Hell in a Handbasket - The Journey (2 page)

He was looking in our direction, me and Grandma.
Things were looking up.

I must have wiggled in my seat because my laptop hit
the floor.

"Dammit!" My eyes widened in shock as I
glanced over at Grandma. "Sorry." I mumbled.

"No need, dear, I just hope your lap thingy is
ok."

I smiled.
"Laptop, short for
laptop computer, as opposed to the ones that sit on your desktop."

I got resituated and opened up my laptop.
Great, black screen.
Maybe it just turned off. At least it
wasn't the blue screen of death!

I hit the button to turn my laptop on and surprise,
surprise it not only came on but seemed to be okay. I clicked on the writer
program icon, just to see
…hoo-ah!

"It seems to be fine."

Grandma leaned over to look at the screen. She must
have noticed the writing program I had just reopened. I caught a whiff of her
perfume, a soft mix of lilacs, lavender, vanilla cookies and Tiger Balm. I
couldn’t help but smile. She reminded me of my grandmother and although it had
been three years since she passed, I still missed her terribly.

"Are you a writer?" Her voice was soft and
lilted up at the end as if full of childish wonder.

"Yes ma'am. I'm trying anyway
s
."
Okay, so I have some manners. My grandma taught me to be polite, especially to
my elders.

"What do you write?" How sweet, Grandma was
still trying to carry on a conversation. I glanced sideways at her, taking in
her short gray hair. It looked as if it had once been a dark shade and it had
faded to a nice mix of dark and light gray. Her eyes were a gentle mix of soft
sky blue and a light ocean green. They held a glint and humor that told of many
years of happy living. Although she didn’t have the wrinkles that my Gram did,
her eyes told me that she had lived a very full life and she knew things I
could only hope to know. I know how my grandma felt about adult topics,
especially sex. My Gram was a very devout Southern Baptist lady. Sex before
marriage was such a sin, and discussions about sex in any manner were beyond
taboo. She couldn’t stand to watch television. She used to say that the whole
world was going to Hell in a hand basket. And now that she’s gone, here I am
contributing to the basket. I think that’s why I decided to answer this Grandma
the way I did, maybe, just maybe to test her reaction.

"I write smut," I nonchalantly dead-panned.

I glanced back up and there he was, leaning against
that tremendous plate glass window. The window took up an entire wall and
should have dwarfed him. His presence was so devastatingly powerful. I not only
forgot there was that window with one of the most
impressive scenes
behind him, but somehow I forgot there was an entire airport full of people
surrounding us. His arms were crossed over his chest and his long legs crossed
at the ankles. He looked so casual, as if being stranded in the airport lobby
was not only a normal occurrence, but one to be appreciated and enjoyed. He was
so gorgeous, looking at him almost hurt…almost.

I took my sweet time perusing him. He was tall, about
six feet. I couldn't really tell since he was leaning. His dark hair framed his
face, which was somewhat rugged, but not chiseled. His skin sported an olive
complexion. And those eyes
…
from where I sat, I couldn't tell what
color they were, but I could see the amusement in them and a hint of…what was
that…hunger? The glint
s
of amusement in his eyes seemed to be escorting
the slight upturns of the corners of his mouth—and OH. MY.
GOD.
It took everything I had not to get up, go over there and taste that mouth. As
soon as I thought that, it looked as though he smirked. Was that a coincidence?
I just didn't know.

I decided it would be best if I sat where I was and
continued my appraisal…and…Oh Holy, it should be against the law for a man to
look that good. His hair fell about his broad shoulders, which rested nicely
above a barrel chest that he had tried to stuff into a cream-colored sweater. I
mean really, he should have just gone without a shirt for all the good the
sweater did to hide that body. His narrowed waist dipped into slender hips,
which topped long, lean, muscular legs. And the jeans he was wearing—faded blue
and snug—fit exactly where my eyes and imagination needed them to fit! I guess
he was wearing shoes, but my eyes never made it that far. Hell, he could have
run around barefoot for all I cared. Or better yet, only a towel. I smiled at
the thought of that body running around the airport lobby in nothing but a
towel…oh no, wait…naked! Excellent!

The elderly lady placed her hand on my arm, bringing
me out of my reverie and back to our conversation. Oh God, I hadn't noticed how
much I had been grinning. My eyes widened and I bit my bottom lip.

"Pardon me, dear. You write what?" She wore
a look of confusion as if she had heard me wrong.

"Adult erotica," I answered with a tone so
sweet I was afraid of getting a cavity.

"Adult erotica?"
Her voice a mere squeak.
Could she get any sweeter or naive?

"I write porn." The look on her face was
priceless. Disbelief and embarrassment, as if I had just informed her that the
cookies from the vending machine were better than any she could have baked with
her own sweet hand in her loving home.

Truth be told, I guess it really was one of the
reasons I stated my profession the way I did, just to see her reaction.
Pay dirt.

"I could read some to you if you'd like," I
offered in a saccharine sweet voice, quite certain of what her response would
be.

"Yes, please." I looked up, startled.

There he was sitting directly across from me, leaning
back in his chair. When did he move? His arms were still crossed over his chest
and his long legs stretched out in front of him crossed at the ankles. Well,
what do you know? He was wearing shoes…boots I think. And seriously, was that
the only pose he knew? The mischievous grin on his face and his deep emerald
green eyes sparkled. For the first time in my life I was at a loss for words,
absolutely speechless.

I quickly recovered, well as best as I could.

"I'm sorry, that was an offer for the lady."
I turned to my left and the elderly lady was gone. Well, crap on a cracker. I
had just chased away my chaperone.

