Fifteen Hours

Warning - If you're looking for willing cuckolds, consensual swinging, wife-sharing or a lot of detailed sex scenes, you're wasting your time with this story. Like with my other stories.

Thanks to SexyGeek for editing help. Any errors still present are probably mine because I've fumbled around with it afterwards.

*

Boring. The highway is just so mind-blowingly boring. The miles stretch endlessly on my trip to Florida. Boring. It's still early in the morning and I'm already bored to death. The day doesn't look promising at all. I could entertain myself by annoying one of my friends with a long phone call. But as I rarely drive long distances and the X5 is quite new, I haven't yet bothered to purchase a snap-in charger for my phone. And I've forgotten to bring the USB charging cable. So I have no way to recharge my phone's dead battery. Without my phone I can't even access my music collection. Which makes everything even more boring. To the right I see a boring small Louisiana town. On my left side, a boring dark sedan is overtaking me. My boring tank is still half full. No reason to stop and interrupt my misery of total boredom. Why in god's name haven't I taken the plane? In hindsight, this idea to finally run in the new car was ridiculous.

On my right I admire a small group of cows. One is brown, all the others are black. Truly amazing. At least amazing enough to make them the main visual attraction around here. In my mind's eye I see locals gathering around this spectacle every day, watching the cows in awe. On my left I see... the nozzle of a gun pointed at my head. Instinctively I immediately fully slam the brakes. I barely realize that my side window shatters. I look to my right and see a highway exit through the other shattered side window.

Still fully on the brakes, I yank the car into the exit. I barely miss it. The pedal is on the metal again even while I'm still plowing through a stretch of grass before reaching tarmac again. I look into my rear mirror quickly. Nobody to be seen, just an empty and innocent looking highway exit. I realize that I'm surprisingly calm. Shouldn't I be more upset? Would shaking like a leaf be more appropriate? At least a tinge of panic maybe? Hell, I've never been in this situation and I just don't know how I'm expected to react. Surviving is quite high on my list though, that much is clear.

Who might want to kill me? I think I'm the classical nice guy. I've never fucked someone else's wife - at least not as far as I know. My criminal career is limited to a stolen apple at the age of eight. And I somehow doubt that Mr. Thompson - the fruit dealer - has finally found out and is upset enough for such drastic measures. Is this maybe just a coincidence and no one will follow me? Some kind of spontaneous Louisiana greeting ritual? Oh, shit, no such luck, I see a dark sedan speeding down the exit behind me.

Of course, I press everything out of my car that it's got. Which is a lot, as I had impulsively opted for the bigger kind of engine-thing. I have no idea about such stuff and hadn't really understood the difference at the time. Eight cylinders somehow sounded better than six, so that's what I had bought. All I know is that my car feels seriously fast right now. But surprisingly, my pursuers manage to keep up. Suddenly a shot smashes the front window. Shit. Of course, I duck my head, hating me while I do it. Because it's silly, it's too late anyway.

My still quite un-shot right rear view mirror tells me two things, both of which add to an already shitty day. First, there is a large lump of bird-shit on the mirror frame. Damn, this car is almost brand new. But I at least thank the obviously quite big bird for omitting to target my now non-existent windshield. Second - there's a guy leaning out of the side window of that damn sedan, pointing a gun in my general direction. I'm not sure if he's aware that he looks absolutely ridiculous, like in a cheap 60s gangster movie. I'm a little disappointed that he's left out some kind of Humphrey Bogart hat. If I'm about to be shot, it should happen with style.

I see a small humpy country lane to the right and decide to use every advantage I might have against them. I have an SUV and they don't. So I turn onto it, braking late and hard. And I immediately accelerate down this small track, almost pushing the pedal through the floor. I don't even know where exactly I am. Probably somewhere in Louisiana still.

Driving at more than 100 mph down a small, holey track is a challenge and I have my hands full with keeping the car on it. I hope that the massive dust plume I'm producing might help me. My location is painfully obvious this way, but I don't envy them for racing down this stretch of dirt at this speed in a dust plume. It's difficult enough without it.

