7 Miles High

by Pike, Leslie

  Our vow to be emotionally detached is under fire on two fronts. Maybe three.

  Both dominating personalities, Maggie and Matt are each trying to assert their positions. Obviously marching toward a night of debauchery if they stop preening long enough. Whether it’s tonight is the unknown. She likes to dangle the carrot. Poor Matt. It’s fifty-fifty odds at this point.

  The quiet guy who’s a preacher took the middle seat between Elizabeth and Holly. They’re playing cards.

  Parker’s brother James sits with his head against the window, shade down, eyes closed. Not sure what’s happening there. He looks detached from his friends.

  Then there’s us. We’re sitting in the same seats, but he’s working his way in. The eyes, that mouth, the deep scar across his eyebrow, all teasing me relentlessly.

  You need to be careful, Natalie.

  That was a good three-second pause of self-reflection. Now I can resume my lust-filled fantasies of the stuntman across the aisle.

  An order comes over the loudspeaker. “Flight attendants, Cabin Crew, please be seated.”

  Without hesitation the crew finds their seats.

  The captain’s announcement takes me by surprise. What’s happening?

  Looking down the aisle, I see an attendant buckling up. She reaches for the intercom mic.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign. Please return to your seats and keep your seat belts fastened until the sign has been turned off.”

  My fingers wrap around the armrests as the anxiety rises. I recognize fear coming to life.

  “Don’t worry,” Parker says, watching my quickly declining cool. “Cancun’s noted for air turbulence.”

  “Is that what’s happening?” I say, my voice higher pitched and a little shaky.

  For some stupid reason he’s completely calm. Whatever the thing is that makes a person want to be a stuntman is serving him here. He pokes his brother in the arm and motions for him to fasten his belt. James does it without question then goes back to napping.

  “Give me your hand,” Parker says, reaching across the aisle.

  My fingers slide into his palm one beat before the plane drops dramatically. My nails dig into his flesh. Peripherally I see belongings fly in the air. Screams of terror fill the cabin. We start jolting side to side as passengers hold on to the seats in front of them or the people next to them.

  I’ve gone silent. And cold. My heart’s beating so fast and strong I’m expecting a heart attack. Maybe it would be better than what’s about to happen.

  “It’s okay. We’re okay,” Parker says, stretching across the aisle and rubbing my arm with his free hand. “Natalie! We’re alright.”

  There’s blood on his hand where my nails wounded him.

  “Your hand. I’m sorry,” I say, not really a hundred percent present in the moment.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

  The shaking slows. Parker keeps ahold of my hand but relaxes back into his seat.

  Now the prayers and children’s cries can be heard. It’s heartbreaking. I see the purses and laptops in the aisle. Matt’s holding Maggie and they’re kissing like the plane’s about to go down in flames. I’m acutely aware it’s not passion passing between them, but comfort.

  I’m super focused on every detail. Like a slow-motion film where you can watch each separate movement. The reverend’s softly praying aloud, arms around his seatmates whose heads rest upon his shoulders. Both Holly and Elizabeth are tucking into him.

  Then it begins again.

  Like an angry giant has grabbed the airplane as its toy, it seems like we rise a hundred feet then abruptly drop even more. Screams are mixed with calls for Our Lady of Guadalupe’s intervention. I hear a Jesus or two and then an Allaha Akbar. All the gods are being summoned.

  There’s a shudder of metal, and that sensation freaks me out the most. I read somewhere it’s what people have reported before a crash. This right here, this is abject terror.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God!” is all I can get out.

  When I turn to Parker, his face is relaxed. There’s even a crooked smile like this shitshow is a roller-coaster of a ride. His brother doesn’t look so good though. He’s barfing in an airbag. At least trying to while bracing himself on the seat in front of him. It’s hard to hit a moving target.

  “That was a pretty good one. But it’s just turbulence. Honest, Natalie.”

  I’m crying and my entire body has begun to shake.

