Here's the thirteenth part of the story. Hope you enjoy it.
Feedback to “Brad Gillespie” can be sent to the address RBZ followed by the digits 3141 at gmail.com. Please put the story title in the subject line. But don't be surprised if the name on the responses is different. That e-mail account is under a different pseudonym than the one I used to write this story.
Feedback to “Tucson Daddy” can be sent to lannyr99 at yahoo.com.
And remember, Nifty relies on donations to help them stay in operation. If you want to help, you can donate by going to http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html.
This was not the time for subtlety, so he put it all on the table. “We're moving to Phoenix.”
It hit her, all at once, “Moving to Phoenix?”
“Yes,” he all but shouted. “Moving to Phoenix.”
“But… but…what about Briggs and Briggs?” she asked innocently enough.
“Honey, B and B is opening a new division in Phoenix. I've been invited to join. Harrison made the offer today, so I came home and took Timmy to the zoo. That's why I'm home early.”
“You're a success,” she cried. “You've made it. Now we are going to Phoenix.” She grinned and held onto him. Held him close.
“Well,” she said, “We are going to be busy, Aren't we, hon?” The shock of what he had said, and the implications. She sat, her head laid back on the couch, and her arm over her eyes, visualizing Phoenix.
Looking up, she jumped to her feet and took Bob's hands. “Celebrate! Celebrate! Dance to the music…,” she sang. The song was nearly 35 years old, but still appealed to her. “The Bamboo Club!” She held his hands, dancing around. “Honey! I'm so proud of you!”
Bob could only grin at her enthusiasm. “OK, babe. Dinner at the Bamboo Club, it is.”
He quickly changed into clothes more appropriate to a fine restaurant. Connie got Timmy into longer pants, and replaced the t-shirt with something less informal. Ten minutes later, they were on their way.
The meal had been lovely, with Connie constantly grabbing at his arm and smiling at him. “Phoenix,” she'd say.
“What's a Phoenix?” asked Timmy, mystified by his mom's silly behavior.
“Phoenix is a city,” she told him. “We are moving there soon.”
On the way home, both Timmy and Connie had bombed out, Connie from one too many refills of wine, Timmy from the excitement of the “zoo.” Visions of animals were still dancing in his head, as he drifted off to sleep in his car seat.
Bob carried Timmy into his bedroom and laid him on his bed, then returned to help Connie in. She managed to undress and fall into bed naked. “To hell with 'jamies,'” she muttered. Climbing under the covers, she pulled them up under her chin and was gone. Bob left the bedroom light off, while he returned to Timmy's room to get him undressed and into bed. As he pulled off his outer clothes, he noticed that Timmy had an erection. He swallowed and ran his fingers over it. Some day, some lucky guy will be sucking him. Just like he'd witnessed daddy get sucked.
Returning to his bedroom, as silently as he could, he selected several outfits to wear in Phoenix. After a day of checking out the site and talking with the contractor, they would go out for an evening, and take in a bar or two.
He'd heard rumors that someone had seen Evan coming out of a gay bar with an older man. What better time to verify that rumor than in Phoenix, where none of their colleagues could see them. If it were so, well, that might be interesting. He felt his cock stiffen in anticipation, if it were true.
Evan was 33, only a few years older than he. Good-looking, with a trim body, weighing in around 180 pounds. Nice brown hair and soft sensitive eyes. He was already imagining Evan's cock. How long, how thick, and whether he shaved his pubes. “Mmm…!”
Connie was thoroughly gone. Didn't twitch a muscle when he tripped against the door making a clatter. So he was able to get the clothes and bring them to the living room, where he packed them into his suit case. The image of Evan, as a gay man, continued to flick into his mind until he had a raging hard-on. He knew if he didn't take care of it right now, he'd explode. His fantasy turned ridiculous, imagining he did explode, blowing himself apart to cover the walls. He thought of Connie calling the office to explain that he'd be late. Downright silly!
He went into the bathroom to fantasize about Evan and jack off. Once he'd shot, he was ready to hit the sack. He took the time to brush and floss his teeth. Then he too fell into bed naked.
