Traffic Girl - Juliet

Author's Note: Sorry for the long burn between chapters, but there is a lot to unpack here with John and Kat. It's true that, without these two, there is no Traffic Girl. I hope you find this chapter as representative of the journey they've taken and how far they've come, looking toward a future that's adventurous and full of fun. These two are very close to me, and I hope you feel this does them justice.

* * *

After the rollicking good time with Jess in Cabo, I needed a full week to recover. At least the next trip wouldn't be quite so crazy and out of control. Or so I thought. Kat and I were heading up to Napa for a long weekend. She had dreamed for years of going to one restaurant in particular, and I had secured a reservation there for a Saturday night. We would fly up on Thursday morning, giving us most of a day of tasting, then a relaxing day of tasting Friday, with the main event dinner that night. We'd wrap up with some more tastings on Saturday, then fly back Sunday at some point.

"You realize this is a dream come true for me, right?" Kat said as we went wheels up from the Burbank airport.

"I do," I said, my smile shining at her.

"You keep making my dreams come true, John," she said.

It was a bright, clear day, and Kat kept her sunglasses on even inside the cabin of our Gulfstream G-700. She wore snug white pants, a flower-patterned silk top that flowed like liquid, and a pair of Prada espadrilles. Her hair was as silky and flowy as her blouse, and she radiated happiness. I did my best to keep up with her by dressing Napa preppie. I had on khaki pants and a plaid button-down with the sleeves rolled up, along with Ferragamo loafers and no socks. It wasn't my usual look, which amused Kat greatly.

"I'm always going to make your dreams come true, darling," I said.

We sat across from each other. I had popped and poured what I thought was the best Napa Chardonnay, and we savored it. It was a big wine but retained impeccable balance, so it was enjoyable. And it was probably the perfect bottle to kick off our weekend in the cradle of American wine.

"I like it," Kat said. "Oakey, but still well done."

"Yes!" I agreed. "The balance holds it all together."

"This is going to be fun," she said, biting her bottom lip.

"Feeling naughty?" I asked.

"I am," she said. "It's too bad that this flight is so short."

Just then, we heard the ding in the cabin indicating we had reached cruising altitude. The pilot let us know that we would only have about twenty minutes before we began our descent.

"A little teasing isn't so bad," I said.

"It isn't so bad," she said, eyes twinkling.

Kat leaned forward, her silk blouse billowing open as she did and revealing she didn't wear a bra. The bar piercings in her nipples -- a diamond stud on each side -- clearly visible. My gaze was riveted on them.

"I'm so glad you got them pierced again," I said.

"I think they feel good enough for you to play with," she said. "They're still sensitive, but they always have been."

"I know," I said, locking my eyes on hers.

Kat shuddered. "The way you said that," she said, "it made my pussy tingle." She took a sip from her wine glass and closed her eyes as she swallowed. "I can't even describe to you the connection I feel with you. It's cosmic."

"The Fates," I said. "You know that when we first met? I thought maybe it was fate. But when we sat next to each other at that wine dinner, I was convinced of it. I've always believed that. The Fates decreed that you and I will be together."

"Well, that, and you have such a powerful sense of chivalry," she said and flashed her TV smile.

"God, I love you," I said, leaning forward to kiss her. It was a mostly chaste peck on the lips, with just a quick flick of tongue.

"I may have a surprise or two for you this weekend," Kat said.

"Wait, what?" I said with mock shock. "Surprises on trips are my thing."

"I know, daddy," she said. "But your Kitty Kat couldn't help herself."

"Don't tell me," I said. "I can't wait to find out what they are."

We finished the bottle of legal-themed Chardonnay, which really was excellent. Since we were only fifteen minutes from landing, we didn't open anything else. We stared out the windows and took in the landscape. Napa always seemed like a paradox to me, especially in July. It was largely brown and crispy, appearing as dry as a tinderbox. But then you saw the vineyards. They were lush, green, and vibrant, a series of oases dotting the landscape. It was seductive to see, especially when you knew the precious liquid that came out of those vineyards. We never drank a ton of Napa wine at home. Our tastes trended toward Champagne and Burgundy and Pinot Noir from the U.S. But visiting any wine region and indulging in the local juice was always exhilarating.

"It's enchanting," Kat said, as the plane descended, and the land came into clearer view.

"I can't believe I haven't brought you here before," I said.

