Max On the Road - Chasing Rainbows

"Eat the Cookies, Rahne."

You might not have noticed, but I like being out on the road. I enjoy the chance to head off in a direction and let the road take me to new and unfamiliar places. Even roads you've travelled before can show you something new from day to day if you pay attention. And if I'm travelling a road I've never been on before? Well, that's just icing on the cake for me.

"But Max," I hear you saying. "If that's the case, why don't you just chuck it all in, buy a camper and live on the road? After all, you like driving, like seeing new places. Love screwing different women. A camper sounds just your thing!"

Let's just say I like my apartment's creature comforts and library. I'm not quite ready to chuck it all and become a nomad just yet. That was always my father's dream- to see me settled, with a good job and a loving wife, while he and Mom roamed the country in an RV. And Mom was less than enthusiastically on-board with the idea (Meaning she didn't hate it.).

And that's a thing you should really do WITH someone and I hadn't met someone I'd want to share the road with.

Holy fuck. Have you ever done that thing where you're writing and you start typing something at one pace and the idea hits you and suddenly you're being very slow and careful and typing every word with care as though the very thing you just though has extra weight and maybe some sort of profound revelation for you? Some grand truth has been revealed? I just had that. Right up there.

You know where I'm going with this, right?

Right. Right as in 'Right as Rahne'.

Look, I'm not going to blow smoke up your ass that I'm not still hung up on this girl who I slept with once and only briefly heard from since. And you know what? I'm going to tell you flat out that I KNOW her streaming channel is still active. I found it after I got home from St Louis. Ashley verified it with me while we were fucking our way back down the mountain. I keep telling myself to just subscribe. Just connect. Maybe she'll talk to me privately? Maybe she WANTS me to find her and I'm blowing it because she doesn't know I know how to find her?

Here's the thing though- I'm not sure WHY I'm hung up on this woman. Personal connection? I felt there was one but I don't know how she felt. Did I want to know she was okay and if her nightmares were just a one-time thing? Absolutely. Did I want to fu... sleep with her again? Doesn't even need an answer, does it?

Did I want to be another person she spends a month or two with and then moves on? Did I want to be the person she wanted to settle for because she'd 'reached the end of her play-life'?

Did I, in short, LOVE her?

How the fuck should I know? She sat beside me, naked, for ten hours while I drove her to spend time with another stripper/camgirl and we talked about sex and work and what state had the better hot dogs and neither of us were shy about the people we'd been with or the things we'd done (She had, unsurprisingly, more experience than I but... hot, sexually free woman vs. me. Not really a contest I was coming out ahead on. 'On top' once we stopped for the night, yes. (insert rimshot here)). Since then, I've been with *counts on fingers* dozens of women, many of whom I've told you about, including one she WATCHED ME FUCK over the internet. And I have no doubt she's had more than one partner since that night too.

I'm actually okay with that, to be honest. For her, that's a healthy lifestyle and I'm not going to wave the double standard of 'Guys can screw whomever they want, but the women need to stay devoted to the one dude!' because, quite frankly, that's stupid bullshit. As long as she's happy, I'm happy for her.

AND I'D KNOW SHE WAS HAPPY IF I JUST TALKED TO HER!!

I am nothing if not inconsistent.

So, I'm dodging the issue by getting back on the highway and heading to Los Angeles. Four days to clear my head, maybe write some stories. Maybe even make a few. Look, it should be no surprise at this point that I get laid on this trip, otherwise I would have opened in LA crawling out of bed with... know what? I'm gonna save that part for later.

I called Tabitha and Nancy almost immediately after hanging up with Jessica, only to find myself in a conference call with all three of them by the time I got to my apartment door. I had seven days to batter the Baskerville bible into shape (Tabitha and Nancy would be by in the morning to hold my feet to the fire on this one!) and by the end of that week, I would be on the road. In the meantime, the studio offered to fly them both out to join me in LA and we SHOULD be arriving on the same day. The studio would send a car to pick them up and I would join them when I got to town.