He awoke at 5:30, so excited! He couldn't wait for the day to begin. He was up with coffee brewed, and had eaten a breakfast before Connie entered the kitchen wearing her robe. “Morning, love,” he said to his groggy lady. “Sleep well?”
“Mph…” she mumbled. “It was OK. Had dreams of flying into Phoenix with you and the plane having to return with engine trouble. Hope that's not a premonition of your trip.”
“I doubt it,” he replied. “Flying is safer than driving.”
He'd already set out a bowl, spoon, knife, cereal, and milk for her. Connie poured her cereal into the bowl, cut up the half of a banana he'd left for her, added milk, and silently downed her food.
The doorbell rang and he got up. “Cab's here,” he said, moving to the other side of the table to kiss her. “By, honey. Have fun. See you in two days. Remember, it's Timmy's fifth birthday party.”
“I will, have fun, and I will be back for some of that cake and ice cream.” Then he headed for the door to open it and let the cabbie carry his suitcase out. He had his briefcase. Connie stood at the open door watching him drive away, waving one last time. “Good-bye, my love. Fly safely,” she thought.
Connie went to her job as usual to spend the day making sure that things got done. She was so filled with the excitement of the move, and how life would be for her and Timmy afterward. Her mind was also on the party she had planned for months to design and assemble. This was going to be Timmy's best party. Lots of cake, games, and friends. He'd love it!
Bob's flight left on time, and arrived at Phoenix at the designated time. He met with others on his team, and went off to survey the site. Afterward, they met at a restaurant of Evan's choosing to discuss the site and what they needed to press forward. As usual, Bob was quick to offer his views. By dinner time, they had assembled ideas as to how they could shrink the window and costs of moving faster.
After that, they returned to their hotel. Bob said he wasn't ready to call it a night, and was going to investigate some bars he'd heard about. The other two claimed they were going to head down to the hotel bar and have a couple of beers. “But first I gotta make a phone call,” he said. “I'll meet whoever else is going out back here in 15 minutes.” Evan said he'd wait.
Bob returned to the room to call Connie. They laughed and talked about their days. She and Susan were taking off early tomorrow to help with preparations for Timmy's 5th birthday. Connie was so excited. He told her of their review of the new office, and how nice it was going to be. They'd talked with the architect on the project, who assured them all would be in readiness on the appointed day. He told her that he and the lead lawyer, a guy named Evan, and he were going out for a couple of drinks, then back to bed. They'd be gone from the hotel by 8:30 tomorrow morning, so he wouldn't call until his flight landed. They kissed over the phone, told each other “I love you,” then hung up.
This was the moment. “I got some recommendations for a couple of bars from work. Do you have a choice of your own?”
Evan grinned at him and said, “Harrison told me about this one place. It's called the Stags Inn. Heard of it?”
“I know nothing about this town. You're the boss. Lead on.” Even called the concierge to ask for a cab, and they took the elevator down. “Harrison told me it has plenty of atmosphere.”
Bob was already counting his lucky breaks. If Harrison suggested it, it was probably gay. Riding over in the taxi, Evan leaned over, touched his hand lightly, and asked, “Do you dance?”
“Love to,” Bob responded, placing his hand on Evan's. They'd just finished their first kiss when the cab pulled up to the bar. Evan whispered, “I'd like some more of that,” as they got out. Bob reached for his wallet to pay the driver, when Evan said, “Here, let me. You can pay me later,” and winked.
They entered the bar, which had a band playing in one corner. Couples were slowly moving to the music. Evan saw an empty table, and pulled Bob over. No sooner had they sat down than a cute 20-something man stepped over to them. “How may I help you?” he asked.
“We're each having a rum and coke.” Nodding, the waiter turned and walked away.
“I suppose I'm going to pay you later for this, aren't I?” Bob asked, leaning over to kiss Evan.
“I hope so, baby,” Evan said kissing him back.
The drinks arrived, Evan paid the waiter, and lifted his glass for a toast. “To a wonderful evening!” They clinked glasses and took a sip. Evan stood, touched Bob's hand, and said, “Let's dance.” Bob rose to join him, and they went out on the floor, where they put their arms around each other and stepped to the music. “You're good,” commented Evan. “Thanks,” replied Bob, laying his head on Evan's shoulder.
