A Land Far, Far Away

"You'd be a very 'honorable' man," she elbowed him in the ribs.

He shrugged her off. "Hands off, wench."

She put her hand on his upper thigh and gave it a light squeeze. "C'mon, now. Don't be so serious. Would it be such a bad thing if you were?"

"You tell me."

She cleared her throat, giggling lightly. "Actually, after the first couple of times I . . . propositioned you, I . . . Well, after the way you responded, I was like: a)he doesn't really like girls, and he's just not ready/willing to admit; or b) . . ."

"'B'-what?"

"You'd never . . . indulged in . . . the pleasures of the flesh . . . so to speak."

"You honestly thought that?"

She shrugged. "That or gay. I mean, if you stick your tits in a guy's face and tell him to put your change in the cleavage, and he doesn't do it, he's either really shy, really gay or really stupid."

The hand on his leg traveled higher, resting itself in the crease between his hip and thigh. He drew in a short, sharp intake of breath, then repositioned himself to allow her to caress him more comfortably.

The track had changed on the CD player again. Instead of going to the next song, it went back to the beginning of the last one.

Don't let me down, don't let me down.

Don't let me down, don't let me down.

"You like that?" She kept her head facing forward and her eyes on the road.

His eyes flicked from the road ahead to the hand in his lap. "Mecca . . ."

"Or maybe they're just a little sad and confused and . . . just a tiny bit scared. I mean, some of these so-called virtuous maidens turn out to be wicked witches in disguise, and then what happens to the poor guy? He wanders around the country all blind and shit cuz the wicked witch pushed him out of a tower and knocked him into a brier patch, and he couldn't see his 'true love' if she was right in front of his face."

Nobody ever loved me like she does

Oh, she does, yeah, she does

He moved both hands to the steering wheel as her hand slipped beneath the band of his track pants and over the soft cotton of his boxers.

"Which is sad, but the princess is kind of relieved when he finally does find her cuz she's not the same person she was back then. I mean, after the witch chopped off all her hair, she went into hiding because she thought she was so hideous and no one should have to be cursed with her presence. Of course, she wants him to be happy and healthy and whole, but if he can't see her, he can't reject her. So she has him, if only in part."

He forced his eyes to stay open as her fingers found the opening to his underwear and began to tousle the fine hairs at the base of his shaft.

"But, in the end, she can't stand to see him like that. I mean, he really used to love her, and he spent all this time looking for her . . . even though she wasn't worth finding anymore."

"So she cries," he said, "and her tears cure his blindness."

"And he sees her and isn't repulsed."

He felt his balls tighten as she took hold of his cock, lightly squeezing and gently tugging as she stroked him from base to tip. He cried out brokenly. "Stop. I don't wanna mess up my pants."

"In that case . . ." her hand stilled as she unfastened her seatbelt with her right hand, pulled her knees up in the seat and then turned to face him, lowering her head to his lap.

"What the fuck?"

I'm in love for the first time

Don't you know it's gonna last.

It's a love that lasts forever.

It's a love that has no past.

He removed his right hand from the wheel to make more room for her.

She smiled up at him, her chin resting on the inside of his right thigh. "As if you've never thought of doing something like this." She readjusted his waistband, pushing it down to rest beneath his balls as she licked his head with the tip of her tongue, her saliva mixing with his pre-seminal fluids as she effortlessly slid him into the warm recess of her mouth.

Don't let me down, don't let me down.

He closed his eyes then quickly forced them to open. They weren't on the couch in his apartment; he was in the driver's seat of an automobile going over 70 miles an hour. There was one car about 50 feet in front of them, and there were two cars visible in his rear view mirror. As he tightened his grip on the wheel, attempting to ground himself in the here and now, she increased the suction on his cock, rolling his heavy sac in the soft palm of her hand. The edges of his vision grew blurry, the tingle in his toes overriding the feel of the wheel as he struggled to maintain control of the car. "Dammit . . ." he panted. "Stop."

She pressed her nose to the crux of his thighs, the head of his erection lodged down the back of her throat, the tip of her tongue tickling the top of his balls.

And from the first time that she really done me

Oh, she done me, she done me good.

