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In Places On The Run Ch. 04 free porn video
What was that line from Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven? Ooh, it really makes me wonder?
Like, ooh: just what the devil was Sam up to now? He had probably, on average, been screwing hundreds of women a year – for several years now, though most had more than likely been prostitutes, and yet I remembered his wife had been promiscuous too, terribly so. So, his one marriage collapsed in on itself, collapsed under the weight of all the smoldering infidelities two people could visit on one another. Had they simply decided to ruin each other? Had marriage led them to that precipice, or was it something outside their union that led them to the edge? If so, what had caused them to jump? Really, what set them off?
Ooh, it really makes me wonder.
Extrapolate this, John, if you can. Can you imagine being married to Rhea? Can you imagine being faithful to her, forever? And…can you imagine being married – and unfaithful? What’s the point of that, the voice in your head says? Marriage is trust, you think, you hope. If your partner can’t trust you, how can you reasonably expect to trust your partner? What goes around, comes around – you reap what you sow – and all the other trite expressions of trust people sell themselves when they get married.
This is the script we were handed, after all. We read from that script all our lives too, didn’t we? Society’s success depends on it, we’re told. What if we abandon the script? Well, things fall apart, don’t they? The center can not hold…and mere anarchy is loosed upon the world. Isn’t that what the poet said? Or is this something a little more personal than a poem?
So what? Back to Sam. Putting the pieces of the puzzle back together, here’s what I’d surmised so far. Sam runs into the ‘sex-performer’, Brigit, and he probably did what he does best and talked his way right into her vagina. He probably swam the backstroke in those deep green eyes of hers until he was sure she was IT, the woman of his dreams. He sweet-talked his way into her heart, he fell in love and made sure she did too, and that was that, another conquest, another cunt full of his semen and he was ready to move on – and hallelujah, praise the Lord! – just before we left for Munich. Voila, suddenly it’s time to grab a nineteen year old snatch, er, snack for the trip and then dispose of her when he’d had his fill. So what, you say? Well, now he was free to roam the back alleys and brothels of Europe, to wallow in Eastern Europe’s proverbial all you can eat buffet.
Okay, I think I had that part down, but why all of a sudden had he decided to run back to Brigit? And after all the craziness he’d worked so hard to release on his world, why did he want to return to the woman he’d run from – and now – what the fuck – marry her? She was cute, stunning really, but Sam ran in a different crowd. Would he take his stripper to the Oscars? Would she leave him in peace to write, or would she tear him to pieces fucking other men so he’d pay attention to her instead of writing? Assuming Sam still wanted to finish our ride, would she let him? Or if she let him, would that set off the train of mutually assured destruction that seemed likely to follow?
Ooh, it really makes me wonder.
+++++
I got back from Hollywood in time to talk with Rhea about Cambridge.
Is it what you really want to do? Do you think there’ll be time for us?
She seemed coy. Not distant, not unloving. More like she was in on a joke, a joke I naturally assumed was going to be at my expense, but no one was laughing yet.
Another thing hit me. We’d not been intimate since Munich. Not her fault, not mine, either. Doctor’s orders, for ten days post-op. Well, that night marked day ten, and I’d been hinting for days that I was ready when she was. She smiled, very coy again. And that was that. Not even the whisper of a thrill. No headache. No ‘that time of month’ excuses. No nothing, and while that hurt, it made the next day’s events and outcomes all the more inevitable.
The rocket company rep arrived right on schedule that morning, and we had lunch at a place by the Santa Monica Airport before he looked over my paperwork one more time, before he offered me the job of a lifetime. Chief Pilot, and I’d be in charge of a large, growing fleet of aircraft, flying as often as I wanted, training new pilots when necessary, and be directly involved making some outrageous aviation history.
Did I want time to think about it, he asked.
No, I didn’t need any time, I said as I signed on the dotted line, and that was that. Employment would begin now, he said, though I wouldn’t be needed in Arizona until January. I’d pick up benefits today and be on half salary until January 1st, then we shook hands and I drove him back to the ramp where a company Gulfstream was waiting to take him back to Virginia, and that was, like I said, that. I was gainfully employed again, and very happy about it. I was free to run. Again.
Now I had a few people to tell, so I drove over to Sam’s place, hoping he’d be there and not in Las Vegas – but then again he’d said he wanted me there as a witness.