"It's more special this way," she said. "This is the perfect time."

We touched down at Napa County Airport just after 10 a.m. A town car met us. I had reserved a driver for the full weekend, and I didn't want a limo. Some wineries wouldn't let you arrive in a limo. They were tight on space, and there was also a bit of stigma with it in wine country. It was like you were some Silicon Valley weekender who wasn't serious. And Kat and I were very serious about our wine. I liked blending in. I liked giving off the vibe of being part of the crowd.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to the Bardessono Hotel in Yountville. I hadn't stayed there before, but Petey had told me it was his favorite. So I booked it, and as soon as we walked into our villa, the Quartole, I was sold. It was a big, open space with a twenty-foot ceiling and filled with windows that let light pour in. We had a big dining table, sectional sofa, and a fireplace. The bed was sumptuously comfortable. The bathroom had a large tub and a shower with a knee-height ledge at the rear. There was a large terrace in the back, with what they called a "cocktail" pool, lounge chairs, another fireplace, and an outdoor shower. An eight-foot-tall wood privacy fence ringed the entire exterior. It was intensely private and the peak of luxury. It was perfect.

Kat's reaction to the villa was all I needed. She walked through and drank in the space with her mouth gaping open in total delight.

"John!" she screeched when she saw I had arranged to have the wine chiller to be stocked with Champagne for us.

I unpacked our bags and organized our things. It was a bit of an OCD habit on my part. I liked to be settled in all the way. When I finished hanging up my two blazers in the closet, then stashed our suitcases in the corner, I walked back into the bedroom to find Kat lying on the bed. Her right hand had slipped inside the front of her pants, and the motion made it clear she was playing with her clit. Her hair cascaded over the side of the bed, and she looked at me from upside down.

"Daddy," Kat purred, "I want my first tasting to be of your dick."

She opened her mouth and made a licking motion with her tongue to emphasize it.

"Jesus, Kitty Kat, you are so beautiful," I said. "And seductive."

"Throat fuck me?" she said, her voice lilting in a falsetto tone. "Let me drink your cum?"

"Goddamn, I can never say no to you," I said.

The tension that had built up between us to this point had been thick. My cock only needed her seductive words to become fully erect. I unbuckled my belt and only pulled down my pants past my thighs. Kat reached her left hand up to me, slid it underneath my balls to let them dangle free, and guided my shaft into her mouth.

She gulped as it moved into her throat, and she moaned happily. Her right hand still moved in a circular motion inside the waistband of her pants, while she continued to fondle my balls as I throat-fucked her. The bubbling, gurgling sounds urged me on. I was bent forward, bracing my hands on the edge of the mattress, and rhythmically driving my hips in a rocking motion. The flight had been a tease, and our romantic banter had left my cock aching and throbbing from being uncomfortably confined in my pants. Kat took my mouth fucking with spit-trickling, gagging pleasure. She removed her hand from her panties and showed me the clear, sticky juices coating her fingers. She held them up, and I leaned farther forward so I could lick them clean. As I did, I fucked her throat even more deeply. She put both hands behind my flexing ass cheeks, urging me on.

"I'm gonna cum," I grunted.

Kat merely responded with a muffled, eager "uh-uh." She repositioned one hand to play with my balls, alternating between tugging the sack and tugging on it. She moaned again when the telltale first pulse rippled from the base to the tip of my cock. She relaxed her tongue, flattening and preparing for the creamy reward she craved. I pushed all the way inside her, feeling the vibration of her vocal chords as she sang the song of a true cumslut, and I growled loudly as my semen shot from my cock. She probably didn't even taste it. I was buried so deeply, it must have gone straight to her stomach. I felt light-headed from the intensity and took a half-step back, standing most of the way up. As I did, Kat lovingly licked my cock as it withdrew. When it was all the way out, she sucked one of my balls into her mouth, then the other.

"Thank you, daddy," she said in her slutty, singsong tone. "I love tasting you. God, it makes me so wet."

"Did we ruin your pants, Kitty Kat?" I asked, tucking my cock into my boxer briefs and buckling up again.

"I don't know," she said.

She sat up and deftly swung her head around, relocating her legs so they hung over the edge of the bed. She sat up and spread her legs wide.

"Not too bad!" she said. "But, god, it's wet, baby. Maybe I should have worn panties."

"Never wear panties," I said, putting my hand over her cloth-covered mound. It was wet but not visibly so. "God, that is sexy."

