Author's note:
I hadn't planned to write this. I had only one story in mind - one year in the messy, unfinished life, and the messy, unfinished death of Gary Galloway. The idea for this story started percolating as I read public and private comments after the end of my last novel, and before I knew it, I was writing again.
You don't need to have read my previous story, Messy, in order to read this one. They exist in the same universe, though prior knowledge of it is not required. It can be enjoyed standalone if desired.
It's the story of a man taking a vacation, driving his (rather submissive) beloved and her friend (someone who gets on his final nerve) across the country to a business meeting. The America they visit is stunningly beautiful, but hyper-partisan national tensions can flare into violence in large population centers, and there are other dangers on the road as well, very old, very FOREIGN places not meant to be visited.
Many of the chapters of this novel can be enjoyed standalone. I had it in mind to write much of it as individual fantasies that require no knowledge of a previous chapter to read and understand. There are plot threads that weave through though, and they start to pull together later on.
As with Messy, there may be sequences or topics or behaviors that are disturbing for some readers. Two chapters contain scenes of violence, and several others contain actual or implied threats to the main characters or others. The language used by or towards the characters may similarly offend or disturb some readers. Some chapters may not contain any sexual activity and may exist only to forward the story. I will call these out for readers who do not wish to bother with the plot and simply wish to read for the erotic sequences.
One last note. Every single word of these chapters was written on a large screen phone as I do not possess a computer. I apologize for any spelling/punctuation mistakes or autocorrections that escaped the review process.
As always, all comments public and private are welcome.
Enjoy!
This chapter does not contain any sexual activity. It is written to introduce the characters and plot. If you are reading solely for erotica, please pick up at chapter two.
*****
Friday
7/10/20
I sighed and looked around my office. Wouldn't be coming back here ever again. Wouldn't be coming back to this building for a month.
All my belongings had been taken home, so I locked my computer, grabbed my backpack and walked out, a sense of finality and excitement permeating my being.
It was quittin' time.
Next stop was the doctor's office, and I sat in a waiting room lit by the afternoon sun while I read a magazine and waited for the news. I was ushered back to a room the color of mashed chickpeas, and a harried-looking woman in a lab coat went over the test results. I gave a little Whoop! And she looked at me like she'd never seen anyone react so positively to what she was used to telling them.
The twisting maze of highways was packed with people leaving work, and the traffic jams on the suspended roads didn't feel as aggravating as usual. Off the baking highways, onto city streets, and I drove through residential neighborhoods, the houses growing more dilapidated, the trees and vegetation growing more unkempt the further I drove. Down a dead-end, and I pulled into the driveway of the last house.
I was going to be leaving again soon so I didn't pull into the two-story garage. Instead, I exited the massive Suburban and walked into the narrow alley between the house and the garage. I took a moment to look out on the well-manicured backward, the inground pool sparkling in the hot July sun, the playground equipment I'd never anticipated wanting.
I keyed open the heavy metal door and stepped into the cool of the shadowy kitchen. The kitchen looked out onto the backyard, connected with the massive galley dining room at the center of the first floor, and was one of two access points to the stairways that led to the second and third floors. I splashed water on my face at the kitchen sink, hung my backpack on the hook next to the backdoor, and climbed the steps to the second floor. The third floor was virtually a carbon copy of the second, which was the master.
There was a small kitchen, a weight room, a study, master bedroom and attached master bathroom on this level, and I smiled as I walked through the rooms. I'd put up most of the drywall, framed most of the rooms. Done all the wiring, most of the plumbing.
Hell of a way to go through rehab.
I smiled again at the sight of the unmade metal-frame king bed, the mussed up covers indicating two bodies. That sight, that reminder always brought me joy.
I undressed and threw my clothes in the laundry, redressed in jeans and a button up shirt left untucked. Work didn't start again for another month, and I was going to look as casual as possible until then. I exchanged my dress shoes for heavy boots, and then keyed open my safe. Ring knife on the right pocket, spare mag in the left, full-size Sig 320RX in a holster behind my right hip under my shirt. Now I was ready.
I set the paperwork on the dresser, circled the test results with a smilie face and the word "TONITE!"
Fun times ahead.
On the way out of the bedroom, I jumped up and grabbed the doorframe and did three effortlessly easy pullups with only a slight twinge of pain. I didn't need doorframes since a programmer acquaintance had helped me install voice-activated sliding metal pocket doors in every room of the house, but I kept the molding for just this reason.
The rays of the sun were starting to lengthen and turn the tops of the trees and buildings gold by the time I stepped into the bar. The streets were full of people still shopping, walking to or from dinner, enjoying the early July air. I paused at the door, felt the warm summer breeze ruffle my short hair, caress my face like a lovers lips. The scent of fireworks rode the currents of air and I smiled. What a great day to be alive.
