Wind Beneath Her Wings

Now I was the one about to burst into tears.

"Can I keep this?" She asked humbly.

"Of course." I told her. "Here, let me take it out for you."

Danica handed the pad back to me and I carefully tore out the sketch and handed it to her. She had no sooner taken it from my hand when her arms went around me and we shared our first hug. What a world! And just so you know, Danica Patrick gives wonderful, warm hugs.

For the remainder of that week, Danica and I were virtually inseparable. At least we were when her free time between practicing, meetings, interviews, photo opts, schmoozing and qualifying permitted. We ate lunch together every day, dinner together every night and then just hung out together after hours.

Danica Patrick qualified for her third Indy 500 the following Saturday afternoon. We had dinner together that night and then an early breakfast together on Sunday morning before we said goodbye, shared another warm hug and I headed back to Detroit. Though I was born in Indianapolis, I had gone to college in Michigan, so that's why I now lived in Detroit. And no sooner did I walk in the door to my apartment that afternoon, did I discover a message from Danica on my answering machine. I called her back, she answered on the second ring and we ended up talking for nearly three hours. In the end she begged me to come back down to Indy for the race as her personal guest. How was I supposed to say no to that? So I went; and so it went.

Over the next few months, Danica Patrick and I became dear friends. Though she was on the road almost constantly, we text messaged each other endlessly and talked on the phone even more. Danica was always begging me to come to her races, but I kept reminding her that I did have a full time job; but I was able to attend a few and she fully funded my travel and accommodations and always made sure I was treated like royalty. And of course when the IRL came to Michigan for both the Firestone 400 at the Michigan International Speedway and the Detroit Indy Grand Prix at the Raceway of Belle Isle, Danica literally kidnapped me and had me glued to her side both weekends.

It became very clear the more I was around Danica and observing the world she lived in that she, regrettably, had very few real friends. Although she was surrounded by people almost constantly and had people very close to her, Danica confided to me that it was very difficult for her to know who she could really trust. I guess I'd never given it much thought, but when you are in a position like Danica's, you can never truly know what the intentions of the people around you really are; even members of your own family. You can't help but second guess them and have your mind continuously asking the questions: What do they want from me? Are they close to me because I'm just me or because it's who I am? Do they want to be around me because they love me or because of what they think I can do for them? If it wasn't for the fame and fortune, would these people even be around me? Or want anything to do with me? Is it all just about the money?

Confiding this all to me one evening over pizza and a bottle of cheap red wine in the living room of my apartment, my heart broke as I studied Danica's beautiful little face and I saw for the first time, the deep and underlying sadness of a very isolated and lonely human being. I had never really considered it before, but it suddenly dawned on me that probably the loneliest, isolated and emotionally vulnerable people in the world are some of our most popular movie stars, TV stars, singers and star athletes. And at that moment, the young woman sitting next to me on my scruffy old living room carpet wearing raggedy cutoff jean shorts, a faded Chicago Bears T-shirt and a pair of flip-flops while stuffing a thick, greasy slice of pizza into her mouth as we watched Harrison Ford and Sean Connery search for the Holy Grail on TV was probably the most famous woman in professional sports anywhere in the free world.

Danica Patrick was on the cover of practically every sports magazine in the world and every man's magazine in the country. Then there were the constant public and personal appearances, the charity events, promotional events, media interviews, talk show tapings, commercial shoots and sponsor endorsments. Danica, who was just twenty-five at that time, probably had more money than she could ever spend in a lifetime and she could easily have anything or anyone she wanted. And here she sat! Danica Patrick was sitting in my dingy little one bedroom apartment in the suburbs of Detroit, eating pizza, guzzling cheap wine and was perfectly content and entirely at peace. That number two smile said it all as she stretched that gorgeous little body out on the floor, leaned back against my sofa and rested her head on my shoulder.

