She shrugs. “Maybe it’ll make some people jealous back home. But, no, I don’t really care. If my parents eventually see it, I’m sure they’ll get a big kick out of it. I’ll just tell them I had car trouble and a nice foreign prince helped me out.”
“Got it,” I say.
Inside the RV, we find Eugene asleep for once. I shake him awake and explain the plan to him. He comes out to help, dragging the heavy metal chains with him.
Rebecca goes to get her car and Eugene has a hard time getting the press to part to make room for Rebecca’s car. We’re putting on quite the show for them as we chain up the car to the back of the RV. I can tell they’re wondering how they hell they can spin this into something even more scandalous than the fight from the night before.
Finally, we get on the road. I get Eugene driving, and Rebecca and I go to sit in the back.
“This is crazy,” she says. “I’ve never been in a prince’s RV before.”
“Is it as fun as you’d always imagined?”
“Well, I think my childhood fantasies of being a princess didn’t involve traveling in a RV full of empty beer cans, covered in semen, not to mention a really strong odor of weed.”
“That was mostly Sebastian,” I say. “He’s an animal.”
“The weed or the semen?”
“Well…” I say, smiling. “It’s a little hard to point to one or the other…”
“I figure you’re guilty of it all.”
“Maybe. I’m not going to testify either way,” I say.
“You’re sure my car’s going to be OK?”
“Yup, it’s in neutral and everything. What a way to save gas, eh?”
She’s silent for a moment as she stares out the window. She’s pulled the blinds up, and I have to admit the Texas countryside is pretty stunning. We’re cruising down the highway now, with a steady-handed Eugene at the helm. He’s probably a better driver than I am. I can never resist trying to pass everyone on the road, even though I’m driving an RV. Although now that we’re towing Rebecca’s twenty year old heavy American car, it’s probably not advisable to attempt to pass anyone on these 2-lane roads.
“It’s really beautiful out here, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I say.
In truth, this is probably the first time I’ve had the shades up on this thing. Normally I’d either be driving, or making Eugene drive, and drinking during the entire day, or I’d be passed out in the back, or arguing with Sebastian.
Sebastian…shit…I feel kind of bad about the whole thing, leaving him behind. But he wanted to go, I guess. Yeah, whatever. Fuck him.
At least I’ve got Rebecca.
“So what do you normally do on this royal RV of yours?”
I like the way she says “royal” in her sassy, sarcastic tones. It makes the whole thing seem ridiculous. And, hell, it is ridiculous to have a “royal,” RV. I mean this thing might be expensive, but it’s just a box on wheels after all. It’s no palace. But then again I never had much use for the palace. It’s just a pile of stones, after all.
“I dunno,” I say. “The usual. Drink, smoke, fuck, argue.”
“Wow,” she says. “Sounds like a really good time.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m getting used to your sarcasm,” I say.
“Don’t you like to enjoy the nature?”
“I’ve been kind of focused on getting an American adventure, but I always thought that meant like buying a lot of guns and hunting shit and building fires and shot gunning beers…”
“There’s so much more to camping then that,” she says. “I mean, yeah, what you’re describing sure could be American in some way, and I’m not saying it’s not fun… But, well, a lot of people get all hung up on the gear for their camping trip. It’s like they can’t see outside of their own little commercial modern world, where products are the most important things in the universe.”
“So what’s camping really about?”
“It’s about taking a break from all that shit, from our mundane lives that have become just routines. It’s about admiring the beauty of the natural world, and realizing that you’re a part of it whether or not you spend more of your days locked in a florescent-lit office.”
“You sure have a way with words,” I say. “Did you have private tutors, too?”
She laughs at this. “You don’t need private tutors to know how to express yourself. Plus, it’s not that I’m that eloquent, it’s just that it’s an important thing to me so I guess I’ve thought a lot about it. Plus, the more important the thing is you’re trying to express, the better it tends to come out of your mouth…at least that’s what I find.”
“I’m impressed all the same,” I say.
“Try to look at it more,” she says. “The nature…”
“I will,” I say, and I lean in to kiss her.
She brushes her hair behind her ear in a way that drives me crazy.
“Is he going to hear us?” she says, gesturing to the front, where Eugene is.
Fortunately, there’s a door between us. No, he’s not going to hear anything. And if he does, he knows well enough to just ignore it.
“Hear what? What were you planning on doing with me?”
“Oh, you know…” she says, batting her eyelashes and giving me a coy look.
“You must have as high of a sex drive as I do,” I say. In truth, my cock is fully erect now, pointing right at her. I know she’s aware of it, about to burst through the jeans I’m wearing.
10.
Rebecca
I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about him. Sure, he’s fucking sexy as hell, and I can barely keep my eyes off of him, or off his bulging cock that looks like it’s going to burst through his pants any minute. I hope it does.
But there’s something else… I feel calm around him. My pounding heart, the anxiety—it’s all gone. Like nothing. There’s just nothing left. None of the minor panic attacks I normally have throughout the day over the smallest of things. Just talking to people, just saying “hi,” usually sends me into some kind of mental spiral.
