Mental Patience Ch. 02byPayDay©
Author's note: This is my story, I wrote it, stealing is lame. If you don't like it, don't read it. Thanks to all the votes, feedback (good or bad), comments, and favorites. I have decided to submit the sections of this tale one-by-one. The time between chapters will vary. There is no 'sexual intercourse' in this story, yet. Hope you enjoy:
Mental Patience, Part 2: Metaphors
Or Accidents Happen, Part 1
Chance is a strange thing; any gambler can tell you that. There are occasions where it reaches beyond all probability and luck. For instance: Winning the lottery, or catching the biggest fish in the lake with merely a stick and some shoelace. Proof positive would be the bombshell giving Elijah her phone number, because she, in all reality, should not be doing so, especially since it was his third attempt at trying to get it right.
Elijah blamed the noise of the gigantic cargo plane two-hundred-or-so yards away for his failing, not his nervousness. The mechanical beast was exactly where it was supposed to be, slowly doing maneuvers and patterns for the cheering crowd. In fact, if it was not for that plane, Elijah would not have attempted to pull the bikini top and jeans clad sexpot's phone number.
He and his grandfather, Pop, an Air Force man, had been at the air base most of the day. There are two types of air shows: Beer filled mullet fests, and the military kind. The mullets want to see excitement, or death, or near death; the people at the military air base show show up to marvel at what man can build. (ha)
The pair of fellows had stepped off the tarmac and into the shade far back from the crowd milled to the closest possible distance to the runway, shortly before the stunner began to walk their direction.
Summer was dealing it's last Ace; the day was scorching, cloudless, and the sun was high; but the brick overhang they had found was shaded: The only shade, leanable surfaces, and cooler feel, while still in a view of the field. It was amazing, and against all probability, that no one else was there.
He had seen the woman earlier, her upper body on display as she accompanied a married couple with some children in strollers, or standing behind himself and Pop during some of the smaller planes. He had seen her as they looked about at the various displays and antique aircraft. The two had passed, as Elijah tried not to stare, at least five times. Now she was alone, and her walk was a natural trap. Elijah was thanking whomever invented sunglasses for hiding his bulging eyes while she dominated his vision.
Her skin was a deep tanned olive and glistening as she leaned into the only corner of the 'L' shaped opening cut into the corner of the building. Soon after she arrived at the back of the relief; standing behind Elijah, possibly ten feet away; she was stretching forward with her hands on her shins in front of her calves. When she stretched - as Elijah saw from the front with eyes begging for a peek - her hair cascaded towards the ground and the strings of a matching bikini bottom framed in the round top of a solid heart shaped backside.
He changed his thanks to the inventor of low-rider jeans.
She caught the man looking her way with her own eyes hidden by conditioned hair; she was watching him with her own sunglasses at the end of her nose, thanks to gravity.
Busted unknowingly, but not one to stare and gawk if possible, he turned his view back to the launching plane, joining Pop's gaze which had been on the field all along. He felt her move closer, even though he was not looking; just from his glance, though, her features and being were seared into his brain; he was most stunned, that other than the sunglasses, her only other accessory was a cell phone half out of her right pocket.
The sexy woman stopped just short of the angled sunlight, peeking a triangle into the shaded area, though changed with sunglasses loosely on the end of her nose along with the button at the top of her jeans undone and folded over, though still zipped; they were riding lower, and her brightly colored bikini was now poking past the edge; it was a string bikini, lime green. This woman was fit, and she moved like a dancer, her passive energy radiating to challenge the sun.
Somehow, by chance or not, the lack of light where she had stopped made her glow slightly more on one side, and the angle from his perspective was directly in peripherals. One of her knees - the right one - stuck out and forward since the sneaker'd foot was on the wall, one of her thumbs - the left one - was hooked in her phoneless pocket, and the other hand slowly moved across her cleavage in a casual nature - using the tips of her fingers - while she watched the workhorse float to simulate a runway drop with her head turned.
Elijah was not always the idiot he appeared to be. As chance would have it, he did realize that the gorgeous and enticingly clad exotic looking woman with the brown/black hair wanted to speak to him, but as chance would have it, he was here for his grandfather. This how they bonded across generations, with their similar interest in aviation and history; they had planned this trip, quite far from their half of the state, over three months ago.
