Vegas - The Kid - Part 8

Please Note: Links to the previous episodes are in the top left panel. However, a few weeks ago, I published a slightly edited version called "The Story So Far" which makes the first episode's relationship to the Past Lives series invisible. The link lies between the Fourth and Fifth links on the left. So you can choose. Follow the Cardinal links on the left to see it with the unmodified First Episode, or click on the Story So Far link and then the higher ones to read it just focused on The Kid.

Just as the last episode was dedicated to her, this episode also is dedicated to Warriorwitch, who reminded me that there was a place that all of this started out from, and that I needed to get back there to continue writing this story. Thank you, Warriorwitch. I love you.

And now ... Episode 8 of .... The Kid ....

She stood in the doorway of the DC-3, watching the two people who had been on this leg of the trip walk across the concrete apron in the brilliant heat of the mid-morning Las Vegas sun. Her mind went back to the few minutes that she and one of those passengers had had to themselves, in the rear cargo area, aft of the galley.

She had been busy, working in the galley, the young lad with the white-blond hair a constant presence in the back of her mind. He made her feel afraid. She didn't know why, he just did. Afraid of him. Afraid of his presence. Afraid of his raw sexual appeal. Her husband had been gone such a long time, and the company of men had not been frequent since he'd been gone. She seldom felt like she did right then. The intrigue of a stranger. The many years of lonesome nights. He's a bad boy, she knew. His eyes are so flat and cold. And yet, when he smiles ...

"Ahem."
"Oh my God. You startled me."
"Here's your mug back. I'm done with the coffee. Actually, I was done before we landed in Albuquerque. I figured I'd better give this back."
"That's okay. Thanks."

The plane gave a couple of quick jolts. The Kid looked uneasy.

"Oh, don't worry about that. It's just a little turb. The air gets warm when the sun comes up - out here, that makes for a bumpy ride. It'll be like that - and worse - all the way into Vegas."

"So what're ya doin' here?"
"Just getting things ready for the run into L.A. out of Vegas. We'll have a pretty full flight out of McCarran Field."

The plane suddenly dipped and The Kid lurched into her arms as she fell back against the cargo area door.

"Oops. Sorry."

He stood next to her. Close to her. Her breasts were pressed against his chest. Everything inside her started to twist into exquisite knots of the sweetest pain.
She reached back and opened the door to the cargo area. Small and cramped, there was little room to do more than wrap up in each others arms. His hands slid up her sides to the swell of her breasts and made her tingle all the way down to her groin as his palms slid across her nipples. She reached down and felt for him, found him, and she began to ache with a yearning she had not felt in way too long.

She hiked up her skirt and pulled aside her panties. She started to unzip his trousers.
"I can't. I can't stand hair."
"You won't find hair on me. My husband didn't like it, either."
"Close your eyes, then. Don't look at me."

She wrapped a leg around him as he inserted himself and slowly drew him deeper and deeper inside, the turbulence helping them achieve penetration. She pulled him to her, tighter and tighter, held him closer and closer, stroking his hair, holding his head in her hands.

She had no way to know that this was the first time he had ever faced a woman during sex. She had no way to know he had never felt the warmth of the embrace of a woman. She had no way to know that no woman had ever run her fingers through his hair in the throes of raw, urgent sex.

His lips, next to her ear, brushed her cheek and his breath caught as he whispered,
"Open your eyes."

She looked into his face. She was surprised to see tears in his eyes. He buried his face in her shoulder and stayed there, even as the passionate act was completed and the swelling of passion died.

As he walked up the aisle and back to his seat, she noticed that the other passenger was sleeping. More turbulence. More bouncing. Some people will sleep through anything.

She watched as he walked across the apron and then turned back into the cool of the interior of the plane. And wondered if she would ever see him again and at the same time, hoped she wouldn't. She knew, somehow, there was danger there. And at 28 years of age with a five year old son, she didn't need the drama.

The Kid crossed the apron in the blaring bright heat of the morning sun. Man, it's fuckin' hot. He felt the top of his head with the flat of his palm. And I need a fuckin' hat. As he approached the terminal building, he noticed two beefy men in Hawiian print shirts looking out over the apron. Wrong guy, assholes. But you ain't got no way ta know that, huh? Cool. Fuckin' cool.

He caught a cab outside the terminal building, took it to a nearby motel and checked in. The driver recommended this particular motel because it has air conditioning. First motel in Vegas with Air Conditioning. Just like the Casinos.

The room was cool, in spite of the heat outside. That big machine in the window really did a job keeping the room cool. But man, it was so noisy he couldn't think. He dropped the valise on the bed.
He had to think. He had to figure out what he was going to do next. How he was going to find Sully. Sully and some building ... what did that fucker say ... Baxter, that's it, Baxter building, corner of Frontier and Fremont.

As he closed the door to the room behind him, he stopped for a few seconds, his heart suddenly pounding and his hands sweating as his mind was filled with the vision of deep blue eyes looking straight into his, the first time ever during sex and fingers in his hair, but gentle and .... sweet.

He shook his head. Gotta get movin'. I'm in Vegas!! VEGAS!! I am HERE!!

Now's the time to do it.

Gotta catch me a cab and go find this guy ... this Sully.

And tell him that Joey The Hat sent me.