3 comments/ 10339 views/ 3 favorites Critical Mass By: roadworthy The sun broke over the horizon just as the 737's wheels hit the runway at McCarran. It had been over a year since I was here last, and it's one of the few places other than home that I miss when I'm not there. I had really come to love this town, and as much work as the trade shows were, it never really felt like work when it was in Vegas. Plus, there was a big NHRA drag racing event out at the speedway...and I was arriving Halloween morning... Surreal. I remember that not too long I'd get this sick feeling just seeing those signs along the highway coming into town, warning potential marijuana users of the draconian punishments they'd face for the tiniest infraction. Now there's signs in the terminal letting you know where you can pick up your weed cards. It was one of those signs I was looking at when I spotted her. Fucking stunning. Tall, a perfect, modern Betty Page, even though she was just dressed in jeans and a jacket. I tried to keep an eye on her as the nice old couple I was chatting with on the plane asked if I'd like to share a cab up to Fremont Street. I'd made arrangements to have my rental car waiting at the hotel, so I was up for the offer...but in the second I'd glanced away the black haired Goddess had vanished. I had a list a mile long of the things I had to do, but when those things are to be done in Vegas, priorities change quickly. I checked into The Four Queens, and headed across the casino to the elevator to my room. I really started to feel my lack of sleep, and foregoing the drag races that day for a few hours of shuteye started to make a lot of sense. I stared out at the flashing lights of the casino as the elevator doors began to close...and there she was. I could have bumped the door open and headed back out there...like a tourist with all my baggage and crap, but the instant I spotted her, I knew she was probably staying on Fremont, if not The Four Queens. I headed upstairs. A couple of guys in the elevator were talking about how fast the cars were running out at the track, records were being shattered and the competition was fierce. As much as it appealed to me, I suspected that Halloween on Fremont would the real entertainment... I wound up sleeping the entire day, and came down around nine thirty that evening, refreshed, anxious, strangely energized...the crowd already building as the spectacle began to unfold...wild costumes, incredible women, music...fucking insanity. I thought about that woman...and realized the best way to spot her if she was anywhere was to just take it all in... I can't imagine not staying on Fremont Street when in Vegas. The first few times I visited, I wound up on the Strip, and it was everything I hate..fake everything, in vulgar, pointless excess. Fremont, it feels like home somehow, but maybe it has something to do with the fact that when I was a kid I was morbidly obsessed with nuclear weapons, and had {among many others}, a photo on the wall of my room of Fremont street with a mushroom cloud off in the distance. Somehow, that image became an inviolable reality...unfakeable as Sinatra. The crowd thickened, the costumes and characters becoming more outrageous to the point where the onlookers became the obvious...lots of folks here for the drags, wearing their race fan clothes, the tribes wearing colors supporting their favorite teams and drivers...Vegas..races...out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of the best costume I've seen all night; a spot on Hunter S. Thompson, aviators, cheap Las Vegas see-thru green visor, his mannerisms perfect, garishly incongruous with the small group of identically dressed race fans who seem to be his compadres...I walk by him and give him the big thumbs up, just as the black haired Goddess comes out of nowhere and takes his arm. Across the airport terminal, or the casino, she was gorgeous. Face to face, literally breathtaking...Hunter S. Thompson, you lucky fuck...still getting laid from beyond the grave. The mass swirled, more than thirty thousand people crammed down on the street. The crowd became prettier as the night progressed, hipsters, off duty showgirls and working girls replacing tired race fans, visitors staying on the strip cabbing it down to Fremont once word spread of the chaos in old Vegas. A killer Marilyn Monroe flashes by...half baked Japanese Elvis...then another...I spot Hunter S. and Betty Bombshell through the crowds...she does not seem to be shy about being touched by strangers...or flashing a pair of amazing fucking tits to other Betties...I get close to her, turn to look at an evil mechanical carnivore, the crowd churns around me...I can smell her, but she's vaporized...it's getting late, and I know I have not seen the last of her...best head back towards the hotel.. I always forget about the bells, not that they bother me. Actually, I find the sound of church bells at the core of Vegas in the morning proper and civilized. Not in the sense of God calling to sinners, or where the hell are you going to go when you've blown every dime, but simply as a public temporal reminder. Wake the fuck up. Get on with your day. In my opinion,the best restaurant in the world is at Number One Fremont Street. Du-Par's is so good that I have stood up rich, important customers who wanted to go for overpriced sushi or to Gordon Ramsey's so I could go to Du-Par's and have the chicken pot pie. Or, the corned beef hash. Which is exactly what I planned on ordering for breakfast, along with a slice of peach pie. This was something on the Vegas priority list not to be meddled with. "Good Morning, honey, jus' fo' one?" "Yeah..." "'ju OK at the lunch counter?" "That would be great, thanks." "OK, follow me...poor baby, gonna have to have breakfast sitting next to a PRETTY lady..." Fuck Me. There's Betty. T-shirt, jeans, no makeup...and even more devastating unadorned. I try to keep my cool, reminding myself to not think about the fact that I'd gotten myself off in the shower thinking about her last night, and again this morning when intellectualizing church bells did nothing to relieve the raging fucking hardon I woke up with... Her food arrived as I sat down, giving me a chance to take a deep breath and take stock of this insane adolescent rush... "Wow...Eggs Benedict.. that looks incredible..and I thought I knew coming in here what I was going to order..." "Mmmmm, yeah, it was this or the corned beef hash.." I ordered the corned beef hash, and peach pie. "Hi, I'm Heidi.." She extended her hand. I felt like roadkill, in the instant before it becomes roadkill. Stunned. A line from Iggy Pop's 'Sister Midnight' looped though my head..."I am an Idiot for You..." "Mike...nice to meet you." We chatted politely, as tourists do, what brings you to town, any