The Strip

By T.L. Adams

Sarah wasn't the same girl who met a boy named Joe in Catechism class in Junior High and pledged her life to him at the altar of the little white church in their Midwestern town. Back then, she would have been happy living in a cardboard box together -- back when they were just two broke kids living on love and canned beans. Today, though, she needed more.

“Fuck you!!” he shouted, "Fuck you!" as he moved toward Sarah in a way he never had before. Suddenly and for the first time, Sarah felt threatened. The look on Joe's face was different and she was afraid. Joe’s hands reached for her throat and began closing around her windpipe. Sarah had never seen evil in Joe's eyes but she saw it now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.L. Adams
• Release date: Sep 26, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466108226

T.L. Adams

T.L. Adams is an award-winning author in various genre, from poetry and advertising to editorial. A writer for more than 20 years, Adams has recently released previously unpublished works of romance & erotica in e-book format for convenient online enjoyment. Adams' characters, plots and settings are based on real people, their fantasies and their experiences although names and locations have been fictionalized.

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The Strip

By T.L. Adams

Copyright 2011 T.L. Adams

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***

Oh, I’m sorry, excuse me, Sarah blurted in her semi-consciousness, straightening her pose to sit squarely in her seat. She always fell asleep on airplanes. The drone of the engines always soothed her and the plane's motion made her feel as if she was being rocked to sleep. It wasn’t until the 757 banked hard toward a landing that she toppled over onto the man sitting on her right and awoke.

Please return your seat back and tray table to their upright and locked position, the flight attendant’s monotone announcement crackled over the loudspeaker. We’ll be on the ground shortly. Thank you for flying Delta Airlines.

No problem, Ma'am the man’s voice was kind but had an edge, I've done it myself. Firm. Confident but quiet. He was easy to listen to.

Are we landing? Sarah asked, still groggy.

We're on approach now, he replied. His voice reminded her of the actor with the gravely Southern drawl doing truck commercial voice-overs now.

On approach, she thought. He flies a lot. People who fly a lot start sounding like pilots, she concluded. Sarah looked past him out the window and saw the vast Mojave Desert below; a landscape of red-streaked mountains and grey sand. Halfway up the mountains, splashes of yellow stood out against the mountains.

Excuse me, she asked, what is that yellow?

Ash trees, he answered, they're in bloom this time of year.

Mountain ash? she asked. She'd heard about mountain ash; people use them as ornamental trees in their front yards quite often. She knew that much. She just wanted to hear him talk a little more.

No, actually, it's called single ash, he explained. Single ash is indigenous to this area and northern Arizona. He looked out the window, too, and commented, Looks like a paintbrush did it, doesn't it?

Yes, it does, Sarah answered, even though she wasn't really thinking about the ash trees any more.

He smelled good. He had a clean, soapy smell, not flowery like ladies' perfume or earthy like men's cologne nowadays. Her face was still red from nearly falling over into his lap and she could feel the heat of blushing still on her face. She found herself captivated by him, a complete stranger sitting next to her. She hadn’t really noticed him much when she first boarded. Sarah seldom interacted with strangers on airplanes. In fact, she mostly avoided them. Give them a speck of attention, she figured, and they tell you their life stories. Besides, she liked the soothing vibration of the engines and rock-a-bye motion of the airplane. She enjoyed drowsiness overtaking her and drifting off to sleep. If she struck up a conversation, she would appear rude to fall asleep during their life story. She pretty much kept to herself, reading a magazine