0 comments/ 33707 views/ 25 favorites Wind Beneath Her Wings By: DAB32697 Descending the escalator into baggage claim of the West Palm Beach International Airport, my attention was drawn at once to a young man wearing a classic chauffeur uniform holding a small piece of poster board with my name written on it. Guessing him to be about my age, twenty-three; and also about my height, five-seven, I stepped up and told him that I was "Jessica Carpenter". His face filled with a warm, friendly smile and he introduced himself as Nathan. Informing me that he was my limo driver and that he would be escorting me to my hotel, we proceeded to collect my bag and Nathan then escorted me outside to his waiting white stretch limousine that literally sparkled in the warm November sunshine of south Florida. With all the dash, charm and debonair of a true southern gentleman that Nathan demonstrated, I had no doubt that if I were a heterosexual woman, I would be forever his. Lord knows we would certainly make beautiful children what with both of us having fair alabaster skin, big brown eyes and soft, sandy blond hair. Of course, my hair is considerably longer; wavy and flowing down to the middle of my back. Where Nathan had a solid and stocky athletic build with broad shoulders, thick chest and muscled arms, I have a curvaceous feminine figure with long and shapely legs, flat and firm tummy, slim waist and pert thirty-four C cup breasts. Where his face is chiseled with a granite jaw and thin lips, my face is narrow with high cheeks and full, pouting lips. Yes, we would make pretty babies. But alas, I am not a heterosexual woman. In fact I am what men of all ages would consider "a terrible waste of good pussy". For not only am I a lesbian, but I'm a lipstick lesbian. Nathan opened the back door of the limo and I slipped into unadulterated luxury; fine leather seats, plush carpeting, glossy mahogany paneling, full bar, state of the art entertainment system, a chilled bottle of Dom Perignon and a beautiful arrangement of six white roses with fresh baby's breath in a lovely crystal vase sitting atop the bar. Taking the attached card in my now trembling hands, I read the familiar handwriting: HEY JESS - HOPE YOU HAD A GREAT FLIGHT AND AN EVEN BETTER RIDE INTO THE ISLAND. I KNOW THESE FLOWERS MAY SEEM A BIT MUCH, BUT I KNOW HOW MUCH YOU LOVE WHITE ROSES. CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU, HON!! XOXO, DP As the limo cruised along the beach front highway toward my destination at the Resort of Singer Island, I gazed out the windows totally mesmerized by the tropical landscape and exotic beauty of the sunshine state. As the palm trees, sandy white beaches and the dark blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean passed by, I just couldn't get over how beautiful it all was. I also couldn't believe that just a few hours earlier, I was slogging through the morning rush hour traffic of Detroit, Michigan on a frigid winter-like morning en-route to Wayne County Metro Airport. Now I was in a mid-summer days dream and tropical paradise. When Nathan turned the limo into the grand drive of the stupendous high rise Marriott Hotel of Singer Island on North Ocean Drive, I nearly fainted dead away as I took in the sheer majesty of the place. Nathan led me into the splendid lobby and got me all checked in. The concierge handed me a standard sized envelope with my name written on it and then he rang for the bellman. Nathan bid me farewell and I followed the bellman across the beautiful atrium to the bank of elevators and rode up to the top floor. My suite was absolutely out of this world! I nearly broke down in tears I was so overwhelmed by it. The bellman informed me that the staff lovingly referred to this particular suite as the First Lady, for it adjoined the Presidential suite; which just so happened to be occupied this weekend by a very famous young lady in the world of sports who was in town for a photo shoot. The bellman carried my bags into the bedroom, set them on the California king size bed and then gave me a brief tour of the posh suite. When I tried to tip him as he departed, he told me that the "First Lady" had no need; for the "President" had already taken care of it. And with that, he smiled warmly and was gone. I stood humbly in the center of the cavernous penthouse, slowly spinning on my heels to take it all in. Opening the double bay doors that led out to the balcony, I was nearly swept off my feet by the breathtaking view; not to mention the strong breeze off the Atlantic Ocean that was not more than fifty yards away. As I gazed out over the seemingly endless ocean and the beach that stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions, I suddenly heard a tiny voice whispering deep in my subconscious. "How has this happened? How did a lowly florist assistant and part time courtroom sketch artist in Detroit, Michigan end up at a place like this?" Without giving myself an answer, I shut the balcony doors, stripped out of my traveling clothes and hopped into the shower. The shower stall alone was bigger than my entire bathroom at home. An hour later, I was just finishing putting on my makeup and running a brush through my hair when the doorbell to my suite rang. Yes, it has a doorbell! My apartment in Detroit doesn't even have a freaking doorbell. Having slipped on a one piece bathing suit, tan khaki shorts and a pair of flip-flops on my feet, I hurried out to the door to ultimately find a very striking and elegant woman in her late forties to early fifties waiting on the other side. "Hello." She said sweetly in a deep southern accent. "You must be Jessica. I'm Marilyn." "I know. Nice to meet you." I replied and we shook hands. "I take it you received the note she left for you with the concierge then?" Marilyn probed. "I did. She said you'd be coming to get me." "Wonderful. Then shall we go? She's waiting." Marilyn and I rode down the elevator, crossed the lobby and were soon climbing aboard a golf cart waiting for us just outside the hotel entrance; me in back and Marilyn riding shotgun beside the driver. We scooted quickly down the beach and less than ten minutes later we arrived on the set of one of the Sports Illustrated 2008 Swimsuit Edition on location photo shoots. Marilyn led me around a crowd of curious and excited spectators, through the security line and on to the set itself where there were photographers, gaffers and electrical grips galore; as well as several very expensive cameras, lights and various other pieces of photographic equipment. There was a Hollywood style makeup and hair station, makeup artists, hairstylists, wardrobe staff, caterer line, schmoozer's, ass kissers, VIP's, invited guests and private security. And of course, the star model of the shoot herself: Danica Patrick! Standing under the makeup and hair canopy with her head tilted slightly back and her eyes closed while some scruffy looking guy was styling her gorgeous long and dark hair, Danica looked like an exotic angel in a sinfully sexy little white bikini. And you know the bikini I'm talking about!! Surely by now you've seen the 2008 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition that featured Danica Patrick frolicking on the beach. Yes, that's the bikini she's was wearing as I then stared at her. Marilyn proceeded up under the canopy and whispered into Danica's ear as I waited in the wings. Instantly, Danica's eyes popped open, her head dropped and spun in my direction, those gorgeous doe eyes locked on mine and her face