plans, sightseeing, the routine played out almost farcically. She was thick with the smell of sex, her nipples stiffening as I glanced at her t-shirt. "So are you going to the drags today Mike?" "Probably should, say hi to some friends. Gonna be cold today, dense air, serious tailwind. Records will be broken...so will engines." Suddenly I felt like some boring car geek... "Yeah, my husband got dragged out of the hotel at seven thirty this morning by the guys he works with so they could head out there...he wasn't too happy about it, but it's part of the reason for the trip here...he figured there is fuck all happening before noon, but...yeah, he's not like most car guys. I don't even think he IS a car guy, you know, like the guys he works with...but he's a great machinist and scary fucking smart...and tends to keep it to himself." "Is he the guy I saw you with last night down on Fremont? Showing no particular Fear...or Loathing?" She smiled broadly, opening beyond the static point of daily politeness. Her stunning green eyes narrowed, as she slid forward ever so slightly... "Watching me, hmmm? Should I be worried? It's not that I didn't notice you checking me out at the airport yesterday. And you nearly got out of the elevator when you saw me at the casino..." Her hand slipped across the counter, brushing against mine as she reached for the sugar. "Interesting. Who is watching who?" "That's a good question, Mike... you do like to watch, don't you?" Next thing I know, our curvy little waitress is telling me how much I'm gonna love my breakfast as she lays it out in front of me, topping off my coffee and giving me the wink about my breakfast partner. In the time it took to wait for the best breakfast I'd ever eaten, this woman seated next to me had gone from stranger that had inflamed complete irrational lust in me at first glance to captivating bombshell who was making her intentions very clear. I glanced over at her and caught her smiling at the fuss the waitress was laying on me... "So, Mike. You COULD go watch the races...or, maybe you'd like to hang out with me today? Saturday in Vegas, I'm sure there's plenty to do..." She looked me in the eye, adding, "You seem to have a pretty good idea of what's going to happen at the track anyway." I knew exactly what would happen. I'd ditch my VIP credentials, score a general admission ticket and become a face in the crowd so I could just hang out with regular gearheads from Bakersfield or North Vegas, and shoot the shit with guys and gals who build their own cars on working class budgets and street smarts...like I did when I started out. If I was going to hang out with any of my customers or friends who are Famous Race Car Drivers, it wouldn't be at the track anyway. But, thinking about it, the idea of sitting out there when the wind was fucking howling and the sun started going down did not seem nearly as pleasant as the prospect of spending the day with my very interesting new friend... We finished breakfast and sauntered down Fremont, not bothering with my ever changing selection of shades and hats, thinking that the fans who'd recognize me would already be at the track. Wrong...in front of the Golden Nugget I can hear a couple of East Coasters hollering my name...I try to just continue my conversation with the lovely Ms. Heidi, but here they come, Sharpies and souvenir ball caps in hand from a company I sold twenty years ago. Spent a couple of minutes signing their hats and chatting with them, until Ms. Heidi took me by the arm, suggesting that we run up to 'our' room so she could grab her sweater... "So, what's the deal, are you famous or something? Do people come up to you all the time and pester you like that?" Good question. I explained to her that among car types I'm pretty well known, that I've started, bought and sold several companies over the years that build "hot rod parts", among other things. She looked at me, glancing up and down the street at the dozens of car types. "Hmmmm. Y'know, Mike, I don't believe you got around to answering me, back at the restaurant...when I asked if you like to watch...I mean, it's pretty obvious you do like to people watch...but how about we, umm, raise the ante, it IS Vegas..." Just then another bunch recognized me, louder than the last guys, hooting my name with last night's decaying bourbon vapor. Heidi scanned them as they approached, and immediately put herself between them and me, continuing with her offer of raising the ante...and not being shy about it. "...tell me that you have better things to do today than come up and watch me, Mike. You have had your eyes on me since you landed here yesterday. Don't you want to see more of me...see me get more, comfortable?...show you my toys?" It was the very first time I had completely ignored people trying to get my attention. Clearly, these guys were still hammered from the night before, half of them oblivious to the fact I was being publicly seduced by a gorgeous woman, the others hooting about it like fucking hillbillies... "..c'mon, I know you are fucking dying watch me play with my pussy...just like you're dying to watch me crawl across the room and unzip those Levis with my teeth..." How fucking dense could these guys be? I'm kind of busy, fellas, can you see that? And you're asking stupid questions about shit no one has bothered with for thirty fucking years? With the most beautiful woman any of them will probably ever see standing right there, offering me everything on the menu? I took Ms. Heidi by the arm and headed into the hotel, never saying a word to any of them. As I suspected, Heidi was also staying at The Four Queens. She and her husband had a room in the North Tower on the same floor as their entourage, two floors above mine. Ms. Heidi, however, also had a room...fuck, a suite, in the South Tower. She unlocked it, and the smell of sex nearly flattened me... "Welcome to our playroom, Mike...sorry, still a bit of a mess, had a little party up here last night. We met some hot Marilyn Monroe lookalike downstairs...her and I nearly fucked my husband into a coma...unfortunately, he left his, uh, toothbrush and razor in the other room...and when he went to grab it is when his crew were just heading to the track. He didn't bother to take a shower and wore his sex soaked Hunter S. outfit to the races just to piss them off..." I stood in the entry as the door closed behind me, the smell of well fucked women providing the potent backdrop to what I visualized happening here only a few hours earlier; full on three way featuring Betty Page, Marilyn Monroe and Hunter S. Thompson...the sheets on the bed still damp and warm, holding on to the last intense moments of carnal depravity far longer than nature intended. I imagined that fireball in the photo I stared at throughout my childhood