Plot: John Peters just wanted to get away for a few months. Was that too much to ask? But things were not happening as he liked it…something impossible happened and…So the first part of his insane plan worked. What is Plan B?
NOTE: This story was inspired by the actor Pedro Pascal (Game of Thrones, Narcos, Mandalorian)
Warning: If you're sensitive about the word 'fuck', 'shit', 'asshole', 'motherfucker' or any profanity better walk away since I'm going to use them liberally.
HIDING PLACE
CHAPTER 5
"We are here!" the driver smiled. The man popped the trunk and hauled my luggage out, setting them at the gate. "Home sweet home, sir!"
"Yes, this is it." So this is 'home'.
I took a deep breath while I carefully set her back in the seat and my back and joints popped like the taxi trunk when I stepped out.
"Ah!" I stopped mid-stretch when I saw the cabbie looking amused. "Keys!" I reached in the cab and fished inside her bag. I had found the keys before when I was 'investigating' in my fortress of solitude; they were inside a zipped compartment in her bag. "Keys!" I held the clinking set of metals triumphantly and tried to find the right size key for the lock in the gate.
"I think that's the one." The cabbie pointed to a small key and the padlock, "Here. I'll open it, you get your wife."
"Yeah. Good idea." I went back and paused at the cab door, figuring how to do this in reverse. I gotta give the man a good tip, I thought as the cabbie took her bag and carried everything under the porch in two trips.
-o-0-o-
The cabbie believed my story that she got dizzy at the airport because of the people and the two of us decided to move to a quieter area to rest where 'she', the wife, fell asleep out of exhaustion. I even got him to go inside the airport to fetch my bags while I carry the 'missus' to the cab.
Honestly, it went better than I expected it; way better than when I was planning it.
So, the beginning of this insane plan was to get a cab. To get one I need to step out of the hidey hole, leave my luggage with her and hail a cab.
Then, when and if I find one I have to convince the cabbie to come with me inside the airport, get my bags, put them into the trunk and drive to the address I found in her phone.
In my gut I find it all too easy and nothing this easy ends well.
-o-0-o-
Well, she, the wife, would not get inside the house, unconscious. Someone needs to carry her inside. That someone is moi.
On my part, I bend halfway inside and placed my knee on the seat. I put one arm behind her and another under her legs then pulled her towards me. I'm thankful that she was wearing pants and not skirts because I would not be responsible for modesty and 'wife' or not, I don't know how to go about that. Her head lolled on my shoulder and that scent wafted to me again.
Oh for the…mother fuck….
Concentrate!
Fine! Now the next move is important because I pulled my back muscles once and my therapist never stopped telling me to 'lift with your legs not your back!' I took a deep breath...
Well, my back is okay and so I carry her inside the gate.
"Sir!" I looked up to the cabbie pointing the way through the garden. I carefully place my footing on the decorative garden steps and enter through the front screen door the cabbie held open for me. "I saw the other screen door on the side, it's the kitchen. That's where I got in. Your things are here." he pointed to my bags and hers lined against the wide hallway.
I did a 360 degree turn with my burden hunting for the bedroom or bedrooms. Do I go in that hallway? There were two other hallways…My back, at this point, is starting not feeling happy…choose a direction! "Wait here, please."
When I moved farther into the house on the right side was the wrong area and I had to go back to the other end and I stopped halfway because it ended at a big garage. For the love of…stop. Stop!
I took deep breaths, my back on the rough textured wall. I glanced in dismay at the middle hallway opening and the twenty or so grueling steps to get there—the hallway, that is, not including the who knows how many steps more to find the fucking bedroom.
If my back wasn't killing me I'd have found this situation hilariously ironic. Here I am with a girl in my arms looking for a bedroom but…
"Sir?" at my chuckle the confused cabbie peeked at the corner.
"Nothing." Still chuckling at my poetic justice I took a deep breath, pushed away from the wall, and with a soft grunt repositioned my burden up higher in my arms.
I head towards…Yes! I gave a huge sigh and thank you prayer when I spied some open doors…with beds!
I moved my feet faster as my back urges me to let my burden down ASAP! Thank God this place has no stai…Yeah, look at that. It has stairs, all five steps of it! Nevertheless I took those short steps in two bounds then the fifteen steps to the two open rooms.
When I reached the two open doors I was doing the cha-cha between…Which room? Which bed? Oh, who cares? Put her down!
Now!
There's a door on the right with a huge bed. I took it.