  “I’m really really scared,” I whisper.

  Not because I’m trying to be quiet, but because I’ve lost the ability to raise my voice. My throat is closing and my grip is so tight it’s going to rip holes in the cushion.

  The plane stabilizes but I know better than to relax.

  He must have heard me because he leans over as far as humanly possible and turns my face to his. “Look at me.”

  My nose is running and tears flow unabated. I give zero fucks.

  “We’re gonna be fine. I know it,” he calls above the noise. “Want to look out the window? There’s Cancun. We’re almost down.”

  I will not look out the window. Is he insane? The shuddering starts again then stops.

  “Will it make you feel better if I tell you what exciting thing is gonna happen when we land?” he says calm as shit.

  I can’t respond, but I appreciate his efforts to take my mind off the fact we’re all about to die.

  “I heard your plans for the weekend. Think I can help you with that.”

  The naughty grin gets my attention. I may as well go down thinking of sex.

  He traces a finger along my bottom lip.

  “How bout we swim in the ocean, find you some bacon, and here’s my favorite part, Natalie. I’m your wild.”

  Chapter 3

  Parker

  I’m a fortunate guy, but not just because the plane landed safely. That I expected. The more surprising stroke of luck was her reaction to my ballsy statement. That could have been the real disaster.

  Instead of a slap across my face, or pretending to be insulted, the smile said she was all in.

  There’s no need to play games. She’s confident. Both of us are just on a mission to have a good time.

  Never ignore a horny woman.

  “The Grand Fiesta Americana,” I say to the taxi driver. “How far is it?”

  “One mile. Very close,” he says.

  My cell sounds.

  Natalie: Tick tock. Times a wastin’.

  Reading the text I quietly chuckle. I know she’s not talking about the group plans.

  Me: Your impatience is encouraging.

  Natalie: My hands. My lips. Your body.

  It’s gonna be a hell of a night.

  Me: Do you like your kisses down low?

  There’s a long pause. Uh oh. Was that too much?

  Natalie: Well now you’ve done it. I’ve got to change my panties.

  There’s no holding back my laughter.

  “What’s happening?” James says, straightening his shirt.

  “Natalie and I are messing around,” I say with a grin.

  He’s not surprised in the least. “Quick work. Careful. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

  “Not a chance. She’s just here for fun.”

  “Are we meeting in the lobby?”

  “No. In front of the hotel. Matt and Elliott are already there.”

  I take a minute to look at the bright neon colors of Cancun at night. Names of bars and restaurants are written in lights. It’s always party time here.

  “Feeling better?” I ask. “You look better.”

  James has started going through angry texts from bridezilla and her family. The scowl on his face makes it obvious.

  “Stop it! Give me that,” I say, grabbing his phone.

  “I’m just deleting,” he scowls, snatching it back. “I feel fine. Ready to start drinking.”

  At least he’s more verbal than this
morning. Progress.

  “What’s the plan? Who’s riding with us?” he says.

  “Natalie and Elizabeth. Matt and Elliott will take the other girls.”

  The taxi turns into the hotel and heads for the entrance.

  “Try to have a good time tonight, James. If you can’t at the place we’re going, you’re a lost cause. Matt picked it especially for you.”

  “Oh shit,” he says, shaking his head. “Is it a strip club?”

  “No. You think we’d take girls to a strip club?”

  “We’ve done worse.”

  “Maybe at twenty. Not at thirty-plus.”

  “There they are,” he says. “The tribes.”

  When I follow his eye line, I see her among the group. She looks beautiful. And fucking hot.

  “I’m feeling better already,” James says, appreciating the object of his desire.

  Elizabeth has pulled his attention away from his troubles. I don’t care if it lasts more than a night. In fact, it would be better if it didn’t. That kind of thinking is what got him in his present clusterfuck.

  But it’s only a quick once-over I give the other players in tonight’s drama. Natalie’s the one I’m focused on.

