by GA Hauser
MILE HIGH
Book One of the
Men in Motion Series
G.A.HAUSER
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement of the copyright of this work.
MILE HIGH
Book One of the Men in Motion Series
Copyright © G.A. HAUSER, 2010
Cover art by Stephanie Vaughan
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Second publication The GA Hauser Collection: February 2010
Chapter One
“Okay…let me go. I’ll never catch my plane if you don’t stop talking.” Owen Braydon rubbed his face tiredly, looking down at his leather suitcase that sat by the front door. “Jenna, I have to go! Goodbye.” Hanging up the phone, Owen made sure he had his keys and his plane tickets, then grabbed his bag and jogged out to his car. Checking the time on his watch, he cursed his ex-wife and her constant nagging even though they had been divorced for a year. If it wasn’t for his daughter, Leah, he wouldn’t be making the trip.
Trying not to be distracted by his frustration and anger, Owen drove to LAX in the traffic, mumbling profanity under his breath at his slow progress. Finally parked in the long-stay lot, he jogged to the check-in desk after locating his flight on the monitor. Handing the heavily made-up female clerk his ticket and checking his bag, at last he felt unencumbered, as if he could finally relax, and walked calmly through the security check-point.
Once he was on the other side of the metal detectors, seeing he did actually end up with a spare minute or two after all the rushing, he made for a lounge and sat at the bar.
“Can I have a glass of white wine, please?” He took a few dollars out of his wallet.
He sipped the crisp chardonnay, feeling some of the tension leave his body. Owen looked at his reflection in a mirror behind a wall of bottles of alcohol. Taming his hair and fixing his shirt collar, he straightened his back to improve his sagging posture and tried not to think about everything he had on his mind.
“Yes, I’d like a glass of that lager. The one on tap.”
Owen turned his head to see a man ordering a beer beside him. Doing a quick appraisal, Owen estimated him to be in his mid-thirties, six-foot tall, and possibly nearing two hundred pounds of solid muscle. Looking away as the attractive man caught him staring, Owen returned his attention to his drink and checked on the time once more.
Sucking the rest of the wine down, he set a tip on the counter, then stood, intending on waiting at the gate until boarding. As he was about to leave, the handsome man, now seated at a small table with three high bar stools surrounding it, met his eyes. They smiled politely at each other. Owen wondered what his life story was. He often did that.
As people came and went around him, Owen invented their intimate details in his head. For example, the woman behind the desk at the check-in with her heavy make-up and long, painted nails. Well, she was simple to assess. At the clubs every night, getting tipsy, dancing wildly, her lipstick smeared on her face, until some poor fellow took pity on her and brought her home either to sleep or to screw.
The vignettes amused him. He didn’t have what anyone would call an exciting life as an accountant, so why not live his fantasies and tell tales in his head to keep life that much more interesting?
As he walked down the crowded concourse to his gate, Owen tried to imagine the handsome man’s story. Well, he’s so damn good looking he’s either an actor or a model, has a gorgeous wife and a couple of kids, lives in a house in Beverly Hills. Or he’s gay and has an Adonis named Sven, waiting for him naked in their private spa.
Chuckling to himself, Owen hoped that the latter was the case. It made that handsome fellow more wicked and taboo, more interesting. And the thought of some ordinary man on the street being completely and utterly gay, always got a rise out of him. Though he’d never had a gay experience, he had always been curious what it would be like to dabble in the “dark side”. Even while he was married, he had secretly admired the men on the television screen, allowed Jenna to watch shows that might have been threatening to the average husband, like romantic comedies or movies where her heartthrobs had nude scenes. In his head he’d say, “Oh yes”, or “Yum!” at their naked torsos and bottoms, but kept his face straight for her and the public. He was a “happily married man” after all. Tsch, tsch! Don’t get caught drooling over naked men! He smiled. “Well, you’re not married any longer. Bring it on!” he joked with himself as if suddenly a hoard of attractive guys would come out of the woodwork and seduce him. He shook his head at the irony because he felt very ordinary, had a boring job, and was sadly approaching his late thirties. What could possibly happen this late in his life to make it exciting and fun? Nothing.
Seeing he still had a few minutes before the plane began boarding, Owen sat down with the crowd of exhausted patrons to linger until his assigned row was called.
That man from the bar approached their waiting area. Owen stared at the way he walked. Confident, masculine, solid, and very sure of himself. Wow. Owen felt his skin prickle. Whoever owned him must enjoy him. What a fucking bod!
When their eyes met again, Owen felt his face flush at that warm smile. It was as if drinking in the same lounge gave them something in common. Owen returned that amiable expression with more enthusiasm than earlier. He even nodded his head to give his greeting more authenticity. Again his internal dialogue took wing. Where are you sitting, my handsome friend? In first class? Coach with the rest of us peasants? My row?
It was good fun. Owen was relieved someone was there to pique his interest for the arduous two and a half hour flight. As he gazed around the waiting area, he found nothing else of note. A very average looking bunch of human beings surrounded him; the usual assortment of crumpled businessmen, worn-out women with screaming, bratty children, and overweight tourists in gaudy prints who talked too much.