had a similar effect on the desert beneath it... Yeah...I like to watch. In this case, 'like' may not be a powerful enough word... She stood across the room, facing me. The look on her face made it very clear that this was as much about her being watched as me watching her... She peeled off her t-shirt, her breasts full and deliciously pendulous, nipples rock hard...somehow they were more gorgeous than they were when she was flashing them the night before. She unzipped her jeans, smiled, and with one smooth, sharp shake of her hips, was standing extravagantly naked in front of me...my prick was aching, beads of sweat were rolling off of my forehead. If this woman was as serious about being watched as I was about watching her, I was more than happy to indulge her...I sat down, got comfortable, and let her show me what she was all about... What she was about was not shy...sitting down on the edge of the bed, slowly spreading her legs as she stroked herself. Her eyes moved to my crotch, watching as my cock throbbed, sliding her fingers into her fuck swollen, dripping pussy. She began to moan, her voice shaking...her legs quivering...her entire body drawn in as it became clear she was still riding the Orgasm Express. Fluid ran from her body; semen dripping from her magnificent cunt in long, thick, ropey waves, her own juice squirting onto the floor as she furiously stroked her clit. She locked eyes with me, trapping me, immobilizing me as my cock felt as if it would split apart... ...She licked her lips, an evil smile crossing them as she watched me squirm in the chair. Without taking her eyes from mine for a split second, she reached across the bed and dragged an enormous dildo out from under the covers...holding the head of it to her lips she sniffed at it, rolling her tongue around the circumference of it's huge head, licking the sticky frosting from it with an urgency that would indicate that the toy was covered with the juice of another woman. She drew the head of it into her mouth, her lips and tongue absorbing every drop of fuck residue still coating it as she worked it into her throat...her eyes still staring into mine she watched as I began to shake. It was as if I hadn't ejaculated in weeks, I could have dropped my load without any other action other than seeing her gorgeous face sucking the huge dildo she held in her hands...there are women who know exactly how fucking incredible they look while sucking cock, and the gorgeous Ms. Heidi could very well be a contributing editor of any book written on the subject... I flashed for a split second to my grand fortune...before noon on Saturday in Vegas, a good night's rest and an amazing breakfast behind me, and an unbelievably attractive woman now working a huge dildo into her glorious pussy in front of me...there was no point in trying to make sense of it; there was something about this place in the desert that spoke to me only with silence; had made sense only out of the corner of my eye...how could anyone fully understand a place where the very essence of the universe had been stripped naked and put on display; her terrifying beauty unleashed in a dance too stark and primal to witness in any context that would separate us from the responsibility of our cleverness... She had been dead right; I had been dying to see this fucking Goddess crawl across the floor, it had been what I'd imagined her doing while getting myself off earlier. Actually watching this perfect creature slinking toward me, in total pheromone overload, was far more intense than I had expected. Her breasts hung heavily, shaking and swaying in counterpoint to her hips...the massive dildo still buried deep in her frothy cunt. Her eyes, deep, wild, unnervingly green, locked on mine as she inched toward me...her hips moving in a wide, deliberate arc as she somehow drew the dildo deeper into herself. Her body flowed into the depth of her arousal; waves and ripples of pleasure danced through her, uncontrollable...her eyes and body drinking in the thrill of being the observed...the focus. Time became a blur, to look down at her stunning face as she inched the zipper of my jeans down, her body quivering in a state of overlapping petite mal orgasm...was to know that the only thing in the universe that mattered was the singular perfection of the immediate present. My cock fought it's way out of my jeans, every click of the zipper allowing more blood to rush into it; it's mass screaming at this sexy fucking thing to take it into her gorgeous mouth and suck it raw, to experience her in her element... The most delicious moments in life are rarely what we expect them to be...I could barely feel her tongue on my cock, but it was as if every orgasm I had ever experienced was now gathering inside of my balls. The brutal attack I'd imagined, and craved she would have unleashed upon my aching prick, was now something I seriously doubted I could even survive...her tongue traced invisible lines of unimaginable pleasure up and down my prick, it's painfully engorged head oozing uncontrollably as she toyed with it, her eyes locked on mine...I had seen that look before on the faces of overstimulated cocksuckers, but this woman was in a different league altogether; fellatrix, obsessed, somehow able to plug into the man who's cock she was sucking on a level far beyond biological and physiological. She cradled the head of my cock on her tongue, and slowly drew it into her mouth... I exploded. The instant I did, she unleashed the intense onslaught that I had woefully underestimated...never allowing my prick to leave her mouth she violently pounded her head up and down into my crotch, taking the length of it down her throat and torturing my balls with her tongue each time she did. She raked her teeth up and down the shaft, sucking the head of it so fucking hard I thought it would rupture, all the while drawing what felt like gallons of cum from my body...she pulled my prick deep into her throat, screaming into the head of it as her body spiraled into wave after wave of convulsive orgasms, the huge dildo that she had buried into her pussy blasted out onto the carpet with a massive torrent of pheromone saturated essence of woman... Critical Mass The remainder of the afternoon was a dizzy blur. We drove around Vegas aimlessly, smiling at landmarks and swapping stories of previous visits. I was looking forward driving the machine I'd rented, but the beautiful Heidi was more than capable behind the wheel of the white Challenger, slipping smoothly through slow moving traffic and heading out on some old desert blacktop. Smiling, she held the big Hemi wide open, it's mechanical symphony inhaling oxygen and miles at a rate that would terrify most citizens, especially those who would fantasize about such a situation. I sat back, zen-like, still