lit up with a breathtaking, heartwarming smile. Danica Patrick has two smiles; and if you've watched her as carefully as I, then you have probably noticed this. Number one smile is her professional smile; primarily used for the media cameras, the press and the public at large. It is clearly practiced, conditioned and can be summoned almost on cue. But number two smile is a smile that can only come from deep within her heart and soul. It doesn't surface very often, but when it does, it is absolutely unmistakable! Danica's face fills with an adorable child-like innocence that is angelically precious; every fiber of her mortal being literally beams with heaven's light as those gorgeous eyes of hers sparkle like jewels. Whenever that smile comes, it usually means that someone she loves or cares for deeply on a very personal level is nearby. And at that moment, that very smile was glowing all over me. ~~~ Danica Patrick and I had met just six months earlier, in May 2007, courtesy of my cousin, who had been hired as a member of her pit crew. Having been born and raised in Indianapolis, the Indy 500 was literally in my blood and I was a natural born fan. And like most every other 500 fan, I fell in love with Danica Patrick from the moment she first appeared on the scene in 2005. But in truth, it was far more than that for me. I was completely captivated and totally captured by her from the word go. She was so young, so beautiful, vibrant and passionate; not to mention sexy as hell, and for a time I couldn't help but wonder why she was racing cars when she could easily be a supermodel or movie star. I followed her movements carefully for many months and became an apt study of her body language, attitudes and expressions from a distance. Then one day it hit me. It became so clear that I cursed myself for not having realized it sooner. What other possible explanation could there be for such a vibrant and gorgeous young woman to be involved in an almost one hundred percent male dominated sport? Simple: Danica's "in-the-closet". Initially I was rather baffled by it; why be in the closet in this day and age? But then, I don't exactly advertise my homosexuality either, and I can't say for sure if I have a comfortable explanation as to why not. Then it dawned on me that for somebody in Danica's position, being openly gay could be extremely detrimental; not only to her career as a driver, but also her public image would be irreparably compromised. Her credibility as a role model and her marketability as a sex symbol would be completely destroyed. Contemplating it further; Danica's situation, if indeed she was "in the closet", was actually heartbreaking; even tragic, and my own heart filled with great pity for her. But alas, this was nothing more than a wild conspiracy theory I concocted in my overzealous imagination to justify my fancied romantic hopes and lofty lover's dreams with a completely unattainable woman. And though I knew it was all just a fantasy, it still didn't stop my heart from breaking when I learned that Danica Patrick was engaged to be married; to a man. I spent nearly the next month moping around like a true-to-form, heartbroken slob until one afternoon, the owner of the florist shop where I work, confronted me on my depression, voicing her deep concern. When I told her the story, she laughed hysterically for nearly half an hour and I felt compelled to drive a pair of scissors into her eye. Later that afternoon, still fuming over my employer making so light of my emotional agony, I actually thought about creating the most beautiful arrangement of flowers ever conceived and sending it to Danica with the love letter of all love letters. That's when it finally dawned on me how utterly ridiculous I was being and that my behavior was actually bordering on obsession, stalking and pure insanity. It wouldn't have made any difference if in fact Danica Patrick was marrying a woman. Though she seemed like everything to me, the bottom line was that I was absolutely nothing to her but one of her adoring fans; millions of faces without names. Suffice it to say, I pulled my head out of my ass, ultimately making peace with the fantasy of Danica Patrick and hence, got back to living in the real world. Then about a year later, my cousin Sean called out of the blue with his wondrous news of being hired as a member of Danica Patrick's pit crew. Now you would think I'd have blown a head gasket; but much to even my own surprise, I remained in reality. After all, nothing was initially mentioned about me possibly having the opportunity to meet Danica Patrick in person and I didn't even press the issue. And when that subject finally did come up, I initially turned it down for I was now working a full time schedule at the florist shop, as well as doing some freelance sketching for the Wayne County Courts. I've always had a talent for drawing and I've been honing the craft with passion all of my life. If you've ever seen "Titanic", then it will be easy for you to identify with the kind of drawing I do, for it's the same as Leonardo DiCaprio's character did; and dare I say, every bit as good. Yes, I even carry the drawing pad and pencils wherever I go because like most artists, I just never know when the inspiration will strike. My mother worked in a florist shop from the time I was born; as did both my aunts. In the beginning, working with flowers didn't interest me; but as I blossomed into a young woman and discovered the truth of my sexual orientation, I found that working in a florist shop was an excellent way to meet women! But that's a whole other story. At length, Sean ultimately convinced me that I should seize this opportunity to come and meet the world's most famous, and arguably, sexiest lady racer: one Danica Sue Patrick. So I took a week off from the florist shop and headed down to Indy; outwardly indifferent, but inwardly bursting with joy. I arrived at the Speedway early in the morning on Sunday and Sean gave me the tour. Danica, as it turned out, was off taping a morning talk show in New York City and wouldn't be back until the following day. Outwardly disappointed, but inwardly grateful, I breathed a collective sigh of relief. Yet as the next morning dawned, my nerves had me out of bed and puking my guts out even before the sun fully rose. By the time I got to the track, I felt like death warmed over and probably looked it too. The crew was already busy prepping the number seven Motorola car in the Gasoline Alley garage as I came in. The guys all greeted me warmly for I had met and spent the better part of the previous day with them. Then before I even truly realized it, I was suddenly face to face with Danica Patrick herself. She came around the corner in her blue and black Motorola racing suit; and as per usual on a race, practice or qualifying day, all that gorgeous dark hair was pulled back in a long ponytail and those big, black sunglasses she likes to wear were on her beautiful little face. Sean made the introductions and Danica extended her hand for a shake. Though she was very cordial and pleasant, she seemed a bit standoffish; clearly more focused on qualifying for her third Indy 500 than meeting the lesbian cousin of her newest pit crew member. It was all I could do to keep from shaking like a leaf in the wind as I hung around the pits and garage, all the while in Danica Patrick's looming, and at times, rather intimidating presence. Though she was never rude or unpleasant to me; after our initial meeting, she hardly spoke ten