Tricia Gets to Ride First Class

"Are those pictures on that site really you?"

"Yep, they sure are," I agreed.

"And they're recent?"

"I took them yesterday. This is my first time doing this. Today. I'm not sure if I'll ever do it again. It's like a dare thing. A pledge, actually. To join this club I want to get into at school."

"That's one hell of a club," he laughed. "You must really want to get in."

"Oh yeah, I really do," I gushed. "You see, it's all these really rich, snobby girls, but they're reall hell-raisers, too. The 'in crowd', if you know what I mean. All the best parties. All the cutest boyfriends. They know I'm not wealthy like they are, so they said if I could come up with a thousand dollars by the weekend, I could more or less buy my way in. So I ran that ad you saw, and I'm only seeing one guy per night till I raise the thousand. It's kinda scary, and I've never even been inside a hotel room before..." My voice trailed off, like maybe I was having second thoughts.

"Four hundred bucks, huh?" the man on the other end of the line said rhetorically. "So you can join a rich snot's club. Well, that's a new one, at least." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "Sure, why don't you come up. I'm at the Marriott on Katella. Room 1743."

"And you're alone up there, Jimbo?"

"All alone, baby," he agreed.

"And you're not a cop, or in any way involved in law enforcement?"

That made him bust out laughing. "Hell no. I'm in the tradeshow business. Come on up and I'll show you a paycheck stub, if that'll make you feel better."

I thought about it quickly and then said, "Here's what we'll do. You give me your full name that the room is registered under. Then the address and phone number of the hotel. I'll call your room phone and confirm and then we'll go from there. How's that sound, lover?" I wished my voice wasn't so young sounding, but what are you gonna do?

He gave me his last name and the other stuff, so I went to a bank of payphones in the lobby and called him. I was put through, although the operator wouldn't confirm his room number for me.

"OK. When do you want to see me," I asked.

"Any time. I'm just hanging out watching a boring baseball game."

"Have you taken a shower recently? Brushed your teeth like a good boy?" I teased.

"Yes ma'am. Just out of the shower five minutes ago, in fact. Scrubbed the teeth, cleaned the ears, washed Mr. Johnson and the twins. Even took a razor to my face. Come on up and see."

"I'll be there in five minutes." I hung up the phone and got back on the elevator.

I waited for the hall on 17 to clear, pretending to be involved in a phone call with a friend as a middle aged couple left their room a few doors away from my latest benefactor. After they got on the elevator I knocked softly on the door. It swung open almost immediately and a hand reached out and grabbed me, pulling me in. This startled the crap out of me as you can imagine, and I almost panicked before my body took over.

I twisted my wrist in and downward, using a tenkan move Sensei Akeba has taught me from Aikido. This broke the guy's grip on me, and I stepped toward him quickly and drove the heel of my palm into his solar plexus. It connected with good force, since I used the forward momentum of my body to further increase the striking power, my mind telling me to aim at a spot six inches behind him so I'd really get something into it.

It caught the man totally off guard, knocking the wind from him in a big whoosh. My martial arts sensei has taught me to never turn my back on an opponent, but to keep attacking until I know he is totally subdued. I swung a well placed kick up into the man's balls, dropping him to his knees. His hands left his chest and went instinctively down to protect his jewels from further assault, so I slash-chopped nerve bundle in his neck with the blade of my hand, careful not to crush his windpipe. The angle was just right, and it dropped him onto his side like I'd pole axed him.

I'd never done this for real to a person before, but have sparred a lot with Sensei Akeba at his dojo in Orlando where he teaches what he calls Chenkido, which is a combat form of kung fu mixed with the defensive counter maneuvers of aikido. I've been going there three nights a week since I was seven, and I guess those fun, but totally focused hours of practice seemed to be working. The man moaned and then rolled onto his back, bringing his knees up trying to get his balls to drop back down. I put a toe kick to the side of his head, knocking him unconscious.

What an asshole, I told myself as I looked down on the guy. He was in his mid forties, with not much hair and a face full of old zit scars. He had bad teeth, gnarly hands and looked like a walking cadaver. Dressed in only some nasty old JC Penny boxers that he must have owned for five years.

I took a quick look around the room and saw that he was all set up for a night of pleasures. There was a video camera on a tripod aimed at the bed, and he had rigged restraints at each corner of the mattress using rough woven ropes. There were a couple of candles burning, and I saw a leather tassled whip lying on a chair. On the nightstand next to the bed was a condom, a weird looking dildo thing and a tube of lubricant. A real Texas wrangler, this one .

