Holly's Heart

Author's note: If you are looking for a short story, getting right to the action, then move along, there's nothing to see here. However, if you want the whole picture, emotion, love, betrayal, and some serious sex scenes, then read on. I hope you enjoy.

"Speedbird 245 Heavy, Make your turn right 210, maintain 5000 at 1-8-0 knots."

"Speedbird 245."

"American 2157, descend to 2000, maintain 1-6-0 knots for approach Runway 2-8."

"American 2157."

"Shamrock 125, you are cleared for approach on Runway 2-8, contact O'Hare approach on 120.75."

"Shamrock 125."

"RICK! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! WE'VE GOT PLANES STACKED UP OVER LAKE MICHIGAN FROM HERE TO TOLEDO! YOU'RE DONE FOR TODAY! AMY! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE AND CLEAN THIS MESS UP!"

I slid out of my seat, and handed the earphones to Amy, who squeezed my arm with concern, and affection. My mind was elsewhere, and I couldn't give a damn about missed connections, who was waiting to taxi for takeoff.

The green glow from the radar screen faded from my face, and as I looked up at my boss, he gave that hand jerked motion that says, "Get your ass up here!" Great, just great.

I trudged up the 3 stairs, and into the office.

"Close that damned door, and plant your ass in that seat!"

Yep, it's game over, Man. I hadn't been on the job at ATC O'Hare Approach very long, having started at the bottom, and working my way up, but I had finally been approved for a promotion, and got back to Chicago. Yeah, we have our problems, but the 'burbs is where I grew up, and you can't get a good deep dish pizza, or an Italian Beef sandwich in El Paso, which was my last assignment before my return home.

Now, I'm sitting in front of Alan Miles, the legendary Director of ATC Operations at O'Hare. When Jesus comes for the Rapture, he's not reaching ground until one of Alan's Crew gives him clearance to land, and that you can take to the bank.

"Rick, you're one of the best. I hand picked you for this job. Now, I'm sympathetic to the fact that your and your wife are having serious marital issues, but you're no good to me here. Go. Take a week off. Get drunk, get a hooker, get a shrink, but get it off your chest, and get back here on Monday with a clear head! Now, get the fuck out of my sight!"

I got up to leave, and Alan called me back. I turned around, and saw him reaching out with a shot glass of whiskey. I downed it in one gulp, and let the fire burn in my throat.

"Good man. Rick, I'm real sorry... Now, get the hell out of here."

Serious marital issues... obviously the grapevine was quick. I'll explain. Calley was my wife. We had been set up on a blind date while I was out in the mountains of Colorado visiting some close friends. Unlike most first date horror stories, we hit it off, and after several months, she moved in with me, and the eventual marriage followed. She used to tell me that I was One in a Million, and she was right.

We lived in a small suburb west of Chicago. Our small 2 flat was occupied by us, and a flight attendant for a major international airline in the other flat, other than that, it was suburbia, 60's style Tri-Level houses, leafy tree lined streets, manicured lawns, and bland, minivan/SUV driving people that would be best suited to sitcoms, and television commercials.

I had been working long hours for the Holidays, as people were flying in and out to see relatives, family, and the like, so when I had a chance to take off early one day, I leaped at it! I stopped by a florist, and picked up a dozen roses, phoned in a reservation for dinner at a romantic restaurant, and was going to wine, dine, and romance the hell out of my wife, to show her how much I've missed her, and to thank her for putting up with all the hours I've been slaving, pushing tin for the greater good of aviation.

I parked outside, and bounded up the stairs. Slipping my key in the door quietly, I had hoped to surprise my wife. Well, I did. Walking into our flat, I heard the distinct sounds of my wife's voice...

"Fuck me! Fuck me with that cock of yours!"

"Yes, Mrs. Anderson! I love fucking you!"

I eased to the open bedroom door, and there I saw my wife, on her back, with Dennis, the 18 year old kid down the street, who was the star quarterback for our local high school, pinning her legs back, and plowing into her, sweating, and close to filling my wife's pussy with his cum. My heart crumbled, and my eyes clouded with anger. Holding my temper in check, I waited 10 seconds or so, until they were on the edge, and then I spoke...

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting?"

Chaos ensued. Dennis freaked, fell off my wife, hit his head on the wall as he lost his balance, rolling off the bed ass over applecart. My wife screamed, grabbed any covers she could get a hold of, and looked at me with horror in her eyes, mouth open, stammering, trying to find words.

"Baby! It-It's not what you think!"

"It sure the fuck is what I think!"

While she stammered, I pointed at her and calmly said, "Don't you say a fucking word."