words to me over the next three days. Wednesday afternoon found me sitting in the back of Danica's pit, making sketches and actually beginning to feel like myself again for the first time in days. The number seven Motorola car was really misbehaving, so Danica was in a rather pissy mood as she paced the pits fuming for extended periods of time; I made a point to stay well out of her way. Whenever I draw, I tend to completely lose myself in it. Regardless of the people or the circumstances surrounding me, I'm totally focused and completely relaxed; and that day was no different. In fact I was so focused that I didn't even notice that Danica had sauntered up directly behind me and was looking over my shoulder as I sketched. "Oh my God." She said; sounding deeply impressed. I gasped deeply, dropped my pencil and juggled my pad frantically around as I nearly launched myself atop the Pagoda in sudden distraction and shock. Spinning aroud, I found Danica in her Motorola driver suit, wearing those big dark sunglasses and seemingly as startled as I as she jumped back and cupped her hand over her mouth. "Oh! God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I thought you'd heard me come up." Danica said remorsefully. "No, I hadn't. Sorry. See, I tend to kind of get lost in my focus when I'm drawing." I replied; my heart ramming furiously. "I have no doubt. That drawing is amazing." Danica said softly, indicating to my sketch. "Oh...Why thank you." I told her. "May I?" She asked; indicating to my drawing pad. "Sure." Thinking I'd just hand her my pad, Danica instead leaned over my shoulder and began flipping slowly back through the pages. With her chin practically resting on my shoulder allowing her hair, which was uncharacteristically out of its ponytail, to drape long and free down my arm; the soft locks brushing gently against my skin. Danica was so close up behind me that I could feel her chest rising and falling with every breath she took and felt nearly every whiff of air on my neck as it exhaled from her nose. It was also the first time I noticed the absolutely hypnotic scent of vanilla and jasmine that Danica wears; it made my head spin it so wonderfully intoxicating. Danica took her time and studied each of my drawings carefully and I could periodically hear slight gasps of astonishment, along with miniscule chirps of wonder, delight and approval from her. "Jessica, these drawings are incredible." Danica finally told me. "Thank you." I said humbly; frankly surprised that she even remembered my name. "You ought to see some of the ones I actually spend time on. These are just sketches." I continued. "This is some of the most exquisite artwork I've ever seen and you're telling me they're only sketches?" Danica asked incredulously. "That's right." "And here I thought my car was giving me a lot of bullshit today." Danica snapped. "Would you like me to prove it?" I snapped back. "Sure! How?" "Do you have time to sit for a portrait, madam?" "Based on the way my car is running, I might just have until next May." Danica scoffed. We both laughed at her joke and I had Danica seat herself in a comfortable position on the pit wall. I repositioned myself, flipped to the next blank page of my pad and went to doing what I do. And as I sketched, Danica and I began to talk; not chit-chat, but actually talk. And it wasn't long before I realized that I wasn't talking with the famous race car driver Danica Patrick - the only woman to ever lead the Indianapolis 500. No, I was just talking to Danica; another all American girl from the Midwest who was not that much different from me at all. Where I loved drawing and flowers, she loved speed and racing. Danica also mentioned that she loved flowers too, and that like me, white roses were her favorite. Twenty-five minutes later, I handed Danica the rough portrait I'd made of her and she stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. I was actually beginning to get a little nervous; afraid she didn't like it when I noticed her hands where trembling and causing the pad to shake. Slowly, Danica slipped off her sunglasses and I was shocked to see that those beautiful doe eyes of hers were welling with tears. I stepped forward and wanted to place my hand on her shoulder to comfort her, but at the last moment, held it back. "Danica, are you all right?" I asked. "Yeah." She whispered. "Yeah, I'm fine." "But you're crying." I said softly. Danica sniffed and wiped at her eyes then quickly slipped her sunglasses back on as she cleared her throat. "Sorry." She sniffed in a trembling voice. "You don't like it?" I asked softly. "Jessica, I didn't think it was possible for one human being to see another so clearly." Danica said in a shaky voice. "There's never been an actual photograph taken of me that is as good as this drawing. You have an amazing gift." Wind Beneath Her Wings Now I was the one about to burst into tears. "Can I keep this?" She asked humbly. "Of course." I told her. "Here, let me take it out for you." Danica handed the pad back to me and I carefully tore out the sketch and handed it to her. She had no sooner taken it from my hand when her arms went around me and we shared our first hug. What a world! And just so you know, Danica Patrick gives wonderful, warm hugs. For the remainder of that week, Danica and I were virtually inseparable. At least we were when her free time between practicing, meetings, interviews, photo opts, schmoozing and qualifying permitted. We ate lunch together every day, dinner together every night and then just hung out together after hours. Danica Patrick qualified for her third Indy 500 the following Saturday afternoon. We had dinner together that night and then an early breakfast together on Sunday morning before we said goodbye, shared another warm hug and I headed back to Detroit. Though I was born in Indianapolis, I had gone to college in Michigan, so that's why I now lived in Detroit. And no sooner did I walk in the door to my apartment that afternoon, did I discover a message from Danica on my answering machine. I called her back, she answered on the second ring and we ended up talking for nearly three hours. In the end she begged me to come back down to Indy for the race as her personal guest. How was I supposed to say no to that? So I went; and so it went. Over the next few months, Danica Patrick and I became dear friends. Though she was on the road almost constantly, we text messaged each other endlessly and talked on the phone even more. Danica was always begging me to come to her races, but I kept reminding her that I did have a full time job; but I was able to attend a few and she fully funded my travel and accommodations and always made sure I was treated like royalty. And of course when the IRL came to Michigan for both the Firestone 400 at the Michigan International Speedway and the Detroit Indy Grand Prix at the Raceway of Belle Isle, Danica literally kidnapped me and had me glued to her side both weekends. It became very clear the more I was around Danica and observing the world she lived in that she, regrettably, had very few real friends. Although she was surrounded by people almost constantly and had people very close to her, Danica confided to me that it was very difficult for her to know who she could really trust. I guess I'd never given it much thought, but when you are in a position like Danica's, you can never truly know what the intentions of the people around you really are; even members of your own family. You can't help but second guess them