They danced in silence for a bit when Evan asked, “You're married, aren't you?”
“Uh huh,” said Bob.
“Is it true you have a gay boyfriend too?”
“How do you manage that, to have one of each?”
Bob raised his head to look Evan in the eye. “It's complicated.”
“I've got time.”
The music ended, and Bob led Evan back to their table to sit and sip their drinks. “Connie and I are very happily married to each other. We have a son and we're planning more.”
“OK, lots of gay guys are allegedly happily married and have kids.”
“We're different, Connie and me.”
“You see, we love and trust each other completely.”
“Same tune, different words.”
“We each have a lover. Connie, my wife, and Susan are lovers. Steve is my man.”
Did Evan's eyes seem to pop wide open, or was it the lighting?
“Sometimes Steve and Susan are at our home and we each spend the night with our lovers.”
“Shit man! How… I mean… do you… Hell, I don't know what to make of this.” Evan grinned. “You are one horny bastard.”
“That's what Steve tells me.”
They had just finished their drinks, and the waiter appeared next to them. “Another?”
Evan looked at Bob and said, “I don't think so. MY lover here and I have private business back at our hotel.”
Bob got the message and rose. Evan took his hand as they walked out. “You a good cock sucker?”
“One of the best.”
“Let's find out.”
Cabs were plentiful that night. When they stepped up to the curb and Evan raised his hand, one pulled right over. Once inside, Evan gave the driver the hotel name, and settled back. Bob reached over, found his zipper and pulled it down. “I'm still hungry,” he whispered in a husky voice. Pulling his six-inch, uncut and thick cock out of his pants, Bob looked at it in the street lights they passed. He smiled at Evan and bowed his head, while he felt his hand on the back of his head, guiding his mouth to his cock.
Bob closed his mouth around it and began to suckle. He did this in such a way that Evan was led to the edge of the precipice and allowed to pull back several times, leaving him gasping. “Sounds like your boyfriend is doing you up right.”
“You cannot believe,” whimpered Evan. “Go to it, you sweet cock sucker!”
“We're almost there, boys. Better wrap it up.”
Bob gave one final masterful suck, which caused Evan's prick to deliver a massive gout of semen, coating Bob's mouth. The cab pulled to a stop, Bob got off of his knees and zipped Evan up. “Yummy,” he quipped. Evan paid the cabbie, who winked at him and said, “You have a good evening, gentlemen,” and drove away.
Bob desperately wanted to attach his mouth to Evan's, but declined to do so on the street. “Let's go up to my room,” he said. Bob agreed. Entering the lobby, they met their associates just exiting the bar. “Have a good time?” asked one, a smile creasing his lips.
“We did. Went to one bar, had one drink, and came back. Not a lot of people, so we came back,” Evan reported. “How about you?”
“Nothing much. Tried to hook up with a couple of pretty ladies, but they didn't seem particularly interested. Got into some political talk with a couple of other business types. Watched a little of a game. That's pretty much it,” said one.
“Well, I don't know about the rest of you. I'm going to bed. Who's coming down here for breakfast tomorrow?” Bob responded that he would at 7 AM, since he had to be on his way to the airport by 8:30.
“The hotel shuttle to the airport leaves at 8.”
“Good enough. Breakfast at 7.”
They were standing by the elevator, which arrived just then, and they all boarded. Evan pressed the 5 for their floor. They rode in silence for a few seconds, when it stopped and opened its doors. The four men walked out: Evan and Bob to the right; the others to the left.
“You want me to go to my room and come back after they are out of sight?” Bob asked Evan.
“Nah. What does it matter? A third of the people at B and B are homo anyway. We'll just be fodder for gossip. I've been that for most of my life. Their approval or disapproval makes no difference in my life. B and B loves me. That's all that counts.” So they walked brazenly to Evan's room and entered together.
Evan came in last, closed the door, and locked it. He and Bob moved together to kiss long and deep. “Mmm…,” sighed Evan. You are a truly hot kisser. Steve is a lucky guy.”
“I'll pass the word back to him.”
“Did your wife, uhm… Connie, isn't it? Did she ask if you're having homo sex tonight?”