riding the post orgasmic rush, as the desert hurtled by beneath us, not a single car on the road other than the one which was being propelled to some unimaginable vanishing point by the Goddess beside me. Eventually the pavement gave way to hard packed dirt, and she slowed the Dodge to a stop outside a very official looking, but unmarked fence that stretched for miles in either direction. We both got out of the car, Heidi firing up a fat spliff as we gazed off at the orange sunset sparkling down towards Los Angeles. I took a deep draw, the first weed I'd ever smoked in Nevada... Sunday was a spectacular day, the weather perfect for the finals out at the speedway. I spotted Heidi and her husband out in the stands, neither of them really paying attention to anything but each other. It was some of the best drag racing I'd ever seen, but somehow it didn't mean much; my customers were kicking ass, which would mean more orders and more cash. Once I surmised who the day's winners would be, I wandered back out to the parking lot, and decided that the after race gridlock would be time I'd never get back... I'm not a guy that drinks much, I'm simply not into the buzz, and that's it. That being said, there are certain places or rare Scottish spirits that I will make an exception for, and Frankie's Tiki Room on West Charleston in Vegas is the most prominent name on that short list. I love the vibe, it's dark as hell, they play the coolest music and video in the background, and the bartenders there are fucking alchemists...I truly savor the wicked concoctions they take great pride in formulating. Being Sunday night, it was not all that busy, but it was still early... I was nursing my drink, enjoying the warm rush of expertly crafted libation as a rare self indulgence. I was seated in a corner, watching the couple seated at the bar shamelessly making out, the bartender wiping the bar around them with indifference. Some out of towners sitting a couple of tables over speaking European French...sounds like at least one of them is a tattoo artist. I stand up, feeling the booze as I make my way across the bar. The walls of the washroom are covered with album covers, tiki and exotica...fuck, I have most of these albums... I had hoped I'd run into her again, and she had mentioned that an evening at Frankie's was on her must-do list...I make my way back to my table and there she is, at the table next to mine with her husband and their whole entourage. She doesn't notice me as I sit down, she is focused on something...gets up to go get in the middle of the make-out session still going on at the bar. While at first surprised, the couple quickly welcomed her in, the two women immediately falling into a full on, tongue wrestling kiss as the man ran his hands up under Heidi's t-shirt. Her husband glanced over at her, taking out his phone with bored resignation when one of the members of his group asked if he had a picture of his car... seemed as though his speed shop crew was swapping pics with the French guys. Phones got passed around, and since I was sitting in the corner, they got passed to me...I could have told you pretty much what the speed shop guys had before even seeing the pics; '68 big block Nova, '69 Camaro, '70 Chevelle. The Frenchmen, stylish as hell with a very cool early lowrider style '54 Buick and a severely evil Harley Ironhead café racer. Heidi's husband...Fuck. The meanest looking early 60's Cadillac I have ever seen. Funny thing was, there was nothing radical about it at all, other than it's low and built for business stance, acknowledging a complete respect for the brilliant GM design studios of the Sixties. I passed his phone back to him after staring at this thing for way too long, and let him know that his Cadillac was fucking perfect. He looked me in the eye, somehow radiating more of a Hunter S. Thompson vibe than he was on Halloween, and shook my hand. "Thanks, man, I'm Greg." "Nice to meet you, Greg. I'm Mike." "Yeah, I know. Glad to see that you got that catalogue issue sorted out. That could have been a problem..." I sat there, my mouth hanging open for the second it took to realize this guy was the Greg who had contacted me within minutes of a catalogue error going online a couple of years back that could have cost me a fortune. It was a clusterfuck that was narrowly averted, and made me realize that you can never be too careful. "Jesus, Greg...I fucking owe you one, I mean, how the fuck did you catch that when I didn't?" "Lucky, I guess...depending how you look at it." He looked at me completely matter of fact, as if being able to spot a missed decimal point among thousands of numbers was as significant as being right handed. "Either way, I owe you, buddy. Hey, we have some really trick pieces in the skunkworks for those big Cadillac engines...help yourself to whatever you want...come by the shop anytime, let me know when you want to come out and I'll set you up with plane tickets." He sat across from me, a wry smirk crossing his face as he looked me in the eye. "Those are great engines, and trust me, I know that the work you do is cutting edge...but, ummm, I've kind of moved beyond making horsepower like that, for my own stuff, anyway...but, you know, I am using something you've designed... I'll definitely take you up on the shop tour though." He flicked his phone on and scrolled to a picture of what sat beneath the hood of his Coupe DeVille. I don't know how long I looked at it in disbelief but I knew exactly what I was looking at, and felt the hair on the back of my head stand up...fuck, it looked as if it were fabricated in an aerospace shop... part of me just wanted to call bullshit...but there it was, a device that shouldn't exist, a real world incarnate of the machine at the center of Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged"...and somehow I knew it was the real deal. I was fucking speechless. It could have been so easy to just be a jealous twat and hate this guy. Not that there was anything personal, fuck, he'd saved me huge cash and hassle and hadn't asked for a dime or a thank you. His wife had given me the most amazing fucking blowjob I'd ever had, and he probably knew about it. But every thinking gearhead since Tesla has been trying to figure out how to unlock this particular electromechanical secret: being able to tap into the limitless electrical current created as the earth spins within it's magnetic field...and now I'm looking at video footage of the speedometer of this guy's Cadillac being rendered useless as the red needle disappeared far to the right of one twenty, without a hint of engine noise, the howl of the air being sliced through by this cold war era ground missile eerily seductive... "So, Mike, rumor has it, you partake...care to step outside and smoke some