Sexual Solstice

Sexual Solstice by Tracey B. Bradley Page B

Book: Sexual Solstice by Tracey B. Bradley Read Free Book Online
Authors: Tracey B. Bradley
Ads: Link
she wouldn’t be crossing paths with Edgar after all.
    “There’s no lounge ma’am. The new configuration made it irrelevant.”
    “Irrelevant? Hardly. Lounges are for lounging.” Where the hell was Edgar if there was no lounge?
    “Gone the way of the dodo, if you don’t mind my saying.”
    Would that be Edgar or the lounges, thought Gillian.
    “After you ma’am.” The flight attendant stood aside and indicated the way forward through the seats arranged like small life support cocoons where the occupants relaxed complacently in this new science fiction world of seats that provided your every desire, as long as you didn’t want to go to the lounge and stretch your legs, flirt, or have a chat.
    At the cockpit the steward pressed in a code, knocked twice and the door opened. “Gentlemen,” he said. “Can I bring you anything?”
    “That will be all Scotty,” trilled the pilot sitting in the right hand side, whom Gillian assumed was the co-pilot.
    The door closed.
    “Have a seat, have a seat. We’re just coming to a checkpoint then you can have our full attention. By the way, thank you for coming up on such short notice. We don’t expect people to fall over their feet to see us, but we noticed you from the––“
    “––the first class lounge? I saw you too. Going through your checklist.”
    “Making sure we’re well stocked with M&Ms to fight the mid Atlantic fatigue––just kidding of course.”
    Gillian sat in the silence of the cabin on an empty pulldown seat, eyes roving the hundreds of small lights, dials, gauges and digital readouts. It reminded her of a life support in a hospital more than a flight console. The life support for this one mammoth traveling village high above the Atlantic. Life support, or something like it. It reminded her of a spell in the hospital during her final year in high school and a ski trip to the Adirondacks. She’d broken her leg, not badly––a clean break in one spot––but badly enough to be drugged up and in a hip cast for a few days in Albany before her mother picked her up.
    One of the interns had taken a liking to her and paid her a few too many visits. She didn’t mind at all. She’d just broken up with a long time post adolescent boyfriend who she hoped to convince was gay, to put to rest all reasons as to why he could barely kiss her without gagging. She finally made the break––perhaps the broken leg was the metaphor for the break-up. Regardless, the intern, a Jew from Brooklyn himself, had the looks and manners that Gillian discovered she liked, in men. He was hairy. He sported dark whiskers, had to keep his hands shaved to a place just above the wrist because the hair was so thick, and had expressive thick dark eyebrows, that could be mistaken for caterpillars.
    Joel, the intern, had managed to get her a private room, to keep her away from the impersonal wards, the noises, the busyness, the bright lights from roommates waking at odd hours. He kept her in a state of calm quiet, where not much more than the lighted dials and the small TV screen lit the room. It was an oddly magical time for Gillian, in what could have been an otherwise large inconvenience, Joel made sure she was fed good food, had frequent visits, so that she could have some distraction from the itching cast, the soreness and stiffness.
    The first time Joel fucked her it seemed like a silent agreement that it would happen. Gillian’s heart seemed to race every time he came near her. Something about the dark eyes under the bushy eyebrows, something about what the hair must have looked like on the rest of his body; when you know the wrists are covered, you can’t help but wonder what everything else looks like––almost as if those hairy ones seem to stimulate the sexual imaginations of even the most pure. Hair. At the sleeve end. At the base of the neck. At the v-neck shirt. Masses of it all being tamed by the owner. Where does it lead? what does it cover? Gillian was about to

Similar Books

Six Feet Over It

Jennifer Longo

Countdown: M Day

Tom Kratman

Lord of All Things

Andreas Eschbach

Hitler's Spy Chief

Richard Bassett

Cocotte

David Manoa

For the Roses

Julie Garwood

The Big Exit

David Carnoy

Brand of the Pack

Tera Shanley