“She knows better than to ask about my sex life. But…” Bob stopped to indicate that Evan should just be quiet. “But if she asked, I'd tell her. It's more Steve's business than hers, so she leaves that to him. Just as I would not ask if she were having sex with another woman.”
“Shit, man! You got one helluva deal going here. Very few would dare to do this.”
“Would you mind stripping?” asked Bob rhetorically. “I really want to fuck your ass before it gets too much later.” He was already almost out of his clothes.
“Oops, sorry. You're right. First things first.”
“Now that I can see your prick,” said Evan, “you got a truly nice one.”
“Did you bring condoms and lube?” asked Bob.
“Yeah. Right here, in the nightstand.” Evan pulled out two and a bottle of lube and placed them on the night stand.
Naked now, they kissed once more. “My turn first, Evan,” said Bob. “You are in no condition to fuck.”
“But I could be, if you just need to suck me for a minute.”
“On your hands and knees on the bed. Now!” Bob ordered. He meekly complied.
Less than a minute later, Bob was happily ploughing Evan's ass. Entry was easy, since it appeared that Evan was a bit slutty. Nonetheless, Bob enjoyed fucking him. Bob had never fucked anyone anonymously, so he didn't know how it could be different from fucking someone he knew. He preferred knowing his partner. Made it more enjoyable, he thought. Regardless of the recipient, he enjoyed the personal interaction, whether it was anal or vaginal intercourse. A good fuck was just downright fun! Afterward, they fell asleep in each other's arms.
A pounding at the door woke them. “Hey, get up, you two. Time for breakfast.”
Evan staggered to the door, opened it, and allowed as how they'd be down in 15 minutes. Bob heard a chuckle and “OK, we're running late already.”
Evan came back. “We don't have time for my turn,” he said, but pointed his finger at Bob and said, “Let's make sure I get a shot at your ass back home.” Bob pulled him close to kiss him. “Baby, you'll get your shot.” They hurriedly dressed and took the elevator to the lobby, where the other two were awaiting them. Why do people have to ask the most inane questions when they know the answer but believe they will embarrass someone by asking it?
“How did you sleep?” asked the one.
“I slept very well. A good fuck makes that possible.”
He was stopped short. Thinking he'd get a so-so answer, instead he got honesty, which threw him off. “And how did you… sleep, that is?”
“Uhm… OK, thanks.” And that ended the snide asshole's irritating questions.
Bob wasn't proud that he enjoyed sucking a cock, but he wasn't ashamed he did it. He liked the feel of a cock in his mouth, and the taste of semen when his partner shot off. But he wasn't going to put it on display. So long as he did it in private, it was nobody else's business. Apparently, honesty was too much for this guy.
They proceeded to the buffet breakfast. Bob liked buffet. Lots of different tasty treats. They sat around bantering, with little of substance among them. Everybody had departure on his mind. So when Bob finished, he excused himself, returned to his room to collect his bag, and called the concierge to find out when the next airport shuttle was leaving.
“In ten minutes, sir.”
“Thanks, I'm on my way down now. Don't let it leave without me. OK.”
“You can count on it, sire.”
Shortly after arriving, the shuttle emptied quickly so that Bob could board. He was anxious to be on his way. In six hours he'd be back home, joining his family in recognizing that five years had passed since Timmy's birth. He ached to be with his family, although he did feel a little guilty at fucking Evan.
The next morning was Timmy's birthday. Connie was deeply involved with getting things right. The guests were invited, the time of arrival was specified. All was on track for a successful birthday party. Bob had called her just before boarding. Soon he would be airborne and on his way home.
Susan arrived to help set up the arrangements. At noon the plates were put in place and all was ready for the invitees. Susan and Connie took a needed break. At 1:00. the first guests had begun arriving. Bob's plane should not be far away. By 2:00 it was time to sing Happy Birthday. Connie led off with, “Happy Birthday to you…”
Bob's plane, United flight 273, was approaching LAX, making its final approach. The tower had given the landing details, and the pilot, Captain Lester Powell, a 15-year veteran with United, was at the controls. In all his years at the helm of a 700-class aircraft, his skill at landing had never been challenged. The approach was typical, so he was expecting yet one more normal landing.