His hips thrust forward, his foot hit the break, the steering wheel jerked left.

Mecca, at last, released him, slipping across his lap, the top of her head bouncing off the driver's side door as the steering wheel wedged itself between her shoulder blades. Daniel grabbed hold of her hip to keep her from falling into the floor, and she curled into herself half out of pain and half out of instinct.

The two cars passed him on the right, blaring their horns and flipping him off as they sped past him, half on the shoulder, half off. Aside from them, and a few cars on the other side of the Interstate no one else was close enough to them to notice.

With her still in his lap, he steered them onto the shoulder, turned on his flashers and turned off the engine, cutting the power to the CD player as well. "What the fuck was that!"

She sat up, scooting back to her own side of the car, rubbing the top of her head, then shrugging her shoulders, doubtless trying to eliminate the ache the steering column had caused. She frowned, wiping the cum from the corners of her mouth. "I was feeling froggy, so I took a leap."

"Shit!" he slapped the steering wheel and shoved himself back in his pants, trying to regain control of his bodily functions. "Do you realize I could've killed us?"

"It never happens like that in the movies," she shrugged. "Except for Parenthood. Rick Moranis hit a . . . stop sign or a guardrail or some other immovable object."

Daniel sighed, slumping down in his seat, wiping his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Well, don't ever do that again, okay." He took a few more deep breaths, trying to rid himself of the adrenalin rush from the averted car crash and the euphoric high from his recent climax.

"Sorry," she said. "When something . . . moves me, I have to do something about it."

"Moves you," he repeated.

"You know . . ." she scrunched up her face, making elliptical gestures with her hands. "Feelings . . . stirrings . . . When something gets to you, grabs hold of you and won't let go. Like an emotional whirlwind that has to end with an explosion!" She jumped up, hitting her head on the roof of his car. "Owww. . ."

Daniel shook his head. "Mecca . . ."

"Well, when something intangible grabs hold of me, I have to grab hold of something tangible . . . like your leg," she smiled overly bright. "Or other things in the immediate vicinity."

He fought off the urge to laugh, but failed.

"And once I get started, stopping isn't really an option."

He shook his head again, covering his mouth, containing his chuckles. "Dammit, Mecca . . . what the hell are you doing to me?"

She shrugged. "Something good, I hope."

He reached over and grabbed the hand in her lap.

She laughed, squeezing his hand in reply. "You love me."

He allowed himself to indulge in the innocent, yet inherently intimate contact a minute longer, then snatched his hand away. "Fuck you, bitch."

"You don't mean that," she smiled.

He put one hand on the wheel, the other on the ignition key. "You'll see what I mean when we get to where we're going."

"Is that right?" she taunted.

He gave a resolute nod, then gave the key a turn. But before he could complete the motion, starting the car, her left hand was around his wrist and both of her legs had managed to find their way on either side of his hips. Not only was she fast; she was flexible.

Her lips crashed down on his, and he tasted himself on her as her tongue breeched his stronghold, encasing itself in the warmth of his mouth. She rocked her hips against his as her fingers wrapped themselves in the loose curls at the nape of his neck, bringing them closer together, molding her form further into his. He snaked his arms around her supple frame, crossing his wrists behind her, using his right hand to massage her left shoulder, and his left to tend to the right. She moaned into his mouth, her back arching of its own accord, her clothed core grinding into his quickly-hardening cock.

"It's been too long," she whispered between heated kisses coupled with lingering caresses.

And it had been. Over the past three weeks, between her job, his shop, his dad, her sisters and their friends, they hadn't had three minutes alone together.

"I know, but you have to stop. We're right along the highway, and anyone could just come along."

"Bathroom break," she said, her lips breaking contact with his to travel along his chin, cheeks and then forehead.

"What?"

She turned her face away from him, directing his attention to the guardrail that separated the shoulder of the road from the wooded lands beyond.

"You can't be serious," he said.

"You don't wanna be seen, and I can't wait till we get to Park-Whatever-It's-Called. There's plenty of cover, but we're not gonna go so far away that if somebody wants to try something with your car, we'll be right there."

"And if it's a cop that stops?" he asked.

