Chapter 17b: Flying J's

They bought a few bottles of water, two cups of coffee, a bag of sunflower seeds, some chips and a few energy bars for good measure.

Megan offered to drive this portion of the trip and Kennedy did not protest. They pulled out of the parking space and drove the short distance to the gas pumps. Kennedy began looking at proposed hotel options that were a few hours ahead of them while Megan filled up the car.

The cool air and smell of gasoline fumes invigorated her, making her a little giddy. Her stomach gurgled and she rested a hand there, feeling the domed skin pushing back. She’d known that she had gotten a little squishy over the past few days, what with her binging and dining with Cassidy over those several days. Sugary beverages mixed with alcohol and reduced fitness had softened her middle and she noted before their departure that the jeans she had decided to wear that morning were getting a little tight across her waist and backside.

She would just have to play it cool and be conscious about her calories and knew that cross country travel meant low quality food, high calories and too much dietary salt. She poked her soft middle with a forefinger and cursed herself. But she also knew that during orientation and training, there would be routine and regimented meals. Officer Training Command was renowned for their high standards and that also came to nutrition and fitness. If you were out of shape and didn’t make the standards, you were chucked out. Simple as that.

But Megan was determined not only to showcase her brilliance, but her physicality, too. She knew these unexpected pounds wouldn’t last and she was determined to become the best she could be.

The pump in her hand clinked, signaling a full tank and she replaced the nozzle. She twisted the gas cap back in place, got in the car, adjusted her seat and mirrors and fastened her seatbelt. She saw the belt create an indent in across her domed stomach.

“Up, up and away.” Said Kennedy.

“Okay there, Buzz Lightyear.” She said as the put the car into drive the little sedan motored back onto the interstate and back up to cruising speed.

“I think you’re thinking of Superman.” He said dryly, catching her eye.

Kennedy had suggested they stop at a hotel a few hours away and Megan agreed, snapping open an energy drink. She had already consumed her coffee. Night driving was not her strength, but she did not tell Kennedy this. She thought back to when she had had the Lasik surgery on her eyes. The doctor had told her that her vision had improved significantly, but that she would have some trade-offs.

“What kind of trade-offs, doctor?” She had asked before undergoing the surgery.

“Nothing major. Just that you will have a little glare during evening and nighttime driving. Hardly anything to worry about.” He had said.

“Well, as I have mentioned to you, I aspire to become a Naval pilot. This complicates things.” She said, slightly worried.

“While I am sure they have their own standards, your vision will be sufficient to pass their examinations. Also, there is a new medication on the market that helps the eye cope with any potential nocturnal concerns.”

He jotted the name of the medication down.
Megan had had the surgery and was satisfied. Weeks afterward, she had found the slip of paper he had written the name of the medication down on and did a thorough Google search. Clinical trials were favorable, it was easily accessible, and the dosage Megan might need would be on the lower end, due to her young age (the doctor had told her).

Further, the list of side effects was nothing she was concerned about getting flagged for during her training or while on active duty, should she ever have a need for it. Some of which included: constipation, sinus discomfort, metallic taste, brittle nails, slowed metabolism, mild weight gain, joint stiffness and dry mouth.

Megan continued to drive on, noting with satisfaction that her vision was mostly unincumbered. She noted a few times she had to squint when the glare of a passing vehicle was at the wrong angle, but other than that, she was perfectly fine.

Kennedy took a short nap as Megan drove in silence, the sounds of Kennedy’s playlist keeping her company.

Finally, several hours later, at 24:04, they pulled into a Holiday Inn parking lot that Kennedy had prebooked during this final leg of their daily drive. The manager, who looked as young as they were and heavily accented, bid them welcome and handed them a passkey and wished them a pleasant morning.

They heaved their bags into the room and immediately spotted a problem. A minor problem.

“Single bed?” she said, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.”

We were supposed to get two double beds.” He said. He put down his things and picked up the phone calling room service. While he waited, he pulled out his phone and pulled up his reservation confirmation email.

Megan could hear him protesting.

“Hi….No, no—that’s not what the confirmation email says. Look, I have it here. Two double beds. Yes, two, not one (silence)…well are there any other rooms available?. Oh, well that’s convenient. How about a spare cot? None available either? Fine. No—hold on, let me check.”

He held a hand over the receiver, but Megan was already caught up. She was tired, the last half hour of trip had sapped her of her energy and despite the food she’d munched on to help keep her awake, she just needed to sleep.

“Kennedy, its fine. We’re adults. Just hang up.”

He looked at her, sitting on the edge of the bed, hand still poised over the receiver. She motioned for him to put it down.

“Hi, still there? No, we fixed it. Yes, well. Thanks for trying. Goodbye.” He said the final few words with sarcasm he hoped was received and noted.

There they were: man and woman. And a single bed between them.

“I have an idea,” she said, walking over to the sliding closet door and finding what she was looking for: a flannel blanket.

She unfurled it and put it on her side of the bed and folded it like a sleeping bag, lengthwise. “Since you drove most of the way, you get under the covers, and I will sleep on top using this blanket.”

“No, wait—” He began, but Megan held up a hand.

“Look, we’re both tired. Let’s just do this. Please.” She looked into his eyes, searching. He too, looked tired, despite the nap he had just had.

“Okay, fine. Deal. But you get the bathroom first.” Kennedy said and Megan nodded.
She grabbed her bag and strode across the room and closed the door. She began to undress, noting the faint but not unpleasant body odor of a day’s travel and changed into her bed clothes. A baby doll t-shirt and running shorts. She cleaned her teeth and ran a brush through her hair. After applying a little moisturizer, she opened the door, and they traded places.

Kennedy had decided to take a shower while she decided to go right to bed. Megan forewent television and instead shut the curtain blinds and turned off all the lights. She fluffed the pillows to her liking and crawled under the topmost blanket. Laying on her back, arms at her sides, she stared at the ceiling. Then she observed the light coming from the bathroom which was direct opposite the bed. Stifling a yawn, she remembered to plug in her phone and set her alarm, a back up to the time she and Kennedy had agreed upon.

As she began to fall into a deep sleep, she heard the shower door open and a few moments later, close again interrupted by the sounds of the wet ‘pat, pat’ of feet. Kennedy had returned to get his phone and then reentered the bathroom, clad at the waist only in a towel.

Megan sighed aloud and let the noises of the room enter her mind. At first, she only recognized the electric hum of the room; then she thought she heard a muffled noise coming from the other side of the bathroom door, which was a new addition. It was low and silent. Was it talking? She turned over onto her side, angling her head and listened harder now, which was difficult as she was on the edge of sleep. There it was again, the low voices of someone talking followed by … moaning? Then there was another noise. Like sandpaper? It was a rhythmic noise that sounded like skin rubbing skin, but what was it?

A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened. Kennedy was dressed in shorts and a loose-fitting t-shirt. He shut off the light and now the room was bathed in a faint glow from a crack in the curtains from some outside source of light. Megan lay stock still while he gently eased himself onto his side of the bed and got under the covers. The tiny bed creaked under him as the springs bore his added weight.

In seconds, she heard his shallow snores turn to deeper ones. But not before she had glanced at his profile. Unmistakable, even under those covers, was the remnants of a formerly erect, rather large and familiar shaped penis.

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