Suddenly the steering jerks and the tire pressure warning goes off. Shit, they've probably hit a tire with a round. The car remains surprisingly stable but I decide I have to leave it nonetheless. I haven't managed to shake them with four good tires, so I certainly won't manage to do it with three. I slam the brakes, get out of the car and run. I just run. There are some trees around me, but not enough to really hide me. I don't look back. I barely look where I'm running. I just run like hell.

The bark of a tree on me right explodes into a cloud of splinters but I don't care in the least. I run for my very life. I don't even know how many of them are chasing me. One or two, maybe? Two, probably. That's what they always show in the movies. No, the cops come in twos. The killers are always alone. Does it matter? No. But a surprisingly lot of stuff goes through my mind during these supposedly last seconds of a life I've thoroughly enjoyed so far. Well, it's been good. That's the phrase that probably describes everything best. Always stick to the classics if in doubt. And it's sad that this good life has to come to such a sudden end at the ripe age of 29.

The thing is - oops, I have to watch this root - I've kind of won the big lottery of life. Although it might not look like that today. Caution, mud puddle, jump over it. I'm quite good looking. I personally don't think so as I generally don't appreciate the looks of men, including myself. But the part of the female population that fancies me has assured me so. And I don't care much about the opinion of the other part.

A fork in the path. Okay, the left one. Why not? I don't know where I am anyway. It's not important where I run to. It's important to keep doing it. And I do this whole running thing more out of habit to prolong my life as much as possible than out of hope that it might save me somehow. The battery of my mobile phone is dead. The number of cops in sight is - wait, I have to count - zero. Which, by coincidence, matches the total number of people in sight. I'm unarmed, not trained in any kind of martial arts, I've never been near a marine, a green beret, a navy SEAL or anything like it. I'm more some kind of peaceful, non-confrontational guy. Oops, I better run on that grass, the path seems dangerously muddy and slippery. So, I'm toast. I'm chased by a professional killer. And I'm just an unarmed, unskilled guy spoiled by a sheltered life. My only fight was with Timmy Burns at the age of eleven. And I've lost it. So they would probably kill me even if they went out of ammunition.

Spoiled? Definitely. Rich from the moment I had joined humanity. Heir of old money. Intelligent enough to finish an ivy league college without ever having the intention to actually work as a lawyer. Living a life of luxury, busy with meaningless stuff, never contributing anything to humankind. Apart from just being there. Blocking resources that would have better been invested in more ambitioned people. That's what it boils down to, old guy. You're just superfluous. No kids, no responsibility for anything. You're a money-losing business for humanity. I've never seen this, somehow. I was just too busy being me. Driving around in fancy cars, chasing pretty women, living in nice houses, traveling. But now, running down a muddy path somewhere in the South, it seems quite obvious. It strongly looks like mankind will manage to survive without my presence. No one will give a shit, to be more precise. The insight is quite disillusioning. And it seems a little late to change my life now.

But one thing might be to my advantage. I've always been good at sports and I've been running a lot. I think I've maintained a good pace so far. I can't hear anybody behind me any more and even the shots have stopped. Okay, I'll take the left path again. So I might have been able to put a little distance between me and the killer. Or the group of killers. As far as I know, there might be as many as twenty guys chasing me. I have to chuckle as I envision a group of black-clad guys with sunglasses stumbling down this damn path. But seriously, not more than five self-respecting killers would have entered that shitty sedan.

It is at least consoling that I won't die as clueless as I have lived. By now I have a strong idea who might want to see me dead and why. Being in this somewhat inconvenient situation is partly my own fault.

The path leads me around a bend and suddenly I'm in some kind of clearing. It looks like a trailer park. About fifteen trailers seem to be scattered across the clearing in what looks like a totally random pattern. Not two of them seem to be aligned parallel to each other. The positions are equally haphazard. They look like some toys, dropped here by an enormous child. Everything seems to be silent, not a single human being is in sight. Most of the trailers sport some weird decoration. Chains of lights, colored lamps, everything that might give the place a gaudy and cheap look is present. In it's own tastelessness, the place is very consistent.