But now I’m not worried about anything.
Well, that’s not totally true. I’m worried about what’s going to happen when I have to go back to work in Pennsylvania. Surely the prince isn’t going to want to do a long distance relationship with an office worker in Pittsburg. I doubt he’s going to move the royal household there either, so he can continue a relationship with me.
But he’s kissing me now, and all these thoughts fly from my head like a flock of seagulls squawking in the summer nights over the salty ocean.
Fuck he’s hot.
His bulge is pressed against me, and he’s between my legs. I wrap my legs around him and straddle him, sitting on what I guess counts as a piece of RV furniture. It’s really nothing more than a low-cushioned bench.
The beautiful countryside is passing us by at about 60 miles an hour.
“Doesn’t it look beautiful?” I say again. This must be the millionth time I’ve mentioned it to him. I feel like he’s not actually looking at what’s around him. But he sure is looking at me.
“Sure is,” He says, not even glancing up, not taking his eyes off me for one second.
Well, I guess I can live with that.
He pulls my pants down with a couple strong tugs, and kneels beneath me, starting to lick me.
Fuck is he good at doing this. But I guess he’s had plenty of practice.
Oh shit, that feels good. I can’t even get myself off this well. Normally, women are better at working on their own bodies, but he seems to know buttons and pleasure centers I didn’t even know I had.
He’s licking me, not even using his fingers at all now, and I come after only a couple minutes. I feel like I’m gasping for breath as my vision goes blurry and white on the edges. I think I’m screaming or moaning loudly but I’m not even sure. Yeah, the orgasm is that strong.
“Ready for more?�
�� he says, pulling out a condom. This time I actually see him take it from his pocket. Has he got an endless stash of these things that he carries around? I blink, and the condom’s already on his cock. This time it’s purple, and I let out a little giggle.
“I like your color choice,” I say. “Very regal.”
Luke sighs. “Eugene picked them out. I guess he really was going for the regal colors.”
That makes me laugh even harder. “I was just joking,” I say. “I wonder if they make a special brand just for royals?”
“Probably,” he says, sighing. “They’d probably be the same as the cheapest condoms, but cost a thousand dollars for a pack.”
“I bet you could afford that, though,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says. He pauses for a moment. “You know, that’s the first time you’ve mentioned money to me. I like that about you. Most of the other girls I’ve met here—that’s the first thing they ask me about or hint at.”
“Well, honestly, money’s never been that important to me. I mean sure, you need a little bit to buy the essentials, and to go camping, and that sort of thing, but…money in itself just doesn’t have much value to me.”
It’s true. I’ve never really given money a thought, except when I don’t have enough of it. I guess that’s the way it goes.
“Is the RV slowing down?” I say. It feels like we’re pulling off to the side of the road. I look out the window, and sure enough that’s what’s happening.
Suddenly, the door bursts open.
It’s Eugene, poking his head in.
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” he says. “And I apologize, miss.” He’s carefully avoiding his eyes.
I quickly try to cover up. After all, I had my legs spread wide open, still straddling Luke, whose cock was fully erect. It starts to go soft, though, still in its purple condom.
“Jesus Christ, Eugene,” says Luke. “Can’t you fucking knock?”
“I’m sorry sir, but I just got a press release…it doesn’t look good.”
“So what?” says Luke.
Meanwhile, I’m frantically trying to find my pants to put back on. Luke moves gallantly to stand in front of me, with his naked condom-covered cock facing Eugene. Luke doesn’t seem to have any shame about his own body. And why should he? His ass is in my face, and I can barely resist reaching and just grabbing it, massaging it, running my hands all along his back and muscular thighs.
“They’re’ talking about deporting you.”
“What?” says Luke, seemingly growing enraged. Then he switches over to French. It’s the first time I’ve heard him say a complete thought in French. I guess maybe it happens when he really gets angry.
I haven’t told him that I studied French in high school, and not to mention took four years of it in college. I even sent a Semester in a small town in the South of France. Sure, my skills are a little rusty at this point, and I have to struggle a bit because Luke speaks a stranger dialect of French that’s apparently only spoken in Liseria. To my ears, it sounds a little bit like Quebecois.
It takes me a moment for my brain to start registering on the French, but what I can make out is that Luke’s saying that he can’t believe this is happening, etc. and things basically of that nature.
Eugene responds back in French, and I’m surprised to find that his tone of voice is much more commanding sounding than in English. I suppose sometimes that happens with bilingual people—they seem to have almost distinct personalities in different languages. Eugene sounds quite intelligent in French, whereas in English he just sounds sort of weak willed and incredibly subservient—not that doesn’t exist a little in his French, the subservient part at least.
“But what am I going to do?” says Luke, with a pleading tone in his French. “I just met Rebecca and I want to spend more time with her. How am I going to tell her that I have to leave the country? Fuck, maybe I’ll invite her to come out to Liseria for a visit, although I’d kind of hate to go back right now. Maybe she and I can run off to some other country.”
