by T. S. Hill
Adventure Comes to Houston
An Erotic Adventures Book III
By
T.S. Hill
Everybody has a story, but mine is a legend!
Copyright 2017 by T.S. Hill, and Adventures Publishing
Copyright © T.S. Hill,
and
Adventures Publishing,
2017
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. You must not circulate this book without the authority to do so.
Amazon Kindle Edition, License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share the book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All sexually active characters portrayed in this e-book are eighteen years of age or older. Please do not buy/read this e-book if strong sexual situations, multiple partners, violence, drugs, alcohol, domestic discipline, alternative lifestyles, and explicit language offend you.
All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
First Digital Publication Date: October 30, 2017
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Leaving Home
Chapter Two
It All Begins
Chapter Three
And Now I Know
Chapter Four
The Surprise
Chapter Five
Into the Night
Chapter Six
Into the Light
Chapter Seven
Even the Best Laid Plans
Chapter Eight
Why do I do this?
Chapter Nine
Whisky Tango Foxtrot?
Chapter Ten
New Realities
Chapter Eleven
Old Realities – New Mix
Chapter Twelve
A Waiting Game
Chapter Thirteen
The Game Changer Changes the Game
Chapter Fourteen
The Home Run
Chapter Fifteen
Hunting Truth, Justice, and Life
Chapter Sixteen
Voodoo Island
Epilogue
Contact me!
Prologue
Tagg, Lori, Rosita, and Sasha have a turbulent chopper flight to Houston with a bizarre pilot, but arrive safely at Al Longworth’s palatial estate. As planned, the girls make the trip to Oklahoma City to meet with Allie, and meet with some surprises, some business, and some things you’ll just have to experience with them,
Back at Al’s mansion, the girls discover that they brought a huge three-way surprise back with them, that they never expected, and sure didn’t see coming. The girls also learn that there’s more to Tagg’s business dealings than he has revealed, or maybe than he even realizes himself.
Al Longworth’s longtime girlfriend, and his sexy new personal secretary, already at odds with each other, feel that the Tagg Hill team of women may be a threat to them, but they have no idea of what kind of magic this team of women can work when they work a situation! When one of them sets her sights on Tagg, she is really in for an education! But, a sleeping threat, from Texas, also has a hand in Louisiana that deals the team a tragedy, that they will never get over, tightening their bonds, challenging their commitments, and leaving their lives forever changed.
As the team grows stronger and more focused, so do the magnitude of the challenges of their future. Of course, all along the way, almost everyone deserving of it, or not, gets laid, gets off, and makes some big steps toward getting rich. New mysterious characters, and some nefarious ones emerge, as more of life’s sensuous mysteries and erotic pleasures unfold for the team.
Come join the erotic adventures of Tagg, Lori, Rosita, and Sasha, as they experience when their Adventure Comes to Houston.
Chapter One
Leaving Home
We all know that each time we leave home, that something has changed by the time we return. That’s why even a trip to the corner and back, tugs gently at our heartstrings.
We arrived at Toby’s airfield a little later then I had hoped to. It was already five minutes until four, and our lift off time was supposed to be four o’clock. The chopper that Al Longworth was sending to us was nowhere in sight. In Al Longworth’s operations, the chopper would have normally been there at least twenty minutes early, preparing for loading and boarding. This fact alone gave me bad vibes.
Sasha pulled the truck just in front of one of the empty bays at the open hanger that ran alongside the landing field, just next to the makeshift office. I noticed that Toby’s plane was gone, which meant that there was no one in the office. Of course, there seldom was anyway. Toby was one of those people that not only was a true legend, but actually outstretched their own legend.
“Where the fuck is the chopper, Cowboy?”, Lori asked.
“I don’t see anything but fucking airplanes.”, Sasha commented, putting her hand above her eyes and scouting the dusty, dirt air field.
I don’t know.”, I replied. Let’s give it a minute. Meanwhile, I wanna call Aug, and be sure he knows where we’re headed. Sal’s head seems to be up in the clouds the last couple of days, so I’m not sure that she’s told him what we’re up to.” Rosita who had been sitting in the middle, finally climbed out of the little green truck that we affectionately called, Little Poss. I booted up the throwaway phone and dialed Aug’s work cell from memory.
“Lieutenant Benoit!”, Aug snapped into the phone on the first ring.
“Aug. Tagg. Sorry to bother you on the job, but I wanted to let you know that, the girls and I are flying out to Houston just shortly, and we’ll be gone for a week at least, maybe two, or longer. I’ll be in touch if it goes longer than that, and I promise, I’ll let you know when we’re headed back. Can you keep an eye on things while we’re gone? Oh, and Rosita will be going with us too. So, there shouldn’t be anyone at the house besides the mail delivery guy. And, if you could keep that picked up, I sure would appreciate it.”