I was seething! How?! Why?! Then, something snapped inside, and I felt a total calm, looked at Dennis, walked over, gathered his clothes, wallet, and smartphone, opened the bedroom window to our 2nd floor flat, and casually tossed everything out the window to the lawn below.

Dennis looked horrified. I growled, "get out." Dennis beat feet for the door, and ran out of the building at top speed, buck naked, and tried to get dressed as the neighborhood went on about it's business.

My wife sat there, horrified. I calmly gathered up my belongings in the bedroom, and closed the door, hearing her begging me to talk, and sobbing.

As I reached into the closet, gathered up my clothes, and filled several plastic tubs with important papers, clothes, and the items I came into this marriage with, which wasn't a whole hell of a lot, and I made the trips down to my car with my few possessions, knowing that deep down, it was over.

Last task to perform, I slowly opened the bedroom door, looking at my sobbing wife, a glint of hope in her eyes, and tossed her my keys to the flat, and my wedding ring. She caught them, gazed down at her hand, and as I closed the door, I could hear her heaving sobs, as I walked out of the flat for the last time.

During our marriage, I had put everything into savings, hoping to get us our dream house in the Suburbs. The one luxury I afforded myself was my car. Not a really expensive car, but I had a thing for hot, European style hatchbacks, and loved the way they drove. I fired up my Molten Orange Ford Fiesta ST, slipped it into first, dumped the clutch, and roared out of that neighborhood.

My phone was blowing up with Calley texting, calling, leaving voice mails. I was driving, filled with rage, betrayal, and hurt. I was just about to shut my phone off, when my cousin Holly called. I let the call go, and she rang my phone again. Finally answering,

"Holly, this is not a good time..."

"I knew it! I had a feeling!" Holly and I were raised together. Our Moms, sisters, were inseparable, therefore our families celebrated holidays, reunions, barbecues, and any other excuse they had for getting together. We were 4 months apart in age, and we had some, THING, some connection... I always knew when she was hurting, and needed me, and vice versa. We were always more than close, we moved as one, finishing each other's thoughts, the yin to the other's yang, and no matter how much I had loved my wife, there was one part of my heart that always belonged to Holly. I was her date to her Senior Prom in high school, and she was mine, as we had both broken up with the people we were dating roughly the same time.

I'll never forget my prom, or the feeling I had, holding Holly in my arms. One of my favorite songs today is from that night, oh so long ago. I held Holly as the strains of Jeff Healey echoed across the decorated gym floor..

"Girl, you're lookin' fine tonight

Every guy has you in his sights

What you're doin' with a clown like me

Is surely one of life's little mysteries"

I felt Holly melt into my arms, looked at the contentment on her face as the soft lighting brushed over her closed eyes. The Baby's Breath woven into her fiery red hair was in stark contrast to the navy blue, off the shoulder gown she wore. Her slender build was accentuated by her firm, milky white, yet freckled, and teasing cleavage. The outline of my white dinner jacket, black bow tie, and pressed tux trousers had the effect I was looking for, slightly old school, somewhat complimentary to my skinny frame, yet with a hint of what I considered to be the essence of cool back then, James Bond. Laugh if you want guys, but in the back of your mind, you know it to be true, and ladies, look me dead in the eye, and tell me that Pierce Brosnan as James Bond did not get your panties wet. I call Bullshit!

Anyway, I digress... Holly and I were roughly the same height, so as Jeff's voice carried us to a romantic euphoria, I pulled my head slightly back and looked at my cousin. If she weren't my cousin...

As if reading my thoughts, Holly looked up, stared into my eyes with her hazel eyes, and as if reading my mind, with her elegant hand on the back of my neck, pulled me to her. The brush of our lips was ever so slight. I pulled back, looked at Holly, then kissed her. The electric shock that flashed through me was the stuff of legend. Holly's elegant hands pulled me to her with more pressure, and as we lost ourselves in that first kiss, the world stopped, heavens opened and while there were no angelic choirs, Jeff's voice could be heard echoing my very thoughts,

"So tonight I'll ask the stars above

How did I win your love?

What did I do? What did I say?

To turn your Angel eyes my way"

As the music faded, and our kiss broke, I heard Holly say, "Never leave me."

"You have my heart, always" I answered.

Graduation came for both of us, and we were closer than ever. We visited each other's college, and we ever so close. The elephant in the room, so to speak, was the fact we were cousins, and what do we do from here. Both of us tried, in our own ways to talk about it, sort it out, move us forward, but like everything else in our lives, when it came to relationships, we blew it.

