Story

"Are we there yet?" I asked for about the hundred millionth time. I glanced up at my wife, Shelley, as she let out a half-whine, half-growl, that betold cruel and evil tidings if I should dare to utter that phrase again in her presence. Chastened, I slid back into my seat. "It was a rhetorical question anyway, you know," I mumbled under my breath.

Sigh. "NO, we are NOT there yet, Jonothan," she said in exasperation. "You'll know when we arrive, when you see big flashing neon lights everywhere, and lots of big buildings with the word 'Casino' up in lights. Now... PLEASE, just sit back and enjoy the ride!"

I grumbled softly. After all this time, after being married a year, didn't she know me well enough by now to know that I NEVER simply 'enjoyed the ride'? I absolutely HATED long road trips! Basically, I suffered from a severe motion sickness, and it always hit me when I was riding around in a car for more than an hour or two. Needless to say, its hard to be excited and eager about going somewhere, even with my beloved wife and companion, when you had to struggle to keep your stomach from rebelling. Currently, I was cranky, and irritable, and nauseous. And this was only the early stages.

I loved my wife. I loved being with her. And I loved spending time together, whether it was at home, or on vacation somewhere. I just hated getting there. Sure, I wanted to go to Vegas, who didn't? I just wanted to get off the road, to be there already.

"How are you feeling?" she asked me, keeping her eyes on the road.

Bad timing. I glared up at her. "Oh, just peachy, loveykins," I said sarcastically. "I think that last pit stop, where I expelled the last of my breakfast, should be enough to see me through to the end of the trip." I regretted it as soon as I had said it.

Shelley turned to face me. "Listen, Jon, I know this isn't easy for you. I know you're in a pissy mood, and considering how your stomach is feeling, I can understand. But we're almost there now, and you've made it this far without dying, so stop acting like such a big BABY and pull it together, alright?"

My face turned from green to red. I knew she was right, knew I was acting like a brat, but damn it I couldn't help it! I HATED road trips! Her comments really got my blood boiling. Deep down, I knew I should just take it with a grain of salt, sit back, and keep my mouth closed. Then again, I've never said I was the brightest light in the pack.

"Oh, so NOW I'm a big baby, huh? Ga ga goo goo, and all that? Just because I threw up one time this trip doesn't make me a baby, anymore than the fact that you turn into a quivering spineless mess whenever anyone mentions DOCTORS makes YOU a baby!"

Now she turned red. I had apparently struck a nerve. "Okay, that's enough!" she yelled. "I want you to just sit there and shut up for the rest of the trip, or I promise you I'll---"

"You'll what? Huh?" I taunted. "You'll pull off the side of the road? Good, I'll get the chance to rest and stretch my legs! You'll turn the car around and drive back home? Good. At least I can go back home and be sick to my stomach in my own home! I didn't want to DRIVE all the way to Vegas anyway!"

Personal note here: Lesser animals have this sixth sense about them that let them sense when danger is approaching. When an earthquake or flood is coming, small animals will go tense, check their surroundings and flee the area as quickly as possible. Somewhere along the way, in evolving and rising up on two legs instead of four, we humans lost that early warning system. Well, women probably have a little of it, in the way of their 'women's intuition', but men as a whole are totally vulnerable.

My last outburst had pushed her over the edge. With a look of pure mischievous glee, Shelley turned to me and spoke two soft words into my ear. "Mi amor." Instantly, I was out, falling rapidly down an endless stairwell of warm black pleasure, swallowing me up like quicksand laced with ectascy. Soon, I was swooning, floating/sinking in a sea of pure bliss. My love's whispered words floated down to me from high above, and I merely nodded, happy and content to ride the wave of pleasure sweeping me along. Suddenly, with a start, I awoke.

"We're here," Shelley announced, as I rubbed my eyes, glancing around at the cascade of multicolored neon everywhere.

"Huh? What? Where are we?" I asked, trying to get my bearings again. I hadn't exactly remembered drifting off to sleep...

