
I was at the airport and a lovely young woman approached me and asked if I knew how to get to the city. I told her there was a public transport strike and if she didn’t have a problem accepting a ride from a complete stranger I would be delighted to give her a ride.
She accepted my offer and thanked me and we walked over to the parking garage and loaded our bags into the trunk of my car.
We arrived at a secluded wooded area just outside the city limits where a white trailer was parked. The woman said that was where she—along with two sisters—would be staying for the foreseeable future.
The woman invited me in, insisting that she let me show her the trailer and fix me something to eat.
Once inside, she introduced me to her sisters and their little black French bulldog.
After tea and sandwiches she took me aside and said if I didn’t have any other commitments I would be more than welcome to stay the night. She confessed that her sisters had been expecting to meet her new fiancée but the young man broke off the engagement on the plane somewhere over Kansas City and they had assumed he was me. She begged me to play along with the ruse for a few days until she got up the nerve to tell her sisters the truth.
I reluctantly agreed but told the girl I was afraid that sleeping with her and in such close quarters with her sisters would present a series of challenges seeing how I was long-divorced and accustomed to living and sleeping alone, that I tended to drool and fart and snore and wake up with the foulest breath.
The woman smiled and said she appreciated my honesty, but reminded me that everyone drools and farts and snores and wakes up with morning breath.
Then I woke up.
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