“Holiday Road”
Nathan
Two and a half hours flew by as the GTO ate up the miles between Tucson and Mesa, where Camille and I would spend the weekend with the Scorpions. She insisted on a stop at Circle K on the northern edge of Tucson and returned to the car moments later with two slushies for the ride—grape for me and cherry for her. We entertained each other with more flying and nursing tales and by periodically wiggling our respectively purple- and red-stained tongues at each other like kids. If Camille was feeling hesitant about meeting and spending time with my new squadron, it didn’t show. But I was far more occupied with my longing for her and my wonder at this development. In a life largely characterized by rational choices and well-thought-out plans, she was the most welcome and pleasant of surprises. What was more, I sensed increasingly that she felt the same for me.
“How is life thus far as the exalted Grand Poobah of the Scorpions?” Camille sucked noisily at her slushie and turned her body to face me, knees tucked under her. My eyes wandered briefly from the road and took in her long, smooth legs.
“Going as well as can be expected at this point, I think.” I shot her a wry smile. “I was brought in to clean things up a bit, as whatever grapevine you are subscribed to accurately told you. For me, the surprise has been how welcoming and likable the group is, on the whole.” I hesitated. “I guess it doesn’t speak well of me, but I expected things to be otherwise.”
Camille tilted her head. “I can certainly see why you would have expected the worst. You were brought in as a fixer, and it was obviously the most poorly kept secret in Tucson. If I knew, you could bet they did, too. They must have known their own press. Only someone who was completely unaware would have shown up to fill the squadron commander shoes, under those circumstances, expecting a welcome parade. But I have a different theory, an absolutely valid one that I’ll now share. And I just concocted it—just this minute.”
She grinned and raised her eyebrows. “They want help. You know, like someone with addiction issues who subconsciously leaves clues for family or friends to find. They want to break with the destructive behavior patterns because they know it’s damaging. But they don’t know how.” She found me smiling and walloped my bicep with her fist. “Hey, don’t laugh at me, El Jefe, I have a minor in psychology.” She laughed when I rubbed my arm, feigning serious injury.
“A psych minor? This is an unnerving development.” I grabbed her hand and turned it over, kissing the palm softly. “I think information like that should have been disclosed at the outset, don’t you?” She scooted as closely as the seat belt and bucket seats would allow. “And I’m not making fun of you. I just saw you putting on your nurse hat, and it was kinda hot. Besides, I like that you listened when I was talking and took the trouble to mull over my problem.” I squeezed her soft hand and rubbed my thumb over hers. “In my experience, people just don’t listen. They’re not present in the moment because they’re contemplating their next move or thinking over a way to make their own point. It’s not that communications break down. It’s that there isn’t any communication to begin with.”
We rode in companionable silence for several miles, the sunshine in our faces and the wind whipping through Camille’s long ponytail, harnessed in a ball cap. After some time, I spoke again. “Are you nervous, Camille?”
Her eyes shot to me, and a trace of panic tinged her reply. “Nervous? What do you mean? About the…you know, the fit?” The pitch of her voice escalated, words tripping frantically over one another even as she failed to complete a single thought. “From the other night? I mean your, umm, size? That is, your…penis? Which is totally fine! Really. It’s great. Better than fine.”
I tried to interrupt her frenzied outburst, but she babbled on. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. Not your penis, but you know… It. We don’t have to do, that is, I wasn’t expecting…”
The adrenaline coursing through her and fueling the diatribe also distracted her from the fact that I’d slowed the car and pulled onto the far part of the shoulder, well away from traffic, unbuckling as I did. I interrupted the hysteria with my mouth, pressing her insistently into the seat and kissing her plush mouth into silence. I sucked on her plump lips, teasing with gentle little bites, and then kissed deeper into her mouth, letting one hand explore the warm skin under her tee and moving it to feel the edge of one delectable breast. Those heavy curves, soft and warm, the small pink nipples…they’d been the stuff of my dreams since I’d sucked them briefly into my mouth. Once she’d relaxed into the seat, submitting to my kisses, I lifted my head slightly, looking into her wide azure eyes. Her breathing was harsh, and her pulse danced wildly at her throat.