Then the day came at a family get together, while I had a couple of weeks off between jobs, that Holly came in with a new Beau, David. He was a graduate student, and going to work in downtown Chicago as an intern for a tech firm in The Loop. My heart sank when I saw him, but I put on a brave front. I was all smiles everytime Holly glanced my way, but inside I was dying a thousand deaths.

At the dinner, as all were chatting, I found that David and Holly had been dating all through the semester, and I was jealous in a way I had never experienced. Sure, we both dated, but nothing serious. I always knew we'd figure out what we were to be, and more so, how to explain it to our family.

Clink, clink, clink went a knife on a wine glass. David stood up, and said he had an announcement to make. I had a knot forming in my stomach as David knelt to one knee, produced a small box, and said, "Holly, I love you more than anything, marry me, make me the happiest man in the world..." She teared up, hands covering her mouth, and nodded. As a cheer went up from the family, I felt as if I had been punched in the gut. I stood frozen, unable to breathe, until my Uncle came over clapped me on the back, snapping back into the moment.

Hugs, and handshakes for the new to be Bride and Groom were plentiful, and I swallowed my drink, let my Mom, Aunt, and Uncle know that I had to leave. Holly saw me talking to them, and came up as I turned to go. Tears welled up in her eyes. I held her face, wiped a tear with my thumb.

"Rick..." she started.

"Shhh." I put a finger to her lips. "Let me be the first to kiss the Bride." I bent down, feeling her tremble, and tasted a salty tear that had run down her cheek as I gave her a gentle kiss. I wrapped her in my arms, and told her she would be the most beautiful bride ever. I released her, and slipped out through the garden gate.

As an undergrad, going for his first job, I was back at home, saving every dime I could therefore my love of classic cars allowed my to score some cheap wheels, but thanks to my Dad teachings, I could keep the older stuff running. I jumped into my old Buick Electra 225, and the last thing I saw was the sight in my rearview mirror of Holly, standing at the curb, hands over her mouth, crying.

I raced home, made a well placed phone call to a friend from grad school who was back home in London. He invited me to come over, and I hung up. Grabbing a last minute air fare ticket on the web, packing a bag, and leaving a note for Mom, a friend drove me to O'Hare in record time. On the way, the blaring words of The Clash, singing London Calling rattled around in my head.

As the British Airways 747 took off, I was already looking forward to getting hammered on every little bottle of whatever until I landed at Heathrow, drunk, with no memory, no pain, and a liver begging for mercy.

I left a job back in the States for my internship, and through some connection from my friend's Dad, managed to secure a job with the British Civil Aviation Authority. I ended up in Scotland at Edinburgh doing air traffic control on the night shift, under close scrutiny, all the while drinking, and fucking my way through Scotland with every barfly that I thought would kill the pain, all the while ignoring calls, emails, from Holly, and generally dropping from the radar. Forgive the pun with my job.

I had made it a habit to fly home and see Mom every three months, but never letting her tell the family when i was back in the States. I was picked up on a reverse exchange, and ended up moving back to the States after a year overseas. Before being assigned, I had a two week lull to get my old Buick up and running, cleaned up, and ready to roll. Gas was hitting an all time high, and while I did try to sell her, no one was buying. A '76 Deuce and a Quarter weighs in at 4800 lbs curb weight, is 19 feet 3 inches long, and with a 455 V8 and a 4bbl Carb, 14 mpg was not her strongest selling point, so I was stuck with the Big Girl.

Mom had reminded me that Holly's wedding was only a week away. "Mom, I'm not going. I've got too much to do before I start my new assignment, and they don't even know I'm in town, which is the way I want it."

My mother NEVER used foul language, but she had enough. "Rick, I don't know what the HELL has gotten into you, or what your major malfunction is, but you will get up off your ass, go get a suit fitted for yourself, and you WILL be at that wedding! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!"

"Yes Ma'am"

The day came, and Mom was already gone, having offered to help set up at the church, so I got dressed. My light grey suit matched my once blue eyes, but depression, and let's face it, a fair amount of booze dulled the color. However, the suit was pressed, with edges sharply cut as a razor. A light pink oxford shirt with button down collar, and a grey silk tie wrapped it up. I had my Father's gold tie pin, and matching cufflinks, and along with my grey Cuban style loafers, I had to admit for once, I didn't look too bad. My thick hair was combed into place, as the first flecks of grey started to show. Both of my parents greyed premature, so as an only child, I was doomed from the start. Firing up my old Buick, and with serious trepidation, I started my drive to the church.

