Sunday, April 18, 2010

Pocket Rockets, wip, start

Pocket Rocket

by Nix Winter

Camelot Airlines did not sell discounted anything. 

Aurora 'Rory' Williams didn't need any discounts.

Long red hair hung down her back.  Waning Vegas sunlight traced gold through the soft curves. Black slacks, a tailored white shirt open at the top button, and a black leather jacket, also tailored just for her set her just far enough outside the business class of traveler that people instinctively gave her a little space as she walked through the airport. That might have been a little bit of her own attitude as well. 
"Hey," a man called out. "Hey!"

She turned, saw him headed  her way, then stepped onto the moving walkway. She smiled as he started running. It only took him a couple of moments to catch up to her. He held onto the railing with one hand, catching his breath, and pointing at her with the other. "You're Rory Williams. You just won that big tournament. I saw you on tv."

"Yeah," she agreed. She'd just won a two million dollar pot at the Satin River World Tournament. "I wasn't until last night. I'm in town for the consumer electronics fair, but I saw you when I was getting ready to go out. You're so beautiful."

An eyebrow arched, she made a small dismissive sound. "Thanks."

"Do you have a while till your plane boards? Where are you going?"

As if out of no where, she pulled a business card from the air and handed it to him. "I'm headed to New York for Carnegie Big Apple. Unfortunately I'll be boarding my flight now."

He took the card with a grin. "I'll check out your site. You don't have any posters of you, do you?"

"Not on me, no," she said, "My talents are more in explaining how to play poker to people."

"Oh, no, really your talents are," he caught himself. "I'm sure you have many talents."

At the end of the people mover she stepped off, hand up to wave to him, her back turned to him. "Have a nice day!"

"You too, Aurora!"

'Just keep walking,' she told herself. Most days rude people who somehow thought different rules of society applied to people they'd seen on TV, most days those people didn't bother her. That boy just grated though. She'd just won one of the biggest tournaments in Vegas and all he could see was her tits. Misperception could make for a good bluff, but there were just those moments when she wanted as far away from people as she could get.

Not far from the end of the people mover she entered through a pair of opaque smokey glass doors. They opened for her automatically. The system had recognized her bio metrics as she approached.

An elegant man, who very much looked the part of a Victorian butler approached her, a silver tray in one hand and a look of mild welcome on his nearly perfect face. "Welcome to the Camelot lounge, Williams-san. Will you require a cabin on this flight?"

She took the rum on the rocks from the tray, sipped, smiled. "I don't think so."  She pointed at a blond man already in the lounge. "He's very interesting though. Is he traveling alone?"

"I am not at liberty to disclose such information, Williams San."

"Of course not," she agreed. "Secure me a cabin, though, just in case."

He sat in a thick black leather chair, silky blond curls around his face, an un-lit cigarette between his fingers. Pale, but even complexion suggested he was a tech person who worked long hours and probably not from Vegas. He wore a blue tee shirt with artwork of a wolf on the front with the words 'My Baby Bites'. So maybe he was a kinky tech boy.   Almost too pretty to be a man, he still had broad shoulders, a grace that only came from strength. Rory tried to stop herself from I imaging how much stamina there might be in those hips. It wasn't the 1970's where two willing adults could pick each other up and bang on a flight. She carried her drink with her as she crossed to him.

"You have beautiful green eyes." She held out her hand to shake. "Rory Wiliams."

After a moment he reached out and shook her hand. "Valentine St. Grenis. You smell delicious."

She sat down on the edge of the coffee table. "That's a new line. Where are you going?"

"My ticket said London."

"You sound very excited about it," she said sarcastically. "Why are you going to London?"

"I don't know. I'm a bit of a complicated man, I guess.  Would you believe me if I told you I woke up two days ago in a hotel with a bag of books, a letter from a friend and this ticket? I've got a brand new slate, so to speak."

She took a drink of her rum. "That's not a bad place to be. You have a bit of an accent, but not like one I've ever heard before, a little like I'd imagine a Shakespearean actor to sound. Are you an actor then?"

Frowning, he took her tumbler from her. When their fingers touched, movement slowed and their eyes met. She smiled. His eyes went a little wide. "I might be. I do like Wiliam Shakespeare. I found one of his books in the bag. Do you believe in love at first touch?"

"Hardly. I believe in attraction. Maybe you'd like to go to New York with me? I have a day before I need to sign in for the tournament. We could take in a play, have some dinner, Valentine?" She smiled broadly, full of confidence. "Valentine, such a lovely name."

He liked a bit of rum from his lip as he handed her tumbler back. "I feel vividly alive now that you're near. I would like to kiss you."

"You're a strange man," Rory said, but she leaned forward, as if inviting his kiss.

He ran his pointer finger over her lips. His finger felt warm, solid and real, not at all like a simple fantasy. He scooted closer, one knee moving between hers, the other catching her knee between his. She froze, breath caught, his cheek to hers, almost touching. His breath brushed over her skin, the only part of them that actually touched until he brushed his lips very lightly over hers. Without kissing, eyes staring into hers, words warm and sweet against her lips, "I want to go somewhere alone with you."

Desire tightened in her belly, brought moist heat to her rose. "Did you know that flowers are the sex organs of ... of plants?"

"I did not know that," he admitted. A hand slide slowly up her thigh, strong fingers slipping under her coat. "Then I should love to tend your garden, breath in the scent of your roses."