I turned the camera on, making sure it didn't catch me in any mirrors and aimed it down toward Jimbo. Using my best hillbilly twang, and I'm damn good at it coming from rural Florida cracker stock, here's what I said.

"This here man you see lying there on the floor just grabbed aholt of me from out in the hallway and drug me into his hotel room." I knew the camera's built in microphone would record my dialogue. "He was fixin' to tie me to the bed, then do all kinds of things to me. Lookit that over there," I said, panning from the bed where I had zoomed in on the ropes toward the nightstand to the tube of lubricant, condom, and what looks to be some kind of pills. Probably Rufinols or something similar. "I hit him, and then kicked him real hard in his nuts, but prolly not hard enough. This asshole should go to prison. I'm only eleven years old. He's in room 1743 at the Marriott real close to Disneyland. I reckon I can't get any more involved than this because my mother plainly would die from the embarrassment."

I turned the camera off and put it down. I kicked him in his butt cheek to make sure he was still out and not just faking it. The glutes will involuntarily clench, or so my instructor tells me. Cautiously I removed Jimbo's wallet from his back pocket. I took out the cash, totaling around two hundred dollars, and removed his credit cards and identification. It was an Oklahoma driver's license saying his name was Jimbo Duncan, from Tulsa. Well, at least he had given me his real name. That's how the switchboard connects. You can't just give them a room number anymore. You have to have the guest's full name.

I picked up the camera again and shot close-ups of his ID and the contents of his wallet, excluding the credit cards. I put the cash and cards in my pocket, and dug through the other papers and stuff in there. I found a couple of photos of girls, and a tiny slip of paper with four numbers written on it. Using a pair of socks I found on the floor I tied Jimbo's hands behind his back, securing him at his elbows and forearms. Then I used his belt to tie his ankles, rolling him onto his stomach in the process. He must have weighed no more than 150 pounds, despite being over 6 feet tall. Skinny as a rail, and uglier than sin. He was breathing steadily throughout. Once I had him hog tied, I found another sock and stuffed it in his mouth, making sure he could still breathe. I dug through his jeans and came up with another two hundred dollars loose in a front pocket. I grabbed his cell phone, his laptop computer and his camera and threw them into a knapsack he had in the closet, after first removing the tape from the camera. From the hand warmer pocket of my sweatshirt I took a joint of Fallbrook's finest reefer and put it on the nightstand next to the pill bottle. Hah, let's add a little narcotics possession to whatever I could throw on this dick to the cops! I grabbed still another washcloth --- what is it about me and all these washcloths? --- and wiped down everything from the shiny leather of his belt to his camera. I threw the cloth in the knapsack, gave my buddy another shot to his balls with the toe of my Doc Marten boot, and hauled ass out the room taking the bookbag with me, after first making sure the coast was clear.

What a cocksucker! I was fuming, and the adrenaline was surging through me. My heart was beating like I'd just run a marathon, and I knew I'd been lucky as hell to get away so clean. I went straight to the ATM in the lobby and tried what I hoped was a pin number for one of his credit cards that I had found on that scrap of paper in his wallet. The dumbass probably wrote it there so he could get money out when he was drunk in a titty bar or something. I took the washcloth out and covered the camera with it as I approached, happy to find that the money machine was in a privacy niche just off the hall leading to the restrooms. He had four cards, and used the same pin number for all of them. Quadruple dumbass! I withdrew the max on each, totaling twelve hundred dollars. I went into the ladies room next, and once safe inside a stall, pulled out the idiot's laptop and rigged up the camera with the cables I'd snatched and watched the movie to make sure there was nothing on there about me before I got to his room --- like he was keeping a diary, or recording my call or anything.

Holy shit, this guy was a real sicko! On the video he had clips of young girls playing in schoolyards and at Disneyland that he must have taken without them knowing. The camera would zoom in on their boobs and butts and even a few panty shots of girls who were sitting down. This fuckwad was going down, and I was damn glad I had come along to help. He hadn't recorded my call or even said anything about me coming over or my ad, thank goodness, so I rewound the tape to the beginning and wiped it and the cartridge off with my handy washcloth.