To the west, out in the Pacific, a freak weather situation was gathering strength. Swirling winds that occasionally savagely buffed one another found themselves moving in concert and heading inland. Like a twister, but lacking its strength, it moved steadily eastward from the western Malibu shore. It struck with a ferocity, slamming buildings but causing no damage. Unsecured trash cans scattered; palms were bent over for a few seconds with nothing uprooted. Then the mini-storm moved inland, approaching L.A. airport unnoticed.
United flight 273 was on the glide path, a mere 20 feet above the runway, when the weather anomaly struck on the right side of the plane, lifting the right wing up at a 37-degree tilt. Passengers cried out in surprise. Loose items in the galley were sent tumbling to the floor.
The forward velocity of United flight 273 was 125 knots, or about 200 feet per second. Fractions of seconds matter. Captain Powell was startled by the ferocity of the blow from the wind, but responded quickly and professionally to the event. He turned the controls clockwise. Electrical signals from the controls sped to he wings. Servos spun, pulling the control surfaces to rotate upward in the left wing and the control services to rotate downward in the right wing.
Captain Powell turned his controls, hoping by force of will to move the great machine. “Come on, baby,” he whispered to his aircraft. “Come on.” The aircraft shuddered in the contest between the man-made and the violence of nature.
The wind had pushed United Flight 273 to the left toward the grassy space just beyond the tarmac. Had it remained in the assigned space over the runway, the damage would have been minimized. As it was, the tip of the left wing of United Flight 273 contacted the soft grassy soil and dug into it. The left side of the aircraft came to a sudden stop, and all the kinetic energy from the hundreds of tons of mass were converted into rotational forces, sending the plane cartwheeling end over end.
The nose first contacted the ground, crushing it and killing the pilot and co-pilot outright. It flipped twice more, then came to a crashing stop upside down. The lives of all the passengers were consumed in the mini-nova that erupted on runway 127R.
The noise of the blast shook the tower. A supervisor on duty lifted the receiver of the nearest phone and called in damage, having witnessed it on the runway. United Airlines company personnel prepared for the worse.
Airport emergency vehicles raced to the scene to begin dousing the flames. News reporters, listening on emergency services communication, were likewise dispatched to the scene to begin 24/7 coverage.
Had Connie been listening to the report from Channel 7, she would have known, but she didn't. Instead she was preparing for Timmy's fifth birthday party.
Georgia, the do-all and gofer for Briggs and Briggs, was watching the news, when she heard the flight number, United flight 273. It stuck a chord in her. Rushing to her computer, she brought up the files for Bob and other employees who had gone to Phoenix. Yes, there they were, all of them. She lifted her telephone to call Harrison and report that several of their people had just had their lives snuffed out in United flight 273.
When she told him the reason for her call, she heard a soft sob at the other end. “I'm so sorry, Harrison,” she said. Like a pebble dropped into the still waters of a pond, waves move out from the center. The tragedy was moving outward, as word was spreading. Harrison immediately called his contact at United to learn that yes, Bob and the others were on that flight. Thanking her, he hung up to put on his suit and prepared to make the calls. He first rang up his brother to inform him of the terrible event, then went to his car to begin to do what he must. While he could have left this unfortunate task to United, he preferred to make the calls himself.
Pulling up to Bob and Connie's home, he steeled himself to deliver the message. He recited the words as he approached the front door. The sounds of “Happy birthday to you,” were dying away when he pressed the button. A moment later, Connie opened the door.
“Why, Harrison, what a pleasant surprise. Do come in. We're just getting ready to cut Timmy's cake. He stepped indoors, and Connie shut the door, while taking his arm to pull him to the table. He resisted and asked if he could speak with her in private.
Susan, standing near the table holding Timmy's hand, asked another mother to take over. “Have them sing Happy Birthday again,” she requested. Immediately the song was taken up again, as Susan walked toward Harrison and Connie. He saw her approaching. Knowing of the relationship between the two women, he nodded his approval.
Taking Connie's hand, he said, “I'm terribly sorry to be the one who has to tell you that Bob was killed when his plane crashed on landing.” It all came out in one short string of words.
