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From: richard_rivers@hotmail.com (Rivers)
Subject: {ASSM} "Bay Bridge Soliloquy" (MF, flight attendants, traffic jams) by Richard Rivers
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Date: Wed, 29 Dec 1999 09:10:01 -0500
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This story is intended for adults only. If you received this story by
email, it is not with the knowledge or consent of the author.
Bay Bridge Soliloquy is the latest installment in my "Yellow Fever"
series, a loosely interconnected set of stories that all deal with
Asian characters in one way or another. By way of warning, I should
say that this story is not very graphic, even by my modest standards.
Those readers ion search of stroke material should proceed no further.
Most of my most recent work can be found here:
ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Richard_Rivers/ Some of
my earlier things are at the Asian Sex Stories Site, also on ASSTR
http://www.asstr.org/~Asian_Sex_Stories/Stories/index.html Look
under River's stories.
As always, I welcome comments, particularly constructive criticism.
Richard Rivers
Bay Bridge Soliloquy
The truck rolled over slowly, like an old elephant lying down to die.
After it came to rest the wheels on one side spun uselessly in the
air. Around me cars slowed and stopped on the wind-swept bridge. All
lanes were blocked. I was going to be late.
A hand gently touched my shoulder. "Sir, you have to put your seat
upright for takeoff." I'd fallen asleep before we left the gate.
Leaning into the aisle, I watched her continue forward repeating the
same admonition to other passengers - the pleasant motion of her hips
beneath the somber blue skirt. Willowy, Asian, she was just my type.
All the way across the pacific I did my best to flirt with her
although I'm inept at it and shy. Emboldened by too many drinks, I
took the uncharacteristic step of giving her my business card with my
number in San Francisco scrawled on the back.
A colleague of mine had tried that trick once with spectacular
success. There was the cute JAL stewardess he carded on the way to
Tokyo - her shy voice on the other end of the phone at his hotel a day
later caught him off guard. They went out for sushi, to one of those
places that send it around and around on a conveyor belt. He
surprised her by how much he could put away. Later, it had been her
turn to surprise him with the amount of enthusiasm she put into
fucking him.
I imagined Michiko crumbling up the card and throwing it away as soon
as my back was turned. Women like her probably got propositions
better than mine every day.
A number of people were running between the lines of stopped cars in
the direction of the overturned truck. I considered getting out, but
already a crowd was gathering up near the cab. I saw the driver
helped out, OK. Wind slashed across the bridge hard enough to make my
car shake. Overhead, ragged clouds scudded beneath an overcast sky.
She was supposed to be waiting for me near the Coit Tower. The wind
would be whipping her hair into a tangled mess across her face. I
remember ending up there on our first date. It was bright and sunny
that day. She ran her hands over the rough warm surface and told me
she loved the tower because it was named 'Coit' and because it looked
like a phallus. She stared at me, deadpan, until she couldn't stand
it any longer and burst out laughing. Our second date was at the
little noodle restaurant with the grimy floor and the soy sauce bottle
stuck to the table that made her laugh. While we ate, her knees kept
bumping into mine but I was too nervous to do anything about it. Our
third date never got off the ground. When I arrived at her door with
a bunch of flowers she pulled me inside and we ended up spending the
evening in bed.
Michiko loved lying beside me and talking after we had sex. She got
into the habit of letting her hand slide down between my legs and
grasping me by the balls, partly to help me get ready for another
go-round, but also to see if I was paying attention to what she was
telling me or if I was falling asleep. If my reaction wasn't up to
her expectations, if I didn't respond frequently enough with 'Uh huh'
or 'is that so?' she gave me a sharp tug. If I said something
clever, or she liked my attitude for some other reason, she would move
her hand up and begin doing the most amazing things to my cock with
her fingers. I was always trying to think of something clever to say
to her when we were in bed.
She told me about her mother early in our relationship. As a young
girl, Michiko had come home one day and caught her in bed with a
lover, a man who worked with her father, an American. When her
parents divorced, Michiko thought it had been all her fault. She told
me as an adolescent she was drawn to foreign men. Michiko assumed she
had a taste for the exotic until realizing one day that all her
boyfriends resembled her mother's lover. Although she had never
mentioned it to him, she imagined how painful it must have been for
her father to see her bring home a string of tall, blonde-haired,
blue-eyed American boyfriends when he was always trying to introduce
her to the sons of his Japanese colleagues.