“Awe shit man!”, Aug yelled back into the phone at me. “Don’t take the girls now! Things have really been lighting up with me and Sal since they’ve been counseling her! I don’t want this shit to stop man! This is the greatest sex that we’ve had in our lives, even counting high school!”
“You and Sal had sex in high school?”, I responded as a knee jerk response to the idea, of the two, most goody two shoes people, that I knew on the planet, having premarital sex, as teenagers.
“Just a few times after we both were eighteen!”, he shot back. “And it wasn’t that good anyway, so don’t fucking freak out!”
“Okay, Aug! I get it! So, the sex is good now, right?”
“It’s fucking out of this world! And I don’t want it to stop! Please, Tagg! Leave somebody Sal can talk to. Or give me a number!”
“You, know my rules Aug. No phone calls while I’m on assignmen
t, except for absolute emergencies.”
“Tagg! Going back to sex like it was, would constitute an emergency!”
“Aug, if you like what’s happening right now, just keep doing what you’re doing right now, and don’t, under any circumstances do anything like you used to do. It’s not fucking rocket science!”
“Well, yeah. That makes sense Tagg.”
“Another thing Aug, I heard the girls say that reading or watching some porn, could help with ideas. The only thing is, one of them told me, that some of the acrobatics in some of the porn, instead of feeling good, could actually hurt you. So be careful!”
“Oh! Thanks, Tagg! We’ll try that! And, remember that! You all be safe!”
“Will do, bro! Kiss Sal for me! And take care of my nephew to be!”
“How do you know what it is?”
“Just a gut feeling Aug! I hear the chopper coming in. I got to go.”
“Bye bro!”, he yelled back, and the connection broke. As soon as I had shut down the phone, all three of the women clamored over me, asking if Sal was really having a boy. I told them that it was just as I told Aug, I don’t really know. It’s just a gut feeling. They seemed disappointed, as though a man can’t have intuition the same as a woman.
By now the chopper that I heard coming had cleared the tree tops, and was heading toward the hanger. I wondered why it wasn’t landing on the painted bulls eye; the designated, landing pad, that Toby had for choppers. Instead it was headed straight toward us. As it came in to set down, the chopper tilted up to stop its forward motion, maybe fifty feet away from us. I had yelled at the girls to get back in the pickup truck cab, but it was too late, as the noise from the engine and rotors drowned my, top of the lungs, yelling. The dust storm that the blades stirred up was horrific, and blasted the girls, the truck, and me.
After the big Hughey was on the ground, the engine and the blades kept turning at mid idle speed, keeping the dust stirred. I signaled for the pilot to cut the engine, but through the dust I saw him pointing toward the cargo bay door, and the spinning blades kept the dust coming. I kept signaling, and the pilot kept pointing. Finally, I blew my top and rushed the pilot’s door, yanking it open. I climbed up partially into the cabin and yanked his headphones off of his head, screaming into his left ear.
“Cut the fucking engine!”, I yelled directly into his ear, as loudly as humanly possible. He switched off the engine, and I waited until the blades had partially spun down, and he had unbuckled his seat belt. Then, I grabbed him by his shirt front, and leaning back to my right, slung him from the chopper, and onto the dusty landing strip. I jumped back to the ground, and stood before him, waiting for him to get up, hoping that he came back at me.
The gnarly looking, fiftyish, red faced pilot, struggled to get back on his feet, then backed away from me. The chopper blades wound down their rotation even further, while he wiped the dust from his eyes. He staggered backward a few more steps and then addressed me.
“What the hell is your problem man?”, he asked, looking stupefied.
“What the hell is my problem?”, I screamed at him. You land fifty feet away from us, sandblasting us, and then don’t even shut down your fucking engine, when the landing pad is a hundred and fifty feet that way?”, I screamed pointing north east, toward the landing pad. “What the fuck is your problem? Are you some kind of Army reject retard?”
“I’m supposed to pick up some cargo from a Tagg Hill. Are you Tagg Hill?”
“Do those women look like fucking cargo?”, I screamed back at him, pointing behind me at the hanger. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lori standing behind me, to the far left, with her Colt drawn but at her side. Turning further, I saw Rosita holding one of the AR’s leveled at the pilot’s feet. Flipping my head back around to the right, I found Sasha just to the right, and behind me, in a spread legged stance, with both hands on her nine mil pointed down, but also at the ready.
“No.” He answered cautiously. “They look like a squad of female mercenaries. Are you some kind of militia group?”
“Show me your fucking registration for the chopper, and your pilot’s license!”, I ordered him, in a barking, commanding voice.
“Hey! Just take it easy, man. I’m just here doing a job!”
“Missing the fucking landing pad and sand storming us, is a fucking far cry from doing your job! Now get your damn papers!”, I ranted at him, at the top of my lungs.