He lived in a sprawling – if somewhat compact – house on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Coast Highway and Malibu Beach. Magnum, P.I. lived down the street, if that means anything. A car was out front, a beat up Chevy, not always a good sign, so I rang the bell and waited. And waited. I heard a commotion inside and tried the door, it pushed open and I walked inside. Sam was by the pool. Alone. I heard glass breaking, then Brigit was storming through the living room headed for the front door when she ran into me.
‘You two queer or something?’ she asked as she shuddered to a stop.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Are you fags? The two of you?’
‘Uh, no. What’s wrong, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘Well, first thing he tells me this morning is he and you are off to ride motorcycles around the world! He wants to get married then ride off into the sunset!’
‘Sunrise, darlin’!’ Sam yelled from the patio. ‘I keep telling you, we’ll be riding east about, INTO the sun. Sun’ll be setting ON our backs!’
I rolled my eyes. ‘I see,’ I said conspiratorially to her. ‘Why don’t you go find a wedding dress while I talk to him?’
It was her turn to roll her eyes. ‘Pretty damn weird if you ask me!’ was about all the girl said as she stormed out, though I heard a few choice adjectives and adverbs under her breath as she chuffed by.
‘Wow. I got here just in time,’ I said. ‘Marriage still on, or did I miss that too?’
He was writing on a legal pad when I walked out and sat at a table by the pool.
‘I don’t know what I was thinking,’ he said. ‘Irish and a redhead. She’ll demolish the house within a week.’
‘Sam, as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never once thought about the women you screw, but Brigit? She’d get pre-cum from a doorknob .’
‘She is pretty cute, isn’t she?’
‘Cute? She’d make Winston Churchill horny, and he’s been dead a while, last I heard.’
He chuckled. ‘So? You approve?’
‘Approve? Hell, I’m green!’
‘You know, she’s right about one thing. I love you, John. I never had a brother, but if I had, I’d want him just like you. I know you know that, but thanks for helping me out last night.’
‘Yeah, me too, bro. Best friend I ever had.’
‘Good, glad we got that out of the way. You look happy. What’s up?’
I told him about the job, about not starting ’til January, and he nodded his head, took it philosophically. ‘So, that’ll give us about three months, maybe a little more. We’ll have to skip the Himalayas, maybe head to Bhutan, then north. Maybe get to Hong Kong by December.’
‘We could air freight the bikes here, to LA, then dash for New York…’
‘Miami would mean warmer weather, less snow.’
‘Okay. So Air France MIA to CDG, off load the bikes then dash for Munich. Be there in time f
or Christmas.’
‘Might be doable,’ he said, ‘assuming we can get going in September.’
‘I think we go ahead and book flights to Athens for the 10th. A few days to work on the bikes, maybe add some gear, then off by the 15th.’
He nodded. ‘I like it.’
‘What about Brigit?’
‘What about Deborah?’
We laughed, and all was right with our little world.
+++++
Deb and Rhea were in the last stages of packing when I got home, so I asked them to take a break. It was time for dinner anyway, so we jumped in my car and drove over to the Marina, to an old Polynesian place I like, and that’s been around forever. I ordered three ‘Barrels of Rum’ then sat back and waited for the 151 to take effect.
I asked how their day had gone, told them about Sam and Brigit, leaving out her place of employment for obvious reasons, then I listened to them talk about packing and paperwork and all the endless things needed to get Rhea into the UK on a student visa.
‘And what did you do today,’ Deb asked as she started in on her second barrel.
‘Oh, not much,’ I said as I sipped my water. ‘Went on a job interview, that’s all.’
Silence. Stoney glares all round the table.
‘Oh, with whom?’ Deb said casually.
‘An aerospace company.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Chief pilot. Flying. That kind of thing.’
‘Oh,’ Rhea said, her lip trembling. ‘When will you hear from them?’
‘Oh, I already have. I start January first.’
‘What!?’ You’d have wanted stereo to get the full effect of that reply.
‘I start in January. I’m heading to Athens on the 10th. Planning on Christmas in Munich if either of you are interested.’
Deb excused herself, got up and left the table. I looked at Rhea, she was pale and wide-eyed, and I noticed she’d not touched her drink.
‘You didn’t even think to ask me what I thought,’ she said, looking hurt. ‘Like I have nothing to do with it at all.’