I smiled and barely touched my lips to hers as I spoke, so she felt me as she heard the words. “You’ve been thinking about my cock, angel?” She tensed and readied herself for launch again, but I shushed her briefly with my mouth. “That’s good, baby, because your tight little pussy’s been on my mind, too. I’ve taken you a thousand ways in my mind this week. Lying in the dark, my cock hard and weeping while I stroked it, thinking of the taste of you, the sounds you make when you come.” I looked at her beautiful eyes, impossibly wider. Was it fear that I saw there? My hand caressed her warm cheek and caught in the ponytail, tugging gently. “Camille. Hear me, angel. I’ll take care of you, I promise that. Nothing could be more important, beautiful. You can trust me. Nod your head if you understand.”
Her eyes were shiny and welling a little, but she nodded her head and buried it in my chest. I pulled the cap from her head and stroked the silky hair and the warm skin of her back until I felt her relax, her breathing almost back to normal. A few minutes passed, but I gave her the time she needed. Then she sat up, her beautiful face lit with a small smile, and kissed me briefly. “Thank you, Nathan. I just panicked a little. There’s more to tell, but I know I can trust you. You’ve already shown me.”
I hugged her hard, kissed the crown of her head and handed her the ball cap. “What do you say we get to the lodge, get some icy cold beers and meet the gang? The weekend’s gonna be a blast, Camille.” I tweaked her nose and pulled back onto Interstate 10. “Anyway, that’s what I wondered, kiddo—are you nervous about meeting everyone?”
She relaxed completely now, letting go with a belly laugh. “All that drama and you just wanted to know if I was ready to meet everyone? Now I feel like a complete idiot.” She slurped at the dregs of her slushie. “I already know a few people, Nate. You know Luckie’s coming as Davis’s guest, right? There’s some shit going down between those two—I know it—but she isn’t sharing. Clammed up tight. Oh, and I know Bibi from the hospital. What a great girl. Do you know anything about all the rehabilitative work she does with children?”
I didn’t, but I did already know that Bibi was something special.
“And, of course, I know Jake ‘cause he’s Vivvie’s brother. She’ll probably be along, too. Has he shoveled you the bullshit about their being twins?”
I laughed along with Camille, everything relaxed again, because Coach had warned me about the twin thing, and I’d met Viv at the flight suit party. “Listen, angel, the Stingers have plenty of problems, but that stuff’s mine to worry about. You won’t find a more hospitable bunch of people. I think you’re going to like them, and I know they’ll love you. As far as I’m concerned, though”—I reached for her hand—”this weekend belongs to you and me. I’m looking forward to learning more about you, inside and out.” She squeezed my hand. “Just be yourself and have fun. The Scorpions are just normal guys and girls, you’ll see.”
Our trip was at its end, and I turned the GTO into the lodge’s drive, passing an expansive lawn along the river and approaching two clusters of individual cottages. In the middle was a swimming pool, the apparent center of Scorpion activity. Four couples in bathing suits were engaged in serious chicken fighting in the center, ladies balanced on the wide shoulders of their men, everyone trash-talking enthusiastically while the women worked to take down the others as if their lives depended on it. On mismatched beach chairs around the pool, two-dozen bathing suit-clad partygoers reclined with cold beers in hand and cheered the couples on. A pickup truck parked under a large tree served as a temporary bar, filled to the brim of the bed with ice and canned beer. Perched on the top of the truck cab was Rock, clad in only a wet bathing suit and a cowboy hat. In one hand was his beer, in the other, a fifth of Cuervo Silver.
As we pulled into a parking space, one of the women in the pool successfully sent Bibi, kicking and swearing, into the water from Coach’s shoulders. She surfaced, smiling and sputtering. She shot her husband a withering glance, and then looked in Rock’s direction. He rang a cowbell that had been hung from a tree branch above him and laughed loudly, a big grin splitting his face. Then he bellowed toward the pool, “Come on, Bibi! Come and get your medicine.” We watched with amusement as Bellamy Bennett stalked from the pool to the truck, trailed closely by Coach. Upon her arrival at the appointed spot, she obediently tipped her head back and received a generous splash of tequila from Rock’s stash. Coach waited until she’d swallowed, grimacing, and then bent her backward for a showy kiss. He grinned at her like no one else was there and growled, “Tastes good, baby. Daddy like.”
The crowd broke into cheers and catcalls as I opened Camille’s door and offered my hand. She stared somberly at me. “‘Fozzie, they don’t look like Presbyterians to me.’“
I grabbed her hand, laughing, and headed for the lobby to check in. “Watch out, baby. Your Muppet Movie is showing.”