and have your mind continuously asking the questions: What do they want from me? Are they close to me because I'm just me or because it's who I am? Do they want to be around me because they love me or because of what they think I can do for them? If it wasn't for the fame and fortune, would these people even be around me? Or want anything to do with me? Is it all just about the money? Confiding this all to me one evening over pizza and a bottle of cheap red wine in the living room of my apartment, my heart broke as I studied Danica's beautiful little face and I saw for the first time, the deep and underlying sadness of a very isolated and lonely human being. I had never really considered it before, but it suddenly dawned on me that probably the loneliest, isolated and emotionally vulnerable people in the world are some of our most popular movie stars, TV stars, singers and star athletes. And at that moment, the young woman sitting next to me on my scruffy old living room carpet wearing raggedy cutoff jean shorts, a faded Chicago Bears T-shirt and a pair of flip-flops while stuffing a thick, greasy slice of pizza into her mouth as we watched Harrison Ford and Sean Connery search for the Holy Grail on TV was probably the most famous woman in professional sports anywhere in the free world. Danica Patrick was on the cover of practically every sports magazine in the world and every man's magazine in the country. Then there were the constant public and personal appearances, the charity events, promotional events, media interviews, talk show tapings, commercial shoots and sponsor endorsments. Danica, who was just twenty-five at that time, probably had more money than she could ever spend in a lifetime and she could easily have anything or anyone she wanted. And here she sat! Danica Patrick was sitting in my dingy little one bedroom apartment in the suburbs of Detroit, eating pizza, guzzling cheap wine and was perfectly content and entirely at peace. That number two smile said it all as she stretched that gorgeous little body out on the floor, leaned back against my sofa and rested her head on my shoulder. Danica and I had bonded in a very special way. She trusted me as she had never trusted anyone; for the simple reason that I wanted absolutely nothing from her except for her to just be her. To be the plain, ordinary American girl from Roscoe, Illinois. To be my friend and allow me to be hers; and I'm here to tell you that Danica Patrick is a wonderful friend!! I know that she comes off sometimes as a cocky, cold and cruel little bitch with an ego the size of Alaska and an arrogance the size of Texas, who appears to care for nothing or nobody but herself and winning races; but all of that is just skin deep. Danica Patrick is a warm, kind and gentle human being with a deep and sweet soul, and an enormous heart; a heart full of angelic sweetness, divine tenderness, endless compassion and unconditional love. But as I'm sure you have deduced by now, my heart carries a secret weight in the form of heavy guilt; for my love for Danica is far more than just a friend loving a friend. And I do want something from her - I want her heart, mind, body and soul to be mine, and only mine for the rest of our lives. ~~~ Standing on the Beach of Singer Island, Florida on that balmy November afternoon in 2007, Danica had just leapt into my arms and was now squeezing the life out of me. I think she often forgets just how strong she is. But at the moment, I didn't care. It had been nearly two and a half months since I had last seen Danica and I had missed her. But as I held her now, it dawned on me that though we'd shared many a hug, we'd never shared one where so much of Danica was on display. My hands had virtually unlimited access to so much of her silky soft skin; not to mention the raw power and buxom youthfulness of her lean and toned little body. Her skin was also slick and glistening with a coconut scented sun tan lotion and her hair emanated a delectably sweet floral aroma. Danica at last relented from her embrace and those captivating eyes where soon staring directly into mine; and that number two smile was turning my legs to jelly, my tummy to mush and my heart to a puddle. "God, I'm so glad you could come, J-C." Danica told me. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world, D-P." I replied. The smile on her face grew and my heart nearly burst out of my chest when Danica suddenly planted a quick peck kiss on my lips and embraced me again. "I've missed you so much." She told me. Holding her close once again, my body was soon tingling from head to toe as it flooded with a deep, lustful heat. My stomach tied itself in knots, my heart raced and my pussy began to ache with a kind of desire it had never known. I could sense my hands were beginning to develop a will of their own as they reveled in the taut and buxom flesh of Danica's incredible body. Just then, Marilyn materialized beside us and informed Danica that the photographers were ready to begin. I was never in my life so grateful to be interrupted for my hands had been slipping dangerously southward along the sexy curve of Danica's back. Danica whispered quickly for me to enjoy myself and if I felt the inspiration, to please make some sketches. Like she really had to tell me that. That afternoon soon became one of the most erotic of my entire life. For a woman who is so used to being in control, Danica took direction remarkably well and moved from pose to pose as if she was a natural born model. God knows she should be. We traded smiles and played eye tag all throughout the shoot and I was whipping out sketch after sketch almost as quickly as the photographers were snapping shots. Though she never remained in a pose long enough for an actual drawn portrait, my mind was so completely possessed with intense eroticism and carnal lust that my memory turned instantly photographic and moved quicker than a digital camera. My drawing pad was literally smoking as I worked. Daylight finally deserted us and the shoot was wrapped for the day. I had just barely finished packing up my pad and pencils when Danica, now donning a short white robe, snatched me by the hand, yanked me to my feet and we trotted gleefully back to the golf cart where Marilyn and the driver were waiting. Danica was giddy; bubbling with pure delight. Piling into the back of the cart and squeezing together on the seat, we were soon scooting across the sand back toward our hotel. "Okay, let me see." Danica said, holding out her hand toward my bag. I pulled out my drawing pad and she snatched it like a child grabbing their first present from under the Christmas tree. As she had the first day we met, Danica flipped slowly through my sketches, studying each one carefully. I didn't look at her. Folding my hands in my lap, I focused my attention toward the sunset and the kaleidoscope of breathtaking shades of soft orange, royal blue and purple as the day surrendered to night. Finally, I heard my pad close and an instant later, I felt Danica seize my hand and squeeze it tightly; almost too tightly, as if she were clutching the steering wheel of her race car. Danica often forgets her own strength, but I very seldom complain when I experience it; it is intensely erotic and incredibly stimulating to me. Feeling her powerful grip, I turned to find smile number two glowing like the rising full moon directly into my soul and those beautiful doe eyes glistening softly with pools of tears in the fading daylight. Neither one of us spoke. There