Well, I can't be picky, can I? I rush to the nearest one of the luxurious residences, omitting the one with the "Jesus loves you" sticker, which seems somehow inappropriate, given the circumstances. I frantically pound on the door of my chosen potential refuge.

"I'm off service. You see, my light is off," I am informed by a bored female voice from inside. My God, what is this, some kind of forest brothel? I'm running for my dear life here. But I'm glad that someone is home and is willing to at least talk to me. Even if it is through a closed door.

"Please open up! It's important. It's a matter of life or death. You have to help me!"

The door is opened surprisingly quickly and I'm being pulled inside. It's quite dark in here and as soon as my eyes have gotten accustomed to the surroundings, I perceive a blond women in front of me. Her face is not pretty. It's spectacularly beautiful. She has the sharply chiseled features of a classical beauty. What is she doing here? This seems wrong. I have no idea why, but somehow I feel that someone as beautiful as her should not live in an old trailer in a remote wood in the South, working as a prostitute. This is not how things should be, according to Josh's rules of life.

She's about a head smaller than me and looks at me expectantly with her fists in her waist. Her make-up is exaggerated and tasteless, but maybe this is what's in demand around here. Given some attention to her styling and clothes, she would be a raving beauty. I hardly notice that the trailer seems to be packed with books, which surprises my a little.

"So?"

"Sorry to disturb you, mam. But someone is following me and to be brutally honest, is trying to kill me. I'm Josh, by the way." I extend my hand in the hope of breaking some ice here. I hope she will take it. I desperately need her as my ally.

She carefully studies my hand before slowly reaching out and taking it. "Hi Josh. I'm Mia." She takes my hand, which I take as a good sign. "The thing is, life around here might not be ideal. But I kind of have gotten used to living. And I plan to do it for a while. I'm 26 and I think that might be a little early for my big departure. So as much as I'd like to help you, I can't see why I should endanger my life for a stranger. You see, for all that I know, you might as well be the villain in this story."

Wow, she might be a prostitute working in a rotten trailer in the middle of nowhere. But she surely isn't dumb or uneducated. Quite eloquent, actually. I like her sense of humor, even in these stressed circumstances.

"I'm not. I swear." Well, given the current situation, a little more volubility than this would be appreciated. My life might depend on it. This might be the first and only situation where my abilities as a womanizer would significantly improve something of relevance. And it seems that it's the first time that I completely fail since Peggy Andrews' bitch-slap in tenth grade.

"So give me one reason to help you."

"Imagine the alternative. You send me out there again. I will be killed for certain. And you would have to live with it." Uh, risky. I'm playing the guilt card. I don't like me for it, but I'm desperate.

"So you're betting your life on me being a woman of morals? You're talking to a whore."

I was still holding her hand, squeezing it. "Why should a whore have lower morals than anyone else? You see, I don't like to play with guilt. This is not your problem and I hate to burden you. But I've also come to like being alive. And I'm just desperate. Being killed would really put a damper on my day."

Her impressions softens and I hope that I've convinced her. Which would be a small miracle, keeping in mind how I look like. Dirty, sweaty, in torn clothes.

She heaved a long sigh. "Okay, what do you want?"

"Could you please call the police? My mobile's battery is dead."

"Sorry, we have no net here. No phones at all. This little paradise is as illegal as it can be."

"Shit. I need to survive for - let's see" I check my watch "15 hours. Until midnight. Then I'm safe."

She looks at me pensively. Then she obviously comes to a conclusion. I just hope it's the right one. The one to keep me alive. My life is in her hands.

"Follow me." She leads me to a wardrobe.

"Mia, these are really bad guys. They are sure to look in here. Please, we need to find a better hiding place."

"Trust me. We know about such stuff. We have some illegal immigrants among us." Now she opens a kind of hidden door inside the wardrobe. A small hiding place appears.

"Gosh, you're right," I say. "This might actually work."

"Get in. They are already looking for you. Two guys."

"Thanks."

"Thank me later. If I'm still alive then."

I just look at her with what I hope is a sincere and thankful expression and stow myself into the small space.

She closes the door and I'm engulfed in total darkness. My only sensations are the slightly stale scent in here, the sound of her feet shuffling around and some birds singing in the trees. And now I hear a loud banging on her door.