For the life of his self, Elijah could not think of a way to ask this woman out and not feel rude to his patriarch. As chance would have it, irrelevance ensued.
"You know what they call that plane?" The voice, musical and regional, had come from the hotness after the plane began a turn in the distance for another run. The sound of speech alone oozed sensuality, and both Elijah and Pop turned to look at the woman - Pop leaning forward past his larger grandson at his side - and then to each other; they were the only three people within a hundred paces.
Pop threw a small nod to his grandson. It was a silent 'go for it because she's not talking to my old ass' look. Soon after, Pop was turning back to the airfield, waiting for the plane to return from it's looping direction change.
"Uh.. Hi there. What's your name?" Elijah was trying not to gawk; his performance was sub-par, even with the sunglasses.
"Jezebel. Everyone calls me Jess." She did not move beyond her lips and the hand still skimming her cleavage, only continuing to lean, smiling slightly, knee still in the air. Her amusement was aimed at his lack of speech, and her need to initiate the conversation.
This man, whom she had seen at least three times, was the only attractive guy, on the entire airbase - all day - that did not leer at her features. He simply smiled at her and continued walking with the older gentleman, the pair strangely seeming like Mutt and Jeff from the back.
"Really?" Elijah was surprised intellectually despite the fact that she looked like a nude model without oversized attributes. She was slim, yet ample, with slow flaring hips and B's to die for.
"Really...?" She was asking his name even though it was with forked tongue, as chance would have it, he understood this game. He also had the edge to use.
"Oh, right, Elijah, people usually call me Eli..."
"Really." He let the feel of the words hang in the air. "So, what happened to your friends?"
"They left me. Had to take their kids home. I was about to leave myself, but I thought I'd watch Mary, that's her name," Jezebel nodded once towards the plane with her tongue on her top teeth and glossy lip. This was her favorite game.
"Oh.." he left the words to hang in the air, then abruptly continued. "So, Jess," he talked ever so slightly with his hands, using only his fingers for a moment, "why do they call that plane Mary?" Elijah really wanted to know why the nickname existed, especially now that she was going to speak again.
Both of his thumbs hooked in his belt, and he cocked his head to the side after he asked; all of his verbal expressions were physically accented with slight smooth movements.
He almost danced as he spoke, every visible muscle steadily flexing.
"Because, she takes it from both ends." Jezebel was smiling wide now, slightly imperfect teeth that looked perfect, but still in the same position. Pop huffed a breath at the joke; he had heard it before from a WAC in his youth; from experience, he knew his grandson would be in trouble. The large plane began to approach, again, from the opposite direction, mimicking it's previous demonstrative flight and decibel level.
"What's your phone number?" The sound of the jet overpowered his blurted and tactless response. Elijah could not help himself; he was only imagining where the two would go from here if this was the start.
"What?" The sound of the jet overpowered her response as she leaned from the waist up in his direction with a hand at her ear, ample'ing her cleavage. She could have sworn he asked for her phone number. "Who does that anymore?" she thought to herself, amused by the larger man once again.
As chance would have it, Elijah never did enjoy yelling, as he approached Jezebel, she returned to leaning on the wall; except this time she put her hands flat against it's surface at her sides, standing prone and ready with her shades still on her nose. When he was close, she tucked her hair back behind her right ear, replacing her hand on the wall after. She had on giant diamond stud earrings; he had not seen them until now; they looked real, and expensive.
Seeing the opening, lost of his self control, Elijah leaned in, a few inches away from her ear, before repeating the request and standing back. The plane had reached the end of the field, and was beginning another looped turn off in the distance.
Elijah went straight for checkmate, it was her move.
"Seriously?" Jezebel was audible now, and the look on her face only made her more beautiful and attractive; it was a cross between surprise, confusion, curiosity, and enthrallment. It was almost as if she could not believe he had the nerve, and was glad that he did. Not to mention that she just had hot breath in her ear, it smelled like mint.