Danica and I had bonded in a very special way. She trusted me as she had never trusted anyone; for the simple reason that I wanted absolutely nothing from her except for her to just be her. To be the plain, ordinary American girl from Roscoe, Illinois. To be my friend and allow me to be hers; and I'm here to tell you that Danica Patrick is a wonderful friend!! I know that she comes off sometimes as a cocky, cold and cruel little bitch with an ego the size of Alaska and an arrogance the size of Texas, who appears to care for nothing or nobody but herself and winning races; but all of that is just skin deep. Danica Patrick is a warm, kind and gentle human being with a deep and sweet soul, and an enormous heart; a heart full of angelic sweetness, divine tenderness, endless compassion and unconditional love.

But as I'm sure you have deduced by now, my heart carries a secret weight in the form of heavy guilt; for my love for Danica is far more than just a friend loving a friend. And I do want something from her - I want her heart, mind, body and soul to be mine, and only mine for the rest of our lives.

~~~

Standing on the Beach of Singer Island, Florida on that balmy November afternoon in 2007, Danica had just leapt into my arms and was now squeezing the life out of me. I think she often forgets just how strong she is. But at the moment, I didn't care. It had been nearly two and a half months since I had last seen Danica and I had missed her. But as I held her now, it dawned on me that though we'd shared many a hug, we'd never shared one where so much of Danica was on display. My hands had virtually unlimited access to so much of her silky soft skin; not to mention the raw power and buxom youthfulness of her lean and toned little body. Her skin was also slick and glistening with a coconut scented sun tan lotion and her hair emanated a delectably sweet floral aroma.

Danica at last relented from her embrace and those captivating eyes where soon staring directly into mine; and that number two smile was turning my legs to jelly, my tummy to mush and my heart to a puddle.

"God, I'm so glad you could come, J-C." Danica told me.

"I wouldn't have missed this for the world, D-P." I replied.

The smile on her face grew and my heart nearly burst out of my chest when Danica suddenly planted a quick peck kiss on my lips and embraced me again.

"I've missed you so much." She told me.

Holding her close once again, my body was soon tingling from head to toe as it flooded with a deep, lustful heat. My stomach tied itself in knots, my heart raced and my pussy began to ache with a kind of desire it had never known. I could sense my hands were beginning to develop a will of their own as they reveled in the taut and buxom flesh of Danica's incredible body.

Just then, Marilyn materialized beside us and informed Danica that the photographers were ready to begin. I was never in my life so grateful to be interrupted for my hands had been slipping dangerously southward along the sexy curve of Danica's back. Danica whispered quickly for me to enjoy myself and if I felt the inspiration, to please make some sketches. Like she really had to tell me that.

That afternoon soon became one of the most erotic of my entire life. For a woman who is so used to being in control, Danica took direction remarkably well and moved from pose to pose as if she was a natural born model. God knows she should be. We traded smiles and played eye tag all throughout the shoot and I was whipping out sketch after sketch almost as quickly as the photographers were snapping shots. Though she never remained in a pose long enough for an actual drawn portrait, my mind was so completely possessed with intense eroticism and carnal lust that my memory turned instantly photographic and moved quicker than a digital camera. My drawing pad was literally smoking as I worked.

Daylight finally deserted us and the shoot was wrapped for the day. I had just barely finished packing up my pad and pencils when Danica, now donning a short white robe, snatched me by the hand, yanked me to my feet and we trotted gleefully back to the golf cart where Marilyn and the driver were waiting. Danica was giddy; bubbling with pure delight. Piling into the back of the cart and squeezing together on the seat, we were soon scooting across the sand back toward our hotel.

"Okay, let me see." Danica said, holding out her hand toward my bag.

I pulled out my drawing pad and she snatched it like a child grabbing their first present from under the Christmas tree. As she had the first day we met, Danica flipped slowly through my sketches, studying each one carefully. I didn't look at her. Folding my hands in my lap, I focused my attention toward the sunset and the kaleidoscope of breathtaking shades of soft orange, royal blue and purple as the day surrendered to night. Finally, I heard my pad close and an instant later, I felt Danica seize my hand and squeeze it tightly; almost too tightly, as if she were clutching the steering wheel of her race car. Danica often forgets her own strength, but I very seldom complain when I experience it; it is intensely erotic and incredibly stimulating to me. Feeling her powerful grip, I turned to find smile number two glowing like the rising full moon directly into my soul and those beautiful doe eyes glistening softly with pools of tears in the fading daylight. Neither one of us spoke. There was no need. We just held hands and Danica laid her head on my shoulder.

