Sounds interesting."
	"It's pretty good, but a lot of people go on it, so it gets icy by
lunch."
	The chair moved into a wooded area, and it was suddenly quiet as the
noise of skiers shouting and poles clanking and skis cutting an edge
was left behind.  The patter of a runoff stream broke the otherwise
calm air.  We approached a pole, and heard a Mel Torme-like version of
"I'll be Home for Christmas" playing, getting louder for a few
seconds, and then fading away as we passed the pole.
	"That was random," said Michelle.
	"Yeah, they've had that there for years.  Funny thing is, they don't
have any others on this lift, so whenever you take this lift all you
get is ten seconds of a song.  That's it.  I think they put it there
because it is so quiet in that section."
	"Yeah, maybe."
	We topped the bluff, and ahead was the end of the lift, past which
stood the towering summit.  The summit chair, which ran parallel to
the one we were on, continued its lofty journey; we would
unfortunately not be accompanying it much further.  
	I looked back, Kev was slumped into the chair, and Michael was
looking out over the trees.
	"They're getting along well," commented Michelle, turning around
herself.
	"Yeah, Kevin doesn't like Mike that much.  But he will bear him if he
has to."
	We raised our bar, and skied off the ramp and off to the left.  It
felt a little shaky, but not bad.  We turned and watched Kev and Mike
get off and ski towards us.
	"Alright, what mighty trail shall we do now?" I asked.
	"Well," said Kevin in an exaggerated French accent, "to begin with,
let me suggest the shallow but fun Seventh Avenue, followed by a main
course of Eisenhower.  On the rocks."
	We laughed and set off.