A lot happened after the plane landed, which was fitting, since so much happened on the plane.
First, there was an increasing sense of awkwardness, resulting in silence and even fear. Most of this surrounded my close friend Alana, who marched into the airport and toward the baggage pick-up without as much as a word to me. She didn't appear mad, but was definitely not in a conversational mood. She needed space, and was practically running to get it.
I, on the other hand, wanted to be closer. Not physically, though that would have been nice, but closer on a deeper level, so we could talk things out. Of course I was thinking this, but given the opportunity to start up a conversation about Alana giving me a blowjob in front of a total stranger on a jetliner was not exactly the easiest thing to find words for. If I had caught up with her, I never would have known what to say.
Her actions, and her sudden willingness of such actions, were obviously just as shocking to her as they were to me. But while I took them with pleasure over what happened—pleasure over what I had, for weeks, been fantasizing about—she took them as dangerous and possibly disgusting. Definitely disturbing. I was afraid for our relationship. Alana seemed to still be stuck on what she had actually, physically, done. And as much as I enjoyed feeling her licking my cock and swallowing my cum, I couldn't really blame her.
Together we stood at the baggage claim, going to great lengths it seemed to not make eye contact.
The airport was surprisingly busy for it being only 4AM, but this was, after all, Las Vegas. I looked for Melanie, our friend we had met on the plane. She was nowhere. I remembered that her carry-on bags were almost large enough to exceed the limit. She had probably checked nothing.
I grabbed my bag from the belt and finally looked at Alana. She looked back at me and smiled. It was warm and genuine, telling me that nothing was wrong, but I guessed that only stood true for as long as I stayed cool and backed off. So I did.
If she wanted normalcy, I could abide. I was too on edge to go dropping over it, if that makes any sense.
Alana found her bag and we moved, casually, toward the exit. Just as we stepped outside, a black stretch limo pulled up to the curb to greet us. Hollywood couldn't have timed it any better, I thought.
Alana had won this trip for two to Las Vegas, and limo rides to and from the airport were part of the package. While initially I found it strange that the very attractive, 26-year old Alana chose to bring her 20 year-old housemate with her on a vacation designed more for a couple, I had since found out she planned to use these few days of bliss to do some serious guy-hunting after a recent lesbian experience left her wondering about her preferred sexuality. I, of course, was to pose the least distraction as she did her thing.
And then the 'incident' on board happened, and nothing would likely ever be the same again...especially Alana's Vegas plans.
But as obvious as this change was, Alana resisted nonetheless, and as the limo driver reached for our bags, I noticed Alana was going nowhere near the car. I looked at her questioningly.
"It's not that I don't want to spend time with you, Gavin," she said. "But you know why I came here, and I know you need to do your thing."
Denial. Complete, uninterrupted denial. How could she pretend nothing had happened? Did she honestly expect me to forget?
"You're too young to drink or gamble," she continued, acting as though this was just another morning. "And it's going to be hard to score with me hanging around."
I wasn't so sure about that, but I understood her meaning.
"Take the limo, and I'll meet you later on. You can check my bags at the hotel. The room won't be ready, but they can hold our stuff until it is."
"Where are you going?" I asked, secretly fearing that she might just run away to avoid facing me, never to return.
She hailed a cab and smiled, that beautiful, sensuous smile I had noticed only too late.
"Like I said," she answered. "You know why I'm here. Let's just go have our fun, Gavin."
I protested, and I could have continued to argue about splitting up, especially at a time like this, when so much had so radically changed. But Alana was not to be outdone. When the moment ended, I was alone in the back of a stretch limo, and she was alone in the back seat of a cab.
My driver, thinking he had witnessed my wife or girlfriend dumping me at the airport, tried to cheer me up by suggesting several strip clubs and even the names of quality, yet affordable escorts he knew of. I declined all suggestions, opting instead to just have him drop me off at the Luxor with our bags, and leave me to wallow in my depression and loneliness.
Alana and I were not a couple, but we'd together ever since we were children. My parents were close friends with her mom, and when her mom died of cancer, my parents became her legal guardians. Alana lived with us for years. She was practically a sibling. And then, when my parents died in a car crash when I was in my teens, they left me under Alana's care until I was 18. We'd lived together like close friends and roommates ever since. Romance had never once seeped into our relationship. The mere idea was unspeakable. But now we'd crossed that line and become something else altogether. I was ready to work with it one way or another, but Alana apparently found the idea so repulsive that she didn't even want to be in the same vicinity as me. I felt like I was losing a best friend, a family member, and a possible lover all at once. It was weird, sure, but it was also quite demoralizing.
For hours I wandered various casinos, never gambling a dime, but I felt broke anyway. My mature looks got me a few drinks at a couple small bars, but I had yet to feel a buzz. I ate a club sandwich, but it might as well have been made of cardboard, as even my taste buds were in no mood to enjoy it. Before I knew it, the sun had just begun to rise, which is an easy thing to miss in a Las Vegas casino. Bored, I decided to check on the status of our room, even though it was well before check out time. I wasn't having fun. Maybe a good, long nap would break me out of this funk.
Fortunately, the Luxor did have a good, early room available when I approached the front desk. The eleventh floor wasn't the highest in the pyramid-shaped casino, but it wasn't a let down, either. I took it, making sure, for Alana's sake, that it had two queen beds, and started for the elevator.
Our bags were waiting, as expected, and before I even bothered to unpack, I stripped down to nothing and stepped into the large shower. I must have stood there, naked, feeling the hot spray soothe my skin and my nerves, for ten minutes before I did any actual washing.
As I rubbed handfuls of shampoo through my hair, my imagination flashed me images from that life-changing flight. Images of Alana sitting beside me, looking as beautiful as ever. Alana is a goddess, no doubt, with blonde hair as bright as the sun, skin as prefect as silk, and breasts bigger than most vegetables and more appetizing than any fruit. Her legs stretched on forever, and her body was composed of a perfect mix of athletic muscle and sensual curves. Her smile produced goose bumps on anyone who seen it, and her cute facial features were enough to stop anyone, male or female, in their tracks. She was about average height, but there was more beauty wrapped up in that five-foot, ten-inch package than in a whole Playboy pin-up calendar.