was no need. We just held hands and Danica laid her head on my shoulder. By the time we got to our suites, the mood had lightened and Danica took me on the tour of the presidential suite. I soon found myself even more overwhelmed than when I first laid eyes on my own suite. Once the tour was complete, Danica suggested that we both shower, change and then go to dinner. An hour later, I was showered up, made up and donning a low cut lavender tank top, pair of white khaki shorts and sandals. Danica had said to dress very casual, so I even opted to go without a bra; my tank top was tight enough. Another hour passed and I began to get a bit concerned; Danica had still not called or come to my suite. Maybe she had been called away at the last moment for some promotional event having to do with the photo shoot. When you're Danica Patrick, anything can happen at any moment. After another thirty minutes, I was actually worried; she would have called at least. Something was wrong. I switched off the TV and knocked softly on the connecting door that was still ajar. Calling out her name softly, I gently pushed open the door and entered Danica's suite. Practically tiptoeing through the foyer and into the living room, I was about to call out to her again when I spotted her. With her long dark hair still damp from her shower, Danica was sound asleep on the sofa, curled up in an adorable little ball. She wore nothing but a turquoise T-shirt that was too small even for her that just barely covered her perky little breasts. She also wore a rather provocative pair of very thin and lacey black panties. I had never seen anything more precious in my life. She looked so innocent; almost like a kitten, and over her features was a look of unspeakable peace and serenity. She made no sound except for soft and slumberous breaths and I could tell she was out cold. Feeling suddenly compelled to stand guard over her; I took the suite's phone off the hook, shut off her cell phone and placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the door. With the excruciating pace of life and schedule she keeps, Danica needed all the sleep she could get and I was not going to allow anyone to disturb her now. Plus, this would allow me a wonderful opportunity to capture Danica in the purest and most beautiful form; it also would afford me one of the most intimate and erotic delights a person can have - watching the man or woman they love sleep. Slipping off my sandals, I hurried quietly back to my suite, retrieved my pad and pencil and then set myself up in the chair directly across from the sofa where Danica was sleeping. Danica slept for nearly three hours and never once so much as even stirred; the poor baby was that exhausted. Her long slumber allowed me ample time to really create a masterpiece that I was even able to enhance with color and texture. As always, I completely lost myself in my drawing and didn't even realize that Danica had awoken until: "Is it okay if I move now? I think my arm's asleep." Danica mewed. I looked up with bulging eyes to find her in the same position; only now her eyes were open and she was smiling gorgeous number two at me. "Yeah, I just finished. Did you sleep well? Sure looked like it." "Yeah, I did. God, how long have I been out?" "At least four hours; maybe even five." "Four or five hours? What time is it?" "Just after eleven." "Guess we missed dinner, didn't we? I'm sorry." "No problem. You needed your sleep. Besides, we could still order in if you want." Danica sat up slowly, yawned and stretched then began rubbing and massaging her arm as we sat in silence. Finally: "Well?" She said. "What?" I replied. "Gimme." She whipped and held out her hand. I stood and handed my pad to her over the coffee table in front of the sofa. Danica took the pad and studied the drawing for much longer than she had ever looked at any of my others. She spoke not a word, nor did she show the slightest hint of emotion; or any reaction of any kind. Finally she laid my drawing pad on the coffee table in front of her and folded her hands in her lap with her head facing the floor. Time seemed to stand still and the silence soon became unbearable for me; my heart was frozen and I soon discovered that I was holding my breath as I stared anxiously at Danica. "You know, I never believed that this would happen to me." Danica finally uttered; still looking at the floor. "That what would happen to you?" I asked; my heart suddenly pounding. Danica slowly lifted her head and the look on her face nearly broke my heart. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, tears were racing down her quivering cheeks and she was frantically biting her lips as her hands trembled almost uncontrollably. "That somebody would love me as much as you do." She told me. "Sweetheart, lots of people love you." I replied. "But not like you do." Danica whispered and then held up my latest drawing of her. "Look at this. You see me in a way that nobody else ever has; a way that nobody else ever will. You can see right into my soul. You know me; you feel me. And for you to be able to do this; you're a part of me." By now my eyes were spilling over with tears, my heart was about to break my ribs and my lungs were searing with agony; as though I'd just run the Indy 500 on foot. "I'm sorry, Danica. I should have told you." With that, I hunched forward, rested my arms on my knees, buried my face in my hands and sobbed. A few seconds passed and I soon felt a small hand gently stroking my hair. I lifted my weary head to find Danica standing directly in front of me; and while her eyes were still welled with tears, she was also beaming her beautiful smile down at me. "Jessica, you've told me you loved me with every drawing you've ever made of me. You have nothing to be sorry about. I'm the one who should be sorry." Danica said softly. "Why should you be sorry?" I babbled. Danica slowly lowered herself into the chair I was sitting in, straddled my lap and slid her arms around my shoulders. I fell back gently into the chair, let my hands slide cautiously around her waist and gazed almost helplessly up at her. "For never telling you that I love you too." Danica whispered. "Danica, I..." I began, but Danica cut me off by gently placing two of her fingers on my lips. "Shhh...Don't say anymore, Jess. Words are only gonna screw this up." With that, Danica softly caressed my cheek as she smiled at me. Pushing herself up off my lap and on to her feet in front of the chair, Danica took me by the hand, help me up out of the chair and led me down the hallway to the bedroom suite. Stopping briefly in the doorway to dim the lights, she then led me over to the king size bed. Sliding sensually and sexily onto the soft comforter atop the mattress, Danica stretched out on her side and pulled me gently down on my side next to her; our faces were just centimeters apart. Letting our bare legs entwine, I slid my arm over Danica's waist as she softly caressed my cheek with the tips of her fingers. She was clearly nervous and her little body was trembling; it was cutier than a puppy's ear. Danica's chest was heaving feverously and I could almost literally see her little heart just a pounding away. But then again, the same was true for me at that moment as well. Going to bed with a new lover for the first time is one of the most exciting and erotic experiences in life! It is also one of the most tedious and nerve racking events too; for the simple fact that you both want desperately to perform well and provide exquisite