The boarding process finally began. Owen stood up with his pass in his hand, joining the droll line as the woman in a dark uniform checked their information before letting them through. Twisting around to see where his male friend was, he was happily surprised to see him standing in the same queue. Well, at least you’re close by.
Moving down the narrow gangway to the opening of the airplane, Owen showed a flight attendant his ticket stub and was directed to his seat.
Finding it next to the window on the left side of the plane, Owen sat down and made himself comfortable, staring out at the runway and the action of loading luggage and departing flights.
After a few moments, he was about to pull a magazine out of the seat pocket in front of him when he noticed that handsome man sitting on an aisle seat one row up and diagonally from him. Again they caught eyes and smiled.
Hello! Oh, this just keeps getting better and better.
That gaze lingered; Owen was able to see those light eyes were blue. The man turned back around in his seat and took out a magazine to browse through.
Owen had to calm himself down. The tingles passing over his body amazed him. Stretching out his legs in the tight confines of the seat, Owen looked out at the tarmac again in order to gain some control. Gay, gay…oh, yes, gay. You don’t look at another man like that for no reason. Or…perhaps he just thought I looked familiar. Was that it? Did he think he knew me?
Owen’s spirit slightly deflated. Mayb
e the man just thought he looked like someone he knew. Maybe that was all it was.
The head flight attendant got on the intercom and began the monotone announcement of their destination, blah, blah, blah. Owen noticed them closing the cabin doors and was relieved he had a vacant seat next to him. Fastening his seatbelt, he flipped through a SkyMall magazine with little interest, thinking some of the contraptions were absurd. Two hundred dollars for ear-hair clippers and toe-jam cleaners!
The plane jolted slightly as it backed up. Owen stuffed the magazine into the pouch and made sure his mobile phone was off for the flight. Yearning to lie down and sleep, he looked down at his lap, his sky-blue faded jeans and his sensible leather shoes, wishing he could push the seat in front of him forward and move it ten inches away from his poor, aching knees.
They were next in line for take-off. The always-confident voice of the captain came over the PA and calmly told the staff to take their seats. From where he was sitting, Owen could see only part of the handsome man’s left leg and left arm as it rested on his armrest. No wedding ring, but he did have a gold ring on his pinky finger. Was that another gay sign?
Owen felt the G-force from lift-off and waited for the plane to level out and the seatbelt sign to click off so he could get a cocktail.
The ding-ding of the signal finally sounded and Owen could see some movement in the front of the plane as the attendants got their cart loaded. Taking a five out of his wallet, Owen blinked in shock as the man he’d been eyeing moved out of his seat and sat right next to him in the vacant one.
“Hey,” he whispered in a deep voice.
Owen was so shocked, he almost didn’t answer. Completely agog at the boldness, he cleared his throat and croaked, “Hi.”
“You mind if I sit here?”
“No! No. It’ll be nice to have the company.” Owen felt his skin cover with chills and his cock go rock hard at the overt act. Wow! Could his life finally be getting some excitement? Or was the accountant destined for boredom eternally?
Getting a closer look at this amazing man’s face, Owen admired his square jaw, dark shaven stubble, incredibly blue eyes, and thick chocolate-colored hair that was long enough to cover his ears and brush his denim shirt collar. Owen lost himself on his sideburn, which was cropped short, halfway down his ear. Perfect. Absolutely perfectly groomed and smelling divine.
“I’m Taylor. Taylor Madison,” the man said as he extended his right hand.
“Owen Braydon,” Owen replied, taking that warm hand and squeezing it. The grip was electric and communicated something sexual as if they were screaming at each other their attraction.
“Business trip?” Taylor took back his hand slowly.
“No. Uh, I have a young daughter in the Denver area. I visit every weekend.”
Nodding, Taylor looked down at Owen’s lap. Owen wondered if he was checking his hand for a wedding ring, or maybe his crotch for a hard-on. He didn’t know which but hoped Taylor liked what he found.
The attendants finally made it to their row with the cumbersome cart. “Would you like a drink?”
Owen nodded. “White wine, please.”
“I’ll take a beer, thanks.” Taylor handed her a ten-dollar-bill and pushed Owen’s hand away when he offered money.
As she set a small bottle of wine on Owen’s tray table, he wondered if she realized there had been an empty seat next to him and now it was occupied. She didn’t seem to care.
When she left, Taylor poured his beer into the provided glass.
Owen said, “Thanks, I’ll get the next round.”
Laughing softly, Taylor replied, “All right.”
“So,” Owen cleared his throat, trying not to sound nervous, “what’s the reason for your flight?”
“I’m a project manager on a construction site.” Taylor sipped his beer and licked his lip after.
Detecting a slight accent, Owen nodded, gazing at Taylor’s mouth, trying to decipher where he was from. “You…you travel often?”
“I will be. The closer it gets to completion, the longer I have to stay.” Taylor set the glass on the tray in front of him and boldly placed his hand on Owen’s thigh.
Owen thought he would combust. It was so outrageous, so daring, so unbelievable, he froze under its heat. In his ear came a breathy whisper, “You’re fantastic looking, you know that?”
