This is a mobile proxy. It is intended to visit the IOMfAtS Story Shelf on devices that would otherwise not correctly display the site. Please direct all your feedback to the friendly guy over at IOMfAtS!

Like Dust in the Wind

by Jack Lynch

Chapter 8

The One.


Curled up on the sofa, watching the latest episode of "The Voice."

Jo-Jo's eye lids started to droop. Bored.

Ten days until school starts. She couldn't wait. 8th grade was going to be rad. In the meantime, everything was boring.

"Choose a different word, Joanne," her mother had admonished her. She was sick and tired of hearing her youngest daughter complain. Complain about everything.

13 years old, and she was good at it.

If she wasn't so damn cute, Meredith speculated, she'd well…never mind. Jo-Jo, as everyone called her, and her sister had all of their father's best features. Dark chestnut brown hair, long past mid-shoulder, parted in the middle most of the time. Brown eyes, a thin swath of freckles on her cheeks and across the bridge of her pert nose, thin lips. A cute shape, under-developed for her age. She shrugged. She'd been a late bloomer herself.

This singer really bites, Jo-Jo thought to herself. She held the remote extending her arm, ready to change the channel, when her mom's phone rang and she heard her pick it up in the kitchen.

Something was wrong. A minute or so later, her mother appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and family room. Her eyes glistened.

"I've got some bad news."

Jo-Jo just looked up at her, expressionless.

"A boy from your school has been in a terrible car accident."

She jerked up straight and looked at her mother.


"Connor Roy. Do you know who he is?"

A slight nod.

"Is he going to be ok?" She asked in a small voice.

"They don't know, honey. He's in critical condition."

"And it's pronounced 'Wa,' mom. Not 'Roy.'"

She turned her eyes back to the TV. Not really watching, just not knowing where to look. All of a sudden, she couldn't feel her arms or legs. She was afraid to move because she thought she might throw up.

The rest of the evening and through a sleepless night, she kept repeating, "Please God," over and over. Whispering out loud, sometimes just silently to herself. She didn't really know how to complete the prayer other than she wanted reality to be something other than what it was.

The next morning, Jo-Jo sat at the breakfast table poking at a now cold pancake. Her father and her sister were off to a Sunday morning daddy-daughter thing at their church.

Her stomach flipped over when her mom's phone rang. She kept her eyes glued on that pancake.

"I see," her mom said. When Jo-Jo glanced up, her mom was wiping a tear away with the heel of her hand.

"Do they know when the funeral is going to be?" A pause as she listened. Nodding her head, "I suppose."

Jo-Jo bit her lip hard but the tears were already welling in her eyes.

After the call ended, her mom came over and put a hand on Jo-Jo's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, honey. Connor passed away this morning."

It was more than a cry. A gasp. She could barely catch her breath. Wailing, crying, gasping, coughing, gagging on her own saliva. Her mom held her and held her.

"I know, honey. I know."

Between jags of crying she was able to blurt out, "No you don't, mom! No, you don't know!"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you understand? He was the one!"

She sobbed uncontrollably.

"The one what, honey?"

"The one! The one I was going to marry!"

Her mother looked at her sadly. The crying continued.

"Now my life is over!"

"Oh, honey!"

She held onto her daughter as tightly as she could.

"Here. Get packed." Finn threw a soft leather bag at Apollo.

"Where are we going?"

"Vegas. Be downstairs in ten."

Apollo was clueless as to what was going on. Nothing new there. Amir had returned a couple of nights ago. Apollo shared his bed the first night, submitting to a vigorous fucking and getting his cock sucked so hard it was painful. Something had possessed Amir but he wasn't exactly sharing.

Afterwards, Amir laid on his side looking at Apollo.

"Ya Allah!"

Amir stared at Apollo's backside as he rested on his stomach. With his eyes closed, he couldn't have looked more pure and peaceful. Almost angelic. His blond hair fell gracefully over his eyes. That scornful look he had on his face when Amir first met him rarely appeared now. His contoured back, ribs still slightly visible on his sides. Not as scrawny looking anymore. Luscious bare flanks, the graceful curve of his hips. That gorgeous butt he had so delightfully violated. Amir sighed. Doubtful if I'll ever get tired of that, he thought.

Ten minutes later, after throwing a few things into the bag, Apollo joined half of the entourage in a Black Cadillac Escalade. The rest of the bunch were in the Mercedes. Instead of heading toward LAX, they went in the opposite direction. When they arrived at Camarillo Airport, their caravan drove right onto the tarmac. A gleaming LearJet 75 stood ready for them. In no time, people and bags were loaded and the plane began to taxi onto the runway.

Amir, Finn, and Omar, of course. The girls, Neisha and Oma, Cass and Ebony, and some guy he'd never seen before, but was referred to as Feng. A heavy set Asian guy, he flopped down into one of the luxurious leather seats, immediately opened his laptop, and started typing away.