We kissed deeply.

"Ready for some wine tasting?" I said. "I thought we could make one stop before lunch."

"Perfect!" Kat said. "Let me just freshen up really quick."

She went to the bathroom, brushed her hair, smoothed down her shirt, and touched up her makeup. I texted our driver, who was ready when we were. Kat grabbed her burgundy leather Yves-Saint-Laurent clutch, and off we went. We sat close to each other in the back of the town car. The driver kept the smokey privacy glass raised to leave us to our own devices. It was a good thing because Kat reached into her purse and pulled out a brown vial.

"Need a little pick-me-up, Kitty Kat?" I said, rubbing her thigh. Her pants fit her perfectly.

"I just wanted to show you this," she said, unscrewing the cap. "I modified it with a bigger scoop."

She pulled the cap off and held it up. In place of the tiny bump spoon that normally was there, she had replaced it with a shovel-like spoon.

"Now that's a real bump," I said.

"Do you want one, daddy?" she asked.

"Sure," I said.

Kat scooped up some feathery light powder and put it inside my right nostril. I snorted hard. It flew up and dissolved immediately. She had ground it up perfectly. Kat gave me another bump, and then she helped herself. She replaced the cap on the vial, then smiled at me with dancing eyes.

"Just a little pick-me-up," she said. "I don't want to miss a minute."

"I love you," I said.

We kissed again and, off and on, made out on the short ride up Highway 29 to the grand winery Opus One. Our driver, a true professional, hustled out of the car to open the passenger door for Kat. He nodded at us and pointed out where he would wait. I had arranged for a private tasting, wanting us to be able to maximize the intimacy of the weekend. We checked in at the tasting room and a short time later were greeted by a tall, athletic blonde woman named Gwen who led us into the caves underneath the winery. She explained that, originally, the plan had been to use the caves, dug at exceptional expense, for the winery's cellar. But, in a stroke of bad luck, it turned out there were hot springs not far below the surface. The temperature was totally unsuitable to wine, so they had to move the production facility to elsewhere on the property. But the caves made for a gorgeous setting for a tasting. We drank in a candlelit alcove, and Gwen guided us through three vintages of Opus One and two of their second wine, Overture. The wines were impressive, particularly the library selection of the flagship that had more than a decade of age on it.

"This is heaven," Kat said with a contented sigh as we strolled back to the town car an hour later.

"There's something inherently relaxing about it, isn't there?" I said.

We stopped briefly at the Oakville Grocery, just a short way farther north on Highway 29. I had pre-ordered a picnic for us. The driver picked it up and then resumed our trek north, turning off on Zinfandel Lane and winding along until we reached an unmarked driveway.

"John, what is this?" she asked.

As we crept up the long driveway, I took Kat's hand in mine and kissed the back of it.

"Lunch," I said. "One of the executive producers on Homecoming owns this vineyard. He's not here this weekend, but he said we could have a picnic in the vines."

"Oh my god," she said. "This is too gorgeous."

It was idyllic. We stepped out, and I carried the large bag of Oakville Grocery goodies with us. We walked about fifty yards along the edge of the vineyard, far enough that we felt entirely swept up and surrounded by vines. Their manicured canopies reached toward the July sun, and the tight bunches of grapes remained largely green. We reached a picnic table. Kat dug into the bag and set up our spread.

"I kind of wish we could have picked through the store for this," she said.

I smiled at her. "I know," I said. "That's what we'll do tomorrow. I wanted you to just feel completely taken care of today."

"Daddy, you are so good to me," Kat said and put her soft, warm lips on mine.

I popped open a cold bottle of Napa Valley Sauvignon Blanc that had been wrapped in ice packs. I poured it into two small, etched Oakville Grocery wine glasses. We had a Mediterranean style spread of meat, cheese, hummus, and olives. We broke off pieces of crusty baguette and ate and talked and laughed. We kissed and rubbed noses. It was obnoxiously saccharine, and it was perfect. The sun shone intensely, but a surprisingly cool breeze made it feel good.

"It always cools down at night," I explained. "It'll get hot by the late afternoon in the summer. But the cold air from the Pacific swoops in every night. That makes for pleasant evenings, and it's good for the grapes. They get hotter and ripen during the day but then get a break at night."