By the time we got to our suites, the mood had lightened and Danica took me on the tour of the presidential suite. I soon found myself even more overwhelmed than when I first laid eyes on my own suite. Once the tour was complete, Danica suggested that we both shower, change and then go to dinner. An hour later, I was showered up, made up and donning a low cut lavender tank top, pair of white khaki shorts and sandals. Danica had said to dress very casual, so I even opted to go without a bra; my tank top was tight enough.

Another hour passed and I began to get a bit concerned; Danica had still not called or come to my suite. Maybe she had been called away at the last moment for some promotional event having to do with the photo shoot. When you're Danica Patrick, anything can happen at any moment. After another thirty minutes, I was actually worried; she would have called at least. Something was wrong. I switched off the TV and knocked softly on the connecting door that was still ajar. Calling out her name softly, I gently pushed open the door and entered Danica's suite. Practically tiptoeing through the foyer and into the living room, I was about to call out to her again when I spotted her. With her long dark hair still damp from her shower, Danica was sound asleep on the sofa, curled up in an adorable little ball. She wore nothing but a turquoise T-shirt that was too small even for her that just barely covered her perky little breasts. She also wore a rather provocative pair of very thin and lacey black panties.

I had never seen anything more precious in my life. She looked so innocent; almost like a kitten, and over her features was a look of unspeakable peace and serenity. She made no sound except for soft and slumberous breaths and I could tell she was out cold. Feeling suddenly compelled to stand guard over her; I took the suite's phone off the hook, shut off her cell phone and placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the door. With the excruciating pace of life and schedule she keeps, Danica needed all the sleep she could get and I was not going to allow anyone to disturb her now. Plus, this would allow me a wonderful opportunity to capture Danica in the purest and most beautiful form; it also would afford me one of the most intimate and erotic delights a person can have - watching the man or woman they love sleep. Slipping off my sandals, I hurried quietly back to my suite, retrieved my pad and pencil and then set myself up in the chair directly across from the sofa where Danica was sleeping.

Danica slept for nearly three hours and never once so much as even stirred; the poor baby was that exhausted. Her long slumber allowed me ample time to really create a masterpiece that I was even able to enhance with color and texture. As always, I completely lost myself in my drawing and didn't even realize that Danica had awoken until:

"Is it okay if I move now? I think my arm's asleep." Danica mewed.

I looked up with bulging eyes to find her in the same position; only now her eyes were open and she was smiling gorgeous number two at me.

"Yeah, I just finished. Did you sleep well? Sure looked like it."

"Yeah, I did. God, how long have I been out?"

"At least four hours; maybe even five."

"Four or five hours? What time is it?"

"Just after eleven."

"Guess we missed dinner, didn't we? I'm sorry."

"No problem. You needed your sleep. Besides, we could still order in if you want."

Danica sat up slowly, yawned and stretched then began rubbing and massaging her arm as we sat in silence. Finally:

"Well?" She said.

"What?" I replied.

"Gimme." She whipped and held out her hand.

I stood and handed my pad to her over the coffee table in front of the sofa. Danica took the pad and studied the drawing for much longer than she had ever looked at any of my others. She spoke not a word, nor did she show the slightest hint of emotion; or any reaction of any kind. Finally she laid my drawing pad on the coffee table in front of her and folded her hands in her lap with her head facing the floor. Time seemed to stand still and the silence soon became unbearable for me; my heart was frozen and I soon discovered that I was holding my breath as I stared anxiously at Danica.

"You know, I never believed that this would happen to me." Danica finally uttered; still looking at the floor.

"That what would happen to you?" I asked; my heart suddenly pounding.

Danica slowly lifted her head and the look on her face nearly broke my heart. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, tears were racing down her quivering cheeks and she was frantically biting her lips as her hands trembled almost uncontrollably.

"That somebody would love me as much as you do." She told me.

"Sweetheart, lots of people love you." I replied.