weed?" "Umm, yeah, for sure..." My head was spinning, I could definitely use a breath of fresh air. I found myself squinting as I stepped out of the darkness of the bar, even though it was night time. The weed was sublime, the same strain as Heidi had fired up out in the desert the night before. The buzz crept up on me, unrolling a complex pattern of questions I had never even contemplated. We smoked nearly the whole joint before I finally worked up the nerve to ask. "Feel free to not answer...but how?" He smiled, and wrote a disturbingly simple equation on the dust coated rear window of a Dodge Caravan in the parking lot. It sank in, burning itself into my memory for about ten seconds, and then the questions started answering themselves... We headed back into the bar, my bladder suddenly screaming for release as Greg went to grab us a couple of drinks. I stood in front of the urinal, wondering if this was all some kind of dream...I thought of the equation left on the window of the van outside, a jackpot of immeasurable value just left laying out there for anyone who understood it. Suddenly I heard moaning from inside the toilet stall beside me, stepping back I was able to see several pairs of feet behind the door which sat slightly ajar. Peering inside, I see Heidi on her knees, alternately licking the pussy of the woman who had been making out at the bar, and voraciously sucking the cock of her boyfriend... I made my way back to the table and sat down, the speed shop entourage having totally underestimated the potency of their drinks and now completely hammered, their tall tales getting more ridiculous and predictable, their wives getting louder. I notice as Greg put his phone down that his screen is another one of the most familiar photos of my youth; a black and white photo of a dancer in the desert, her body taut, arched backward, a mushroom cloud billowing behind her. I wondered how the hell this guy wound up in a hot rod shop somewhere making Camaros and Mustangs go fast... I watched as Heidi stepped out of the washroom with the make out couple, the cocky look of satisfaction on her face a hysterical contrast to the look of orgasmic incapacitation on the faces of the man and woman. She noticed me as she approached, smiling broadly as she licked something from the corner of her mouth. "So, I see you two have met", she said as she gave us both a peck on the forehead, putting aside any question as to whether she'd told Greg about her Saturday. She was fucking radiant, in an almost surreal way, as if she had some sort of pheromone fuelled torch inside of her. I glance at the look on Greg's face as he tries not to be dragged into some boring fucking Chevy/Ford debate...the look on Heidi's face about the same as the speed shop wives start comparing regrettable tattoos. I start to think we should head elsewhere... I mentioned earlier that I own or have owned companies that sell "hot rod parts", among other things. Well, it's those "other things" that have been what has made me the most money, and has made purchasing high tech production equipment possible. Long story short, there are things I manufacture for the government. That has allowed me to have access to some really interesting historical research data, items and equipment...trust me, when you say that you can build something that's 'bomb proof'...you had better know exactly what that means. Deciding to do an on the fly adjustment to my Vegas itinerary, I sent a text message and a minute later, received the pass code to "The Warehouse". No one in the bar had even noticed we'd left... We piled into the cab, not really giving a damn that the driver was taking a pretty scenic and convoluted route to our destination. We chatted politely, even though my mind was still trying to wrap itself around that elegant fucking equation written in the dust back in that parking lot...and wondering what the hell I could have possibly designed that Greg had put to use on that miracle Coupe DeVille of his. Adding to the distraction was the fact that Heidi's pussy and breath filled the cab with the thick, raw smell of sex. Everything that rolled off of her talented tongue was a slick double entendre, and I noticed that the driver had his mirror adjusted so that he could keep an eye on her spectacular tits, fighting to get out of a threadbare Ed Roth t-shirt...illuminated by the overdose glow of the strip... "The Warehouse" is exactly that. No Area 51 security, no real reason to notice it. A few bays of an industrial strip mall in a quiet neighborhood. Inside, the vast majority of it is declassified records and data. As well as a few things that are a little too, unsettling, for display at the very public friendly Atomic Testing Museum... Though I speak to someone here at least once a week, it had been a couple of years since I'd last been here, so I had no idea what the caretakers of the place had sitting out. Clicking on the lights, I could not have imagined a more intimidating display... "Holy Fuck...are they real?" Heidi dragged her finger the entire length of the beautifully machined metal cylinder, which sat in a row of a dozen identical cylinders. "Yeah. Real. De-commissioned, obsolete. A best case scenario, if 'God forbid we ever have to use it' is part of the design protocol. The stuff of a billion nightmares, and none of them came true." I watched as she walked, feline primal, between the rows, suddenly imagining them being re-activated by her mere presence, in spite of having been permanently stripped of plutonium fifty years ago. I was rock hard, and it was obvious that Greg was as well... "That woman is a fucking Goddess, Greg..." I couldn't think of anything more coherent to say about her as she sauntered deeper into the warehouse, peeling off her clothing, her body flickering like a flame past rows of objects that had faced the full fury of our clumsy efforts to enslave the atom for our own crude abuse. "Hmmm, you have no idea..." The tone of his voice was curious, as if I had properly deciphered a complicated geometric problem with a lucky guess...I glanced at him, and the look on his face mirrored the tone of his voice, sending a shiver down my spine... We followed her down the long aisle, the smell of her overheated body drawing us along helplessly into her ripe wake. I had never been so intensely aroused, my cock tortured by the confines of my jeans, yet at the same time, my mind sharper than it had ever been; the mysteries that had been laid out before me in the last few hours suddenly making sense with profound ease and clarity... She stood facing us at the end of the aisle, the light on the wall behind her casting a shadow which we had no choice but follow...her mantra-like fuck moans growing in intensity as she drove her fingers deep into her pussy...sinking her blood red