"Where do you think, silly boy?" she said with a grin. "We're HERE. Welcome to Las Vegas." She opened the door and climbed out, stretching. I followed suit, stretching, letting my cramped muscles flex and return to a semblance of normalcy once again. "Get our luggage, baby," she said, and nodding, I went to the truck. "Yes, that's a boy, GOOD boy," she cooed, giving me a wicked look. "Take our stuff to the hotel and wait for me, I'll take care of the reservations. Oh, and make sure YOU take our bags up to the hotel room; don't let the bellhop touch them." Again, I found myself nodding and smiling as I gathered up the suitcases, lugging the heavy bags across the parking lot down to the hotel. Something's strange here, I thought to myself. She's acting WAT too cheerful considering the way the trip here went. And... why am I doing this? She'd called me BOY three times now, and I absolutely HATED that. So, why aren't I getting upset about it?

Entering the hotel, however, blew all such thoughts completely out of my mind. Now, THIS was the very essence of Las Vegas! At the entrance of the hotel we were staying at, there stood a gambler's paradise. Rows and rows of slot machines, roulette wheels, dice tables, card tables, and people swarming all over them like bees at a honey pot. I knew there were probably better, more elaborate casinos elsewhere in Vegas, but it was my first time here, and to me it looked exquisite.

Of course, I wasn't much of a gambler. Of the two of us, Shelley was the reckless, free spirited one. Me, I am more the down-to-earth, practical thinker. Having been here before, she often related stories to me of how she and Jennifer had ridden the roller coaster ride of the typical Vegas 'High Roller', going from boom to bust again and again, and enjoying the entire ride. I never worried that Shelley would be one of those people that got addicted to gambling, and eventually lost everything to the craving. She was grounded enough that she only spent her 'play' money, money saved up after bills and such were paid, to spend as she saw fit. And besides, she had me there to watch over her. Wherever she was...

The manager at the front desk looked up. "Yes sir? Checking in?" My gaze left the glittering sideshow long enough to focus on the man in front of me. "Sir?" he asked again. "I said, are you checking in?"

"Oh, sorry. Yes, I'll be staying here... but I'm not ready to check in just yet. I'm waiting for my wife, she has the reservations." Nodding, he turned to another couple just coming forward, and I moved over to the side, to stand and watch the general goings-on of the casino. My arms were starting to cramp a little, but for the life of me, I couldn't seem to let go of the bags. Something began to tickle the back of my mind, but I was so caught up in the glamour and glitz of Vegas, that I couldn't really focus on it.

I watched the casino from afar, for heaven only knows how long, shifting from foot to foot, holding the bags, when the manager came into view again. "Excuse me sir," he said, frowning slightly. "If you like, I can take your name and the reservation number and give you your room key now, so you can put down those bags and wait for your wife in your room."

"Um, n-n-no. That's okay," I said, anxiously, "I'm fine. She'll just be a few more minutes I'm sure."

"Um, yes," the manager said, frowning deeper. "Well, perhaps you could just sit those heavy bags down. They look heavy, and you look tired of holding them. I'll just call the hotel bellhop and he'll take them---"

"NO!!" I all but shouted, causing several people to look my way. SHIT!! What the HELL is wrong with me? I just embarrassed myself in front of everybody here, just because I don't want someone to take my bags... HUH? Take my bags?!? Suddenly, like a lock sliding open, I saw what had happened. My cheery compliance to Shelley's wishes, her cheerfulness, my absurd reluctance to relinquish the luggage... and waking up suddenly in the car without recalling even falling asleep! SHIT! She programmed me! Thinking quickly, I turned back to the wary manager, giving him a hopefully, reassuring smile.

"Sorry. I'm a little high strung, I guess. That's why we're here, on vacation, to help me relax. I'd... um, really rather keep all my luggage with me, if you don't mind. We've had a bit of a problem with luggage disappearing at the last place we stayed, and on the flight back. You understand."

"Sir," the manager said, somewhat offended, "I can assure you that we'll be VERY careful with your bags. You have nothing to worry about, I'll just have Clifford take them to your room---"

"NO... um, no, thank you. I really must insist." I shifted again, slightly, wishing Shelley would get here and quickly. This was easily the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me.

"Very well then, Sir," he replied with a hint of repressed anger. "If you insist on waiting here in the lobby for your wife, with your bags, I'll kindly ask you to step over there, to the waiting area. You can have a seat there, out of the way." I caught the hint of his words: Get out of here, you loony, out of the way, so you won't cause another scene. I was mortified. I wanted to crawl under a rock somewhere. But even then, at the height of embarrassment, I couldn't seem to make myself move. Shelley had been very specific, I realized with dread. She had told me to wait for her there, and to keep the bags, so I was stuck there, unable and unwilling to move, even to the waiting area, until she instructed me to. "Sir?" the manager said, again, no longer even bothering to disguise his anger. "The waiting area. Now."