What? Is he serious? Did I understand right? Wow, I can’t believe he wants to take me back to his country with him. That’s kind of a big move, considering we’ve been hooking up so far, and haven’t talked about future plans. But, hell, I’d be game.
“I guess I wouldn’t mind taking a look at this famous Liserian palace,” I say, in English, since while I can understand the French, I don’t feel confident now in my rusty production abilities. “I mean, it does sound OK for a pile of old rocks.”
“You speak French?” says Luke, speaking to me in English.
I nod. “Sort of,” I say.
“Sounds like you at least understand everything perfectly. I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I guess it never came up.”
“You’re just full of surprises, you bad American girl.”
I beam at him. I like that he has a nickname for me, even if it’s kind of a silly one. “That’s the best nickname you can come up with? Really? Even knowing that I’d understand your French nicknames.”
Luke laughs and turns around to kiss me. I notice his cock is getting hard again in the condom.
Eugene coughs politely in the doorway.
Oh yeah, he’s still here.
“Could you give us a moment, Eugene?” says Luke.
“Of course, sir,” says Eugene, switching back to English.
“So you’ll come back to Liseria with me?” says Luke, looking down at me.
“I’d like to,” I say.
But shit. I suddenly remember that this isn’t actually a fairytale. He may be a prince, but I’m just a regular American working girl.
“The only thing is that I still have to go work,” I say.
“Oh…” he says.
“I mean, I’m on vacation now, but I can’t stay away forever. I only get 2 weeks a year.”
“What do you do?”
“Data entry.”
“I don’t have any idea what that is, but it sounds boring as hell.”
I laugh. “It is. And it’s not exactly what I imagined I’d be doing with my college degree.”
“Why don’t you quit then.”
“Well, I need some money,” I say.
“But you said it’s not important to you, right?”
“Well, yeah, but it’s important in some way. I mean I have to pay the bills. I have to buy food. I have to buy camping gear.”
“Just quit,” he says. “I’m sure something else will turn up later.”
I’m starting to feel angry. “You just don’t get it,” I say, my voice cutting across the space between us like a scalpel. “How could you? You’ve never had to worry about money in your life. When I say it’s not important to me, I mean I don’t care about having a shitload of your royal money, but…I need some! I can’t just quit my job.”
“I can pay for you to come out to Liseria,” he says. “It’s no trouble. Or just come on the private jet with me. You won’t have to worry about costs or anything when you’re there.”
I huff in a good amount of air, pushing out my chest, and then hold my breath for a moment. I do this sometimes when I’m angry. I realize I’m not thinking clearly.
Instead of saying anything, I finally get all my clothes back on. And I put on a bulky sweatshirt for good measure, just to prove to myself I’m getting dressed again, I guess. Anyway, the AC in here is really cranked up, making the place freezing.
“I can’t have you pay for everything,” I say. “That’s not a good way to start a…” I realize I’m about to say ‘relationship,’ but I’m too scared to.
Luke looks at me with a confused expression his face. I can tell he really doesn’t get what’s going on. He actually doesn’t understand that I can’t just leave my job and go to Liseria with him.
For some reason, that makes me calm down a little. I guess there really are some cultural differences that are hard to figure out, and tha
t goes for me too, not just him. I mean, at first I though he was just big a thick headed selfish prick, trying to get me to quit my job, but now I’m seeing that he really doesn’t understand in the least bit how jobs or money work, especially for us regular working class Americans.
And I was about to rush out of the RV and slam the door.
“I’m sorry,” I say, moving towards him and putting my arms around him to hug him. I pull him close, and his strong arms envelop me and hold me even closer.
“I don’t understand what happened,” he says. “I was just trying to figure out a solution.”
“I appreciate that,” I say. “But…I mean I really can’t just quit my job. And no, you can’t pay me to quit it. That’s not going to work either. I wasn’t raised to act like that, to take money like that.”
He nods silently.
“Maybe we’ll figure something out,” I say. “I’m sorry you have to leave the country just because of some silly press scandal.”
“Well,” he says. “It’s the last in a long string of press scandals. I shouldn’t be surprised, really. I haven’t always made the best decisions, let alone the most responsible ones.”
11.
Luke
Shit, I really want her to come back with me. I should have known this American tour was going to come to an end.
I excuse myself to head up front with Eugene. Rebecca stay sin the back, staring out the window, and looking pensive in the way only a beautiful American girl can.
Eugene gives me the run down. Well, it’s not quite as bad as I’d thought. But that only means it’s not an official extradition, but rather a request for one. That’s basically the same thing, without the legal stigma attached. It means that in the future, I can come back to the States, provided I wait about a year for things to cool down with my name.
The press is full of stories about me, with dramatic looking pictures of my fight with Sebastian, the bikini party girls cheering him on.
“Doesn’t look good, does it?” I say.
“No, sir,” says Eugene.
Filthy Royal Page 7