nails into the flesh of her swollen breasts...turning away from us, she bent at the waist, spreading her legs wide, pulling her ass cheeks apart, her cunt radiant and glorious, thick, clear fluid dripping from it like honey. Greg dropped his pants, taking her by the hips and slowly driving his thick cock into her...she moaned like an animal, turning to me and licking her lips as I unzipped my jeans... I watched as the two fucked in front of me, primal, profoundly focused...the way they would fuck whether they were alone or in front of a thousand people, their bodies in this perfect state...something beyond synchronization or harmony, something that shone arrogantly upon the rows of household and domestic items atomically violated seventy miles from this spot sixty odd years ago... I found myself standing in front of her, my cock aching, dense...I could swear that her eyes were illuminated from within as she stared into my soul, drawing me toward her open, hungry mouth as her husband fucked her into a state of orgasmic delirium... Her lips felt like silk as she drew the head of my cock into her mouth, every cell of my body fighting madly to keep from blasting my load into her throat, the sound of her incredible tits slapping against her body...the smell of her sweat dripping from her pores making holding back nearly impossible... She fell to her knees in front of us, admiring the metallic hardness she had bestowed upon our cocks as she took one in each hand, stroking them and alternatively licking the head of each one, enslaving us both from her submissive position. My head spun, any trace of booze or weed in my bloodstream was long gone, vaporized by the potent intoxicant dripping from this...Goddess. Once again I felt a chill run down my spine as I remembered thinking that word the moment I saw her...as she drew both of our cocks into her mouth... Whether I could hold back any longer was up to her, the incredible intensity of the moment, cradling this overwhelming sensation of imminent orgasm, it began to creep into every particle of my being, every thought that had ever crossed my mind...things I had seen as my life's priorities began to wither into insignificance, others which I had seen as minor details bloomed into the only things that truly mattered...she pulled our cocks deep into her throat, her carnivorous moans of satisfaction causing both of our bodies to shake and throb as she toyed with us, knowing she could have her mouth filled with our cum any time she wanted. She looked up at us, her face dreamy, and let our cocks slip from her mouth, coiling her long tongue around them like a serpent as she did. She held a prick in each hand as she stood, squeezing them hard before turning and slowly walking around the corner, her hips swaying seductively... I looked at Greg, the intensity of his face temporarily interrupted as he cracked a smile, glancing around at the artifacts surrounding us. "Vegas...a very interesting place..." Again, the tone of his voice held something much deeper than the obvious comment...at that moment, however, the sound of Heidi's desperate moans of desire were the priority. We walked around the corner to see her sitting beneath an enormous aircraft engine, her legs spread wide, intertwined in the steel supports that held the nuclear scorched monster above her. She had her fingers buried deep in her pussy, holding it open wide enough to expose the overheated crucible within her, churning out a steady stream of her essence as her eyes trapped us in their light... "Both of you. Naked. Now." She watched as the two of us stripped off our remaining clothing, staring at our cocks as she returned to her feet. Taking me by the hand she sat me down in the puddle of herself she had left, turning her stunning ass toward me and straddling my legs, slowly lowering herself down onto my aching prick...the sensation was overwhelming; the impossibility of holding back my boiling load any longer was unbearable as she clamped down hard on my tormented cock, drawing it deep into her body as she drew Greg's prick into her mouth, instantly releasing another torrent of fluid from her steaming cunt. There was an entire life I had lived before that moment. Then, there has been my life since, a very different life. Suddenly I felt a rush, intense as the venom of a hornet's bite, as something flowed into my body through the flesh of my cock, like some exotic sexual hallucinogenic. Instantaneously, it was as if I had access to my entire mind after years of seeing the universe though a black and white television screen. Everything was suddenly real, intensely and genuinely, and the level of pleasure I felt was unfathomable as her cunt clamped down like a vice, my prick hardening to the point of agony as she twisted her body down into it, her screams of pleasure muffled by her husband's cock... I felt her nails dig into the flesh of my prick as she clawed at her pussy, pulling at her labia and frantically stroking her distended clitoris. She let her husband's cock slide from her mouth, her body leaning back and slipping over the entire length of my prick. Greg pulled her legs apart, locking them in the steel supports, as I took her arms and pinned them behind her back...her body shook as Greg pulled at her nipples, her moans becoming more desperate as she ground herself down on my cock... Suddenly, she was silent, and I could feel Greg pressing the head of his cock into the tiny opening below Heidi's clit. She was completely still, her heartbeat the only sound in the cavernous space...her body began to tense as Greg pushed his prick into her already overstuffed pussy, her arms and legs hopelessly struggling as she began to beg her husband for what she wanted so fucking badly... Critical Mass "Fuck yeah, honey, give it to me, you know what I fucking want..." She gasped as Greg obliged her, driving his prick into her further, the pressure on my cock enormous as she clamped down even harder... "MORE!! ALL OF IT!! GOD YESSSSS!!" She screamed like a banshee as her husband drove the length of his prick into her, then slowly started to fuck her, driving his cock in as far as possible as I arched my back, stuffing myself into her as far as I could. Time seemed to swirl to a stop as her body tightened, Greg increasing the strength and intensity of each stroke...there was no point in even considering the impossibility of holding back any longer; Greg and I fell into a rhythm, pounding Heidi relentlessly, her body flailing madly as she went into a frenzy, screaming obscenities, her hair flying like a murder of ravens, her cunt squeezing our pricks with incredible strength... It hit like a freight train; immense, it's momentum unstoppable. Simultaneously, our bodies were hurled into a state of ferocious orgasmic overload, each of