I'm not sure where her room is all I know is I wanted to lower her down slowly so she wouldn't wake up while I'm not yet ready.
Put her down now! Okay…lowering her…slow…
Oh hell…!
…my foot slipped on the fucking slick parquet flooring!
When I went down my face grazed the middle of her stomach…I froze. I counted ten seconds plus two extra seconds in case she wakes up and starts screaming her head off. I was frozen, half my body on the bed, half kneeling on the floor, and I realized that my face was just below her boobs.
Really? Really?
A man could feel many things in this position, pleasurable feelings, usually. I have had feelings like those…how long ago?
Oh for heaven's sake! Stop that hyper-vigilance shit! We don't need to know how long ago you felt these 'feelings.'
Get. Off. Of. Her!
I slowly un-slip from under her back and legs like a gastropod traveling at snail mach speeds. I will not apologize for being hyper aware of what both of my arms felt when they both got freed. Nor would I apologize for the 'reaction' I had in feeling those feelings.
Get it?
-o-0-o-
"Is ma'am okay?" the driver put away his mobile when I stepped out of the main door.
"'Ma'am'?" Good thing I ditched my hot jacket and my outer shirt in this weather.
"Your wife."
"Oh! Yeah! Still sleeping." I almost forgot the cab driver. "How much do I owe?"
"Are you okay?"
"Uh, yeah. Just tired."
"Are you sure about this?" The man looked at the tip I gave him in slight disbelief.
"Yes." I smile as I herd him back out to his cab. "It's just a small 'thank you' for your help!"
"Thanks, man. Hey, call me if you need service." He pointed at the contact number on the window and I thought that was a good idea so I took a picture.
"Enjoy your vacation!"
-o-0-o-
I wanted to check on her before I decide on other things but she's still asleep.
Now that I've calmed down I'm getting concerned about her deep slumber. I don't find it normal. Did she get injured when she cannon balled me? Did she hit her head on the floor? What if she needs medical attention…check her now!
I paused, my fingers inches over her eyes. I closed my own for a moment hoping that she didn't get a concussion when she fell…I carefully opened an eyelid and almost cursed…no help there. The girl…sorry, she's not a girl; she's a full grown woman and she's wearing contacts!
For the love of…!
I lowered my tired ass in an ottoman near the bed, digging in my head for a way how to …then with a burst of inspiration I shot out of the chair. Contact lens case….!
Wait…that's strange. Where are her things? I went to another room, beside the one where I placed her.
Rummaging…looking…opening drawers…Whoa! Not the undie drawer! I almost slammed it close. Almost. I clenched my fists and eyes tight.
Man…you need to calm the fuck down. Okay…Wiping my shaking hands on my sides and taking several calming breaths did not really work. I could go to jail for what I've done. What have I done to my future…Shit…have I gone crazy? Am I…
And… there's the lens case!
Sweat damps my shirt under my armpit and back as I walk out of the stifling bathroom where there is…another bedroom.
I stop and look at the other unmade bed, again. I have seen three bedrooms so far, two unmade, and, the one she's lying on doesn't look it had been slept on.
How many bedrooms are there here? And where is HER bedroom? Does she have a bedroom?
I do an about face and cross the bathroom, once more, and it was at this crossing that I notice the pale pink tiles and her stuff on the counters. I'm still confused at what's happening even as I check if her…okay, the lens case has some liquid in it. So the next thing to do is to get back there and take her contact lens off so I could check if she has a concussion.
Okay, do that…get to it!
I haven't done this before; taking off someone else's contact lens out of their freaking eyes. Should I wash my hands? Yes, it's not cool to give her eye infection at this point, is it? I wash my hands thoroughly both for complete sanitation and to further delay the inevitable.
I'm scared to remove her contacts! I don't want to touch her eyes!
Women have more balls at putting things in and round the general location of their eyes. Every freaking day! While I try not to lose my shit if the make-up people start to move anywhere near my eyes.
I just can't!
Bro, I tell myself, you need to do it. You need to know if she's okay, if she doesn't have a concussion. That's it.
I take deep breaths as I open the lens case and set it down on the side table.
Fine! I'm doing it. The sooner I know the better to move on… Flex your fingers…okay. One last deep breath...
Just open one eyelid at time and pluck it off. Go on!
Steady hands…reaching 1…2…3…
Whoa! Suddenly things moved…up became down and a white thing slammed on my face. I can't move! Something heavy landed on my back…
-o-0-o-O-o-0-o-