  Her legs. They’re good. Lean like a colt.

  Then there’s the short, black dress with the full skirt. When she moves, the hem dances in the breeze, showing a few inches of a red underskirt. Wow. Exposed toned arms and smooth shoulders more tempting than a plunging neckline. Sexy.

  She turns and I’m gifted with another vision. Shiny golden hair falls in a long loose braid down her exposed back. And to top it all off in an exclamation point, she wears fuck-me shoes with black bows on each ankle. I have no idea why that turns me on. Bows?

  A dream of the future materializes. I’m on my knees and Natalie’s standing in front of me, legs spread. Naked in high heels.

  Before the first look at her breasts or the sweet mound between her legs, desire’s building. In a strength that surprises me. This is uncharted territory. I can almost smell the sex.

  Better stop. I’m gonna get a boner.

  “Come on,” James says, getting out of the cab.

  Am I detecting real interest in the girl? This may be the most successful soothing of a torn romance ever.

  “We’ll be back,” I say to the cabbie.

  James goes up to Elizabeth. She looks kind of happy to see him. Why? They’ve barely spoken. Think they’re about to hit it off. There’s something so clear about unspoken signals.

  “Let’s go! Coco Bongo people!” Matt yells over the greetings.

  As I walk toward her, Natalie comes my way. The image is striking. Her expression’s playful, one part innocence the other invitation. My hands reach for hers.

  “Beautiful.”

  “Thank you. So handsome,” she says, giving me the once-over.

  I lean in to her ear and whisper, “I’m going to pull that braid tonight.”

  Her lips graze my ear and I feel her breath. “I want you to grab a fist of it so you can pound me hard.”

  When she pulls back she’s wearing an innocent smile.

  It’s as if there’s a string attached from my ear to my genitals and it’s lifting. A dirty mind’s a wonderful thing. Especially in a woman.

  This electricity between us could power the city.

  * * *

  Coco Bongo is jumping. Luckily the hotel manager told us about the VIP tickets. We skipped the out-of-control lines with our prepaid admission. It’s so fucking loud in here conversations are nearly impossible. We’ve scored seats high on the top tier above the revelers.

  Looks like there’s a thousand people partying. No, maybe two thousand. This space is cavernous. The huge screen showing iconic movie clips grabs our attention. The blaring music makes us move.

  A large center stage showcases one act after another. I don’t know where to look first.

  Since arriving we’ve seen appearances by Beetlejuice, Michael Jackson, and Queen impersonators. As they’re lip-syncing, the lyrics appear on screen. Everyone sings along.

  Right now male acrobats in gold nut huggers are flying spread eagle through the air, while on stage scantily dressed women dance under them. Something for everyone.

  Matt’s in the spirit. No surprise. He and Maggie are clapping to the beat of the music, drunk off their asses. A minute ago, I saw him squeezing her ass. She liked it by the smile he got. Elliott and Holly are attempting a conversation against all odds.

  My brother, in an encouraging scene, is behind Elizabeth with his hands on her waist. They sway together to the sounds while she waves a long pink balloon.

  I’m not sure how I’d describe this place. It’s big. I’d start there. It’s not a dance club. But the crowd’s wild and moving to the music. We’re dancing in our seats.

  The energy has built to a fevered pitch as the night has progressed. Soap bubbles, balloons and confetti, all props for the drunken mob, of which most of us are included. I’ve kept a lid on it. Don’t want to be passed out when I could be fucking her.

  An ear-shattering siren’s wail pulls everyone’s attention.

  “Follow the leader!” The emcee with a top hat calls to the mob, “Let’s conga!”

  The first notes of “Conga” by Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine blare, and the crowd goes crazy wild. Without hesitation, lines form on every tier.

  As our friends find their places in the dance, I take ahold of Natalie and bring her close. I’m going to have to yell in her ear and hope for the best.

  “Let’s get out of here! They’ll never know we’re gone.”

