Higher and Higher

Jenna ubuttoned her blouse and shed it, and her flimsy bra as well. Kyle got no opportunity to feast on her perfect breasts, however; she immediately turned her back to him.

"Look close," she said. "Any feathers there?"

"Awright, awright... sorry I mentioned it."

"My answer's always the same: until I sprout feathers, I assume the Lord did not intend me to fly."

"So we drive to Florida? Two days, when it could be two hours?"

Jenna held out each hand, weighing her options. On the left, "That's two days to the rest of my life..." Then, the right. "Or two hours to a horrible death by fire and dismemberment." She shrugged; case closed.

"Flying is safe! Statistics prove that. Car crashes kill way more people."

"Numbers lie. How about the engine falls out of my Celica, as opposed to a Boeing? Compare survival stats on coasting to a stop or hitting the ground at six-hundred miles an hour."

Kyle sighed. Resigned.

Jenna said, "I told you when we started dating, I won't be in your stupid mile-high club. If that's so damned important to you, find some horny bimbo with a death wish."

"You're horny."

"Not if I'm scattered all over the landscape."

Kyle's silence sealed the deal.

"Did you fill the tank?" she asked.

"It's cheaper in Jersey."

She buttoned her blouse. "Let's get going, then. You got some driving to do. It'll take the rest of the day just to get through Brooklyn traffic."

* * *

Many hours later the Washington Monument loomed. 2 a.m. traffic was sparce and Kyle pushed as far over the speed limit as he thought he could get away with.

"Slow down," Jenna said. "Look, is that the Lincoln Memorial?"

"Who cares?"

"I care! What kind of patriot are you?"

"What kind do I need to be? It's your brother's wedding. No one said pack a flag."

The Anteitam Battlefield likewise bored him. "Even if we had time, the sun isn't up. What's to see? Ghosts?"

At Richmond Jenna recalled, "There's a famous Civil War Museum there."

"Here's the Reader's Digest version: we won, they lost, it's been over a century and a half."

She slapped his shoulder. "You're such a poop."

"A 'poop'!? Is that what you just said? What happens: drive south, you go back in time? This the seventh grade, now?"

"You're just mad because I won't fly."

"We have a schedule, in case you forgot. Your brother's. If we do all the sightseeing you want, we'll get there maybe in time for the divorce."

Jenna buried her head in her iPhone and said nothing. Great. Just what he needed. Jenna sulking.

But no, she was plotting. "Okay, here's something we can do and we won't have to stop."

"We're doing it. It's called driving."

"Exactly. Take I-40 out of Durham."

"What!? No! That'll put us off course."

"I want to see the mountains. We're taking the Blue Ridge Parkway."

He started to argue but she said, "I want to see a mountain sunrise. They don't have mountains in Brooklyn."

* * *

"Light's coming up," said Jenna, eyes beaming and excited.

Kyle said, "The same sun, here or back home." But even he felt awe at the massive shapes of mountains slowly materializing out of the dark mist like a Tolkeinesque landscape. He kept looking right, then left, lost in their majesty—not wise on a road that was nothing but blind curves.

After consulting the Map app, Jenna said, "Up here after this turn. We'll pull over for the sunrise."

"You said we weren't stopping."

"If you miss this, Kyle, you are going to feel real stupid."

Stupid!? Really? "Theres no place to stop," he said, but then, right on cue, a parking area opened up onto an overlook. He pulled in and she was out of the car before the engine died, racing toward the low stone wall.

"Hurry up, will you!"

What was she on about? Then, in the still half-light he saw her perched on the stone retaining wall. Her skirt was hiked up to her waist. Even in the half-light of false dawn, he could tell she had nothing on underneath. Then she started to unbutton her blouse.

"Kyle, you're so good with numbers, tell me: how many feet in a mile?"

Huh? Uh... 5,280..." He was losing his train of thought. Jenna slipped out of her blouse, then unclamped her bra and shed it as well. This time she let him get a good look.

"Want to read that sign over there?"

He hadn't noticed it when they'd pulled in. Now he read:

HIGH POINT: 6,238 ft.

Jenna's knees opened in a lazy spread. She slid her fingers between moist lips. Kyle's cock quaked in his pants. He unzipped his trousers and freed the beast. The tips of clouds turned pink as he set the throbbing shaft against her slit. He rubbed it over her clit a few times.

"God yeah," she moaned. "Do it."

He pushed forward and she opened around him. The clouds flashed from pink to golden as he slid steadily into her, held a moment and then began a driving rhythm against her wet flesh. As she leaned back over the precipice he held her tight. Her body wrapped around him, drew him in. Her intensity rose with the mounting light.

"Guess I joined your club after all."

And then, as the sun sparked on the horizon, they both exploded in unison.