Perry thought back to his double-date with Lester. The girl had been pretty and intelligent and would have taken him home if he'd made the least effort. He hadn't, though. This girl was inappropriate in so many ways: young, rooted to a city thousands of miles from home -- why had he brought her back to the hotel? A thought struck him. "Why do you think I'm going to be getting on and off planes for the rest of my life? I've got a home to get to." "You haven't been reading the message boards, have you?" "Which message boards?" "For ride-builders. There are projects starting up everywhere. People like what they've heard and what they've seen, and they remember you from the old days and want to get in on the magic you're going to bring. A lot of us know each other anyway, from other joint projects. Everyone's passing the hat to raise your airfare and arguing about who's sofa you're going to stay on." He'd known that they were there. There were always message-boards. But they were just talk -- he never bothered to read them. That was Lester's job. He wanted to make stuff, not chatter. "Jesus, when the hell was someone going to tell me?" "Your guy in Boston, we've been talking to him. He said not to bug you, that you were busy enough as it is." He did, did he? In the old days, Tjan had been in charge of planning and he'd been in charge of the ideas: in charge of what to plan. Had they come full circle without him noticing? If they had, was that so bad? "Man, I was really looking forward to spending a couple nights in my own bed." "Is it much more comfortable than this one?" She thumped the narrow coffin-bed, which was surprisingly comfortable, adjustable, heated, and massaging. He snorted. "OK, I sleep on a futon on the floor back home, but it's the principle of the thing. I just miss home, I guess." "So go home for a couple days after this stop, or the next one. Charge up your batteries and do your laundry. But I have a feeling that home is going to be your suitcase pretty soon, Perry my dear." Her voice was thick with sleep, her eyes heavy-lidded and bleary. "You're probably right." He yawned as he spoke. "Hell, I know you're right. You're a real smarty." "And I'm too tired to go home," she said, "so I'm a smarty who's staying with you." He was suddenly wide awake, his heart thumping. "Um, OK," he said, trying to sound casual. He turned back the sheets, then, standing facing into the cramped corner, took off his jeans and shoes and socks, climbing in between the sheets in his underwear and tee. There were undressing noises -- exquisite ones -- and then she slithered in behind him, snuggled up against him. With a jolt, he realized that her bare breasts were pressed to his back. Her arm came around him and rested on his stomach, which jumped like a spring uncoiling. He felt certain his erection was emitting a faint cherry-red glow. Her breath was on his neck.