Date: Mon, 4 Jan 2010 22:12:25 +1300
From: Shawn Kale <shawnkale@live.com>
Subject: 'In All The Wrong Places' Part 1?

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DISCLAIMER: Predictably, this story at some point will contain graphic
literary descriptions of sexual acts between consenting persons. Some
content may not be suitable for minors. This is a work of fiction,
similarity of characters to real people is purely accidental. The author
'Shawn Kale' retains the title to the work and grants 'Nifty Archive' "a
non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancellable
license to display the work" Comments and suggestions can be directed to
the author via email at: shawnkale@live.com
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'In All The Wrong Places'


To look at a thing is quite different from seeing a thing
and one does not see anything until one sees its beauty.

      - Oscar Wilde (excerpt from 'An Ideal Husband')


Part One:    ''Rules of Departure ~ A Prologue''


     Sometimes I wake up knowing that today is going to be 'me against the
world' this morning was no different, but why should it be? I woke up to
the sound of the hotel concierge pounding on my door, I'd slept through
three wake up calls and my airport transfer was waiting. The 'perfect'
ending to the 'perfect' holiday.  I stirred beneath the crumpled covers and
amongst the chaotic sheets, reminders of the night before with... Jamie?
was it Jamie? James? Jim? 'J' something anyway

''Sir! Your transfer is waiting'' pause ''Please Sir you shouldn't miss
your check in''

the man's anxious appeal was muffled through the door but coherent enough
to pull me head first into the land of the living

''Ok ok, I'm on my way" warm feet meet the cold floor ''don't have an
aneurysm!''  the banging and pleading ceased.

     Luckily years of travel had provided me a set of commonsense rules,
departure rule (i): 'Always pack the night before' my abundant gear was
folded efficiently into two cases and a carry on. I pulled on the clothes
I'd left neatly on the dresser; comfortable Jeans, a light collared shirt
with a plain pattern and a cashmere sweater. Departure rule (ii) 'Never let
Cashmere fly coach' I chuckled to myself, remembering my favourite coat was
hanging in the closet. Checking myself in the mirror I made use of the
complimentary mouthwash and took a deep 'minty fresh' breath in.

     The drive to the airport was refreshingly quiet, minimal traffic and
best of all; no needless conversation. I slipped the driver a few banknotes
after he helped me load my cases onto a trolley and quickly made my way out
of the worsening weather.  Inside the terminal I made my way to the first
class check in and handed over my passport and e-ticket to the attractive
young attendant.

''Would you like me to check you through to your final stop sir?''  I
wasn't very alert at the best of times, 5 am was certainly not the best of
times.

''Sorry what was tha... oh yes, thank you umm'' blank ''Gareth?''

''No problem sir, Please leave your bags on the conveyor and I'll escort
you to the Lounge''

     One of the many perks of flying on my Father's account was the comfort
of a quiet airport lounge, besides... all the best looking attendants are
in first class, I almost collided with the (firm and distracting) back side
of 'Gareth' blushing I mumbled an apology

 ''Don't worry Mr. O'Neil, it's early for me too" damn his perfect smile
and chiseled features "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

 I was too polite, and too spaced out to ask for anything I really wanted

"No, nothing at all" I paused, here was my last chance ''Thank you for your
help''

After a quiet drink I found a comfortable seat and slipped into some
deserved catch up sleep.

     For the second time that day I was woken with urgency

''Sir... Mr. O'Neil'' Gareth again, I sluggishly came to the realization
that I was in an airport lounge

''Sir, your plane is ready to board first class passengers, follow me to
the gate please''

All I could do was groan in agreement, I grabbed the handle of my carry-on
and followed the attendant again, pausing to gulp down a complimentary
glass of Jameson a.k.a 'Adrenaline' feeling slightly more alert I thanked
Gareth as he handed me my boarding pass trying in vain to reassure him that
I wouldn't forget my head if it wasn't screwed on, somehow I don't think he
was convinced. The air host checked my pass and waved me up the front of
the plane to the business class section, I stowed my bag (after pulling out
my i-Pod of course) and settled into my comfortable seat where more sleep
awaited.

     Four flights and forty hours later I arrived on the opposite side of
the world, If I'd arrived in winter the scenery would have looked very
similar to the country I'd left two days ago... but summer had dried out
the usually luxuriant grass and the humidity as I stepped out of the small
link aircraft onto the tarmac was less than refreshing; but it tasted,
smelled, looked like 'home' or as close to it as I'd got so far.


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Author's Note:

This is the 'prologue' to what I hope will be a much longer story, any
suggestions or comments can be directed to me at: shawnkale@live.com

Sorry for the lack of 'usual' erotic material, I hope new installments will
satisfy all your more carnal needs as well as your other 'desires'

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