Easy-peasy lemon-bullshit.

Nancy took the lead in helping me with the bible, being more familiar with my Baskerville works, while Tabitha focused on getting my car in for a quick tune-up. Believe me, anyone thinks she's a pushover about cars because *cough* "she's a chick' usually gets reamed a new one. And not in the fun way I'm avoiding telling her about. She just about lost her shit when I showed her my tattoo and tongue stud.

No, Albert did not get brought up for discussion.

In the meantime, apartment got atrociously neat- books and magazines were put on the new shelves, Fort Pepperoni toppled to the sudden assault of the Hoover 'Engine' tribe (Which is the ONLY way I will EVER make that joke. Nancy hit the stack with the vacuum.) and I even ended up with three more boxes for sale or trade when I got back. My cactus' corpse even got sent on to the Great Neglected Plant (Forest? Desert? Graveyard?') Location in the dumpster. I just knew there would be a further neatness committed after I left. Nancy kept glowering at the state of my fridge and bedroom.

Does it really surprise anyone that the first time I stopped on this trip West was the same Harrisburg gas station/rest stop I first picked Rahne up in? She wasn't there and it was, sadly, too crowded to do more than hit on Charletta, the clerk we'd both agreed was worth the trip back. Looked like we weren't the only ones to think so either.

I had a reason for not pushing all the way to St Louis that first leg, most of them stemming from not wanting to do another fourteen-hour drive for no reason. I had four days; I was going to take four days. I pushed as far as Springfield, Ohio where I stopped at a place called 'Club Hollywood' for dinner (Mostly because I could send Tabitha a message saying I was 'in Hollywood' already. She was not amused.) before swinging over to Club 425 to leave some money on the stages.

I know what you're hoping for- I hooked up with a dancer through the SI app and got a quickie during a lap dance or something so this story picks up some. Truth is, there was only one girl in the whole place who had the app and I just wasn't into her (Ha!) enough to make the effort. Went back to my hotel, crashed and was back on the road by mid-morning.

Driving straight through, I stopped for the night in St Louis and, if you looked at a map when I said so, you know that it wasn't that long a drive. It was still daylight out. My original plan had been to push as far as Oklahoma City, but I changed my mind. If you've actually been reading and not just skimming looking to references to tits and ass, you know why.

Grabbed some lunch at the mall I'd dropped her off at. Panda Express is Panda Express no matter where you go and I love their orange chicken. I figured that the girlfriend she would be meeting would want someplace familiar to her to meet and any club she worked at would likely also be nearby. Used my hard-won detective skills from TV and books to logic that one out I did.

Nothing opened for a few hours, so I wandered and people-watched and jotted down a few notes here and there. Had a great chat with a six-year-old who wondered what sort of schoolwork I was stuck doing in the mall when she saw my notebook. Even nicer chat with her dad about education and not jumping to any conclusions and what the fuck was he doing letting a six-year-old wander around a mall without supervision anyway? I may not be much for kids personally and all for freedom to explore, but Judas wept man!

Sorry, off topic rant. Made even slightly less creepy (Not really. Just the opposite in fact.) with the knowledge that I was leaving the mall to go find the nearest titty bar and maybe the girl who'd been haunting my wet dreams of late.

I'd dic... procrastinated until the middle of happy hour so I could blend in with the crowd and look around a bit. I wasn't expecting it, but I also didn't want to cause a scene. Plan was- sit down, have a drink, try and get some info out of the waitress, spread some tips around as necessary and, if she wasn't here, then I'd move on to the next nearest club and so forth. I had no plan for if she WAS here. Cross that bear (Or 'Bare that crotch'?) when I get to it.

