I had had a suitcase open, available for random thoughts to be packed; tossed in on whim. I put in all the rope. I threw in the flogger; we’d not yet used it.  Of course the two njoy toys.  Of course.  And the Magic Wand.  Then some clothes.  Ended up being both more and less than I needed.

I was packed.  I checked in online and paid for my one (!) checked bag.  I was ready.  I was excited.  I hadn’t traveled in a while, and despite the airport bullshit and the sitting squished in a tiny space, I was looking forward to going to Chicago.  I had been only one time before, eleven years prior when my step-sister lived in Lafayette, Indiana.

After she and her boyfriend graduated from UC Davis, they moved to Indiana, where he had been accepted into a Ph.D. program in chemistry.  The three of them – Jay had a son, Little Jay, to whom my step-sister had been a mother since he was four – moved to the Midwest.  It was while living there that they got married, and had two daughters.

It was when she was pregnant with her elder daughter that I visited.  I stayed for just a few days; my family knows the fine art of the short and not-too-too-bitter visit.  While there I went to [Step-Sister's] baby shower.  It was a lot of very nice, but very Midwest, white women.  Too tan, hair too “done.”  Makeup.  I did not feel in place in any way.

We also went to Oak Park, Illinois, where Frank Lloyd Wright had lived and designed quite a few houses in the neighborhood.  We went through the full tour.  She had never heard of Frank Lloyd Wright, which I thought was so odd considering we’d lived in the same household for some years.  But there were just a few things that had never occurred to her.  There are many things about chemistry that don’t occur to me, and that’s what she knows, so I guess we both have our areas of interest.

I took BART to the airport, the sky train to the terminal, and queued up to drop off my checked baggage.  I had trouble figuring out the machine where I checked in, and figuring out which of the several numbers on the boarding pass I was to enter to get to my records.  I finally did it, dropped off my luggage, and then met Jules Verne.

Jules Verne had offered to take care of Isis when I was gone.  He has a big yard in the Oakland hills that Isis would love, and he misses having a dog.  He has a dog, only half of the year.  His ex-girlfriend had sued for joint custody of the dog.  That is such the problem of people with money.  He misses his dog when he’s not around so he volunteered to care for Isis whenever I was gone.

I met him in a restaurant just past security.  He was drinking a mimosa and eating French toast.  Yum.  He ordered me a drink.  Jules Verne and I drink together.  That is one of the many things I like about fucking him.  He’s a drinker.  I’m a drinker.  It’s fun to drink together and fuck in all sorts of dirty, nasty ways.  It’s fun hanging out with him.

He’s young, but I forget because we’re hanging out, having fun.  The conversation is usually about sex and flirty and fun.  He’s so young that I would not want to be around him and his friends.  I’d be annoyed and embarrassed and sorry I was fucking him.  He likes dance music.  He likes to get girls drunk and fuck them in the club bathrooms.  He’s been kicked out for such activity since I’ve known him.

We got a few mimosas.  I helped him eat his French toast.  I gave him my house keys.  I told him where to find things that Isis would need.  I know she’s a good dog, so I wasn’t worried that much.  And I trusted him.

I ran to my gate and got on the plane just after they called out my name over the speakers.  I had a middle seat, which I knew, and in which I wanted to sit for as short time as possible.  I sat between two men, aged at opposite ends of their third decades.  I realized on that flight that there is nothing that is safe for others to look at on my computer without explanation.  My wallpaper is from Kink.com.  My blog is called Random Rim Jobs.

The story I was editing had something along the lines of, “OH FUCK, I LOVE TO  CUM, AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH.”  It was in all caps, and the vulgar spelling – which I would have changed to C-O-M-E – made it clear even at a glance that it was sexual.  I mostly listened to podcasts and slept.  Out of fear I’d not get up on time, I didn’t go to sleep at all the night before.

After a blissfully uneventful flight I met the Viking in the baggage claim area.  It is so fucking pleasant to look at someone and know he is genuinely happy to see me.  That makes me so happy.

We took the train into the city.  Compared to BART and Muni, the L’s stations are small.  They also have a lot of narrow stairways.  I feel for people in wheelchairs.  My goal will be to stay out of a wheelchair while in Chicago.

After going to our hotel room and freshening up, we went to a tasty Thai restaurant that interestingly didn’t serve any pork.  The menu did not otherwise appear to be Muslim, but maybe it was.  With bellies full of food we went to our room and slept for about ten hours.  I can sleep, it’s one of my specialties.

We had a good time the next day.

[To be continued.]

I swear.  True story.

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