I geeked out like that throughout lunch. We had way too much food, so we packed the leftovers back into the bag. We could use it to snack on throughout the afternoon to keep us from getting too drunk. We had three more tastings to go, then dinner near the hotel.

"I love how much you know about this," she said, draining the last of the Sauvignon Blanc. "I love wine, but it's nothing like the way you love it."

"I've always loved it," I said. "I don't know. It makes me feel good."

"You know what else makes me feel good?" she said, biting her lower lip.

I knew exactly what she was thinking. I looked around. There was not another soul in sight. It was quiet. We were all alone.

"My tongue eating your pussy?" I said.

Kat closed her eyes and gave a sigh of desire.

"God, don't tease me, daddy," she said.

"When have I ever teased you, Kitty Kat?" I said.

"Do I really need to recount all the times?" she said.

I laughed, and it carried across the valley floor between the vines. I picked up Kat and set her on the top of the picnic table. I unbuttoned her pants, then sat down on the bench between her legs. The angle actually was perfect for oral sex.

"Baby, are you sure this is a good idea?" Kat said, but her protests rang hollow because she was already wriggling her pants down her hips.

I helped her pull them down just enough so she could spread her legs wide enough to give my head access between them. She was a sticky mess. Her tightly compact mound was, as always, incredibly smooth. It made her thighs slippery. I could smell her perfume and dove in with my face. I buried myself in her, aggressively shoving my tongue deep into her vagina, then licking upward and flicking her clit. Kat gasped and leaned back, steadying herself with one hand behind her and running her other through my hair.

"Oh, daddy," she said breathily.

We were due at our next tasting in twenty minutes, so we didn't have much time. So I slipped a finger inside Kat as my tongue swirled circles around the hard nub of her clit. It found the fleshy area behind the upper bump of her pubic bone, and I put moderate pressure on it.

"Fuck, you know just how to touch me," she moaned.

I was pleased to hear it but made no response. I was locked in. After focusing on her clit for a few beats, I would lick along Kat's slit. All the while, I never reduced the persistent pressure and rubbing against her g-spot. She tasted sweet, and I loved being sloppy to clean every bit of her arousal. I sucked her clit into my mouth, and she convulsed. I increased the pressure of my finger, and she exploded. It was totally involuntary. I was in control. I was dictating her orgasm. While she exploded, I sucked her clit again and added a second finger inside her. That made her cum again.

"Oh! Fuck!" she cried. "How ... Do you do that? To me?"

Her breath was ragged, and I decided she had had enough. I didn't want her fully sated just yet. I withdrew my fingers and licked them clean.

"You taste so fucking good," I said.

"You're such a messy eater," she said, sitting up and kissing my wet face. "I do taste good, don't I?"

"Time for the next tasting, baby," I said.

"Jesus, John, it's going to be a swamp inside my pants!" she exclaimed. "Look at this!"

She was right. It was a glorious sight. I was so ready to fuck her.

"This is just an appetizer, Kitty Kat," I said and kissed her again. "You don't want to miss what's next."

"You're killing me!" she said.

* * *

Our next stop was at Schramsberg, the sparkling wine house with a glorious cave tour. Kat was in heaven. The grounds were beautiful, but the real feature was seeing the underground space that had been hand-dug by Chinese immigrants in the late nineteenth century. The bubbly was delicious, and I could see Kat was falling in love with wine country. She was taking a real interest in the process and asking a lot of questions. It made me want her. We took a couple bottles of their wine with us from the tasting room, then headed over to the Silverado Trail and back down toward Yountville for our final appointment of the day.

"This is my favorite trip we've ever taken," Kat said. "I'm calling it right now." She reached for the coke vial again. "Just a little bit so I don't get too drunk."

She grinned at me, and I joined her. We had the most delightful, mild buzz going after the coke refresh. It was perfect for our final stop, a flashy winery called Darioush. I preferred reserving special tastings instead of just walking up to a tasting bar because it was a more relaxed pace. But, at Darioush, I also wanted to ensure we could people-watch. It was a remarkable place, and it always attracted a crowd that seemed like it could have been plucked from the extras pool of a reality show.

The wine wasn't quite our cup of tea, but it was a vastly enjoyable visit. The crowd didn't disappoint. We rolled up at the same time as a group of three couples who were from Dallas, extremely drunk, and boisterously talking and laughing. One of the women had a pair of pants that kept creeping down so much, her ass crack hung out.