  Arms wrap around my waist. Our lips are a breath away. She locks eyes with me, and the corners of her mouth turn up.

  “This first,” she says, coming in for a kiss.

  I know one thing for sure. Every other kiss I’ve had was wrong.

  Chapter 4

  Natalie

  It’s a miracle we made it to his hotel without ripping our clothes off in the taxi. Arrested in another country for indecent exposure is the only thing that stopped me.

  The sexual tension is nearly unbearable, and it’s about to get worse. Or better, depending on one thing. If the gods are with us we’ll be alone when the elevator doors close. Parker guides me in with an arm around the back of my waist.

  “We’re almost there,” he says, pressing floor seven.

  A hand moves under my braid and he pulls me closer. It turns me on to see the little muscle in his jaw tighten.

  Swoosh. The closing door becomes part of our sexual soundtrack.

  He leans in. I inhale the manly scent of shaving cream and shampoo. Lips touch.

  Unfortunately, a meaty hand stops the door’s closure at the last moment.

  “Hold it!” the stranger says, easily pushing the doors apart.

  A huge man with a cowboy hat invades our sacred space, followed by two younger women in tight short dresses. They wear ridiculously high stilettos. Parker and I exchange meaningful glances that say we’re on the same page. Hookers. Ménage.

  Finding our new positions in the now-tight elevator, I’m angled in front of Parker. In front of us the two women are tucked under the arms of the big guy. Alone he takes up nearly a third of the space.

  All three of them are laughing. At what is anybody’s guess. I’m only sure of one thing. They’ve had a lot to drink.

  “Push six, darlin’,” he says.

  She does. Right along with floors two, three, four and five. Giggling follows. Parker sighs.

  “Sorry,” the guy adds, turning around to us. “She loves to push the buttons.”

  Oh, Jesus. That one is easily amused.

  “No problem,” Parker says remarkably calm.

  Then I feel it. It being the cock pressing against my back. Through his pants, over my multi-layered skirt, and most importantly without a touch. It’s hard. Thank you great goddess of erections. This might be your finest work.

  I give a wiggle. Just to
let him know I’m enjoying how he’s passing time while we’re stuck with these people.

  As the door closes, my skirt is being lifted. With one hand he’s bunching a fistful of fabric and unveiling my ass. Inch by inch. It shouldn’t be amusing me so much, but I’m smiling like a goon. When I turn my head, he’s looking forward with a straight face, making sure our fellow travelers haven’t noticed we have no sense of decency.

  Ding

  Floor two arrives five seconds later. Doors open, pausing for the non-existent guests to enter, then close. The hooker who pressed the buttons is kissing the sweaty neck of the john. Everyone seems to need a little lovin’ tonight.

  Ding

  Floor three and my cheeks are exposed. This is where my squats pay off. Parker carefully tucks the excesses material in the waistband. When I turn my head and catch his expression it reminds me of a naughty little boy who’s proud of his inspired idea to peek under the girls’ skirts.

  Ding

  Floor four. A warm palm’s moving over the shape of me. I feel my thong being pulled from my crack and his finger sliding underneath. Holy goosebumps.

  Ding

  Floor five. Now Parker positions me precisely where he wants, my backside centered against his manhood. I feel the press of him between my cheeks. I hear the barely there moan. Then he gently pulls my braid as he secretly pumps. He wraps my hair around his fist and holds my neck back. Oh fuck me. Please, fuck me.

  Ding

  Floor six arrives just in time. I’m about to go savage on him.

  “Bye, y’all!” mountain man calls as they stumble out. Thankfully he didn’t turn around.

  Parker releases me and I lean over and push the close door button. Three times till it shuts.

  He spins me around and his mouth is on mine. I wrap a leg around his.

  Ding

  Floor seven. Almost heaven.

  As the door slides open, I hear the sudden laughter of more than one person. Parker looks over my shoulder and assesses the situation. He quickly pulls my skirt out of the waistband. Shit! My ass was exposed!