Connie's smile remained on her face as she absorbed the news of Bob's death. “What?” she asked dumfounded. Harrison was repeating his statement when it hit her. “No!” she whimpered. “No! Not my Bob! No!”
Susan turned toward the watching faces, made an exaggerated grin, and said, “Happy faces! Come on, Happy Faces.” One of the moms took charge and exclaimed, “Let's have some cake and ice cream.”
Connie had begun to sob quietly, allowing Susan to lead her away. “Thank you, Harrison,” Susan said. “I'll take it from here.” When she had gotten Connie settled in her bedroom and was sure she would remain there, only then did she return to the party. Timmy was opening gifts, with paper flung everywhere. She let him finish his tearing apart the gift wrappings, then announced that everybody needed to leave. Surprised mumbling erupted. Susan further told them that Connie had suffered a terrible blow. “She's lost someone dear to her. I hope you can understand.” Suddenly the message was clear, and mothers scrambled to get their kids moving out the door. Sad eyes looked into Susan's, with the question that was not a question, “It's Bob, isn't it?” She could only nod.
The funeral was packed with friends and well-wishers. The service was well done, with speakers who talked of the fine man Bob was. Some spoke extemporaneously of how he had affected their lives. Bob had left a large mark in his life for one so young.
Connie's family and friends were there, along with Bob's and many others they didn't know. What puzzled Susan — but not Steve — was the young man, perhaps of college age, who seemed particularly saddened. He was with an older man, probably his father, who was unsuccessfully attempting to offer him solace.
Fewer, but not by much, came to the gathering after the service. In this way Susan, Steve, and their families could meet and talk with those gathered whom they did not know.
Steve found the young man, who seemed so heartbroken, and spoke with him and his father. They both seemed reticent to talk, until Steve told them that he and Bob were lovers. Both exclaimed shock in learning this, for they thought he was married to a woman.
“Oh, he was. You see, he and I met before he was married, and wanted to maintain their gay partnership with Connie's blessing. They simply could not believe that such an arrangement was possible until Connie came over and confirmed Steve's story.
With this disclosure, Jeff told him that he and Bob were lovers too, causing him to grin. “Bob had told him he was taking you to teach,” he said, “But he never talked about it.”
Jeff, being rather bold, asked Steve, “Since you guys were fuck buddies, could you take over for him? I'm a really good cock sucker.”
“Hey!” quipped Steve. “Have some respect for the dead. Let Bob's body at least get cold before you start up with sucking and fucking.”
“OK, sorry,” said Jeff, somewhat shamefaced. '”But can you come over tomorrow and let me suck you off?”
Steve gave that some thought for three milliseconds, then agreed. Ryan handed him a card with his address and phone number. “Please call before you spend the time and gas to come by. We may not be home.” They shook hands all around, and Jeff and his father left.
After the funeral, Susan and Steve spent as much time as they could with Connie, but it was apparent that all her energy seemed drained. She moped around listlessly, and barely spoke except with her main companion, Timmy. So they did what they could to help her and little else.
Young children of Timmy's age are unfamiliar with the concept of death. When told that his father was not coming home again, he cried, but soon got over it, although he would occasionally ask Connie or Susan about Bob.
Briggs and Briggs had voluntarily handled the will and were taking on the task of selling the home she and Bob had bought to raise a family in. It meant little to her, now that the only man she had ever loved was gone.
One day, when life seemed to have returned to her, she told both of her best friends and her lover that she was leaving this town and returning to her home town where her family lived. They helped her get packed and contacted a moving company to transport her goods. Steve and Susan said they'd stay to see that things were packed up. Briggs and Briggs was handling the sale of her home.
The one bright spot in this tragedy was Bob's insurance policy he'd taken out on himself when he went to work for Briggs and Briggs. That, plus the insurance policy that his employer had likewise taken out, were worth roughly two million dollars. She would be well situated for he rest of her life and Timmy's.
With their possessions on the way to Connie's home town, Susan gave them a ride to the airport. Kissing Connie for the last time brought tears to both of their eyes. They hugged then; Susan, hugging Timmy, said good-bye and walked out of the airport.
Soon Connie and her son were winging their way home to a new life.