“Aye-aye sir!”, he shouted back saluting, while staring off into space. Then he snapped his heels together and more or less marched to the chopper. After fumbling around in the cabin for a minute, he strode in a military manner straight back to me with a packet of documents in his left hand. When he drew up in front of me, he stood at attention, and saluted me.
Not to be outdone, I saluted him back and barked at him, “At ease!”
He spread his feet apart, offering the packet of papers to me, and announced, “My papers sir!” I snatched them out of his hand and proceeded to inspect them. His pilot’s license was in order; Rayford M. Belcher, age fifty-eight. The chopper’s registration shocked me; Taggert Investment Corp.
“Who gave you this assignment sailor?”, I barked at him angrily.
“Mr. Tillotson, himself sir!”, the pilot responded. I had no idea who Tillotson was, but Taggert Investment Corporation, LLC, was a company set up by Al, for me, almost eight years ago, to invest my fee from a job I did for him, at a time when I had a lot of fees rolling in. I had almost forgotten about the feeble investment, and I wondered why the hell I would have a cargo chopper owned by my little LLC. Al certainly owed me a big explanation. And, who the hell was this fucking idiotic, goofy pilot, sent to pick us up? And, who the fuck was this Mr. Tillotson that sent him?
Against my better judgement, I continued to play along with this shell shocked, post-traumatic stress disordered, ex-sailor, of a helicopter pilot.
“Do you have any weapons on board sailor?”, I barked at him.
“Yes sir!”, he barked back. A nine mil in the pilot’s hatch, sir!”
“I’m going to retrieve that, and you go help these women off load that truck into this chopper! Do you read me sailor?”
“Aye-aye, sir!”, he barked back at me, immediately hustling off toward the pickup truck. I shrugged my shoulders at the women, and waved them off to help the crazed pilot. They all looked puzzled, but shouldered their weapons and followed the pilot back to Little Poss. Within five minutes, everything was loaded into the cargo bay of the Hughey, and we were all strapped in. I also had the pilot’s nine mil tucked into my waist band.
“Are you sure that you can find Houston?”, I yelled at him as the turbo was winding up the blades.
“I have the coordinates to Mr. Longworth’s heli-pad sir!”, he barked back at me. Please, fasten your seat belts!” And with that, the chopper revved, the blades reached lift speed, and we were off to Houston. At least I hoped that we were.
I signaled for the girls to put on the headphones provided at each seating station, and when we were all finally plugged in, their voices reflected what was already in their eyes.
“What the fucking hell is this crazy assed shit, Cowboy?” Lori screamed into the intercom.
“We’re all gonna fucking die, aren’t we?”, Sasha cried.
“Hoy en día de morir.”, Rosita said with a quivering voice.
“The pilot, is on the same frequency as we are.”, I informed them. “Say hello to your passengers, Belcher!”, I barked out again.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.”, he began, “I’m…”, and I cut him off by throwing the passenger compartment sliding door open.
“Sir! The passenger loading door must remain closed at all times!”, he announced into the intercom. I took my time, and separated the battery from the throwaway phone, then tossed them both out, over the open waters of the bayou.
“Thank you for that information, Belcher!”, I barked back at him, simultaneously sliding the bay door shut.
>
“We are approximately two hours away from our target landing, Belcher announced over the intercom.”
“May heaven help us all!”, I quietly mused into the intercom. Everyone else stayed silent. As the chopper gained altitude and forward speed, I hoped that Rosita, and Sasha were wrong.
Lori, had the presence of mind to breakout Sal’s treats, and start handing out bottles of water to the rest of us. That was at least a distraction. And, Sal’s snacks and treats were a really great distraction, at least for me. A good half of them were the old Cajun sweets that I grew up sharing with Aug at his house when we were kids. I knew that Aug had made them, and had learned the recipes and techniques from his father’s mother. What I didn’t know, was that this would be the last time, that I would ever taste this exact meld of flavors from the Benoit family recipes.
Sitting on the hard bottomed, cushion-less jump seats, somewhere over western Louisiana, my mind drifted into a world, where two boys, from two different worlds, shared their cultures, and their skills, and built teepees on the western plains, and later, tree houses in the bayou. They hunted white tail deer, alligator, and every other varmint between Oklahoma and Louisiana. It was a time before women and sex, and jobs and money, and egos and pride. I missed those times, and I missed the Aug of those times. I wondered why we had to grow up, and why life had to become so complicated.
Before my daydreams were complete, the chopper was slowing its forward motion, and sinking slowly toward a green patch of freshly mown grass. I recognized the backside of Al’s mansion, and couldn’t believe that we were already there. As the chopper came to a perfect, gentle, landing, I heard a huge sigh of relief over the ear-phoned intercom, by at least four of us, and I think, possibly, even Belcher too.
At that point, my mind snapped back to the present, and I wondered again, just who this Tillotson was, that sent Belcher to pick us up. Al and I definitely had to set aside some time for an in-depth conversation, about old TIC; Taggert Investment Corporation.
