Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Chapter 1 of DAMMIT! by Michele L Montgomery



“Do you think it’s at all possible to make this yellow thing go any faster than it already is? I have a flight to catch and it’s one I can’t afford to miss. It’s not like we’re stuck in traffic here. Its three a.m., there’s no one in front of you.”

“No, no. Not possible. Snow make it hard to drive. Why you leave before sun shine? Maybe it make snow go away, eh?”

Michael groaned and slid down further in the backseat. His fingers tapped on the door, showing his impatience. He looked out all of the windows and cursed the falling snow. And it wasn’t just falling. Oh no, that would be putting it lightly. It was coming down in blizzard fashion, and he had to fly in this?

Michael exhaled. God, how he hated to travel; it was like a train wreck waiting to happen. Or a plane wreck. Whatever. Turbulence that felt as if the damn plane were attached to a bungee cord that could snap at any moment, lost luggage, then an engine failure that caused an emergency landing had just about sworn him off flying for good. Just the thought of it made him shudder. The lost luggage thing hadn’t been so bad, though. He did get to shop for some replacement clothes and found a pair of jeans that made his ass look fabulous, if he did say so himself, so there was that sparkly plus to an otherwise crappy experience. But still.

Flights after that had somehow managed to go smoothly, but now this mess. First, his alarm clock had malfunctioned, waking him up to Ozzy at two o’clock in the morning. And who in their right mind plays Ozzy at that time of the day? Damn alarm clock. It was supposed to go off at four. He’d lain in bed glaring at the evil thing, trying to decide if he should just get up, get his shower, and have his coffee, or go back to sleep. Getting up had won out because he couldn’t trust the alarm would go off again at four. Needless to say, the damn thing was
now in the incinerator.

To make matters worse, the snow had continued to fall, all the way to the airport, “making” the cab driver proceed cautiously, as in driving twenty miles an hour all the way down the freeway. This lovely ride was now coming up on an hour long, and he lived not twenty minutes from the massive circus tent the people in Colorado called D.I.A. The cab driver, who drove like it was a Sunday morning with nowhere to go, was doing his damndest to make him late, but somehow, someway, they were finally pulling up to the departures curb.

Michael let the cab slow to a rolling stop, then threw open the door, prompting an angry outburst from the driver, in a language Michael couldn’t hope to understand. If he had to guess, he was pretty sure the guy wasn’t thanking him for the great conversation and charming company.

He checked in with the skycap and then ran to the security gate, arriving breathless, ticket and ID in hand, only to come to a parking lot of people of all shapes, sizes, and colors, none of them moving or looking at all happy. Everyone and their mother had decided to travel at the same damn time as him, just his luck, and here he’d thought that by taking the early flight, the airport would be quieter, certainly less busy than this. Somberly, he stood in line and tried to ignore the couple behind him with their two screaming kids. Who in their right mind traveled with kids? The poor things had to get up early, probably missed breakfast, and then got dumped into this madness.

Time ticked on. And on. And on. Then finally, after twenty minutes of thanking God he was gay and would never reproduce, it was his turn. Like a well seasoned traveler, he had his shoes off, his pockets emptied, and his belt and laptop in the plastic bin, ready to go. He walked through the machine, then heard a noise that sounded a lot like, Ahhh! That same noise his aunt had made at him when he was little and doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He froze in place and stared at the security guard on the other side of the yellow line, motioning for him to come hither. Fear took hold like a fist in his belly, his heart thumping, and he stood there, paralyzed, because everyone was staring at him as though he were public enemy number one on the US government’s No-Fly List. Oh God, he knew he’d done something wrong or that guy wouldn’t be signaling to him, pointing him out and making his face heat up and break out in a sweat.

“Sir, please step this way. You’re holding up the line.”

“Oh, good Christ, why me?” he said, wishing he could disappear right at that very moment. He moved toward the guard, the cold tile floor making his bare feet all the more uncomfortable, his eyes wide and unblinking.

“Arms out to your sides, sir,” the guard said. He sounded annoyed, at that.

“Yes, sir,” Michael said, doing as he was told. Like this, of all things, was exactly what he needed to have happen, and right now? Why was it every time he traveled, shit happened to him?

Up one side and down the other went the wand as he stood there sweating from embarrassment, but it was amazingly quiet. He cocked his head to the side and snickered as if to ask, now what?

“Please step to your left and the next available guard will be right with you.”

Michael groaned and looked at the man. “But…why? Your wand thingy didn’t beep.”

The guard raised his left eyebrow, lowered his head. “You’ll want to Step to your left now, sir.”

“But, what about my stuff? My laptop cost me a…”

“It’s safe and sound. Please, step to your left. Next.”