Interstate 90 in the Chicago area is somewhat of a legendary road. It was first constructed under the Eisenhower Interstate Road Project, and has been ever since, so it didn't take me long for my vernacular to lapse into Chicago road terminology, sprinkled liberally with the assorted "Fuck You!" in it.

It was of course, a beautiful wedding, but I stayed near the back, staying as unobtrusive, and far from the aisle as possible. When we reached the reception hall, I dropped my gift into the basket, and moved to a table at the far back of the room. However, I was outed, not by anybody, but the strong connection we had growing up. Holly knew, she KNEW that I was here. I watched as she scanned the room, but I managed to avoid her gaze.

After dinner, as the usual bad speeches, with equally bad jokes wound down, toasts were made, Before the first dance, I stood in the darkly lit part of the hall, near the bar. Holly looked up, we locked eyes, and I raised a glass of Bollinger to her, downed it in one fell swoop, and watched her eyes grow wide. This was not the time for confrontation, but I just wanted her to know that I loved, and still cared. I slipped out through the kitchen, and into the night.

My heart aching, I received a call from a wonderful friend from High School. Sharon had been the best of friends, and stayed in touch all through the years. She had been married, and was having a party for their anniversary. Would I come? Hell yes! I had 10 days before I had to report to my assignment for work, so I booked a flight to Denver the next day, and flew out.

Landing at Denver International, I gathered my rental car. The majesty of the view as I-70 snakes west from Denver is amazing, and as I exited at the Granby exit, I snaked over the mountains on Hwy 40, passing through Winter Park, Fraser, Tabernash, Granby, and on up US 34 to Grand Lake. I settled in at my B&B, letting Sharon know I was in town, and that I'd see them in a couple of hours. That is when the roof caved in.

At Sharon's, I was introduced to Calley. She was willowy, tall, about 6 ft 2 inches, slender, with a set of breasts that beckoned for worship. To coin a phrase, she had an ass that I'd have worn as a cowboy hat, a perfect shape, sculpted by a pair of jeans that denim was created for, and a pair of brown eyes that a man could get lost just by staring too long. Her voice was slightly, dusky as we were introduced. Small talk was all around, and I had the chance to catch up with Sharon's kids. After a while, the events, emotions, and fatigue of the last few days caught up, I bid good night to Sharon and family, and headed out to the car. As if by magic, Calley seemed to appear out of nowhere, and she startled me when she spoke, ever so softly.

"Leaving already?"

I jumped, spun around, and was captured by those eyes. "Yeah, I'm beat. It's been a long couple of days."

She said, "I'm in town for the anniversary too. Where are you staying? "

"I'm at the Cabin B&B." Her eyes narrowed into cold, calculating slits, then she smiled. "I'm just down the street. Maybe we'll see each other in town."

"Maybe."

She cocked the corner of her mouth, and walked toward Sharon's house, leaving me to look at that ass. Fuck me! I wish I had a swing like that in my backyard!

I stopped on the way back to my room, and picked up a bottle of champagne to take back. Closing the door to my room, I poured a glass of champagne, and cranked up the hot water for a shower. Stripping off my clothes, I stepped in and let the boiling hot water try to peel off layers of fatigue, tension, emotion, and heartache.

I stepped out of the shower, and there she was, standing in my room, Calley.

My eyes went wide, and she dangled the spare key from the lobby desk on her index finger. Guess I knew how she got in here. Without saying a word, Calley undressed, never taking her eyes off mine. I was hypnotized, I couldn't react, couldn't move. Calley sauntered her naked body toward me, reached for my glass of champagne, downed it in one gulp, took her hand, and pushing on my chest backed me to a wall. The kiss she gave me burned, not with fire, but ice. It was a totally different sensation, and it drove me wild! Her cool, hard nipples pressed into me, and our hands groped each other. She pushed away from me, eyed me up and down, as if appraising a purchased, owned object. Her eyes grew slightly wide at the sight of my hard cock at this point. I am by no means porn star material with my cock, but it is smooth, 8 inches, and very thick. Calley reached over, poured another glass of champagne, took a mouthful, and without swallowing, deep throated my cock in one swallow, holding the champagne, and letting the bubbles tickle my cock, while her graceful fingernails massaged my balls. I was losing my fucking mind! I had NEVER been through anything like this before! As she swallowed my cock, taking it further and further into her mouth, her eyes never let go of mine. My eyes were locked to hers, and it was if my soul was being taken from me. It felt too good to stop. Suddenly, she dipped a finger in the champagne glass, used it to circle my ass, and pushed it in at the same time as taking all of my cock in her mouth. My head swam. I was weak at the knees, and suddenly, the fire burned, and I knew I was cumming. I panted, "I can't hold back!"