Not a bad place as strip clubs go. It was still early, so the lights weren't down low yet, nor was the music so loud as to blast the eardrums out of your head. The decor was 'strip club chic'- low stools around the main stage, tall tables scattered throughout, bar, DJ booth, and the low, comfortable chairs arranged in just a way so that you could get a private show but security could still keep an eye on you. Seven early bird customers besides myself, one already a bit too drunk and loud for the other 'before the six o'clock news on a weekday' crowd and a scattering of bored dancers waiting on the evening rush. One dancer going through the motions, not ready to put all her energy into her routine just yet. You know, the usual.

I paid my cover, got a stamp of a hobo on the back of my hand (A 'tramp' stamp for the unenlightened.) and made my way to the back wall where I could sit, observe and be out of the more energetic patrons' way. Show's out there buddy, not in my notebook. I know, I know- not usually the place to sit and scribble story ideas, but you find inspiration where you find it and the notebook is safer than paying attention to your phone when someone's trying to interest you in their boobs.

"Can I help you officer?" the waitress asked suspiciously. At least, I figured she was the waitress since she had on an apron and wore slightly more sensible sneakers than the dancer's regular heels. She was also topless and her bare breasts pushed the unnecessary rainbow suspenders hooked to her bright metallic blue booty shorts off to either side quite attractively.

"Blue Moon please. Or a Shock Top Belgian White if you've got that?"

She brought back a Blue Moon, complete with the orange slice.

"I look like a cop huh?" I asked, peeling off a twenty and waving away change.

"Sitting in the back, writing in a notebook? What do you think?"

"I think a cop would try harder to blend in personally." I peeled off another twenty and set it on the table between us. "Of course, now I'm going to make myself even more suspect by asking a question." She grabbed for the bill, but I kept my hand on it.

"Don't get grabby with most of the girls or Rocko will kick your ass," she recited, running the litany of usual questions. "Destiny will let you play with her tits during a lap dance, but otherwise keep your hands to yourself. Lap dances are a hundred, though Destiny will ask for one-twenty."

"Not what I wanted to ask, but that brings up another question- you really have a bouncer named 'Rocko'?" I gave up the bill when she jutted her chin over to a broad, squat man with rusty hair and beard. Reminded me a little of a Lord of the Rings dwarf to be honest. "Gotcha. Don't mess with Rocko from Moria." That made her smile.

"He gets a lot of that when the game conventions start up." She looked over at him and waved 'hello'. Rocko nodded back, folding his arms and glowering at me. "If you aren't a cop, then what are you?"

"Writer. I take notes on stuff I find interesting in case I want to use it later." I pushed the open notebook over so she could look at it. "People, places, scene settings, that sort of stuff."

"Huh. Pretty cool," she lied, pushing the book back to me. "So... what did you want to ask?"

"Surprise surprise, it's about a dancer who might work here, might not. I'm not sure."

"Ooookaaay." Now she looked guarded, and with good reason. I held up my hands placatingly.

"I'm looking for a woman who might have started here about six months ago, give or take. Short blonde hair dyed in a rainbow, rainbow across her chest over her boobs? Might have danced under the name 'Rainbow' or 'Aurora'?"

That made her eyes open wide and I immediately wondered if I needed to concern myself with Rocko. Instead, she just excused herself and walked over to where several dancers were nursing their first fake champagnes at the bar. There was a bit of hushed conversation and then she and several of the dancers surrounded me. Somehow, I found this more terrifying than Rocko's grumpy stare.

"I'm Tessa," the lead dancer said, hands on her shapely hips. Look, it's hard not to describe a group of potentially angry but mostly naked women in anything but sexual terms, ok? It's really... the contrast between suspicious eyes and sequined sparkly g-strings is off-putting to say the least. "What do you want with Rainbow?"

"Oh good, I'm in the right club then. That makes things easier. Thank you for that."

"How about you answer the question asshole?" Tessa was really starting to get angry now. "You some old boyfriend trying to track her down or some shit? Or did Seth hire you to drag her back?"

"Seth? Who the fuck is Seth?" 'Drag her back'? What. The Fuck? "Is Seth someone who hurt her? Because, I'm not usually a violent guy, but I'll fucking kill him if he did. Is he that shithole out in California that wanted to own her?"