pleasure. Bottom line: sex with someone for the first time is extremely stressful and intimidating; especially if your new lover is arguably the sexiest and most famous woman in the world of professional sports. Danica and I gazed longingly into each other's eyes as we snuggled intimately together and we let our hands and fingertips gently caress and explore each other's body. Then, at long last, as if in a dream, our lips came together in a slow and sweat lover's kiss. There was no aggression or urgency in it at all; our mouths did not sear together nor did our tongues wrestled for dominance. No, our lips just brushed and grazed ever so softly over and against each other; sampling the sweet flavor and divine tenderness of another woman's kiss. Danica now slid her arm around my waist and I felt her pulling me closer to her. I let my hand slide up her lean body, through her silky hair and finally coming to rest on her cheek. Still just letting our lips brush softly over each other, I let my hand glide up from Danica's cheek and began stroking my fingers through all that gorgeous dark hair, combing and cradling it gently behind her ear. Finally we pulled back from our soft kissing and again gazed deeply at each other. Our bodies were cuddled up against each other and our bare legs were still entwined. I felt Danica slide her hand up my back, over the fabric of my lavender top and immerse itself in my long and wavy locks of sandy blond. I could still sense Danica's anxiety and feel her body trembling. "You okay?" I whispered. "Yeah." She whispered back and smiled. "We can go as slow as you want." I told her. "Slow is good." Danica whispered and I eyed her incredulously. "Sometimes!" She said and we both giggled. Her hand slowly slid out of my hair and around to my cheek. "God, you're so beautiful Jessica." "So are you." I told her. Still wearing that gorgeous number two smile, Danica leaned in to me slowly and brushed her lips over mine as she let her hand glide back down my body to my waist and snuggled me firmly up against her. As I reciprocated by sliding my arm around her torso, Danica suddenly shifted; using the weight of her body, she slowly rolled me off my side and down flat on my back as her lips still nuzzled and suckled mine. Putting up no resistance, I eased onto my back on the soft mattress, opening my legs wide so that Danica could slip in between them, which she did, and then let her body come to rest directly atop me. Wind Beneath Her Wings Now resting directly beneath her powerful and buxom young body, feeling her perky and firm little breasts crushed against mine, I felt myself turning to putty as I sensed the dominant and commanding spirit of Danica Patrick surfacing. You didn't get to where this woman was in her chosen profession without being a very dominant and commanding person; without the desire to be the best and be in total control of your own destiny. Even though this wasn't a race, I sensed a primal hunger growing now in Danica to be in control; almost like the alpha-female spirit was rising up within her. And it was really turning me on. With that damp and beautiful long dark hair now draping all around my head and face, I inhaled deeply of the sweet scents of fresh shampoo and conditioner before Danica pushed herself up on her arms and was pulling her hair back and away behind her head. Lowering her mouth back down to mine once again, Danica cupped my chin in her hand, kissed me softly and then teasingly ran the tip of her tongue slowly, and oh so erotically, all around the inner rim of my lips; occasionally grazing my teeth. Danica again pushed herself up on her arms and looked warmly down at me; smiling adorably. Gently grabbing her by the throat, I rose up as far as I could with her on top of me and took her chin into my mouth, then slowly ran my mouth along her jaw line, suckling and savoring the flavor of fresh soap on her skin until I was finally to her ear where I sucked on her earlobe. I feared initially that I was moving too fast, but Danica gladly turned her head to allow me all the access I wanted. Sliding down flat on my back on the mattress once more, Danica again pulled her hair out of the way and lowered her mouth to mine, pausing just centimeters away and her gaze burrowed deep into my eyes. She seemed to be searching my face for something; a cue or a signal. I smiled warmly up at her and softly caressed her cheek with my fingertips. With that, Danica smiled and pressed her lips to mine. This time there was aggression! There was urgency in her passion; that primal hunger I sensed coming up within her had now broken the surface. Pressing her mouth firmly on mine, I felt Danica's tongue probing my lips, the tip grazing wantonly over them. So, I surrendered them to her; and as they fell open, Danica's tongue slipped into my mouth. As Danica's tongue hungrily explored my mouth, I slid my arms possessively up around her shoulders and wrapped my legs snuggly up around her waist, hooking my feet together on her back; all the while reveling in the sweetness and heat of her mouth and the steadily growing passion of her wanton kiss. Danica then began to gently grate her body against me and then shifted her kiss, delving deeper into my mouth and I moaned tenderly down her throat. My mind was now a blur of carnal lust and unyielding passion; I couldn't honestly believe this was really happening. Danica Patrick was no longer just a distant and yearned for fantasy; and she was no longer just my dear friend - she was now my lover. I was completely overwhelmed with a fulfillment and a joy I'd never known. Unlocking my legs from around her waist and planting my feet on the mattress, I slid my hands down Danica's back, over her tiny T-shirt until I found naked skin; Danica Patrick's skin! Taut, soft, buxom flesh encompassing a lean, powerful and perfect young body; Danica Patrick's body! A body that I had worshipped from afar and had lusted after for so long. A body that, at least for that night, was mine for the taking. Danica was rubbing harder and faster against me now, pulling out of our kiss to take a deep, hissing breath and to push her long locks of hair way again before coming wantonly back for more of my mouth; the heat of our bodies was rising rapidly and I could feel my skin beginning to mist with perspiration. My hands continued down Danica's toned and muscled little body until my palms slid over the lacey fabric of her miniscule panties and onto the firm little globes of her taut ass where my fingers massaged deeply the silky flesh of those perfectly round and sexy spheres. Giving her ass gentle squeezes initially only seemed to fuel Danica's passion and her tongue thrashed about in my mouth where I completely submitted to her. Growing a little boulder, I gave her a light spank and Danica moaned passionately down my throat. I seized tight handfuls of her hot little ass, pulling her center firmly down against mine as Danica continued to grate and grind herself vigorously against me. I now let my hands drift back up her back and slid them under the hem of her short T-shirt, only to discover that she wore no bra. Grazing my fingernails over the now misting flesh of her bare back under her T-shirt, Danica suddenly ceased her grating on me and slowly withdrew her kiss, holding herself up on her arm and once again pulling back her long hair. Both of us were now intensely turned on; slowly being consumed by the fires of building passion. Our chests where heaving as our lungs strained for air and our