It was only a nine hour drive from New Orleans to Savannah but it might as well have been days. Michael felt the familiar sense that he was melting into the driver's seat somewhere around Columbus. He'd learned to be patient with his body, that was the lesson so far. He never knew when his reserves would give out and then the only thing to do was eat and sleep as if he were going to live forever.
If only.
Once he was inside his room at the Hilton, he stripped bare and took the hottest shower he could with the faucet cranked all the way to the left. He knew that his skin would be red and splotchy from the almost cruel temperature but he seemed to crave warmth now. He wondered what was happening inside him; what was incubating that needed more warmth than the sultry Georgia temperatures.
Once he'd used up the hot water, Michael wrapped a towel around his waist and another over his head. He buried himself under the down comforter and shivered in his cocoon. As he closed his eyes, he could see it again. All of it, all of them. The girls were bare and caramel colored, their skin shone in the candlelight. Both of them were shiny and slick with sweat and cum and the passion that radiated from every pore. Here in his dark room, Michael swore he could still hear it, and always had since he'd left their house. It was the beat of far-off drums but most often the tempo matched the beat of his heart.
It was dark outside when he awoke. The echo of the drums had disappeared; it had been replaced by the growling in his stomach. Once again, ravenous, Michael thought with a smile as he stretched and kicked off the sheets. Ravenous for everything. Since the trip had begun, everything was delicious. Every sensation was unlike any other before. Tastes exploded in his mouth. His dick was almost always half hard and everything had an erotic undertone. There were so many little things that Michael had never noticed before that he suddenly found incredibly arousing.
As if to prove his point, his cock lay, thick and ready against his hip. He might have made time to stroke himself off if he weren't so hungry. He'd take it slow and easy and close his eyes. He would grease himself well with the complimentary hotel lotion. He would stretch out and seize his cock and try to remember just exactly the way it had felt in Belle's hand. He wanted to recall the way her finger had felt, right there on the precipice of his ass; that previously forbidden territory that now seemed to clamor for touch.
Good thing he was so hungry, Michael grinned and quickly dressed in a fresh tee shirt and jeans. The chain restaurants were closed he noticed as he drove down the main strip. It was too late for Applebees or Red Robin, but that was fine with Michael. He'd rather find a hole-in-the-wall bar and eat a greasy burger and fries and wash it down with an ice-cold Bud. He had a taste for beer, among other things.
As if the Universe had heard, and answered, he caught the halo glow out of the corner of his eye. There was a neon sign that flashed "cold beer" and it beckoned to him like a siren's song. Michael parked and went inside. There was a notice on the door, a warning that the establishment carded but it didn't really seem likely in a dive like this.
Once inside, Michael noticed that the bar was an ancient, mahogany number. The elaborate spindles and hand-carved divots didn't belong in this place with the concrete floors. The wood gleamed in the light thrown from above the bottles and glowed from the warmth of the pinball machine in the corner. It was a thing of beauty and seemed to hint that someone there had loved it all along.
There were a handful of men gathered around a pool table and two more were watching baseball on television. Michael saddled up and took a seat on a worn, yellow stool. The upholstery was torn and patched with duct tape but the seat was still comfortable.
"What'll you have?" the old man with a full, Santa Claus beard and mustache asked. He wore a "Drink Coke" tee shirt that had a hole in the front and Michael was fairly certain it was an original from the 70's.
"Can I still get a cheeseburger?" Michael wanted to know. He needed it now.
"The greasiest damn burger you ever had," the old man smirked.
"Sounds perfect," Michael almost sighed with longing, "and a plate of fries?"
"Only if you want 'em extra crispy," the man told him with a stubborn look, "almost burnt," he added.
"Beautiful," Michael's stomach made a pitiful yowl, "that and a bottle of Bud and I'm a happy man."
"It really is the simple things," the bartender told him with a nod before he went toward the back where the kitchen was.
Michael couldn't agree more. He downed the first beer quickly and got a second one with his food. The bearded bartender was right. It was the greasiest burger and the grease had soaked into the potato roll, soft as a blanket; and the ketchup and mustard had married with it. It tasted like the first burger he'd ever had, meaty and tangy and fatty and rich. Lately, there seemed to be a lot of firsts, just when Michael had begun to think that there were no more.
"Hi," a soft voice came from behind as he was mid-bite. Even just one word came in a drawl that turned it into two syllables. It was a feminine voice and he noticed immediately that a young lady belonged to it. It no longer alarmed him that she pulled the barstool out and took a seat beside him. This new version of him appreciated ladies that made the first move.
The first thing Michael noticed was bare legs and he let his eyes wander up the expanse of thighs to the frayed hem of a denim skirt. She wore a cut-off Rolling Stones tee shirt, tied at her dainty waist. Her small hands were on the bar as if she needed to hold on. She smelled of fruity perfume and it mixed well with his beer. "Buy a girl a drink?" she asked in the sweet, slow Southern accent and that time, her silky voice made his cock stand up and take notice.
Michael nodded, yes to whatever this was. He never used to talk to girls in bars. At least, he never since he had realized that he was pathetic at it. He managed to get his voice when the bartender came back, "I'll have another Bud and whatever the lady wants."
