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The next incident in this extraordinary chain of events follows on immediately from the end of “Any Hotel Anywhere Hot.”
“So, I interrupted you fixing my Air-con?” I asked as I pulled on my jock and shorts.
“All done!” Said my handsome companion with a puckish grin “You’re good to go!”
It was seven thirty, hours of daylight left, his on-call list completed. I invited him up to my room to shower before taking to the road. His maintenance ID, which he found under his now cum spattered Polo shirt, was a pass key which opened the fire doors out onto each level of the hotel so we were able to use the service stair, sparing us the scowls of the fancy reception staff as the sweat stained fuck buddies would have presented themselves around at the main lobby.
The joy of sharing some afterglow time, showering and chilling with this gorgeous man was just excellent.
We exchanged cell phone details, of course and when I’m in range of his home town I go and get my system drained, serviced and refilled, but just before he left that evening, he used his pass to access the service lift which went up to the penthouse level service lobby (he had no access to the suites themselves), where more cabinets clicked and whispered tech to one another and a stair led up to a fire escape/service door and the rooftop.
The blast of heat from the desert air outside again took my breath away,
we stepped out and he carefully lodged a business card into the catch as he closed it behind us.
I looked up to see the spectacular lights of the City beginning to take over in the dusk, downtown and the strip and spreading out in a shimmering mantle across the one time wilderness beyond the “Meadows” oasis which named the place. To our right, a steel and concrete dais, upon which crouched the sleek, shining red, insectoid form of a helicopter bearing the insignia bayburt escort of a Gulf State airline.
I took his hand, “Thank you!” I whispered in his ear and kissed him again.
“I have to go kiss the kids goodnight.” Said he as he drew away. If my surprise was visible I regret it. I hope not.”Stay and enjoy the view and let yourself back in when you’re done.” his eyes full of sadness as he left, he called over his shoulder “Message me when you’re gonna be in town, ok?” His dry and cracked tone full of emotion.
“Man, ” I said “for more of what you showed me today, I’m gonna be making it my business to be here!”
Then he was gone and I lay down on my back on the warm concrete roof and watched the stars begin to twinkle through the light pollution surrounding and above and below me. It’s an amazing City. If you haven’t been, put it on your bucket list.
I must have dozed off because I was startled by a sudden noise, coming from the other end of the rooftop. Voices and footsteps coming closer. I froze. Very aware that I had no permission to be up there. All kinds of things rushed through my mind, not least that Flynn might get into serious trouble for using his pass and accompanying me.
Who were these people? Security? Men’s voices, at least three. I dared not move a hair. As they drew nearer I could hear relaxed tones of voice and what sounded like gossiping and joking between them but all rather hushed. I allowed myself a quiet breath. Lights came on around the helipad and the combination of the ambient glow of the city and the newly illuminated dais was not helping my concealment. I was so tempted to move, to watch, to find out what the likelihood of danger might be but preferred the still, silent approach. Doors on the aircraft were heard to open, clicks, more lights, tech, hissing, whine of turbines, escort bayburt motor turning, rotors turning, rushing air drowning out everything else. two, maybe three minutes went by then a massive increase in the noise level and the blast of hot air and it lifted off gently over my prone body and away towards the airport.
Under cover of the take off, two black suited figures appeared without warning above me, each with a drawn handgun. I swallowed hard, tried a weak smile and slowly raised my hands in submission.
I was dry, hungry, pretty tired and kind of stressed but I found my tongue loosened enough in my mouth to speak if I needed to.
“Please get up, Sir.” Said a voice behind my left shoulder. A third man with cultured American English.
I turned onto my side, pushed myself up to a kneeling position and slowly rose to my feet in as dignified a fashion as I could. Most of us are very nervous at the point of a gun, two guns. I am no exception.
“I came up to see the lights and the stars, I just fell asleep.” I said as I rose. I then saw that the third man was dressed in the traditional ankle length white dishdasha and head dress with the black cord to fasten it. He was about 5′ 8″ I’d guess 45 and rather fleshy, whereas his armed companions were stacked, fit, attentive and dangerous. One about 6′ 2′ 230 lbs., the other a little taller than me 5′ 11″ but man he was way more broad. All three sported a neatly groomed narrow black beard and stubble stained exposed cheeks. The men in black more intimidating because of the look. Not so their boss. Contrary to movie magic you cannot outrun a gun. I was not about to try.
“With your permission, Sir, Mr. Abdullah will search you.”
“Certainly. Go ahead.” I replied, not wishing to challenge the authority held by men with guns whatever the law of bayburt escort bayan the state. My navy chino shorts, deck shoes, and loose T shirt presented no great obstacle and the only thing in my pocket was my electronic room key. If this had been the police, I carried no ID no phone I’d have been in big trouble. Was this making the guns less threatening? Maybe not.
A command was issued in Arabic.
Mr Abdullah, the shorter, broader of the two security men, holstered his gun and raised his hands in the gesture I should copy for his search. So the careful pat down I received was considerably more respectful that you would experience at airport security formalities. His large, thick fingered hands paid considerable attention to my ” inside leg” area and when reaching into my pockets, extracting my room key, he traced the length of my sleeping cock and rummaged my scrotum before handing my room key to the man giving the orders.
As he reached around my torso to pat my back down, his mitts cupped my buttocks before rising smoothly over my back hair under my shirt into my armpits and most extraordinary of all, whilst looking me straight in the face with inscrutable black gaze, his back to his companion and his boss, his thumbs imperceptibly brushed the tips of my meaty nipples, sending a shiver of sexual delight and relief into my confused and frightened brain. He stepped back and raised his arms and then lowered them to his sides in a further gesture that I was to follow. I lowered my arms in turn and nodded in a serious manner to acknowledge him.
“You will follow me please!” commanded the man in the headdress, as he turned and walked surprisingly briskly past the helipad to the far end of the rooftop where the elevator house stood and another access door was sited, similar to the one through which I had come. Once there, I could see that this was no service stair, though the outside of the doors was utilitarian, inside was red and gold plush, deep pile carpet, luxury that the super rich take for granted. I was ushered into a spacious, air-conditioned passenger lift and checked my uneasy look in its mirrored walls and the emotionless faces of my captors.
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