hearts were pounding so hard they hurt. As Danica combed her fingers through her hair again, I could see beads of sweat forming under her hairline and could feel the heat of her body literally pouring into me. "Whew!" Danica exhaled deeply. "Is it getting a little warm in here or what?" "I can't imagine why." I replied with a little giggle. Danica rose up completely off me and rested on her knees between my legs, still running her hands through her damp hair, exhaling deep, long breaths. I sat up and slid my arms around her waist then ran my hands up her bare back to the hem of her short T-shirt. Looking playfully up into her eyes, Danica released her hair and laid her hands on my shoulders. "May I?" I whispered. "You better." She replied with a mischievous grin. I took hold of the lower hem and slowly raised the small shirt as Danica lifted those tone and sexy arms over her head. I lifted the shirt up as far as I could reach and Danica did the rest, pulling the shirt all the way over her head and off. And just like that, I was staring at two perfect and perky little mounds of wonderfully round womanhood topped with adorable nickel sized areolas and precious pebble sized nipples. These were Danica Patrick's breasts! They were just inches from my face, and they were now mine to do with as I pleased. So now, what exactly do I please? Sliding my hands around from her back, I let my palms graze softly over Danica's beautiful little breasts; gently then molding and massaging the supple flesh with my long fingers. Danica slowly lowered her arms and returned her hands to my shoulders, where she then slid them into my long, wavy hair and inhaled a deep, hissing breath as I gently rubbed my thumbs against her tiny nipples. "Oh Jess, your hair is so beautiful." She whispered. "God, I love running my fingers through it." With that, I took Danica's left nipple into my mouth and her whole body seized as she sucked in a deep, gasping breath. In truth, I actually took about half her left breast into my mouth as I continued to massage her right. I sensed Danica arching her chest and body toward me, so I slid my left arm around her and held her tight as I suckled her. Sealing my mouth firmly around her breast, I flicked and teased her nipple with my tongue. Danica slid her hands down my back; her fingernails digging into my skin as her hands slipped under my lavender tank top. I savored and suckled Danica's left breast for as long as I thought she could stand it then turned my attention to her right breast and serviced it in kind. By now, a near constant stream of soft tender moans and hissing breaths were filtering out of Danica's mouth as her hands and fingernails grazed all over the bare skin of my back beneath my top. When I finally released her breast, Danica had pulled the shoulder straps of my tank top practically down to my elbows and was pawing with an almost salacious hunger at the fabric. Sitting back slightly and raising my arms, Danica tugged desperately at my tank top until it was up over my head and off. Letting it aimlessly slip out of her grasp and onto the mattress beside us, Danica seemed to be gawking with an almost innocent wonder at my now bare naked "ladies"; who were considerably larger than her own, but every bit as round, supple and firm. Slowly, Danica took my breasts in her powerful hands and massaged them with the utmost tenderness and affection. "Mama like?" I asked with a smile. Danica looked straight into my eyes and the look on her face was absolutely precious and priceless. "Mama like!" She declared with a radiant smile. Cupping her chin in my fingers, I kissed her softly on the mouth and then stretched out on my back again, pulling Danica slowly down atop me by her hands. Danica positioned her lower body between my wide open legs, still on her knees while she positioned her arms and hands on both sides of me, planting them on the mattress. Though Danica is considerably smaller than me, her commanding presense and her physical vigor excite me beyond description; I love being submissive to her. Like a lioness standing over her prey, Danica looked down at me with her beautiful eyes ablaze with passion and took my left nipple into her mouth. As the heat and wetness of her mouth sealed around the supple flesh of my breast, I sucked in a deep gasp and arched my back up to meet her hungry mouth, burying my hands in the long, silky locks of Danica's gorgeous hair. My body tingled with an intense erotic pleasure as Danica suckled my left breast while she teased my right nipple between her fingers. Again, my mind was a whirling blur of passion, lust, utter astonishment and disbelief: I was having sex with Danica Patrick! The most famous woman in professional sports; the only woman to ever lead the Indy 500 was, at this moment, making love to me. I felt tears rising up behind my eyes as the emotion of the moment ran rampant all through me. Danica proved herself a big time "tit girl" for she spent nearly twenty minutes back and forth, suckling mine; savoring them with deep affection and tenderness. With the heat of our bodies and our passion approaching volcanic level, Danica released my nipple and slowly worked her way up my chest and neck, sensually suckling and licking my flesh and pelting me with soft and sweet kisses. Finally allowing her arms to relax; Danica lowered her body down, letting it come to rest atop me and captured my mouth in a deep kiss. I slid my arms around her and reveled once more in the softness of her now flushed and damp flesh. Entwined in a web of willowy arms and sexy legs, I shifted my weight and rolled the two of us back on to our sides, letting Danica ultimately roll all the way on to her back beside me. Now it was my turn to command. I slipped out of our kiss and stroked her hair as I gazed into her eyes. I still couldn't get over how innocent she looked; but at the same time, how happy and fulfilled. Did nobody ever take the time to really and truly love this girl? "You still doing okay?" I whispered. "Oh yeah." Danica whispered dreamily. "You mind if I take my shorts off?" I asked. "Was kind of hoping that you would." She said with a smile. I kissed her softly on the lips, rose up on my knees and slipped off my khakis. Once I tossed them on the floor, I adjusted my thin white thong, then I fluffed a couple of pillows and propped them under Danica's head and shoulders, elevating her slightly. I wanted her to be completely comfortable for it was time to really get serious in loving her. I snuggled down beside her again and took her by the chin. "I want you to lay perfectly flat, alright? Let your arms just lay still and relaxed beside you on the mattress. And no matter how much you want to; try not to touch me. Just lie back, relax and enjoy me loving you, okay?" I whispered. "Okay." She whispered innocently. "You know I would never hurt you, right?" "I know." "Then just enjoy yourself, love." Danica seemed to be calm and her body relaxed as she stretched out her arms and laid them flat on the mattress beside her. Gently stroking her hair, I took her mouth gently in mine and suckled on her lips; then slowly ran the tip of my tongue around the inner rim of her full, luscious lips before finally letting it descend slowly and deeply into her sweet, velvety mouth. Danica had to grip a fistful of sheet in order to keep from wrapping her hand around my head. Kissing her deeply, exploring the recesses of her lovely mouth, my hand began a slow and sensual descent down the front of her body. First I stopped