Mecca laughed. "What was it you said about cold-cocking a park ranger and drowning him in the river?"

Daniel laughed.

"I'm sure it would work equally as well on a cop . . . not that we'd be doing anything illegal like fishing without a license."

She ran the tip of her tongue along the outer shell of his left ear and, suddenly, he couldn't think of a single reason not to jump the guardrail and have a quick fuck in the forest before they reached their actual destination.

He unlocked the door, allowed Mecca to slide out over him and then joined her on the side of the road. He swung the door shut, hit the keyless remote lock, set the alarm, then proceeded to follow her off the marked road way. As she was about to straddle the rail, she glanced over her shoulder, causing him to follow suit.

"Car's coming," she said, schooling her face into a neutral expression.

They both turned towards the maroon-colored sedan as it pulled up behind his black Maxima. There was a young blond girl in the driver's seat, and an older grandfatherly-type on the passenger's side. They both listened as the automatic window rolled down and watched as the blond stuck her head out of the newly-made opening.

"You folks okay?" the woman yelled over the noise of passing cars on the other side of the highway.

"We're fine," Daniel called back, carefully shielding Mecca from their prying eyes. "She just couldn't hold it any longer."

Mecca gave him a sharp jab in his kidney, forcing him to wince and buckle in on his right side.

The woman stared a moment longer, then nodded and smiled. "I see," she said. "The next rest stop ain't for about 50 miles."

"Yeah," he nodded. "We've been paying attention to the signs . . . or at least trying to."

"Well, if your car's fine, and ya'll don't need anything . . ."

"We're fine," Mecca replied.

Daniel glanced over his shoulder at her to see if she was actually annoyed as she sounded. She responded by slipping her hand down the back of his nylon pants and firmly squeezing his rear. He gave a low groan then quickly turned his attention back to the interlopers. "We're fine," he repeated. "Thanks for stopping, though. Not too many people would do that these days."

"Sure." She gave them a departing a wave, then turned back onto the highway.

After they'd departed, he released the breath he'd been holding.

"Didja think she was cute?" her hand still possessed his right ass cheek.

"What?"

"C'mon," she teased, "she kinda looked like . . . what's-her-name? Like a younger, really thin Reese Witherspoon."

"Whatever."

"Kinda like she was in Election, but with longer hair."

"Mecca . . ."

"You wouldn't have hit that?"

"No."

"Even if she asked you to?" she smiled, batting her eyelashes overly-dramatically.

He leaned back into her caress, enjoying the feel of her soft palm against his cotton-covered, ever-warming flesh. "Tracy Flick can kiss my pasty, white ass."

Mecca huffed. "Not as long as I'm around." She threw her other leg over the guardrail, then began sidestepping down the slight grade of the apparent grassy hill beneath them. "C'mon. Before another car comes."

He crossed the barrier, carefully descending down the sloped ground, skillfully maintaining his footing despite the semi-rocky terrain and quickly shifting loose piles of dirt and grass. Though Mecca was just ahead of him, and she never left his line of site, he couldn't help but feel just a little bit lost and disoriented. Yes, he was a country boy, and, yes, there was a wooded area just outside his childhood home that he, his brother, his sisters and his cousins used to play in for hours on end . . . But he was younger, then. Smaller, then. More nimble, easily able to adapt to quickly changing conditions. He thought nothing of slipping or falling or breaking a bone in those days. He was young, he was invincible, and he was fearless.

He never thought of losing anything he cared about; everything (whether broken or misplaced) was always easily replaced. He never worried about death or dying or getting older; he was barely old enough to understand the concept, yet alone comprehend their ramifications. And he had no concerns over food or money or shelter; being a child, everything was free for him. If he wanted something, he asked for it and received immediate gratification. And on the rare occasions his parents or one of his siblings told him "no," he simply waited till they weren't around and no one could see what he did or didn't do, what he did and didn't have or where he did or didn't go.

Though he'd made many mistakes that had landed him in an infinite amount trouble, he'd enjoyed his youth and all the mischief-making it had entailed.

But now . . .

"C'mon, old man," Mecca laughed. "You don't wear sneakers on a hiking trip." Her movements were born of effortlessness, of ease, of familiarity. His were forced, overly thought out and sometimes ill-conceived.