"But not like you do." Danica whispered and then held up my latest drawing of her. "Look at this. You see me in a way that nobody else ever has; a way that nobody else ever will. You can see right into my soul. You know me; you feel me. And for you to be able to do this; you're a part of me."

By now my eyes were spilling over with tears, my heart was about to break my ribs and my lungs were searing with agony; as though I'd just run the Indy 500 on foot.

"I'm sorry, Danica. I should have told you."

With that, I hunched forward, rested my arms on my knees, buried my face in my hands and sobbed. A few seconds passed and I soon felt a small hand gently stroking my hair. I lifted my weary head to find Danica standing directly in front of me; and while her eyes were still welled with tears, she was also beaming her beautiful smile down at me.

"Jessica, you've told me you loved me with every drawing you've ever made of me. You have nothing to be sorry about. I'm the one who should be sorry." Danica said softly.

"Why should you be sorry?" I babbled.

Danica slowly lowered herself into the chair I was sitting in, straddled my lap and slid her arms around my shoulders. I fell back gently into the chair, let my hands slide cautiously around her waist and gazed almost helplessly up at her.

"For never telling you that I love you too." Danica whispered.

"Danica, I..." I began, but Danica cut me off by gently placing two of her fingers on my lips.

"Shhh...Don't say anymore, Jess. Words are only gonna screw this up."

With that, Danica softly caressed my cheek as she smiled at me. Pushing herself up off my lap and on to her feet in front of the chair, Danica took me by the hand, help me up out of the chair and led me down the hallway to the bedroom suite. Stopping briefly in the doorway to dim the lights, she then led me over to the king size bed. Sliding sensually and sexily onto the soft comforter atop the mattress, Danica stretched out on her side and pulled me gently down on my side next to her; our faces were just centimeters apart. Letting our bare legs entwine, I slid my arm over Danica's waist as she softly caressed my cheek with the tips of her fingers. She was clearly nervous and her little body was trembling; it was cutier than a puppy's ear.

Danica's chest was heaving feverously and I could almost literally see her little heart just a pounding away. But then again, the same was true for me at that moment as well. Going to bed with a new lover for the first time is one of the most exciting and erotic experiences in life! It is also one of the most tedious and nerve racking events too; for the simple fact that you both want desperately to perform well and provide exquisite pleasure. Bottom line: sex with someone for the first time is extremely stressful and intimidating; especially if your new lover is arguably the sexiest and most famous woman in the world of professional sports.

Danica and I gazed longingly into each other's eyes as we snuggled intimately together and we let our hands and fingertips gently caress and explore each other's body. Then, at long last, as if in a dream, our lips came together in a slow and sweat lover's kiss. There was no aggression or urgency in it at all; our mouths did not sear together nor did our tongues wrestled for dominance. No, our lips just brushed and grazed ever so softly over and against each other; sampling the sweet flavor and divine tenderness of another woman's kiss.

Danica now slid her arm around my waist and I felt her pulling me closer to her. I let my hand slide up her lean body, through her silky hair and finally coming to rest on her cheek. Still just letting our lips brush softly over each other, I let my hand glide up from Danica's cheek and began stroking my fingers through all that gorgeous dark hair, combing and cradling it gently behind her ear. Finally we pulled back from our soft kissing and again gazed deeply at each other. Our bodies were cuddled up against each other and our bare legs were still entwined. I felt Danica slide her hand up my back, over the fabric of my lavender top and immerse itself in my long and wavy locks of sandy blond. I could still sense Danica's anxiety and feel her body trembling.

"You okay?" I whispered.

"Yeah." She whispered back and smiled.

"We can go as slow as you want." I told her.

"Slow is good." Danica whispered and I eyed her incredulously. "Sometimes!" She said and we both giggled. Her hand slowly slid out of my hair and around to my cheek. "God, you're so beautiful Jessica."

"So are you." I told her.

Still wearing that gorgeous number two smile, Danica leaned in to me slowly and brushed her lips over mine as she let her hand glide back down my body to my waist and snuggled me firmly up against her. As I reciprocated by sliding my arm around her torso, Danica suddenly shifted; using the weight of her body, she slowly rolled me off my side and down flat on my back as her lips still nuzzled and suckled mine. Putting up no resistance, I eased onto my back on the soft mattress, opening my legs wide so that Danica could slip in between them, which she did, and then let her body come to rest directly atop me.