"How about you answer her question first, boi?" If I were to venture a guess, this was 'Destiny'- blonde, big boobs and not much upstairs (Or so she would have people believe.), trying very hard to be 'street'.

"Look, I'm not here to cause trouble." I sat down, putting myself at a disadvantage, then carefully laid my hands palm down on the table. "I do not want to cause Rainbow any trouble. I just want to make sure she's okay."

"Who are you?" Tessa demanded again. "Why do you want to find her?"

I took a slow, deep breath.

"My name is Maxwell Connors. I'm a writer. Earlier this year, I came to St Louis for a book signing. At a rest stop in Harrisburg PA, I met Rainbow. She had just missed her bus and asked me for a ride. I drove her all the way here to the mall just up the road where she was supposed to meet one of you."

"What car do you drive?"

"Honda Pilot EX-L SUV. The only one that came in a dark blue."

"What was she wearing?"

"When I met her? Sweatpants and jacket. No top. She flashed me her boobs when asking for the ride. Once we were on the way, she stripped. Spent most of the trip in sneakers and Bluey sunglasses. And a smile."

That put Tessa and the waitress aback. The other dancers exchanged looks.

"Anything else you want to ask? I'm here all night."

"Holy shit, you're Max!" My turn to be taken aback. And make the joke about how I want to be taken 'out back' by these women whose attitude just made an abrupt turnaround.

"I suppose I am. And I must say, you aren't the first friends of Rainbow's that's said it pretty much just like that."

Tessa, as it turns out, was the girlfriend Rainbow had come to see and had seen me pulling away from the mall that day. Mollified, the waitress and the other dancers dispersed, mingling with the newly arrived patrons eager to tuck money in their g-stings and go home with aching balls and empty wallets. Tessa, on the other hand, threw her arms around me and gave me a very long hug, which she assured me was from both her and Rainbow. Under Rocko's baleful gaze, I could not return said hug and, eventually, she broke the embrace, sitting on the opposite side of the table.

"So," I finally asked, already dreading the answer. "She's not here, is she?"

"No, she's not." She reached out and took my hand. "She left about three months ago. Heading for Seattle or someplace in Oregon near there. I'm sorry."

"No no. My own fault," I admitted, taking a sip of my beer. If I'd just reached out to her, I'd have known. Instead, I had this stupid hope that I'd find her here, waiting. "You'd think I would have known better."

"She got you good, didn't she?"

"I keep trying to figure out how? Why? We didn't even have a full day together."

"Wait here." She got up from the stool and made her way through the bar to the backstage door, where she disappeared.

While she was gone, I slowly drank my beer and wondered why I was wasting my time on this... this stupid obsession side-quest to reconnect with this woman. It felt like I was deliberately making life harder on myself, especially of late. Ever since I started using the SI app, my life had changed, some of it for the better, and some of it? Fuck. I was building this house of sensations and pleasures with this one piece turning the whole thing on it's ear.

Time to go. Get my ass back on the road, drive angry for a few hours and just... just clear my head of this mess I was making. Work out a plot for my life and try like fuck to stay on topic.

Any writer will tell you that the purpose of your carefully outlined plot is so you can look back on it when the story is done and say 'Shit, that would have never worked out the way I wanted it to.'.

I finished my beer, leaving the waitress a hefty tip under the glass before getting up and heading for the door. A brief detour past the main stage where I generously dumped several bills down for... Raven? Fiona? Katie? Like it mattered?

Rocko of the Iron Hills stopped me at the door with a hand big enough to crush my head pressed against my chest. He didn't say anything, just looked me up and down as though studying me, remembering me in case he needed to describe me to the cops later. I was about to ask him if Doc and Dopey knew he was moonlighting when he looked past me and let me go.

"Thanks Rocko," Tessa said, pausing only to kiss his cheek before looping her arm through mine. I didn't have time to protest before we were in the parking lot and heading to my car. "She said if you were to ever come looking for her, she wanted me to take care of you in her place."