"Yes ma'am," Elijah was nodding slightly and smiling, his mirror glasses mirroring hers by being on his nose. His smile made him look different, look better to her as it changed his face with an actor's skill, but the change was fleeting and gone in an instant. Jezebel would have missed it if she were not studying his eyes, looking to see the depth in his blue.
Her own eyes were black, black accented with green mystery; Elijah watched her pupils dilate for the moment he glanced directly at them. She smelled like flowers, almost too much so.
"I'd like to give you a call and take you out sometime. I really would like to talk to you for hours," he appeared to be focusing on something far away while he blatantly scanned her up and down for the first time, very slowly, but only once, and then turned to his grandfather. When he turned back to her, he kicked a thumb Pop's way, the faraway look was gone.
"This is the last plane, my grandfather and I drove together, but I'd really like to see you again, and I don't want to miss this chance. I mean, what if this is my only one?" One of Elijah's hands was on his head, elbow out, and the plane was coming back in tune with the end of his words.
Jezebel smiled at him with perfect slightly crooked teeth, eyes shimmering away; his movements and deep voice and forward attitude were drawing her in; the idea of a gentleman snake-charmer exciting her mind. Jezebel had a thing for the nice ones.
She gave Elijah the number, three times, as the plane had finished it's loop and was remaneuvering on the airfield for a landing. He called her phone in the deafening sound, and watched her answer/hang-up, just to make sure it worked. She touched 'TALK' in the instant the aircraft's wheels touched the runway's surface in an instant-only puff of smoke.
"Seey'later, stud," Jezebel spoke with a wink as she readjusted her sunglasses with a pointer, and stepped off the wall, slowly pushing on Elijah - with the same hand that fixed the glasses - in the process of stepping out of the nook. Elijah had been fidgeting with putting his phone back into his pocket while the sound of the jet was moving off into the distance in the same way the crowd was - in smooth order without fights; Elijah was seemingly unaware of her when she began to move and speak, but as off balance and unprepared as Elijah may have appeared, his body did not yield to the consistent pressure of her finger tips; Elijah froze and stared lenses-to-lenses upon her touch; Jezebel, in turn, slipped a smile across her lips as she walked closely past, surprised at his talents at the game.
His movement ceased with the energy from her hand, and began again as it moved away with the rest of her body towards the on-base housing instead of the parking lot.
Elijah moved back to the spot next to Pop. Pop appeared to be in no hurry, hands in his pants pockets, standing straight and slowly rocking on his feet. He was breathing the jet fumes in deep and having a wonderful day.
"Wow," was all Elijah could say after they walked towards the car. It was the first time he had spoken since Jezebel left a few minutes ago. He had only closed his mouth, and stopped shaking his head the moment before. It was his response to Pop's questioning nod before they had begun walking.
"Yeah, boy, and she called you stud." Pop replied laughing at his big idiot grandson.
Elijah had never used the text messaging feature of his phone. He had an unlimited amount, he just had no one to text. No one, that is, until he received the first of his life, and it was from Jezebel.
"So when were you going to call me?" the message read.
Elijah was planning to wait. He was planning to wait at least a week. He was naturally overzealous, and he had almost called her as the traffic filed out of the airbase two days ago. His common sense had stopped him, his common sense had told him to wait.
His common sense was ejected out the door as he received the text, and felt the smart tone. Elijah decided to call her shortly after, only forty-eight hours after he snagged her digits. It broke every man rule he had, and when he called, it hit voicemail.
The poor fellow was confused, well, at least until the next message appeared.
"I didn't mean right now, silly, I'm at work. Call me tomorrow and we'll make a date."
After a few minutes fumbling with technological advances that he had never used before, he managed to send an 'OK' to her phone. At least he hoped so. Elijah knew he was not the only overzealous one, and as chance would have it, his phone rang just after 2:00 AM.
"Hello?" Elijah had been sitting on his couch, reading a book and listening to albums, waiting.
"Hi Eli. Did I wake you up?" Jezebel sounded excited, full of energy, almost bubbly.
"No, not at all. I was just thinking about you." Elijah was never a big sleeper, it made him feel like he was wasting wasting time. (yup)
"Me too! That's so great. Sorry I couldn't talk earlier, rulesandall.So when do you want to get together?" To Elijah, she sounded different than at the airfield. He couldn't figure out what it was, but something was different, inhibited, hurried.
