Miles Away

It was a windy day the kind that would have been great weather for kite flying, and Randall Taft greatly wished he was doing that very thing instead of sitting in another boring lecture. His parents had given him an ultimatum recently that he either get a full-time job or go back to school and he had chosen what he saw as the lesser of the two evils. What he wanted to be doing was playing his guitar and writing songs. He and his best friend from high school, Zach Meyer, had formed a band four years earlier called "Loose Change." It was kind of a Pop/Metal outfit with an emphasis on the catchy hooks. They had enjoyed some minor success playing local clubs and putting out an occasional song on free download websites, but things had not exactly taken off for them.

"We can see here that Steinbeck was commenting on the human condition in his work," droned the stodgy looking professor.

Randall shook himself feeling his head dropping toward his chest. This was the third time in the last hour he had nearly fallen asleep listening to the monotone voice of his teacher. He couldn't even describe the sweet relief he felt when the clock finally struck the top of the hour, and he was freed from his educational prison. The students burst from the door to the classroom and scattered like balls on a pool table hit by a perfect break moving in all directions while Randall lagged slightly behind. He could hear them talking about their weekend plans making noises about where they would go or what fun they had in store while he faced another quiet weekend alone.

When the band didn't have a gig or a rehearsal, Randall spent most of his time in his room writing and thinking up new music or practicing endlessly on his guitar. He had never been a very social kid growing up. The intricacies of dating and making small talk with women had always seemed to elude him. It wasn't that he was a bad looking kid, quite the contrary, as he had filled out after high school he had grown into a strapping young man nearly six-feet tall with long, dark hair that fell in layers over his broad shoulders. His dark green eyes were vaguely almond shaped lending him a sort of exotic look with thick eyebrows and full, generous lips like a young Rob Lowe. He would have girls come up to him sometimes after shows, but his natural shyness prevented him from having any success getting to know any of them. The few dates he tried to go out on typically went badly as he stumbled through awkward, stilted conversations.

The crowd thinned as he made his way toward the parking lot pulling his keys from the pocket of his well-worn jeans and getting into his battered Ford Mustang to drive home. The engine roared to life startling a big, fat grackle that had been perched on his hood looking as if it was preparing to shit on his paint job.

"Serves you right, asshole," commented Randall to himself as the frightened bird flew quickly into the sky leaving a burst of feathers behind.

The drive home took him past the center of town where he spied small groups of college students milling around at the various restaurants and bars. He felt a wistful longing for a moment, but it quickly passed. The social scene was one he typical viewed from the top of a stage and more often than not he was too caught up in his guitar playing to notice the people.

His parents were both at work when he arrived home, and Randall made his way to his room tossing his keys on the bed. The well-worn wood of his first acoustic guitar nestled against his stomach as he sat in the cushioned swivel chair at his desk. He strummed a few cords trying to recall the riff that had been banging around inside his head while he had been showering that morning. The chair creaked a bit as he swung around in it trying to focus his thoughts only to be distracted again when he saw the blinking icon on his computer screen.

The guys in the band were Randall's only friends and practically the only people he talked to on a regular basis with one exception. His hands danced across the keyboard with practiced ease typing out a message.

"I'm here. Just got back from class."

The words appeared at the bottom of the chat window that occupied a good bit of the screen. His username, "Guitarboy21" flashed at the top. There was a brief delay while the user on the other side of the digital connection typed a reply. Her username was "BrightSparrow," and they had met initially on a guitar enthusiasts forum about six months prior. She had been downloading some of the songs his band put out and loved his guitar playing. When she realized during their exchange of messages on the forum that he was indeed the same guitar player from Loose Change she had asked for his private instant message account so they could have easier more free-form discussions.

"How did it go?"

"Boring as usual..."

"You are meant for greater things...like being a guitar God!"

Randall laughed to himself reading her response. He and BrightSparrow had really hit it off. They had slowly evolved in their interactions over time moving from talking exclusively about music and guitars to many other subjects including politics, social issues, and whether Star Wars or Star Trek was better. The shyness that usually kept him from connecting with women seemed to melt away when he was behind the keyboard.