Michiko admitted to me that over the years, every time she went to
visit, she spied on her mother. The first boyfriend, the one who had
broken up the marriage, was long gone, but Michiko had surreptitiously
watched her mother in bed with several other men. Most of the time
they had only been sleeping, but Michiko confessed to having seen her
mother fuck four different guys. When I told her I thought she was
sick, she gave me a painful yank. After that she was very quiet for a
while.
After I'd known Michiko for a few months I actually got to meet her
mother. Yoko was a petite woman of about fifty, her hair in a severe
looking bowl-cut. Her companion, a tall blonde muscular-looking
fellow appeared to be at least ten years younger. With Michiko's
stories in my ears, the images that went through my mind were
pornographic. I was titillated and ashamed by my reaction and I was
glad that our meeting was brief.
I pounded the steering wheel. Someone had to notice that no cars were
coming off the bridge. I imagined Michiko could even see it from the
Coit Tower where she was waiting for me. Why wasn't the tow-truck
here yet, or the cops? If I didn't see her today, she would leave
without saying goodbye.
I wanted to spent the night and all morning with her but commitments
in Berkeley I had made weeks ago could not be altered. Michiko always
made love with extra intensity before she left on one of her
transpacific flights. I remember her climbing on top of me early in
the morning when the only part of me awake was my cock, leaning over
to slap down the snooze button when the alarm went off so she could
keep on fucking. She said it was more important to feel the last of
my come trickling inside of her in the middle of a long flight than to
have those few extra minutes showering and doing her hair. Sitting up
in bed I watched her slip into the stewardess get-up - fresh white
panties beneath a crisply pressed blue dress. Throwing back the
covers, I let her see my reaction, knowing she couldn't resist.
Pulling the panties off, she let me fuck her again with the rest of
her uniform still on. In front of the mirror she twisted around,
frowning at the spot we'd made on the back of her skirt. She had to
quickly change into the tight-fitting navy-blue slacks. She hated
them even though I told her over and over how great her ass looked in
them. When she modeled for me I started to grow hard again, only now
she really was late; anything else would have to wait. Siting up in
bed and looking out the window, I watched her get into the cab in
front of her apartment, flinging her flight bag in ahead, then the
last thing I saw, her shapely legs swinging in and the door slamming
after.
Once I asked her if she knew anything about the mile-high club, and if
she was a member. "Yeah, I slept with a guy in Denver once." She
stared at me deadpan for a second before bursting out laughing the way
she always did. After admitting the thing in Denver had actually
happened years ago she consoled me by giving me her 'first class
service' which consisted of my sitting back in her leather armchair,
sipping scotch out of a plastic cup while she knelt before me and
delivered a spectacular blowjob.
The first tow-truck on the scene was woefully inadequate. It would
take a small crane to right the fallen truck or even drag it out of
the way enough to clear one of the lanes. At least cops were on the
scene, although all they could do was flap their arms uselessly. Rain
had begun to fall. I imagined Michiko stamping her foot impatiently.
Maybe she had gone to the coffee shop where we often met. I could see
her, all bedraggled from walking in the rain, resting her chin on her
hand, wondering what happened to me. A larger truck came after what
seemed like another hour of waiting and several men got out to grapple
with cables and winches. The rain had stopped but the sky was still
lead-gray and oppressively overcast.
Surely Michiko had gone by now. Her flight would be leaving soon.
She was probably in the shower, letting the stinging needles of water
wipe out the chill she had gotten waiting for me in the cold wind and
rain. I imagined the water striking her chest, pouring in a rivulet
between her breasts and down the small of her back, sending a
miniature waterfall tumbling off her ass. I let my head rest on the
steering wheel as the first attempt to right the truck failed and the
bridge deck shook when it crashed back down onto the pavement.
A plane flew over. I couldn't make out the airline. The underside
was a featureless silver-gray. I could see a seam running lengthwise
from tail to nose. I imagined Michiko in the plane passing directly
overhead. Looking up, I could see through the metal skin into the
cabin and up under her dress, to the seam of her nylons, her fresh
white panties, to the outer, the inner lips to her vagina, softly
pressed together forming a dark line.
The plane climbed sluggishly, like a man fighting his way up from deep
water or out of a dream. It shuddered beneath the weight of the dark
clouds until, disappearing from my sight, it burst through into the
bright sunlight above.
Fin
Richard Rivers
12/99
--
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