Chapter 37: Oklahoma - Texas

The packing job of luggage on the motorcycle was a masterpiece of arrangement and the art of bungee cord use. Ginger tested things here and there to be sure nothing would blow off as they headed south out of Wichita.

Dave turned back to her and patted her snug rear end in her Daisy Duke shorts. “Against the wall and spread ‘em, babe!” Ginger leaned against the brick wall of the hotel and spread her legs as instructed, just as if Dave were a cop about to frisk her. Dave rubbed a copious amount of suntan lotion onto his two hands and started at her ankles and shoes worked his way up her legs slathering on the SPF 70 lotion.

“I don’t want my favorite red head to be in pain tonight from sunburn. You do have fair skin, you know.” He repeated the process of greasing up his rider for each arm, the part of her chest that showed and some that didn’t, her neck, and then let her do her own face. Dave did his own body with Ginger helping here and there, teasing him by touching delicate body parts through his jeans and t-shirt.

Dave kissed various limbs and parts of her skin. “Someday, I’m going to have to count all your freckles. I love every one of them.”

The two of them had made love again that morning, picking up from where they’d left off the night before. The love Ginger felt for Dave hadn’t waned at all since he’d given her the Experience the night before. For that matter, he felt more romantic attachment to her than usual.

Ginger explained the phenomena: “The Experience just obliterates the boundaries that women put in place to protect themselves from bad experiences. Once they wake up, they tell genuinely how they feel, probably hoping that they won’t be rejected. Their love, like mine, is genuine and only grows.”

Dave helped her onto the bike, and then helped her get her helmet positioned and attached properly. He explained about the intercom. She said, “I’m so excited, I may wet my pants.”

Dave wagged a finger at her, “Don’t do that, you’ll soak part of the luggage under and behind you.” She laughed.

Dave mounted the bike in front of her, got his helmet on, and then started the bike. He checked everything one more time, made sure the intercom worked, and off they went. As he motored out of Wichita, he made a command decision and talked to Ginger about it. She didn’t care, so he headed for Interstate 35.

Dave ran some numbers in his head, “Honey, do you care whether we go straight to Dallas today. We’ll kind of short-change Oklahoma, but we can stop in Oklahoma City for lunch and probably be in Dallas well before dinner.”

Ginger agreed. At her direction, they ate at the Bricktown Brewery, a nice American pub a short-distance from the Interstate in OK City. After roaming through the city center, they got back on the Interstate.

Over lunch, Ginger had more questions about the Circle, including how they implemented some of the core values, such as equality. Dave also talked about EneRG and how he’d applied some of the same principles to the management of the revolutionary battery company. Ginger was enough of an engineer and knew enough about management to really appreciate some of what he’d done.

Dave recalled the Oklahoma scene from Cricket’s book, Road Trip. There was some debutant’s ball and after-party that turned into an orgy scene with everybody fucking everybody else. While scandalous, her treatment of the perverted scene had been humorous and erotic for readers in the right frame of mind. Later, he’d introduce that book to Ginger.

The two of them pulled up in front of the Ritz Carlton Hotel in Dallas exactly at five p.m. They were both a little stiff from riding, plus, as expected, the flat scenery had not been awe-inspiring as they rode.

Ginger danced around the motorcycle helping to untie and unload things onto the luggage cart. She was all legs, a gorgeous ass, a conservative buxom top, and her red hair that just shone in the sunlight. Everybody that walked by slowed and took a long look at the hot young woman.

Dave turned over the luggage cart to a bellhop. Based on a call he’d made from Oklahoma City; he was pre-registered. He’s asked for the suite Ashley had planned to start using the next day, and that was available. The three band suites were not ready that evening due to some kind of convention going on at the hotel.

A valet allowed Dave to park his motorcycle only a few feet from the main door. Dave liked that. It was undercover and in a secure area. Further, Ashley and the others would see the bike when they arrived at the hotel and know he was in town.

After checking out the room and picking a bedroom for them to use, Dave said, “I want to go for a run and use the gym. You?”

Ginger smiled, “I think I’ll go for a run and use the gym, too.” She laughed gaily.

Her reply provoked a discussion about whether she was a regular at a gym or the jogging trails. She was. Moreover, Dave learned that she was a blue belt karate student, and that she also did some long-distance bicycling; something she called a ‘century’ – doing a hundred-mile trip in one day.

The two ignored their stages of undress and changed into running attire. They were out the door and did a jog through some of the downtown streets. Dave led them to the American Airlines Center, the building they’d be in on Saturday night for the concert. One door was open, so they peeked into the building carefully watched by a security guard they’d pleaded with for a glimpse inside the arena. The place seemed immense, but only held twenty-one-thousand people.

The couple left the area, and continued to jog through various city streets and parks for another hour. They cooled off by walking the last yards to the hotel. Ginger looked hyper-appealing as they got to the main entrance. About five-hundred lawyers from the convention were waiting for their cars from the valet or taxis as they walked up. Dave noted that he attracted zero glances. Ginger created five-hundred fantasies as they went inside the building.

They spent a half-hour in the gym, mostly on weights and some calisthenics to exercise muscles other than those used in jogging or riding a motorcycle.

Dave suggested they swim in the morning, since the time was getting well into the dinner hour. Ginger agreed. They shared a romantic shower, but resisted making love. She declared she had a new hobby, however; running her soapy naked body all over Dave to help him get clean.

The couple walked a few blocks to Perry’s Steakhouse and Grille. The Ritz concierge got them a good table and even had a discount coupon for them to use.