I went back over to the payphones where I remembered seeing notepads and pens. I scribbled a quick note using block letters saying, HELP! Some man forst me into a room and tryed to rape me. I fawt back and he got nocked out. I tyed him up and left. Room 1743. This here movie has pitchers of him and other no good stuff he was up to. Take him to jail!

The hotel has luggage handlers and valet parking attendants all working by the front entrance, so I knew if I left the movie and note somewhere obvious one of them would find it.

I waited on a big sofa in the lobby until a family came from the bank of elevators. There were three kids with them already, and knowing that what I was doing to set this guy up would open a full investigation to locate me, I pretended that I had been waiting for them in case a security camera somewhere was covering that part of the hotel. I waved and put on a big smile and walked toward them without them even noticing, then fell in alongside as if we were all one big happy family. As we went out the front entrance to the parking area I stooped as if to tie my shoe and slid the movie right behind one of the doormen. Simple as pie.

I slowed up as we got to the parking lot, then scooted off into the shadows of a big tree and cut over to the sidewalk on the main street. Within seconds I had hailed a cab and was on my way home, telling the driver an address four blocks from my real destination. I hit three more ATMs before I got to my front door and was able to pull another twelve hundred dollars out of his different accounts.

I heated up some leftovers for when my grandma came home, and together we watched the one o'clock news while we ate. I had already seen the story on the news at eleven, but wanted to gloat again over the capture of a man the police had been seeking for a long time. They believed old Jimbo had been involved in several abductions and rapes, and I get a chill just thinking that if I hadn't reacted quickly, I might have been next. As it was, he wasn't saying much, but the evidence against him was pretty good, and would be better if they could find the girl who had eluded him and left the note and movie. Not to mention the bad guy all tied up nice and neat for the authorities, but of course they didn't mention that. They made it sound like it was a big SWAT team bust, and all that other shit they love to play at being cops.

Lexi swears I read too many spy and crime novels, but now I'm beginning to think they've been more than just an exciting way to pass the time. Those books have given me some damn good ideas on how to cover my tracks, and even better, how to think smart. I'd made four thousand dollars in less than five hours, and had maybe caught a bad guy in the process. Two other men would have smiles on their faces for a long time, or at least I hoped so, and that was pretty damn cool, too.

I decided it was time for me to head back to Florida the very next day. I chucked Jimbo's computer, cell phone and camera into a dumpster after removing the hard drive from the computer and smashing the shit out of it with a hammer. I said a tearful goodbye to my grandma when she took me to the airport. I promised to visit again soon, and told her I'd come out at Christmas time if I could. I love California in the winter almost as much as I do Florida.

I was all set to buy a first class upgrade from the gate agent when I spied a nice looking man staring at me from across the concourse. I reeled him in, and you can read his version of what happened in the story before this one. Needless to say, I got my first class seat, and a whole lot more. I let the guy buy me a first class ticket, and since we had a couple of hours to kill before our flight he took me into the VIP lounge where I kept up my innocent little lamb act and got him to get me a little buzzed on vodka before letting him fuck me raw. This guy had a real cock in his pants, and it made me so homesick for Derek that I must have come three or four times.

Once we finally boarded the plane I pretended to fall asleep. Sure as shit, he went digging into my bookbag and found my ID. Better make that plural. I know he found both of them, and I was scared for a minute he was gonna give me some shit, but once he came back from the bathroom he sat back down and fell asleep. I would have cuddled with him, but those first class seats have that big arm rest separating the seats. He was pretty nice, and I would have given him a great handjob to remember me by. Oh well, and bye bye, sucker! He'll never know my real name and address, and that's a damn good thing because I snuck two of his credit cards out of his wallet back in the VIP lounge when he wasn't looking. He's gonna buy little Amy a nice new outfit and pair of shoes, and maybe a new laptop computer and videocamera, too. I'll get Lexi to help me, and we'll both get some new stuff. Far out, as my parents say.

I can't wait to see Derek, and maybe tell him about all the things that happened. I'd love to see if it makes him jealous. No big deal if it doesn't, but either way, I'm gonna fuck the you know what out of him any way he wants for as long as he wants just to show my appreciation for teaching me so much about sex. I also need to say a big thank you to Sensei Akeba for teaching me how to protect myself! I've had a couple of fantasies involving him over the years, and now may be just the time to see if I can bring one to life.

Well, Dear Diary, this little lamb is just too tired to write any more. But I'm sure there will be, because I know I'm destined to lead a life of adventure! Hope you're up for it...