"What do you think of this I just got it for the beach?"

A moment after her post she followed with a picture that showed her clad in a green bikini. The top was cropped, so it didn't show her face but what it did show looked gorgeous. The woman in the photo had fair skin with curly Auburn hair that fell in gentle folds around her shoulders. She had a decent sized pair of beautiful, round breasts that pushed out the top of her bikini, and long legs that were quite muscular marking her as a runner perhaps, or a dancer.

"Looks amazing on you. You will definitely turn heads."

"You're so sweet! I think I need to lose a few more pounds before summer."

"You're nuts! That suit looks perfect on you. The guys will go wild."

"Are you alone?"

Randall's hands froze over the keyboard for a moment, and he licked his lips before typing his response.

"Yes."

"Good. Because I have a reward for you being so sweet."

Another brief delay and then a new photo popped up in the chat window. This time the bikini top was missing and BrightSparrow's naked breasts were on display. She was holding one in each hand lifting them slightly toward the camera. The flesh was smooth, flawless, with wide, dark pink areolas covered in little bumps and two very perky pink nipples at the center of each.

"Damn! You look beautiful," he typed with some difficulty his hands shaking on the keyboard.

"Thanks! You know what I wish?"

"What?"

"That you were here to suck on these hard nipples..."

Randall swallowed feeling his cock beginning to swell in his jeans. This had been a new wrinkle in his exchanges with BrightSparrow that had started just a few weeks earlier when they had been talking about the social conventions of dating one night. In the process, she had asked him about his own dating experiences, and he had admitted he didn't have many and no real success stories which had brought out the fact that he was a virgin. BrightSparrow had found that fascinating, and during the back and forth that followed the conversation had taken a turn into a very different place. When she had sent him a picture of herself from the waist up but minus a shirt showing her white, lacy bra Randall had nearly choked on his Pepsi. They had slowly started to send more an more suggestive messages back and forth until they had a full-blown sexting session going on.

In all his life, Randall had never imagined doing anything like what he was doing right now. He glanced over at the door to his room and quickly got up and pulled it closed.

"I wish I was too. I would lick and suck those gorgeous nips so hard for you."

"Is your cock hard?

"Fuck, Yes!"

"Touch it for me...Show me..."

Nervous energy poured into his body as Randall stood and unbuckled his belt while unzipping his jeans and pushing them to the floor. He slipped his boxers down around his ankles letting his thick, hairy cock which already stood fully erect drop outward from his body. This part always made him shake the worst, and it took him multiple tries to get the camera on his computer to focus as he zoomed it in on his crotch finally managing to snap a non-blurry picture. He uploaded it to the chat window.

"Umm...I do have an effect on you don't I naughty boy?"

"Yes. You always do. I'm so ready for you."

"I can tell. Do you want me to suck your cock big boy?"

"Fuck! I would love to feel you take every inch."

"Stroke it for me...I'm playing with my pussy right now."

Another picture followed of her hand between her legs rubbing at some very thick, pink pussy lips. Her bush was well trimmed with just a hint of reddish hair on her Venus mound. Randall did as she asked taking his cock in his hand and stroking it up and down. He snapped a photo of his hand wrapped around his pole and sent it.

"Oh, Yes! You bad boy! Do it! Imagine my mouth wrapped around it, or even better that thick cock buried in my tight pussy!"

His hand started to move faster rubbing up and across the fat purple head of his cock squeezing it slightly before returning to a vigorous stroking motion. He could feel the cum starting to surge in his balls already since it had been some time since he had enjoyed any release.

"Shit! You make me want to cum so bad!"

"Yes! Fucking cum for me! Show me all that hot spunk!"

Randall's hand was a blur on his trembling cock. On his screen, a third picture had arrived. BrightSparrow had her fingers buried inside herself rubbing in and out. The image hovered in front of Randall's fevered eyes firing his imagination even more. The ache in his balls turned into a deep, profound itch that rubbing his cock only seemed to make worse. He leaned slightly back in his chair hand working between his legs.

"Shit! Shit! SHIT! AHHHH FUCKKKKKKKKKK!" he cried suddenly.