to mold and massage her perky little breasts then continued down, pressing the palm of my hand flat and firmly against her skin as I crossed her rock solid abdomen. I could feel Danica now beginning to tense up for she knew where I was headed. My fingers reached the delicate waist line of her panties and Danica ever so slightly, arched her back and raised her hips up to meet my caressing hand. Pressing further, my hand slid down completely over her lace covered mound and Danica spread her legs to allow me access. Even through the delicate fabric, which I found to be already quite damp, I could feel the intense heat emanating from her sex and could faintly smell the musky aroma of an aroused woman. Sliding my hand all the way down between her legs where the fabric was not only damp, but saturated, I rubbed my fingers in a firm but gentle circular motion on her sexual center, reveling in the feel of her engorging folds just beneath the lacey fabric. Pulling out of her mouth, I suckled on her chin and along her jaw line then worked my way down her neck to her chest, pelting her with sweet kisses and luxurious licks as I descended toward her breasts again. Danica's body was beginning to squirm while soft and tender moans were trickling out of her mouth as I savored her skin with my mouth and sensually massaged her whole mound over her panties with my hand. Her steel grip on the sheets was causing her knuckles to turn pure white. Taking her nipple into my mouth, I carefully slipped my hand beneath the waistband of her panties and brushed over a tiny tuft of fur. Danica jerked and her back arched as my fingers descended once again between her legs beneath her panties and I could feel the intense heat and humid moisture filtering out of her center. Taking her other nipple into my mouth now, I softly molded and nuzzled her puffy wet folds between my fingers. Danica sucked in a deep breath as I nipped the nub of her tiny nipple between my teeth while letting my fingers bury themselves amongst her saturated folds and her quivering slit. Resisting the urge to slip a finger inside her, I opened my hand and massaged her full mound again while slowly kissing my way down over her flat stomach and then up along the savory flesh of her hip. Danica's fists clung desperately to the sheets while her head rolled from side to side as hissing breaths, deep gasps and tender moans of illicit pleasure continued to drift out of her mouth. I slipped my hand out of her panties as I kissed my way up her hip, lifting her leg and kissing up to her knee. I positioned myself between her legs and planted both her feet on the mattress, then kissed down to the silky flesh of her inner thighs. Shifting back and forth from her right to left leg, I slowly and sensually kissed and suckled my way down her inner thighs as Danica lifted herself up on her elbows to watch me. I planted a soft kiss on the center of her panties, directly above her slit and then gazed up at her. "Can I take these off you?" I hissed. "You better!" She whipped. Rising up on my knees, I hooked my fingers under the thin waistband; Danica elevated her hips slightly and I slipped her panties up over her knees, down to her feet and finally off. And just like that, I had Danica Patrick completely naked. Unable to resist the temptation, I closed my eyes and pressed her panties to my nose, inhaling deeply of Danica's intoxicating natural scent; then I tasted them. In an instant, I was consumed with a primal hunger I'd never experienced. Finally opening my eyes, I found Danica staring at me with a look of carnal desire and raw lust on her face; her naked body was seething with passion as it glistened with perspiration in the dim light of the room. She was also pleasuring herself; gently teasing her dewy wet folds with her fingers and stimulating her clit. Tossing her panties to the floor, I slid down on my stomach between her legs and slapped her hand away. "Naughty girl!" I snapped and Danica giggled deviously. Pushing her legs further apart, her creamy and sexy inner thighs drew my eyes to the luscious spot between them. Below the small turf of black fur, her outer lips were flushed, warm and fully engorged; they were so beautiful, and I pelted them with soft kisses and Danica squirmed with delight. Her inner lips practically brought tears to my eyes; for they were just so her. They were small, not the real meaty and fleshy variety; they were like delicate little petals of a young flower as they protruded ever so slightly, engorged and vivid pink from her arousal. The scent of her arousal flooded my nostrils and I could no longer hold back. With the flat of my tongue, I gave Danica's immaculate pussy a long and luxurious lick all the way from her puckered little sphincter to her gorging clit where I swirled the tip of my tongue over and around the hood. Using her sweet nectar to lubricate my finger, I then teased the portal into her body with the very tip of my index finger while I sucked her little petals into my mouth; meshing them softly between my lips. Pushing her legs open still wider, I braced my hand against her and gently massaged her most sacred flesh as my mouth delved deeper into her soaking and seething womanhood. Slipping my finger inside her, Danica let out a yelp of erotic wonder as I snatched her folds in my mouth and massaged her clit under my thumb. Danica was desperately pushing herself into my mouth. Through deep and strained hissing breaths, Danica's chest was heaving with wondrous excitement while her head swayed in ecstasy from side to side on the pillow, her back arched and her hands clutched desperately at the sheets. Bucking her hips and rising to greet my mouth, I delved still deeper, slipping my finger out of her and pushing my tongue in. Burying my nose against her mound, my mouth sealed around her whole pussy and I vigorously feasted on her. My nostrils were being inundated with her musky scent while my mouth was being flooded with her delectable nectar. Danica was soaking wet! Her gorgeous little pussy was a seething cauldron of intense, fiery heat; squishy and syrupy in my mouth and under my tongue. Feeling her legs trembling desperately as her body thrashed wildly about, I pinched her clit between my thumb and index finger as I continued my ravenous and merciless feeding frenzy on her womanhood. Danica was wailing and moaning in sheer euphoria; her howls of unprecedented pleasure were reverberating off the walls and ceiling of her cavernous bedroom suite. Suddenly her hand plunged into my hair while her fingernails dug into the skin of my scalp. I was totally possessed with unbridled passion; I was living a dream come true! I was eating Danica Patrick's pussy! And she is loving every second of it!! Suddenly, Danica's powerful little body arched into a virtual horseshoe with only her feet and her head still touching the mattress. Grabbing her with all my strength, I held her against my mouth as I felt the orgasm of all orgasms ravage her. Her squeal was so high pitched it was almost inaudible and it was several seconds before I heard her take a breath. My mouth was flooded with a tsunami wave of sweet sexual nectar and Danica then collapsed in an exhausted puddle of sexy race car driver on the mattress. Spending several wonderful minutes licking Danica clean after my carnal feast on her, I then kissed my way slowly up her trembling and twitching body, all the while listening to her deep and gasping breaths and her long, sensual moans of release, pleasure and fulfillment.