"Hmm, well I have an idea for something fun, but I'm not off until this weekend. Are you free on Saturday? Like, all day?" He had planned the perfect date for two people to get to know each other years ago; he had used this same date once before, and he enjoyed the variations that the trip could take. It was only for special people, his secret date.
"I sure am... um, but what did you have in mind?" Her excitement, even at 2:05 AM, even through the phone, felt infectious.
"It's a secret. Bring a jacket." In his mind, Elijah felt dirty for deciding to take Jezebel on the same date as he had someone else, but only for a moment. "It's her own fault, she had her chance," he thought to himself silently, not at all referencing the woman on the phone. If Jezebel was going to drive to his house, he would make it worth it.
"Oh? A secret, huh?" Jezebel knew all about secrets. "Well, how do you want to work it out?"
"Why don't you meet me at my place at 8:00 AM on Saturday, unless that's too early for you?"
"Not at all, I don't mind... um... but where do you live?"
The deal was struck and directions given, despite the massive distance and nearly two hours between them. For the life of him, Elijah could not yet clarify the idea beating at the back of his mind. It was an idea about Jezebel, the current sound of her voice, and the fact that she was finished work at around 2:00 AM.
Maybe it was just the phone. Phones mess things up irregardless. Elijah hated the phone.
"Wow, nice place." Jezebel was dressed for sex. She wore a skin tight tank - exposing her midriff and black bra straps - with the tightest slightly torn jeans in existence, and high heeled sandals. Today she had a purse, and even with three or so inches of heel, he was over a head taller. Elijah took note of her lack of a jacket or sweatshirt. Elijah hoped she had not heard him, hoping it was the fault of the phone.
"Thanks, it's ok I guess. It would be bigger and nicer, but the payment for my dream car is a bit much."
"Yeah, I saw that thing. That's the cleanest car I have ever seen. You also have the cleanest apartment of any guy in history..." Jezebel could not believe she had scored such a man. Elijah was neat, tidy, intelligent, well groomed, and had a job with his own place. He was the only man she knew, that was not in the military, to have and be such things without the creepy feel.
"Uh.. Thanks? I guess? I mean, what's the point of nice things that aren't in nice condition?" He had gone out at sunrise to make sure the car was still spotless, removing the cover ahead of time.
Jezebel didn't answer, and the question was not entirely rhetorical. She only smiled at him and continued to look around, impressed. "Your directions were spot on by the way. Usually people give terrible directions."
"Well, I didn't want to lose you- I mean, I didn't want you to get lost." Elijah almost cursed at himself for his idiot slip. This woman fuddled his brain with only her presence, challenging him to pay attention.
She heard his slip, and laughed once while looking his way, then leaned against the nearest doorway. Her laughter movements made her more exotic, generations of the beauty of mixed marriages passed down. Her eyes appeared Asian; her hair, shape, and movements Latino; her skin tone the dark olive of the Italians, or Africans.
"So... do you want some breakfast? Or do you just want to go for the surprise?" She was forcing him to speak by her pose. Elijah had never been in the presence of such a beautiful woman.
"Surprise." Jezebel's smile was from an angel working for the devil.
"Great, mind if I drive?"
"Nope, my car is full of stuff anyway. Besides, I don't think you would fit too well." Her car was a tiny, sporty, Japanese number, and as they walked to his car in the driveway, he knew she was right.
He also took note of the boxes of clothes in the back seat, if it could be called that, and the giant key scratch down the side of the car.
Conversations flowed during the drive, almost an hour from his house to the first part of their destination. The whole time he was bombarded by her heavy perfume on the air in his car, not at all agitating as it mixed with the scent of leather, and he was sure she was avoiding a specific conversation - at least one specific conversation. Jezebel was twenty-three, three years younger than he was, and she had family three states away.
"Are we going to the beach?" Jezebel was confused, she had no idea where they were or how they had gotten there, but she could see they were heading towards the water. It was also just past the summer beach season: Warm air, but cold ocean.