"Vancouver?"

“Vancouver?! Why do you need to go to Vancouver?” you ask.

Amber runs her hands through her hair in frustration—a gesture you love under most circumstances, but right now you can’t afford to focus on what it does either to her hair or to her tits. “I don’t know—I couldn’t get that straight. It didn’t make any sense to me. I mean, I was born there—you know that, you handled everything so I could keep my dual citizenship—but I’ve never been back there. I don’t know what’s going on, and it’s the middle of the semester.”

“You can afford to miss a little time, though, can’t you?”

“I can, yes; I’m in great shape in all my classes, and I think I have everything I need to work ahead. Anything I can’t take with me or do by myself, I can take care of online. But there’s one thing I can’t do online . . .”

“What’s that?” you ask curiously.

“Well, it’s time for us to choose our housing for the next year.” You look at her and wait, not sure where she’s going with this. She gives you a tilted grin and asks, “Would you like a roommate?”

You blink at her and ask in turn, “Can you do that?”

“Absolutely,” Amber replies, completely serious. “I thought I could, but I wanted to confirm it with the administration before I got your hopes up.” She smiles. “I’m going into my senior year and I’ve taken heavy loads all the way along, plus I have AP credits and CLEP credits, and I did that May/June term in Europe.” You remember that. The house seemed very lonely without Amber around. In retrospect, you wonder if maybe it had seemed even lonelier than it should have.

“Plus, my grades are very strong. I can live wherever I want within however many miles of school as long as I give them my address. They have to formally approve it, but that’s just a rubber stamp unless something’s screwy. Mostly, they require formal approval so they can revoke it if they find out anything really bad is going on. There will be other seniors living with girlfriends or boyfriends next year; there are every year. Juniors, too, sometimes; actually, I think I could have done this this year if I’d had any reason to.”

“Well, you have every reason to now,” you agree, “and I have every reason to want you to. Having you living with me will make me happier than I ever thought I’d be.”

“The other advantage,” Amber goes on, “is that this isn’t just about next year. Once students are approved to live in private housing for the next school year, if it’s possible for them to move right away, they’re allowed to do so. Usually, anyway. I don’t know if it’s a formal thing or just the administration turning a blind eye, but it’s an established pattern. I can move in with you before the semester’s even over. Besides all the health benefits—”

“Health benefits?” you interrupt, startled. Amber gives you a sly smile.

“Oh, I’m sure there’s lots of protein in all that nice cum you keep giving me, and lots of other good things, too. Besides babies, but let’s wait a few years on that. I look forward to having your children, but I want to get myself established first.” You nod in full agreement, and she continues, “This way, I just don’t have to deal with her anymore. I can move out and be done with it. I couldn’t have lived with her anyway once she dumped you, even if you’d never given me a second look. Once you gave me your love—no way. Just no way.”

“So the question is,” you respond after a moment, “how soon can you take care of that?”

“I’m not sure. I could go talk to housing right now and find out. The administration already knows about this, so maybe they’ll let me take care of this now even if they shouldn’t. And then—oh, fuck, the travel arrangements . . . I don’t know anything—”

“You don’t need to,” you say firmly, and Amber looks at you in some surprise. “Look, the business has been growing well, and these last few years, we’ve been a lot more international than almost anyone around here realizes. Partly, that’s me. I like to play my cards close to the vest; I figure you can always say something later, but you can never unsay it. Our PR people don’t like that I’m such a low-profile guy, but that’s how I operate. Good thing, too, given your mother; if I’d been the kind to show off, I’m sure she’d have found some way to take me to the cleaners when she left.”

Amber grimaces and nods as you continue. “You’re worked up right now, so you’re forgetting that I’ve taken a few business trips to Vancouver in the last year or two.”

“To be honest,” she says sheepishly, “I didn’t really register where you were going. I was living at school, and mostly I was too miserable that you were going to be away to really pay attention. It didn’t seem to matter all that much where you were going.”

“I can understand that. In any case, this is something I really can’t talk about, because it’s confidential to the company, but the business that has taken me out to Vancouver is quite important, and it’s ongoing. I’ve gotten to know the city a little, and it’s actually entirely possible that I ought to be out there again anyway. While you’re talking to housing, let me talk to some people; if there are business reasons, I can talk to SkyCorp—”

“SkyCorp?” Amber interrupts, startled.

“It’s a charter consortium. In my judgment, we can’t justify our own corporate plane, but we do enough travel that when one of my mentors pulled a bunch of his friends and associates together to buy a couple, he invited me and I accepted. Anyway, if it’s business, I can charter a flight. If not, I’ll take care of the tickets. Either way, I can handle everything else. OK?”

“OK,” she says in vast relief. She gives you a quick, hard hug and kiss, and then says, “I need to get going.”

“Let’s be about it,” you say with a grin, and Amber hurries to her car. You pick up your cell and make a call. “Raymond? Hey, brother, how are you doing? . . . Good to hear. I’m calling about Vancouver— What do you mean, how did I find out so soon? How did I find out about what? . . . That’s great, actually. I have to head out there on personal business, and I was hoping— Right, exactly. So how long— Can I be out there for two weeks? Probably. How much of my time will they actually need? . . . OK, I can do that. Let’s get this scheduled . . .”

You hang up the phone in deep satisfaction. Amber’s trip to Vancouver is actually going to be a big benefit to your company—far more than enough to justify the charter—and you won’t have to spend that much time in meetings. You just have to be there long enough to make all the meetings you need to be in. Now for the next call, to the Pan Pacific. You give them your Pacific Club information and the dates of your stay. You don’t expect a lot on such short notice, but less than an hour before, they had a cancellation on the Opal Suite, and it’s available for the sixteen days you need. You book it happily and move on to the rental car, humming for delight as you imagine Amber’s surprise.