He ducked beneath branches, dodged patches of what appeared to be Poison Ivy and avoided snagging his pants in an inconspicuously placed brier patch. 'This better be worth it,' he idly cursed, becoming slightly winded by the effort it took to remain upright in such a stilted environment.

Fifteen feet later, the land leveled out and they found themselves completely shrouded by trees. Though they knew it was daylight, just past noon by his calculations, it was dark, damp and refreshingly cool. Dappled rays of sunlight broke through the undulating leaves above, the light rustling filling the quiet corner they'd found. Though the effect was 100% natural, he couldn't help feeling that he'd entered some type of time warp, and instead of being 15 feet below a national highway, he was at prom in high school at the resort hotel just outside of town. Somehow he'd managed to miss the entire event except for this moment: the last dance. All the lights were off, and it was completely quiet as the band was gearing up for its final song. As the beginning chords were played, a single spotlight came on, its wide beam ingeniously directed at a mirror ball, providing multi-faceted prisms of illumination that danced and swirled around the room as a bunch of hormone-crazed teenagers rushed to find that one dance partner they were supposedly going to remember for the rest of their lives.

"Not bad, huh?"

Except they were beside a highway.

He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets, staring at the overhead canopy of trees. "Did you ever go to the prom?"

Mecca nodded. "I went with your cousin, Melanie. It turned out . . . uh, the guy she wanted to go with, wanted to go with me, so . . . instead of being a tremendous, disloyal bitch, I went with her instead of him."

"Who was it?"

She was slow to reply.

"Mecca . . ."

"Well, it's kind of embarrassing."

"I assume I know him, then."

She nodded. "You know him. Quite well, actually. At least I think you did back then."

He attempted to recall all of his friends past and present that might have had some . . . unexpressed interest in Mecca.

The only one that repeatedly came to mind was . . . "It's not Jamie, is it?"

"Actually . . . yeah, it was."

"That sly dog," he laughed. "You didn't ask him to ask her instead?"

She shrugged. "Well, one of our other friends had already asked him to ask her, but he said he didn't like her that way and didn't wanna lead her on."

He couldn't help but notice the hint of sadness in her voice.

"I always end up in these weird triangles, you know. I either like a guy who likes another girl. Or a guy likes me, but my friend likes him, and I'm just . . . all sorts of sad because I don't wanna disappoint him, but I don't wanna make her mad. And then," she sighed, "there's the altogether awkward occasions when you end up with one of your friend's exes."

"Sloppy seconds," Daniel laughed.

Mecca forced a smile. "I, uh . . . I loved him so much I would've taken him any way I could've had him. She may have had him first, but she didn't treat him right, and I can't stand that. If there is anything that will take me from zero to pissed in under 60 seconds, it's a good guy being dicked over by some nasty whore."

Daniel stared at her, just barely able to make out her features in shifting light.

"Not that my girl was a 'nasty whore,' but . . . they broke up because she fucked another guy in the bathroom at work."

"What?" he half-laughed, half-choked.

"And she told him about it like it wasn't supposed to be a big deal, but I knew it was gonna get really fucked up. I mean, he was head-over-heels for her, and she just . . . didn't get it, I guess. And I . . ." She let her sentence trail off, her eyes falling to the moss-covered ground. "It's not like I . . . caught him on the rebound or anything. I waited so long for them to get their shit sorted out, and he was telling me all this shit, and I just wanted to choke her and be like, 'Do you know what you did, you cock-sucking, double-dealing, shit-faced whore!'"

He felt himself recoil inwardly, not altogether shocked but somewhat dismayed. He could hear her breathing, a rapid then ever-slowing succession of inhales and exhales, attempting to calm her racing pulse. He could see her struggling to force down the foul things threatening to spew forth from her mouth, the tension in her jaw, the rigidity of her frame, the clenching and releasing of fists. And most noticeably, he could feel the weight of the heft of her sorrow, taste the heat of her red, hot anger, and smell the acrid odors of decaying leaves and dewy moss as they wrapped themselves around her, mixing, yet not diluting her own scents of fresh linen and vanilla.