"What?" I found myself being put into the passenger seat of my own car. I wasn't fighting it either.

"You were the first guy who let her go without a fight, even though it sounds like you didn't want to." She drove out of the parking lot and down the road. I stared out the window, remembering that day when she sat right here and watched the city roll by.

"It wasn't my place to ask that of her." There, I finally admitted it out loud. Now just to make myself believe it.

"She wanted you to." Tessa reached over and took my hand, squeezing it supportively. "She wanted you to stick with the carefully crafted perception she has of men born from experience- guys like you want one thing from girls like her and the second they say they won't give you up to share with someone else? Automatic poison. Makes walking away so much easier."

"I'm sorry." I apologized, trying to wrap my head around what Rahne's life must really be like that she finds burning the bridges behind her far less troublesome. "Sorry you are missing out on tips tonight for this."

"Don't be honey, tonight's my night off. I was just in to try and get a little extra money together." She pulled into a trailer park, eventually parking in the driveway of a home with only the exterior light on. "She asked me to bring you here, where she stayed with me, if you ever came back looking for her."

Taking me by the hand, she led me through her home, straight for the bedroom, bypassing every light. Like the rest of the home, the room was dark, cramped and smelled like sex. The sex of two women enjoying each other fully. In spite of my melancholy, I knew this scent and my body reacted accordingly.

I kept wanting to ask 'Why?' but I didn't. I didn't ask when we undressed each other, carefully and gently removing each other's clothing. Our hands doing all the speaking. The thinking.

I didn't ask when she wrapped my arms around her waist and hers around my neck, pulling me down into a long, slow embrace and full body kiss that I could feel all the way down to my toes.

I didn't ask when she pulled me down onto the bed, gasping in my ear when my cock slipped into her warm folds and buried deep inside her. Or when she wrapped her legs around my waist and whispered soft encouragements for me to fuck her.

I didn't ask when she clung so tight it took my breath away, pleasure racking her body and 'Thank you Rainbow. Thank you thank you thank you' tumbled from her lips.

Or when I pushed one last time and came in her warm, comforting pussy, whispering my own 'Thank you Rahne'.

Tessa was still holding me twenty minutes later, just two strangers enjoying the warmth of another body, when she finally broke the embrace. Crawling across the bed (Which, I will admit even in my dazed and heart-heavy state was really fun to watch!), she opened a drawer and took out a single envelope, which she handed to me after turning on the bedside light.

On it, it simply said 'Max'.

You left when I asked, but before I was ready. And it wasn't until after you were gone that I realized I didn't want you to go. You told me our paths had only crossed for a short time and that made you sad. Me too. I'm not ready to walk your path and you aren't ready to follow mine, but I feel someday, maybe we'll be going the same way again. Together. Until then, follow your path. And know that denying yourself the joys and adventures we aren't sharing- that denial hurts me infinitely more than anything else.

Eat the Cookies!

Love,

Rahne

P. S. Get back over there and fuck Tessa again! She's got some AWESOME tits, doesn't she?

Sitting on the end of the bed, I carefully folded the note back into the envelope, setting it with my clothes. Looking back, Tessa lounged on the pillows, watching me intently, trying to judge what was going on in my heart.

"What does it say?" She asked at last.

"She reminded me that you have really nice tits." I grabbed her ankles and pulled her back to the middle of the bed. "And that I need to eat a bit more than cookies tonight."

I left early the next morning after a breakfast of bacon, eggs and Tessa bent over the kitchen counter. I had a long leg to go to make New Mexico if I wanted to get back on schedule.

I wouldn't get back on schedule. But that's the next story.

Thank you everyone who has been following this series. It's been fun to write and even I have NO IDEA where the plot is going next.

Continued in the next installment- Max On the Road- Leather and Lace

Comments and questions are always welcome.

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You can find me most nights in the Lit-Chat Lobby or through PM if you prefer.

Eat the Cookies!