us erupting at the same microsecond, our beings focused as a singularity within that distorted fragment of time by some sort of incredible, throbbing warmth emanating in waves from deep within Heidi's body... My mind was spinning, somehow it felt as if I was watching from a distance. It was like my subconscious mind was bubbling to the surface as every problem I had ever tried to solve suddenly fell into place effortlessly, every regret vanishing into irrelevance...I could swear that I could hear a high pitched whine, as if my ears were ringing, but the sound wasn't coming from inside of my head...arching my neck backwards, I could see a small kitchen radio on the shelves behind me, it's plastic housing long ago vaporized, but it's little glass vacuum tubes somehow alive and glowing brilliantly...the frequency of the pitch dropped, and the sound of Sinatra's voice, singing Cole Porter's "I Get a Kick Out of You" crackled from it's battered frame... Once time seemed to be passing at a relatively normal rate, we slowly got back onto our feet, noticing as I looked around that light bulbs and electric motors in grotesquely distorted toys and gadgets on the shelves behind Greg were glowing and whirring...that the magnetos in the immense Pratt and Whitney Wasp Major above us were humming and sputtering...Heidi began to giggle as she saw me standing there, wearing nothing but the look of astonishment on my face, turning and making her way down the aisle to retrieve her scattered clothing. Greg glanced around us as the momentarily rejuvenated electronic devices drifted back into dormancy, the scent of ozone and sex hanging thick in the air. "The 'Goddess' reference, Mike...starting to see how close to the mark you were with that compliment?" I grinned, nodding. There certainly wasn't anything to be said that I found necessary. We gathered our clothing and made our way back to the entrance, signing off on the required visitor passes as we waited for a cab to show. Heidi was visibly exhausted, her legs so unsteady that Greg and I had to help her out to the cab when it arrived. We got into the back seat of the cab, Heidi reclining into Greg's body, her legs stretched out across my lap. Our driver, a lovely young woman, turned back at us and smiled before pulling away, obviously not concerned with the fact we were not properly belted in. "Where to, folks?", she asked as the first few notes of Miles Davis' "So What?" came sneaking out of the speakers. "Four Queens. And a healthy tip if it takes the entire length of this album to get there", Greg answered, as the driver cruised past the turnoff to get back onto the main drag and headed down a long, deserted boulevard... Heidi was asleep within minutes, cooing and making little sex noises within her dream state as Greg told me about their lives, how they had met, how everything about them was perfectly, boringly normal...except for the incredible effect she had on him, and very, very few others. "I don't know how to describe it...it just started happening. I'd been working on an idea, and I was getting obsessed, losing sleep, then losing focus. Heidi knows this hippie chick that has a cabin in some old mining town way up in the mountains, so we just fucked off to de-pressurize. Now, about the first thing that happens any time we go up there is Heidi becoming naked, but this time, there was something else too...I don't know how else to even describe it, but it was like she had this...glow. I know it sounds fucked, but now I know you GET it, right?...if not on Saturday, then sure as fuck back at that warehouse..." I felt pretty damn confident that I "got" it, and nodded. "Anyway, I couldn't keep away from her...it literally felt like I was being drawn to her like a moth to a flame...it was after midnight, there were like, a billion stars in the sky, and I was watching her dance outside in the starlight...but it was like it was blinding. I watched her, moving like she wasn't touching the ground, it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen...she noticed me watching her, and all of a sudden it was as if she was reflecting more than just starlight. She stretched out on the grass...it was fucking incredible...as soon as I was inside of her I could feel it...and everything changed. It was like every answer to everything I'd ever wondered about had been there the whole time...and the lights came on." "So, what about your shop, what is it you DO there...what do the guys you work with think of the Cadillac?", I had to ask, wondering how the hell anyone could keep a lid on something like that. "Decent shop, decent guys, we do fucking good work. I do whatever they need me to do...but I'm pretty sure they'll show up one morning and find me gone...I can only listen to customers rattling off the same bullshit stories about some redneck's rustbucket 396 half ton running five second quarter miles so many times, or how some fly by night mail order outfit will sell them something cheaper than we can...fuck it, I'm pretty much done with it, time to move on to something else before it gets boring. Anything I've done to the Cadillac, they're all blissfully unaware of. They think it still has the original engine in it, and could care less. As far as using a Cadillac as the platform vehicle, well, that was a personal statement, a commentary...when that thing was built, Cadillac claimed to be, and actually had the pride and balls to BE 'The Standard of the World'. The real fucking deal, something that truly set the bar...quality you could touch and feel and smell, not 'virtual' fucking quality, fucking on board Wi-Fi and bullshit. Think about it, who the fuck is going to want a 2015 Escalade fifty years from now? Christ, there's NO fucking standard anymore...for anything. Just relentless expectation of entitlement and convenience, relentless consumption..." He looked me in the eye, his own physical exhaustion starting to show, and just laid it out. "Look, man, I don't fully understand how or what is happening, but I have no inclination of 'sharing it' with the rest of the world. I could be stinking filthy rich because of the motor in the Cadillac, or a dozen other contraptions I've come up with, but what the fuck does that even mean? That I could afford the dream girl I already have? That I could own rare and exotic...stuff? That I could do anything I want, disappear with my girl tomorrow and never have to worry about money? Well, I have that now...even better because I don't need a wall around my house or bodyguards or any other paranoid shit..." He gazed out the window as the backside of what could have been any city rolled by, the gray pre-dawn pallor somehow proving that it really existed beyond the neon and artifice. I could see clearly why trying to cash in on something that had the potential