‘I thought after last night you were pretty much done with me, darlin’.’
‘I’m pregnant, John.’ She was looking down at her hands when she said those words, and I’ll never, ever forget the image of her sitting there. I reached for my very own barrel of rum and against doctors orders slammed the whole bloody thing down in one go.
+++++
They, Deb and Rhea, were pretty quiet when Sam and I drove them to the airport the next morning, and Sam got their bags checked while I walked with them to the ticket counter. It was kind of déjà vu all over again as I walked with Rhea to security, but she kissed me warmly and said she hoped I’d come over soon, that she couldn’t stand the idea of being away from me for very long.
‘I wanted it to be a surprise,’ she said as she started to cry again.
‘I was surprised alright.’
‘Are you happy?’
‘I am, yes.’
‘What about us?’ she wanted to know, and it was a reasonable question.
‘Rhea, I’m not going to evade your question. I am going to ask that you wait until the next time we’re together before we talk about this. Now’s just not the time. Okay?’
‘Okay, John. I think I understand.’
Deborah was standing back from us while we spoke, Sam beside her at a safe distance, and I saw mixed emotions in her eyes. Compassion and fury, I think, best describe what I saw, but I thanked her for all her help, and told her we’d get our flight information to her in case she still wanted to join Sam and myself in Athens.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t miss that for the world, John. But I want you to come to London on your way. Plan on two or three days, okay?’ Before I could say a word she walked off to the security line and was gone. Rhea kissed me again then she too disappeared into the ebbing wall of people.
‘Now that was weird,’ Sam said.
‘She’s pregnant, Sam.’
‘Fuck.’
‘Right out of my mouth, Sam. You took the word right out of my mouth again.’
‘You wanna know something even funnier, Ace?’
‘Fire away, Sam. Seems like a good day for funny.’
‘Brigit. She is too.’
‘Fuck,’ I think I said, but by that point I was laughing so hard I could hardly breathe.
‘Yeah, it’s almost biblical, ya know what I mean. Two old farts, old enough to know better, anyway, about to go off around the world, and we’re gonna have babies. Ain’t life rich!’
‘Yeah, I can’t wait to walk beside you in a park somewhere, pushing baby strollers.’
‘Fuck you, Anders. Just…fuck you.’
We laughed all the way out the airport, though I’m not sure why.
+++++
So, I booked my flight to London for the 5th, and that gave me a few weeks to get paperwork done for the new job, and hopefully get a few medical issues attended to as well. I took Brigit out to lunch, got to know her, and there more I talked with her the more I liked her. There was a lot under the veneer, I learned quickly, like she’d wanted to be an actress in Hollywood and she loved sex. When mainstream movies didn’t work out she drifted over to the valley and began making porn, made a few of ’em, too, but then she had trouble with a few of the directors. Rape, she called it, fooling around, they called it. Too many drugs, too many addicts were in the movies now, and she felt life slipping from away into a heroin induced haze. She kicked the habit, tried commercials, print media, but by then she had been marked as a porn worker, and legitimate work dried up fast after that. There was no way to keep a roof over your head in this city, she told me, working minimum wage, and she’d tried escort work, then dancing, trying to make the most of her looks while she still could.
Her’s was a sad tale, but one all too common in this city, hell, probably in this country too. Once you cross the line it’s hard to get back on the straight and narrow, too many forces out there to hold you back or keep you down. She’d just about decided to head back to Ireland when she met Sam, because something weird happened with him. He responded to her like a man should to a woman, she said, not like she was a walking, talking vagina. He took her to nice places, opened doors for her, kissed her gently and spoke softly about strange things related to a future together. She like that, then a door closed and he was gone, she’d then seen the whole affair as a game, a sick game, and she hated him for playing her.
Then he was back, then there was that night at the club, and her world had been turned upside down all over again. She’d drifted for days between disbelief and confusion, then fear and anger…until she missed her period. Sam had been wonderful about it, she said, and that only confused her more.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘about the gay thing, but I was upset. I still don’t get it.’
‘He was my roommate in college, our first year anyway, pretty much best friends ever since. I went into the Navy, he went into football after that, but we always kept in touch. Brigit, that’s forty years. Best friends – for forty years. We rode bikes in college, always talked about doing something wild-assed and crazy like this. Now it’s time, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your letting him do this. It means a lot to him, and to me too.’