"Er, I.. um... I.. I'm sorry, I can't!" I blurted out. "She told me to stay here and wait for her, and I'd like to move, oh GOD would I like to move right now, go someplace and DIE of embarrassment, but I can't, because my sweet innocent, but not very thoughtful wife TOLD me to stay here and wait for her, and to hold onto the bags, so of course, I can't even have the luxury of letting them go either!"

The manager blinked at my outburst, blinked again, then picked up the phone. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave, now, or I'll be forced to call security---"

"Jonothan!" Shelley said breathlessly, coming up behind me carrying a small bucket of... coins? She had been in the casino all this time? My eyes widened, nearly bulging out of my head. I was steamed, really boiling inside, but the most I could manage was a slight frown on the outside. If I could have managed to release my anger, I'm sure I would have put her over my knee and spanked her sweet little ass until it was candy apple red. Lucky for her, she held the reigns for the moment.

"Hi," she said cheerfully to the manager. "I believe we have reservations for the weekend, under Jonothan and Shelley Adams." She showed him her license, and the reservation number, and slid him her credit card to pay for the bill.

"Um.. yes. Well, everything seems to be in order," the flustered manager said after a moment. "You can both go to your room now. I'll have the bellboy Clifford take your bags..." Then, shaking his head, he sighed. "Never mind, I don't want to go through THAT again. Enjoy your stay here in Las Vegas, and if there's anything you need... just... well, you know." He turned and went into the back, muttering to himself as we walked to the elevator.

"Sheesh. What was HIS problem?" Shelley asked, as we entered our room. Once I stepped across the threshold, I dropped the suitcases in a pile on the floor with a groan. Shelley, no doubt startled by the sound, turned back to look at me. I summoned my most severe frown--- the most I could do in 'submissive' mode--- and answered her question.

"You want to know what his problem is, my love?" I said in a sing-song voice that belied my boiling temper. "I'll tell you. His problem, dearheart, is that you hypnotized me in the car, no doubt because I was being such a big jerk on the trip here. His problem is that, even though I no doubt deserved a little payback for getting on your nerves, you gave me very specific instructions, COMMANDS I had to follow, then departed to go play in the casino without even checking to see how those instructions would take hold." Shelley flushed slightly with guilt, but I continued mercilessly. "The manager has a problem, my dear, because he considers me a complete lunatic. I stood there in front of his desk for over an hour, waiting for you to arrive, and I wouldn't give him the reservation number or the name the room was in, or even let the bellhop take my bags, all because you told me to stay there and wait for you, and let YOU handle the reservations. And I made sure not to let anyone take the bags, holding them in my arms all the while... just like you TOLD ME TO!!" The last was said with a slight edge to my voice, the closest I could manage to a shout. Still, my tone of voice seemed to convey my feelings, as Shelley took a step back. "The manager," I continued, "considered me a psycho, and was about to call security to take me away and toss me out on my ear, but luckily for us, you came along at just that moment. So, yes, all in all, I'd have to say that the manager of this hotel had a VERY SLIGHT problem."

Shelley stood there for a moment, gaping. I don't know if you fully realized the scope of her control over me in this mode, or just how strong her carelessly chosen words would affect me. After a moment, she collected her wits and gave me a smile. "Oh, okay. Point taken. I meant to follow you right in, really I did, but when I saw all those lovely card tables and slot machines... well I just HAD to take a quick look. Besides." she added devilishly, "you are right. You DID deserve a bit of payback. You don't know just how many embarrassing situations you've gotten ME into that way, and the aggravation from this trip alone was reason enough. Anyway, you're fine, and the manager will get over. No harm done."

"No harm done?" I was incredulous. I was appalled. I don't know exactly WHAT I was at the moment, but it wasn't HAPPY. Shelley, on the other hand, was practically beside herself in amusement. She slipped seductively out of her clothes, and strutted over to me, with an evil smirk on her face.

"No harm done... yet," she said, biting me lightly on the neck, sending shivers of pleasure through me. "It's my turn to hold the reigns, Master mine," she giggled. "Get over it. Don't worry, though... I'll make up for your humiliation tonight and boost your ego plenty over the weekend. But for now, slave boy," I winced, hearing that word yet again, "it's time for my bath. Attend me!"

Story: Road Trip

by J. Darksong

{{The End.}}