Different Circles

“I’m sure it did,” she said with a chuckle. Especially since he knows that I have now dallied with both of the Kingsleys. “And I’m sure the awkwardness with pass. You don’t think he’ll ... you know ... make any little comments about it or anything?”

“I can’t guarantee that,” Laura said. “Jake is Jake.”

“Yes, he certainly is,” she said with another sigh.

“Anyway ... uh ... speaking of awkwardness,” Laura said. “I just want to warn you in advance that ... well ... this is kind of embarrassing.”

“What is it?”

“Jake and I haven’t seen each other in a while and we’re going to want to ... you know... do it.”

Celia smiled. “I have no doubt that is true,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to listen at the door or anything like that.”

“Well ... the thing is that you probably won’t have to,” Laura said. She was now blushing. “I tend to get a little ... you know ... loud at times while we’re doing it.”

“I know,” Celia said. “Remember, I was staying in the Coos Bay house with you two when you first started doing it. You were the very impetus for and a very frequent violator of Rule 17.”

“That is embarrassing,” Laura said. “I can’t help it though.”

“Then maybe you just shouldn’t have sex with him until you get home,” Celia said lightly.

A look of extreme alarm crossed Laura’s face at this suggestion. “I ... uh ... don’t think that will be an option,” she said.

Celia giggled. “I know,” she said. “I was just kidding.” She leaned in a little closer and lowered her voice. “And you don’t have to be embarrassed. I’ve watched you paddle your canoe while I sucked on your chichi, Teach. I don’t think you need to be worried about me hearing you come while Jake is fucking you. In fact, maybe I’ll be inspired to do a little paddling myself if you put on a good enough performance.”

Laura looked up at her, her look of discomfort turning to one of interest and arousal. “Now that’s kind of hot,” she said.

“It’s all a matter of perspective,” Celia replied.

The flight attendant came by a moment later and asked if she could take their trays away. They both said she could. She then asked if she could bring them anything else.

“How about a vodka and tonic?” said Celia.

“Very good. And for you, Mrs. Kingsley?”

“Nothing for me,” Laura said. “I think I’ll catch a little nap.”

“As you wish,” the flight attendant said.

And before she even returned with Celia’s fresh drink, Laura was reclined and sleeping soundly in her chair, a pleasant little smile on her face.

A stretch limousine, chartered by Music Alive, picked up Jake, Laura, Jake’s band, Celia, Obie, and the Nerdlys at 7:00 AM the next morning. They were scheduled for an 8:30 sound check on Stage 2 of the dual stage venue. A good portion of Jake’s bandmembers were hung over (and considerably lighter in their wallets) and everyone was tired (except for Laura, who had catalogued more than fourteen hours of sleep in the past 24 hours) due to the early hour.

They drove into the desert, leaving the Las Vegas area behind and traveled for more than forty miles before coming into Indian Springs. The town itself was very small and they passed through it in less than three minutes, emerging out the other side into even more desert, all of which was owned by the BLM. About five minutes later they began to near the brand-new venue that had been built specifically for occasions such as the TSF. The campgrounds came first. There were several of them and all were filled to capacity with RVs, campers, trailers, and even some tents. Next came the parking areas, which were already filling to their capacity. A line of cars more than half a mile long hugged the right shoulder of the road, creeping slowly along, waiting their turn to enter the parking lot. When they finally passed the main entrance to one of the lots, Jake saw that Music Alive was charging thirty dollars per car to park. Next, they passed the primary gate that admitted concertgoers to the show. The gates would not be opened until 10:00 AM, with the first band scheduled to start at noon, but already there were thousands of people waiting in lines that stretched out in both directions. And all of them had paid a minimum of ninety dollars for their tickets. Many had paid much more.

“I can see how Music Alive is making money on this gig,” Celia said as they took in the crowd.

“It kind of makes me think they should have paid me more,” Jake said.

The limo turned onto a gated road that had two armed security staff guarding it. The limo driver stopped, rolled down his window, and showed an access pass to one of the guards. They were then allowed to proceed. The drove along the smooth, recently laid pavement for another few minutes and then came out in a large areas where dozens of fifth-wheel trailers had been set up. The limo stopped in front of one of them and the driver got out to open the door. Everyone piled out. A gruff looking man with a pass around his neck was waiting for them.