She understood, she said, but I could tell she was a little bent out of shape by the whole thing. At least she’d have money now, and a roof over her head, and I could tell she was smart enough not to fuck it up. This was her chance, for good or ill, to have a piece of the American pie. And she thought of me now as a friend and ally, not someone who was going to take Sam away from her. I only hoped I could live up to that.
+++++
The day of our departure for the UK was on us soon enough, and Sam and I took a taxi to LAX from my house. Our flight was one of TWA’s last, and the old 747 looked sadly out of place at Los Angeles now. Frank Carpenter, an old friend, was at the controls and I sat up front for the takeoff, enjoyed the feeling of being in
the middle of the action once again, then I went back and sat with Sam while he poured over maps and guide books. He had a new GPS too, one of the very first portable units small enough to use on a motorcycle, a flat gray unit made by Trimble, and I was impressed as the machine spit out our ground speed while flying along over the ocean. We stopped in Gander for fuel then finished the flight to Heathrow, arriving just after midnight, and I was seriously tired.
A couple of train rides later and Sam and I were standing on the platform in Cambridge, worn to a frazzle and not at all enjoying the light drizzle falling on our heads. Though it was five in the morning Deb was waiting out front, and we piled into her white Volvo wagon just as a heavy rain started. A few minutes later we pulled into a small drive that led through a deep wood, then we were at her house. Larger than I expected, too, and then I saw Rhea out front, a couple of dogs too, and a younger girl, perhaps, twenty, maybe twenty five years old standing in the doorway, lost in shadow.
Sam grabbed the bags, I grabbed Rhea and held her for the longest time, ignoring the rain and the staring faces. She held my face, I looked in her eyes and everything felt so right…so good.
We walked to the front door, curious dogs sniffing my legs, Deborah now with the other young woman, waiting for me by the front door, with Sam bringing up the rear. Deborah seemed to be guarding the young woman, barring entry to her house, her arms crossed, her eyes stern and forbidding.
I stopped short, looked at Deborah, then at Rhea.
‘What’s going on,’ I asked.
Deborah seemed to hesitate, then she put an arm protectively around the young woman’s shoulder.
‘John,’ she said, ‘I’d like you to meet my daughter, Lucy. Lucy, I’d like you to meet John Anders, your father.’
‘Fuck,’ Sam said.
+++++
She was twenty one, as it turned out. And the math worked out quite nicely, too. Here’s the gist of the story, at least as Deborah told me later that day.
When Deborah Green, then a freshly minted physician, traveled to Berlin as part of a public service obligation, she made her way to Hamburg on BEA, then on to West Berlin via TWA, where inclement weather grounded traffic just after they landed. Waiting for her luggage, she struck up a conversation with one of the flight crew, a tall young man who appeared distracted, and very, very tired. They hit it off, rode into the city to his hotel, a new place on the Ku-dam where they had dinner. She was enjoying herself, she said, and decided to take it to the next level. They woke up the next morning and had breakfast, and a short time later he left for the airport, and that was that. His name was John Anders, she remembered that much about me, I suppose.
And many years later, just this year as it happened, Deborah had signed up to take a motorcycle tour, and on a Friday morning in Munich she spied a certain John Anders once again – for the first time in twenty two years. At first she was almost in a state of shock, then she remembered the man he’d been that night in Berlin, and she saw the man he appeared to be now. They talked again, she felt herself falling under his spell again, but time had changed them both. They were no longer young, she was no longer consumed with marrying and starting a family. No, she had her family, her life and all the love she’d ever need. She’d done quite well, thank you very much, without a husband, but now she thought it time that Lucy, their daughter, learned about the existence of her father, and the truth of that existence.
Deborah and Rhea led the young woman into the truth of his coming, true enough, but no one did me the courtesy of letting me in on the story. I was, in effect, led into what felt like an ambush. Indeed, I was too shocked for words, and after a nice long day of travel, feeling jet-lagged beyond belief, now had to deal with a rapidly decompressing sense of myself. I wasn’t only going to become a father in seven months time, I’d been one for twenty one years, and if what Deborah said was true I had a lot of ground to cover in just a few days. Unfortunately I was dog tired, could hardly stand on my feet and keep my eyes open at the same time, and I begged off further revelations until I’d had at least a few hours rest.
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