His cock jerked in his hand multiple times each hard pulse sending a long rope of pearly white spunk all over his stomach and down into his pubic hairs. As he fought to catch his breath, he snapped a photo of the mess and sent it on its way.

"MMMMmmmmm...I wish I were there to lick it up for you! Fuck this has me so horny! I'm rubbing myself harder...Going to cum!"

"Do it! Cum for me! CUM BABY!" typed Randall.

"FUCKKKKKKKK CUMMMMMMMMMINGGGGGGGGG!"

In his head, Randall tried to picture the beautiful woman he saw in the photos writhing all over her bed caught in the throes of a powerful orgasm.

"Oh, baby! That was so good..."

"For me too."

The screen remained unchanged for a few moments as Randall ran to the bathroom to clean himself before returning to his chat.

"So what are you up to the rest of the day?" he asked.

"I have a dress fitting later on this afternoon. It's tedious to have to stand there for so long."

Randall felt his heart sink a little. BrightSparrow had told him shortly after they started chatting that she was engaged to be married later in the year. It had made the sudden swerve into sexting kind of odd in his mind, but she had explained that it was just a bit of fantasy for her before she got tied down.

"How did the painting turn out?"

BrightSparrow had started showing him art that she painted herself about two months into their chatting relationship. She had mentioned the painting before but been too embarrassed to show him her work. He eventually wore her down, and he was glad he did because she was very talented.

"I think it went o.k."

The photo that popped up in front of him took his breath away. On the surface, the canvas looked like a typical ocean scene, but she had done an amazing job with the colors and shading so that it almost appeared as if the waves were moving toward the beach. The sky was on fire with color depicting a sunset, and each of the birds that floated in that sky looked so real it was as if they were about to fly right out of the painting.

"It's amazing! You are so very talented."

":) Thanks! Too bad this will probably be my last one."

A frown crossed Randall's face, "What are you talking about? Why?"

"My parents don't see art as a worthwhile career path for me. They want me to go back to school for something more practical or better just let Jason do the heavy lifting, and I can stay home and make grandbabies."

"I'm not trying to tell you what to do, but it would be a shame to let talent like yours waste away. I would stick with it no matter what your parents say."

"Because that has worked so well for you so far?"

"Low blow," thought Randall.

He had confided in BrightSparrow his parent's misgivings about having a musician for a son, and about how they had pressured him into going back to school. She had told him roughly the same thing that he should stick to what he wanted.

"I would hate to see you give it up just the same. I would think Jason would want you to pursue your passion."

Randall had never met Jason. He was BrightSparrow's fiancée, but she had only mentioned him a few times, and from what little Randall had heard he didn't think much of the guy.

The sound of the front door of his home opening hit Randall's ears, and he jumped in his chair.

"Have to go. TTYL."

"It's cool. Take care...Make good choices!"

"Smart ass," mumbled Randall as he closed the window.

"Randall!" came the sound of his father's voice from the living room.

Randall Taft's father was a small man with a big voice. A good four inches shorter than Randall, and thicker around the middle he was the manager of a local bank. He had been raised by his own father to be thrifty and to have a work ethic second to none. George Taft saw Randall's band as a frivolous waste of time and never tired of telling him so though always in the guise of giving him essential advice about his future.

"Dad," said Randall acknowledging him with a nod.

"Do you know what I have in my hand, Randall?"

"If it's this weeks winning lottery numbers I'm all in. I say we retire and buy us an island in the Pacific."

"Very funny. This envelope has your mid-term grades from the university. Care to hazard a guess what those look like?"

"I'm going to guess from your tone I'm not making the honor roll."

"You would be correct," replied George Taft with the disappointed clear in his words, "I don't understand why you can't see how important it is to apply yourself to your studies son."

"I am applying myself just not to school."

"You mean to your band," replied his Dad the distaste with which he said "band" quite evident.

"I know it's not what you would think I should value, but I have to put my music first."

"We've talked about this, Randall, it's nice to have a hobby but..."

"A HOBBY!" echoed Randall hotly.