And with that, Michael was dismissed. He fought the urge to growl again and did as he was told. Did he look like a terrorist? And, for that matter, what did they even look like? He moaned inwardly, sighed and rolled his eyes. Why had he even agreed to do this? Oh, that’s right, he hadn’t. He was being forced to do this. Well, not exactly forced, but if he didn’t do it, he’d be worse for the wear, and a shitty cousin, on top of it. Then he saw what the man in front of him was being put through, and his dick suddenly woke up. Perfect. Just perfect.

“Frisk? They frisk you now?” he said to no one in particular.

“I’m putting it up to a free feel, personally. Perverted bastards. I swear, if a man touches me, I’m throwing down on him. Nasty creatures, groping paws all over this hot body. I want a woman!”

Michael looked to his right, and a laugh escaped before he had a chance to swallow it down. The girl standing next to him had red and orange hair and eye makeup so thick he was sure if he’d scraped his nail across it, no one would’ve been able to tell, bright pink eye makeup, at that; the girl must have been color blind. “What are they looking for?” he asked.

“Fuck if I know. What do they think, that we’re all armed and hiding said weapons in our bodily orifices? Not very sanitary!”

Michael grew lightheaded as a wave of panic shot through his body. He swallowed hard a few times, his throat like sandpaper scraping against rock. “Oh shit, do they actually check those open ports? Here, in front of God and everyone?”

“Hell if I know. This is my first ride since all the bullshit started with those insane, flying acrobat wannabe’s. All I know is that no man is touching me. Do you hear that?” she yelled, raising her voice with every syllable.

One look at Mr. Gorgeous—tall, muscular, blond, and blue-as-sky eyes—frisking everyone, and Michael’s dick started dancing about in his pants. He was a goner, just wonderful. Six months without any action, whatsoever, and little man down below starts his happy dancing at the mere idea of being groped by a beefy, blonde TSA agent. “This is so not my day.”


“Good luck, Mister. Don’t let them shove their fingers up you, unless they have a glove and lube!”

He swayed with dizziness. “What?”

“Cavity search. Haven’t you ever watched Lifetime?”

He was pretty sure his heart was going to go ahead and explode from stress. Or maybe he’d just have a nice aneurism and escape this humiliation altogether. When he walked up to the rather large man standing near the… “I have to undress?”

“Sir. Please raise your arms out to the side and spread your legs.”

“With my clothes on, right?” Though the guard was all kinds of hot and muscular, Michael wasn’t good with having a stranger’s digits entering his body, at any time.

“Yes, sir.”

Once Michael did as he was instructed, he saw the man slip a pair of latex gloves on, and he yelped, “Oh my God! What are those for?”

“I’m only going to frisk you.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Random search, that’s all. Do you have something to hide? You seem a little nervous.”

“No! No, nothing to hide. I emptied my pockets and took off my shoes and belt, so I don’t understand why I’m being… Oh!”

“Sorry, sir. It’s part of my job.”

“Touching a man’s penis is part of your job?”

“No, sir, that was a slip. I apologize. Please turn around.”

Michael turned, as he was instructed, and jumped as that big hand had made its way up the inside of his thigh and back down again. As far as his dick was concerned, this was foreplay, and it made him achingly hard.

Add sexual frustration to his already overdone day. And it hadn’t even hit seven o’clock in the morning yet.

“Okay, sir. You’re free to go.”

“I’m clear?”

“Yes,” the man answered with a gleam in his eye Michael took as lust.

“Right, so you didn’t find anything?”

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact I did find…something. But it’s not a danger to anyone other than you if you don’t get it taken care of.”

The man grinned, patted Michael’s shoulder, and said, “You’re just fine. Next!”

Michael didn’t miss the other man’s suggestive look or what he’d been looking for. Random search, indeed. He offered a slight nod, cleared his throat, resumed his regular breathing pattern, and concentrated on walking to his personal items, with a hard on he was doing his best to hide.

“Oh man, that looks painful. If I was into dudes, I’d sure take you into the restroom and help you out with that.”

Michael couldn’t have been any more embarrassed if he tried. Make-up girl again. “Have you no couth?”

She laughed and sauntered over to her items, then came back to sit beside him. “None. Not at all, whatsoever. What’s the point? If you hide your true self from the world, they’ll never know you were here. It’s not like I’m ever going to see these snobs again, and if I do, they’ll remember me. You? I’ll remember you cuz when Mr. Sexy back there felt you up, you popped a woody and he, while you were turned around, grinned like a schoolboy. He liked it.”

“Oh, you’re bad. Shameless is what you are. And for your information, men have no control over how their penises react to certain situations. It’s a normal reaction.”

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