Shivering, she pulled just a little bit back. It felt terribly intimate reach up and touch his hair. Such soft silky golden curls.... "You have condoms?"

Confusion passed through his green eyes. "Do I have what?"

Laughing, she leaned forward to kiss his lips, stealing in and committing herself. "Damn, how many children do you have?"


"Williams San?"
"That cabin, it's well stocked? We can board now?"

"Of course," the pretty Victorian butler said. "Shall I bill the cabin for two?"

"Yeah," Rory said, taking hold of Valentine's hand. Her excitement had built to a ravenous hunger. She'd buy him dinner, but first she wanted to taste him.

The concierge unlocked opened the door leading to the jet bridge. "Cabin 3 is set to your  usual password, Williams San."

"Thanks!"  Still holding Valentine's hand, she strode into the passage that lead to the plane.

"This place looks like the Queen Mary," Valentine said softly. He'd been letting her lead him along, but now he was right behind her. A hand slid around her waist, pulling her back against his hard body. "We could almost be newlyweds. Would you be my blushing bride?"

"It's completely killing me where your accent is from," she said with a soft moan, moving her tight ass over the front of his hips, testing just how ready he was to be the bride groom. When she found what she was looking for, the physical promise of his attraction. She turned in his arms, letting his arm tighten around her waist. "I'm no one's bride and it's been a long time since I was blushing."

"My lady would turn the world to her feet and own the sun? You are a lady with a virgin heart, yet paradise tucked between her breasts?"

She kissed him then, her fingers combing into his hair, taking a firm hold as she pulled him down and devoured him. She'd expected cigarette smoke flavor or some kind of mint toothpaste cover it up flavor, but instead it was almost like kissing a man in the forest, a little sage, the faintest  hints of pine. The impression of being far from modern life, of some strange untouched innocence struck her. Still holding his hair, she pulled back a little and searched his green eyes. "Where are you from, Valentine?"

"I'm from right here, with you," he said genuinely. "Will you marry me?"

Rory laughed, delighted. "I hope you don't turn out to be one of those crazy stalker bastards. I'd hate to have to kick your ass." She turned, blocked his view of the keypad and put in her security code for the cabin.

"I will never hurt you," he promised, both hands caressing through her long red hair. "So, My Lady, will marry me?"

As the door opened she looked back over her shoulder, still smiling, still very amused. "We will have to see what kind of orgasms I get when I'm with you, my sweet Shakespearian man."
She caught the look of confusion on his face. Just inside the cabin door, as she kicked it closed, he buried his face in her throat, her hair, kissing, drinking in her scent. Arms around her, he nearly lifted her from her feet. "You don't smell like a man. Not that I'd mind if you were."

She pressed him away with one hand, her hand in the middle of his chest, then grabbed hold of his tee shirt. "Do you have a fucking boy friend?"

"No, My Lady. I have utterly no other soul besides myself and your kind regard." His hands slid down her back, pressing her coat to the curves of her body until his fingers reached the fine, thin wool of her slacks. It was more respect than timidity that paused him.  Her hand covered his and pushed it down to cover her ass.

"Are you a virgin, Mr. St. Grenis? Do I have to show you one step at a time? Aren't you a little old for that?" Appearances could be deceiving and she was tempted to ask to see his passport.

His kisses traveled back up to her ear, right behind her ear, and the concept of passports seemed so far away. "I do not believe I am a virgin in anything. What year is it?"

"2010? Are you okay? I don't want to take advantage of you. You don't remember what year it is?"

"You're very honorable. I promise you that I am entirely too old to be a virgin in anything.  I wish to see demonstrations of your orgasm."

She was going to protest, but he touched her face, such a gentle touch, barely touching her and all she could think about was saying yes to anything he wanted. "Get naked."

"As My Lady wishes," he said, kissing her chest as low as her top button would allow.  He stepped back far enough to be able to peel his tee shirt over his head. Under his pants he wore nothing except hard passion. Hard, thick, his cock stood eager for her.  Dark blond curls proved that he wasn't a peroxide job.

She growled. Her coat hit the floor, leather on leather pooling. Her shirt followed and then her pants. Shoes got toed off.  Pressing up against him again, her hand tracing along the length of his cock, over the thick vein at the top, testing how comfortable with her touch he really was, it became obvious how much taller than he was. He was very masculine, though his humility and seemingly gentle nature had masked some of the power to him.

His fingers trailed down her bare waist, rising over the valley of her hip, over the black lace that hide the last bit of her skin from him.  "My Lady may have anything she might wish of me."

"I like books," she teased, gasping a little as he lifted her her in his arms.

"So do I, My Lady."

"Still think I'm a man?"

"I think that thou art a soul such as I have never known. Your scent and warmth draw me near as if you were a goddess summoning me."

She pressed up onto one elbow. He had moved to the foot of the small bed in their cabin. His first kiss to the inside of her ankle nearly drove her question out of her mind. She bent one knee, pointed the toes of her other foot as he kissed slowly up her leg. "You got a vampire fetish? Is that what this accent and stuff is?"

He licked very delicately at the inside of her knee.  "You are very sweet. I remember vampires... Edward. He is very sexy, in a spoiled and slightly vapid way."

"You're just jealous. You've got nothing to be jealous of, Valentine."

He tugged at her panties with his teeth. Green eyes staring up at her, soft blond curls brushing over her bare thigh. "Take these off, My Lady."

"You do it," she said, lifting her hips. 

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