"Open the damn door, you fucking whore." The rhyme gives his demand some lyrical quality but the content is surprisingly rude. This is a guy that will clearly make no new friends around here. But his gun probably makes it unnecessary to be tactful anyway.

"I'm off service. Go to one of the others. It's early in the morning, I'm tired."

"I don't give a shit. I'm not here to fuck a dirty piece of shit. Open the door or I'll knock it down." I guess that the whole trailer park will be aware of what's happening by now. And this is probably not the first door they knock on. Someone here will be armed to protect the girls. But whoever it is, he or she doesn't seem to be intent to do something about it.

But these are prostitutes and the guys pursuing me are professional killers. So yes, it's probably a lot healthier not to mess with these guys. My lovely ex Sally seems to have spared no expense and has hired competent specialists.

I hear the front door being opened.

"So what do you want?"

"Looking for someone. Won't take long. Just don't get in my way."

I hear him walking around, opening and checking everything quickly. Finally he opens the wardrobe. My life as well as Mia's depends on this moment. Come to think about it, they will probably kill all inhabitants of this lovely theme park just to eliminate possible witnesses. This is sick. All these people would have to die for Sally's greed. And for my mistakes.

"Okay. If you see a man in dirty and torn clothes, let us know. We'll be around for a while."

Mia doesn't bother to respond and someone closes the front door.

"Stay in there for a while. We need to be sure," I hear her whispering. Smart girl. Beautiful, smart, witty and willing to endanger herself to help me. What exactly is she doing in this dump?

I try to remain calm and patient for a while and not to succumb to claustrophobia. I'm not tending towards it, but I have to try not to acquire it now. The place would be ideal for the task. After an eternity, light floods my small hideaway. I unfold my aching body into the real world.

"Thank you."

"It's not over yet. They're still around."

"I know." Our whole conversation is an exchange of whispers. We're both aware that they will probably be busy right now with pressing some ears to some aluminum panels.

"You owe me."

"Yes. What do you want?"

"Your story." She smiles. How can she smile in such a situation? And boy, does she have a nice smile.

"Really? That's all?"

"I haven't said that that's all. But it seems to be a proper down-payment."

"Okay." I realize that my voice is croaking a little.

"You've had a rough time, right? You stay here in the bedroom. No one can peek in here. I'll get you something to eat and drink."

I look at her incredulously. She's right. I'm desperately hungry and thirsty.

I realize that something has gone completely wrong. I've married some kind of monster while a beautiful and caring woman like Mia had to work on her back to survive. At least I suppose that she has to do this out of desperation. No other reason is thinkable for such an angel.

She returns with some cookies and a glass of water. All of it is history within seconds and Mia smiles at me benevolently.

"Okay, go ahead," she whispers.

"Well, I've led a rather easy and carefree life until today. Never been in trouble, no enemies, my life was just one pleasant journey. My problem began in college, although I didn't know at the time. I met a girl named Sally. She's very intelligent, can be very nice and funny and is rather pretty. Not as beautiful as you, but pretty enough." She smiles briefly, but tries to hide it. "I have inherited a little money from my grandpa, which enabled me to go through college without too many worries." I omit to mention that I've inherited a three-digit million sum. No need to tell her that. It had brought me enough misery with Sally. "Sally on the other hand had a scholarship because she is really bright and a very hard worker. She is driven by ambition and definitely doesn't want to live like her parents did. But despite her scholarship she had always trouble to make ends meet. So I think I was the perfect match for her. I wasn't too keen on a steady relationship but she was relentless and charmed me into it. After we had our degrees, she decided that we should marry. I had my doubts, but I was too passive and too lazy to really disagree. It would have caused to much trouble and too many arguments. So it was easier to just relent. But being a lawyer, I at least insisted on a prenup. If we broke up for whatever reason, she would get a relatively small lump sum." 100.000, to be more specific. "But she is also a lawyer and she insisted to have a clause that in case of my death during our marriage, she would inherit everything. I saw no problem in it and understood her need for some safety. My fault. Because this clause is valid regardless of the cause of my death. And it is valid up to the day the marriage is finally dissolved."