It was clear this conversation was about to spiral badly out of control, and Randall felt too tired for another long argument about this same tired old subject, so he quickly left the room snatching his keys off the bed and his guitar case from the corner.

"Where are you going?"

"Practice, Dad. I'll be back later."

"Randall! Wait! I wasn't finished..."

Whatever else his Dad was going to say was lost after the front door shut behind him. He lit out in his car a moment later turning up the radio to an ear-splitting volume level as he tore through the neighborhood and out onto the main road. The miles went by in a blur of asphalt and identical starter homes. A short time later he pulled into Zach Meyers driveway. His best friend and the lead singer of Loose Change, Zach stood with his hands in his back pockets talking with his older brother, Kip, who had joined the band last year becoming their new drummer when their buddy Steve got forced into the Army by his parents.

"Hey, guys!"

"Randall...My man! I was telling Kip the good news."

"What good news?"

"We are going on tour, my friend!"

Randall's face took on a very skeptical look with his eyes moving from one grinning Meyer brother to the other.

"What the hell are you talking about a tour?"

"O.K. Maybe calling it a tour is a bit of a reach, but we did get a request to play out of town. There is a concert venue in Gordon City that does an annual new artists showcase. They hire a lot of local bands from around the state, and I sent them one of our demo's. They called me this morning with the invite. This is big, Randall, their concert hall seats like over a thousand it would be the biggest gig we have ever played."

Randall rubbed his jaw in thought, "Gordon City? That's like over two-hundred miles from here it would be a long trip."

"It's fine," said Kip, "I just got my van back from the body shop. We can jam all of our equipment into it, and off we go!"

"Shit, a thousand people, huh?"

"Don't get intimidated by the thought of playing in front of that crowd. Your talent will speak for itself," said Zach soothingly as he patted Randall's shoulder.

"I hope so..."

"Come on no mopping this is gonna be awesome! We do need to practice though so let's get at it."

The hands on the old grandfather clock in Randall's entryway showed the time at well past two a.m. when he returned. The practice had finished around midnight, but Randall had stayed out later to make sure he didn't run into his Dad when he came home. He carefully padded across the tile floor of the kitchen trying to make as little noise as possible before he entered his room shutting the door behind him. The screen on his computer was flashing with the news that he had a message and he sat down to take a look.

It appeared that BrightSparrow had tried to chat with him again but had realized he wasn't online. She had left him a goodnight message.

"Hey Stud! I hope you are off making sweet music. If I don't talk to you before bed, I wanted to leave you something to dream about."

The message was followed by a picture of BrightSparrow in a very skimpy looking negligee all lacy and black. The outfit was sheer enough that he could see through it making out the sweet shapes of her perfect breasts underneath. Randall smiled and saved the photo to a special directory on his computer he had reserved for the best of what she sent him. Randall had kept his association with BrightSparrow a secret from everyone else in his life. He knew his parents wouldn't approve and he figured his friends would ridicule him for having a cyber relationship instead of a real one. He was just about to close the photo when his eyes caught something in the bottom corner. Ordinarily, BrightSparrow was very careful to shoot her camera in such a way that it offered him nothing to go on as far as figuring out who she really was or where she lived. There was definitely something on the floor though near her feet.

He pulled the photo into an editor on his computer and zoomed into the bottom corner where the small rectangle sat. It took him several long minutes of manipulation to make anything out of it, but when the picture became more clear, he sat back in his chair with a look of surprise.

"Well...I'll be damned. This has to be fate," he mumbled.

In the bottom of the photo, he could now clearly see a discarded newspaper. The front page was upside down to his point of view, and most of the writing was too small to make out, but the name of the paper in big block letters across the top was clear enough for him to read.

"Gordon City Gazette," he repeated the title aloud.

Randall awoke the following morning with a keen sense of anticipation. He had lain awake for some time the previous night trying to decide if what he was about to do was even remotely a good idea but the temptation was too great to ignore, and now he sat in front of his computer hands poised above the keyboard. The clattering of the keys broke the stillness in his room with tiny reports like a hundred miniature rifles firing in broken harmony.