to destabilize the global economic status quo could bring serious fucking complications to your life...and forget any altruistic notion of that miracle motor bringing free motive power, electricity and hope to anyone. No, I know too well how situations like this play out, and devices like spy drones and weapons delivery platforms that never have to land and never need refueling would be where that miracle would find ready employment...not to mention what could happen to Heidi if just one evil fuck on a planet with a healthy supply of evil fucks wanted to find out what made her tick... "So, Greg. How do I fit into all of this? I know about that motor now...and that equation. Why let me in on it...any of it?" "Well, I've always been impressed with the stuff you build, you just have a different take on shit that makes sense to me...anyway, remember that data acquisition system that you came up with back in the early eighties...the one hardly anyone could figure out, even if they could afford it? The one that was banned by every race sanctioning body in the country? That's what I'm using to make the motor in the Cadillac function...the mechanism is easy, 'sorting' electron flow, or, I guess 'herding' it would be a better description...that's where your gizmo comes in. It isn't doing anything that you probably designed it to do, BUT, the fact that it functions exceptionally well in powerful electromagnetic fields is no doubt by design...and, yeah, you'll figure what it IS doing pretty quick. So, yeah, Mike...I guess I owe YOU..." He smiled and poked me in the arm, adding, "Ha, ha, now you have a secret too!" I remember it well...I thought it was a great device, I was so fucking proud of it...but it was a financial flop. Greg was right, they were expensive, so only a handful of racers could afford them, and it gave them a clear advantage...that outlawed the device. I'd invested every dime I had into the things, and fortunately, the design evolved into one the devices built for the government, otherwise I'd have lost my shirt. I still have a warehouse full of the damn things. How the hell could I ever have known someone would find a use for them... We pulled up to the hotel just as the album ended, our lovely driver rewarded well as promised. Heidi awoke like a sleepy child, Greg and I each taking one of her arms as we headed up to their suite. I was parched, and gladly took Greg up on his offer of a drink once we'd laid Heidi out in the bed. I felt my own exhaustion coming down on me hard, sitting down in the same chair I'd been entertained in by this man's wife on Saturday morning. I stared out the window towards the Plaza, my mind still razor sharp, but pestering me like a bored cat regarding the necessity of sleep... I awoke to the sound of the bells, my first thoughts shimmering into the realization that everything that happened the night before had been real, and that whatever clarity I had experienced hadn't been temporary. I remember having dreamt; vividly, at once comedic and terrifying as the combined inventory of my thoughts and memory was laid out, open and exposed...then suddenly swirling like leaves in the wind into the image of a woman, illuminated from within, whispering... Heidi and Greg had left a note; they'd gone down for breakfast and invited me to join them, as well as their phone number so I could contact them later if I had other things to do. As it turned out, I did have things to do; my crew, with our exhibit and inventory for the SEMA trade show, would be down at the convention center setting up about now...but, y'know, they have done this before and will manage just fine without me... I was heading over to my room to shower and shave, noticing as I crossed the casino floor that the nice old couple I had shared a cab with from the airport had hit it big on a slot machine. Good things do happen to good people, sometimes by random chance. Sometimes...there might be something more to it... When I was in school it was my incredibly good fortune to have studied engineering with a professor who understood the world on a very different level. He saw the mathematics and theory of science as a necessary evil; like sheet music, the most convenient means of notating something much more complex and grand. And because of that, innocently incapable of explaining the nuances that define reality... Among many others, he had a theory that civilization and humanity was far more than what history (written by vain conquerors and those who feel no guilt taking credit for the work of others) would indicate. In fact, he believed that some of the greatest innovations and inventions ever conceived will probably never be discovered, not because some evil bastard has them hoarded away, but because whoever came up with the idea was bright enough to quietly enrich their own life or those closest to them without bringing attention to themselves. Whether it was a trade secret or recipe in the family business, a trick to having a better crop than your neighbors, or some cagey method of keeping "them damn revenoors" off of your property, there may be a very good reason for keeping your secrets close to your chest. The fact that humans have been at least this clever for fifty thousand years or so...well the odds are, there are plenty of amazing things that are out there bobbing in the current of time. Intertwined with this theory was a deep spirituality, and a nearly fanatical regard of the role of the female incarnate of God, Shekinah, revered in the most shrouded and secretive echelons of Freemasonry and Judaism, a true and omnipresent force of nature, a critical element in the engine of creation...not only the literal and figurative dwelling in which everything in existence has emerged from, but by counterpoint, the very force which initiates existence... ...suddenly, in the middle of the casino floor, which sits in the middle of this ancient desert, repository for countless secrets, all of the things that had only made sense about this place out of the corner of my eye or in whispers made themselves real, panoramic... I'm behind the wheel of one of the most beautiful automobiles ever designed, a 1965 Buick Riviera, heading out of the foothills after a very pleasant visit with my friends Heidi and Greg up at their cabin in some old mining town high in the mountains. I've turned over control of my companies to my chief engineer, a bright, intensely focused kid who has proven his dedication and earned my respect, and has the right attitude to keep the businesses humming and our excellent employees happy. Coming out of a long curve, I open up the Buick, feeling none of the mechanical brutality of the old Nailhead engine, just Sinatra's voice flowing from the speakers, and the seductive sound of the machine slicing through the air...