Swallowing his anxiety, Owen knew he wasn’t ugly, but fantastic? That was quite a compliment coming from a man who was Owen’s ideal description of a male model. As the vision flashed through his mind of Taylor posing for designer briefs in front of a fashion photographer, under the concealment of the tray Taylor’s hand caressed Owen’s thigh muscle over his snug-fitting, faded blue denims.
“Shit. Can we get thrown off the plane for this?” Owen craned his neck up to see where the drink trolley had gone.
All Taylor did was chuckle softly.
Sucking the wine down so quickly it went to his head, Owen set the glass next to the empty bottle and snuck his hand on top of the one on his thigh, holding it tightly. Once Taylor had finished his beer, he placed Owen’s empties on his own tray, folded Owen’s tray up, and shook out a dark blue flannel blanket after taking it out of its flimsy plastic bag.
As Owen looked on in complete awe, Taylor pushed the arm up that was separating them, yanked the screen down over the window to provide some darkness, and spread the blanket over both of their laps. “Christ,” Owen breathed, “you’ve obviously done this before.”
Under his breath, Taylor replied, “Uh, no. I never have. I just figured it’d be best to be discreet.”
“No shit!” Owen looked around but none of the other passengers appeared interested, too busy drinking their drinks and nibbling peanuts.
“Oh. Sorry. Was I getting the wrong vibe from you?” Taylor sat back from him.
“No!” Owen answered, then lowered his voice. “No. Right vibe, just a little nervous.”
“Are you gay?”
“Uh…” Owen didn’t know how to answer that question in order not to turn Taylor off. “How about bi-curious?”
A big grin appeared on Taylor’s lips. “That’ll work.”
The stewardess appeared next to their row to clear the empty bottles. Owen was going to order them another round, but when Taylor clipped his tray back up behind the seat, Owen decided perhaps he had something else in mind. Something more enjoyable than booze.
The blanket was spread out neatly to cover both their laps.
Owen tensed when Taylor’s left hand moved towards his crotch area. Frozen, not knowing how to react, Owen waited hoping no one was aware of what they were doing. Taylor caressed Owen’s cock, his hot palm cupping it gently. Stifling a groan, Owen spread his legs wider in the tight space, truly astounded at what was going on under the blanket.
It was forward, wild, and had to be quick. They only had two and a half hours in the air. It wasn’t as if they could have some long wooing courtship and relationship. This was a one-time act of groping that he was sure would be a fond memory once they had landed.
That hand managed to get his fly undone. The moment Taylor’s fingertips hit the skin of Owen’s pelvis, Owen closed his eyes in reflex and couldn’t believe the sensation of thrills and chills coursing down his back and neck at this daring deed.
~
The minute Taylor felt how hard Owen was, he lit on fire. Taylor had spotted him at the check-in area in the terminal and had hoped Owen was going his way. When Taylor found him in the same waiting lounge, he couldn’t believe his luck. The smiles, the lack of a wedding ring, it was too good to be true. The attraction he felt was immediate. Taylor considered himself picky when it came to men. He was sick of the cocky, self-absorbed types that only wanted what they could get and gave nothing. Owen seemed sweet and kind. His shyness was refreshing to Taylor. Shy, modest, and good looking? A rare combination indeed. Usually, the handsome ones were arrogant. Not this one. This man was gentle, almost bashful.
“Ch
rist, you are amazing,” Taylor hissed behind a clenched jaw. “I’ll meet you in the bathroom.”
“What?” Owen opened his eyes with a blink. “Bathroom?”
“Yeah. Wait a couple of minutes, then come back. Knock if they’re both occupied to see which one I’m in.”
~
As Taylor removed the blanket from his lap and unbuckled his belt, Owen quickly zipped up his fly. Panting in anxiety, he watched Taylor’s tight ass as he climbed out of the confining seat and walked to the back of the plane. Owen couldn’t catch his breath. What on earth was he doing? Was he totally insane? Nothing like this ever happened to him. He was the boring, down to earth type with no sense of adventure and too much anxiety to enjoy a wild fling. Or was he?
Waiting, checking his watch, Owen rubbed his face and kept asking himself what he was doing. “Oh, what the fuck. Life’s too short.” He tried to recall his last meaningless sexual encounter. Sadly, it was with his ex-wife and too long ago to remember. He didn’t date. He had no time to date. Between work and his trips to Denver, when did he have time? Besides, who’d want to date a man with all his baggage—an ex-wife and a small daughter in another state? It was too much to ask of anyone.
Counting down in his head like a child about to play hide-and-seek, Owen felt he needed to give the correct amount of time between he and Taylor standing up. He unbuckled his seatbelt and boldly made his move to the rear of the plane. Peering at the faces who spied him as he went Owen wondered if anyone knew what the hell he was about to do. Did he?
Seeing the weary attendants busy in the galley behind the bathrooms, Owen almost chickened out. Both toilets were occupied. Swallowing for courage, he picked one out of the two and rapped on it. The door immediately opened, and he sighed with relief at getting the right one.
Instantly, Taylor dragged him into the miniature compartment and bolted the door. It was so tight they were standing an inch apart with Taylor’s calves nudged against the commode behind him.