"Are you referring to Gertrude?" He cocked
his head toward the restrooms and there she was, counting something as she
shuffled away. "I paid her to inquire as to what was on your laptop that
had you so engrossed."

"Why would you do that? Don't you have the
personal fortitude to inquire on your own?" I shot him a look of
disbelief.

"Sure I do, I'm here now. Besides, watching the
two of you interact was great entertainment."

"Well if that was great entertainment, you must
lead a very boring life." I bit my bottom lip in an effort to keep a
straight face. "And if that's the case, reading you any of my works may
cause you to go into full cardiac arrest, and I simply cannot have that on my
conscience."

In one fluid movement he brought his knees up, spread
his feet to about shoulder
s
width apart and leaned forward, resting his
elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. He pursed his lips and
started chewing the inside of his mouth as if he were in serious thought.
Tapping his thumbs together he replied, "Yes, I see your point. But
imagine the benefits. Your work would have to carry a warning label. The tag
line could read that your work is so racy it may cause heart attacks. Sales
would go through the roof." He flashed a sweet smile that seemed sincere.
The glint in his eyes made my knees go weak and yet here I was, already sitting
down.

"Nice concept and tag. Are you in
advertising?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what exactly?"

"Is advertising really what you want to talk
about?"

"Sure, why not? It is polite conversation."

"Because I believe you're supposed to be reading
some of your work to me." He waggled his eyebrows. Waggled…really?

"Oh no.
Heart attack, remember?" I placed my right hand
over my chest and gave him a look of mock shock.

"You didn't seem to be so concerned about Gertie
having a heart attack earlier." He gave me a slight pout.

"That's because (A, I'm quite certain Gertie
would have declined, and (B, she never claimed to lead a very boring
life."

He tipped his chin up, raised his right hand and then
with his fingernails and the tops of his fingers began a gentle stroking of the
underside of his chin and throat. He stroked back and forth, back and forth oh
so very slowly. I thought I was going to have a stroke.

"Valid, very valid.
What if I can prove to you that my heart is sound?
Would you read to me then?" Again with the waggling eyebrows and a smirk
that may be the very reason for global warming—I know it was the cause of my
temperature spike.

"And just how do you propose to provide me with
this proof you speak of?" Now it was my turn to waggle my eyebrows at him.
And he chuckled…he actually chuckled at me. "I am so glad that I entertain
you."

"Oh, you do, you do entertain me! As for the
proof you seek, I was thinking perhaps something of a physical nature. You
know, something to get the ole heart rate up, get the blood pumping to prove
the ticker is in great shape."

What was the look that crossed his face? Was it doubt?
Did he honestly think that someone as hot as he was couldn't get just about any
woman to gladly drop her panties for him and pray that it was all caught on
tape so she could prove it to her friends later? Ok, maybe that was just
me,
maybe he wasn’t so sure the "ole ticker" was
in such great shape after all. What to do…what to do…

"Hhhmmmm…Something physical you say? Just what
did you have in mind, because…I have some great ideas…
"
Waggle, waggle…Again I waggled my eyebrows at him.

"Oh really, I'd love to hear some of your
ideas."

In the sexiest voice I could muster, "Well, for
starters…you could drop right here at my feet…" I pointed to the floor
right there in front of my feet for effect and in a straight-laced voice,
"and give me fifty push ups."
My turn to smirk.

He snorted and then started to choke. I jumped up from
where I was sitting, sat down beside him and started patting him on the back.

"Are you ok?" I was really worried.
"I'm really not so sure you can handle any of my works."

He burst out laughing. Horrified, I jumped up and went
back to my seat.

"Well, what a way to make a girl feel good about
herself—not!" I pouted.

I leaned over, put my elbow on the armrest, put my
face in my hand, looked at him with true hurt in my eyes and pouted.

"I'm sorry. Truly I am. I don't know what came
over me. Please, let me make it up to you." His eyes were wide and had a
hint of tear in them from the choking. It only served to make him look
absolutely adorable. I was done for.

"I really don't think you can. I mean first you
give me doubts about your heart. Then you start choking at the mere mention of
physical activity and then when I express true concern you bust out laughing
and hurt my feelings. I really don't see how you can make all of that up to
me."

"At least give me the chance. Let me try. What do
you have to lose?" There went those eyebrows again.

"I don't know. Give me a rundown of what you have
in mind and I'll think about it."

"Well, since you're a little leery of reading
some of your work to me, I could help you write some. You seemed to be at a
loss earlier."

"Well, it was a bit distracting with Gertrude in
my ear. It kind of killed the mood, if you know what I mean. Besides, if you
aren't healthy enough to
hear
about it what makes you think you're
healthy enough to
do
it?"

He chuckled and gave me a smile that lit up the room
and had me reaching for the oxygen mask. Damn that was on the plane and I was
still in the blasted lobby.

"I didn't say anything about doing. I was
thinking I could talk and you could write, but doing sounds a whole lot
better."

"Oh God."
I dropped my head into my hands, too embarrassed to
even look up at him.

He dropped to his knees in front of me. And with his
left hand, he cupped my chin and lifted my face to look at him.

I tried to look away but he held my face firm and
wouldn't let me turn.

I looked into those deep green eyes and noticed flecks
of gold. I was mesmerized—I couldn't have looked away then if my life had
depended on it.

I noticed his eyes seemed to get darker in color. Wow.
Then he licked his lips and I melted right there in my seat.

He traced my lips with his thumb and my breath caught.
I couldn't seem to breathe. Where in the hell was the air? I wanted to lick his
thumb so bad I couldn't see straight. I was actually scared. It’s one thing to
write adult erotica and another to live it. Who the hell was I kidding,
I
was terrified!