Back at the hotel, there was a Thursday evening dance going on with a jazz combo on the roof of the Ritz. They went up, ordered some wine, and started to dance. Ginger just blended into Dave’s body as natural as could be. Her whole body from knees to lips were pressed against his.

There were many out of town lawyers present in the mix, all male, and all intensely interested in replacing Dave as Ginger’s object of interest for the evening. While her little black dress screamed sex appeal, it also screamed fuck me. She intended the message for Dave, but there was some overflow to some of the more inebriated men.

Just as they were sitting, one young buck came to the table and engaged Ginger, “I was wondering whether I might have a dance with you?”

Ginger sized him up, “I think not. I’m with my boyfriend. Thank you though.”

“Aw, come on. I’m harmless, and I know I’m a good dancer. I won’t step on your feet.” The man pleaded in an obnoxious tone. “You could do a lot worse,” he shot a disparaging glance at Dave.

Ginger studied him and squinted her eyes at him, “Do you have a permission slip from you wife and a recent STD test showing that you’re clean? If not, you’re wasting your time. Go and find someone less observant and insightful than I am.”

Dave had stood during the interaction, sensing some trouble.

The guy said, “Bitch!” quite loudly. Many people in the place turned.

Ginger smiled and loudly said, “I like baseball. I calls ‘em the way I sees ‘em. You are married, wearing a wedding ring you obvious forgot to remove so you could score in your inebriated state, you’re trying to play around on your wife while you’re away, and I bet if I was willing you couldn’t even get a hard-on because you’ve drunk too much. Because of that, I don’t trust that you are disease free and neither should your wife. I hope you have enough sense to get tested before you have sex at home.”

Quick as a flash the man said, “Whore!” His left hand swung around and slapped her cheek hard. The strike echoed around the room in the silence the confrontation had created. Even the jazz combo they’d been dancing to had suddenly stopped playing. Everyone was looking at them. Ginger clutched her face and cried out. The man’s other hand clenched into a fist as though he planned to slug her.

The man’s hand had not even fully recovered from the slap when the fist started forward aimed at Ginger’s jaw. Dave’s hand came down on the forearm with the clenched fist as it started forward. Dave’s martial arts strike was so hard the snap of bone could be heard throughout the lounge over the sound of silence that the man had inspired cursing Ginger so loudly and then her retort.

The lawyer’s other hand moved to punch Dave as he reeled backwards from Dave’s strike. Dave used the man’s momentum and a little redirection to lead him into a muddled pile of drunk lawyer on the floor with one arm twisted up behind his back. By then, the bouncer-maître d’ of the lounge had arrived. Dave let go and the man collapsed further. He was swearing at Ginger and at Dave and holding his forearm. He was not happy.

Dave said calmly, “This man accosted my lady friend. He is drunk and disorderly, and needs to be thrown out of here and the hotel if he is a guest.” He turned to care for Ginger. “He probably needs medical care. I think I broke his arm.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Prentiss.” A waiter and the bouncer helped the lawyer stagger to his feet and force-walked him towards the exit. He man continued to hold his right forearm in a tender manner. Dave thought he’d need a splint of some kind before the night was over. He’d drunk so much he probably wasn’t feeling all of the pain that he should.

Dave was surprised that the maître d’ knew his name. Several people around them commiserated with them about what had happened and then things seemed to return to normal. The jazz group restarted the music and some dancing got going again.

Another nicely dressed and lawyerly looking man came to the table. “Please excuse me. I need to apologize for my ... associate ... my former associate. He was way out of line and had way too much to drink tonight. I know it may be of little solace, but his performance at your table has seriously hurt his career prospects with my firm and at many others who are represented here at our conference. I don’t think you’ll hear from him again.” The man assured himself sure Ginger was all right, shook our hands by way of apology, and left.

Later, the maître d’ came to the table and also apologized for letting a guest get so out of hand. The man had been permanently expelled from not only the lounge, but also the hotel and blacklisted by the Ritz worldwide. He comped their drinks for the evening and they found a fruit bowl in the suite when they returned with a nice card of apology from the hotel manager.

Ginger was aghast at what had happened. She rubbed her cheek. “I’ve had no end of guys hit on me but this was the worst of the worst situations I’ve had. It happened so fast. I’ve never had one hit me when I turned him down, and ... what you did. Did you break a bone?”

“I think I did. He was numb; I don’t think he felt it but he will. I don’t know my own strength sometimes. I briefly thought about following the martial arts progression, too: avoid the conflict, block further attack, if that seems impossible, then attack to hurt, then injure or maim, and if that seems to not be working you go for the kill.”

Ginger nodded, “Just what I was taught; go for the minimum amount of force that will get the job done. I was so slow out of the starting gates. You had the problem solved before I woke up that there was a serious problem there. He was going to slug me. He’d have broken my jaw. I didn’t mind being called the names. Sticks and stones kind of stuff, you know.”

Dave harrumphed, “I was ready to flatten him for using the ‘B’ word on you. I was ready to act before he did.”

Ginger laughed, “You should see me on my PMS days. I can be pretty bitchy, but that’s not my normal nature.”

“Come on, let’s enjoy our wine and then, if you’re still interested, I want to make love to you.”

“Interested? ME? Why Mr. Prentiss, you’ve clearly mistaken me for a nymphomaniac that wants nothing more than to be pummeled into the mattress multiple times before I sleep on your cock as you give me orgasm after orgasm. Actually, you’re not mistaken. That’s exactly who I am.” She giggled.