Just after hitting the air, the flight attendant poured champagne. Apollo pretended to sip at his. The taste and smell made him totally nauseous. It conjured up a bad memory. 8 years old, riding his bike with a friend. They'd come across an open bottle of champagne sitting right on the curb. Of course, they drank it. Most of it anyway. It made them both so dizzy they could hardly walk. Apollo never made it home before he puked his guts out in an alley. Since then, even the sight of champagne was enough to flip his stomach over.

A little over an hour later, they touched down at McCarran Airport. The Strip was clearly visible as they rolled up to an executive terminal. Same routine. Two vehicles. People and bags quickly loaded. A quick trip to the Bellagio where they were shown to a massive suite on an upper floor. Apparently, Apollo's status had improved. He got his own room, separate rooms each for Neisha and Oma. Amir got the master, of course. Omar and Finn, the girls' two personal attendants, and Feng had rooms just down the hall.

Apollo unpacked quickly but didn't really know what to do with himself. He flopped down on an oversized chair in the living room and waited. Ebony was in and out, attending to Oma. Now and then, her eyes rested on him, staring blankly.

Feng came in with a step ladder and a large black case which he proceeded to open on the dining room table. Methodically, he began to remove all kinds of electronic equipment.

"What's all that?"

"Cameras and shit."

"What for?"

Feng just looked at him. He grabbed the ladder, one of the cameras, and went to a corner of the room. Climbing up close to the ceiling, he proceeded to push the camera up high against the wall. Apparently, it had some kind of adhesive on the base because it just stuck firmly. Once he descended, he checked the camera on his laptop. After making a few adjustments, he disappeared into another room with the ladder and another camera.

Hmmm, Apollo thought to himself. So, if this place was getting wired for video, what about the house? He just shook his head.

Going to the window, Apollo gazed down at the Strip and the massive array of fountains jumping and waving far below.

"I want to talk to you."

Omar stood right behind him.

"Sure, Omar." Apollo turned around. "How about if you brush your teeth first?" His breath always stunk.

Omar giggled in his signature high squeal as his arm shot up. He grabbed Apollo by the throat and threw him violently against the window. The back of his head hit the glass with such force he thought he might go right through it and plunge to his death.

"Stay away from the cooch!" Omar said through gritted teeth, his halitosis filled breath in Apollo's ear.

He was going to protest but couldn't make a sound through his compressed wind pipe. Omar finally let go and stepped back. Apollo coughed and gasped for breath as he stumbled and tried to regain his balance.

"Ok," was all he could squeak out.

Bored. The same routine. Just a different place.

The girls went shopping. Apollo laid out by the pool. Amir was supposedly engaged in some high stakes poker somewhere in the hotel.

Most of the meals were served right in their suite. A chef appeared at the appointed times and did the cooking. A butler did the serving. Good looking, black as coal like Ebony. Tall, maybe 6'1." He had a cute butt. Apollo could clearly see his stuff through the thin material of his tight pants. His dick looked like a fuckin' snake.

Amir took Apollo to dinner one night at the hotel's premiere restaurant, Le Cirque. It must have been ungodly expensive. No prices on the menu. Their meal was periodically interrupted by Middle Eastern types who stopped by their table. Kissing the proverbial ring, or ass, take your pick. Apollo couldn't really tell. They spoke mostly in Arabic.

Once a day, Apollo used his debit card to get ten silver dollars. Walking along the same row of slot machines, he inserted a coin in each one consecutively, hardly breaking his stride. He rarely scored anything.

This day was different.

Just as he reached the end of the row, one of the slots started blaring music and flashing brightly. Bells ringing, actual fireworks came out of the top of it. As he reached the machine, a crowd started to form around him. Claps and cheers. A security guard was instantaneously at his side.

Jackpot! Twenty-five grand!

Escorted to a cashier with his winning ticket, he pulled his debit card out of his thin wallet. After completing a couple of forms and swiping his card, the money was in his account.

Apollo chuckled to himself. Because he'd been absolutely destitute his entire life, money really meant nothing to him. But, now he realized he had more than his parents had ever had. Over the past months, he'd methodically deposited tip money from his dancing days into an account. The winning jackpot had now ballooned the total to over $40,000.

Upstairs, Feng sat back in his chair, his arms across his chest. He smirked and then chuckled as the scene on the casino floor unfolded. Of course, he'd easily gained access to the hotel's security system, totally undetected. After making a couple of notes for Omar to review later, he turned his attention to some random couple having oral sex in one of the hotel's elevators.

Returning to the suite with a bounce in his step, Apollo decided a dip in the pool was in order. The place was empty except for the butler who was busy setting the table for dinner.

Oh ya, that guy. The one with the Mandingo cock.

In his room, he quickly stripped off his clothes. He had a couple of swimsuits to choose from. Shrugging his shoulders, he chose some red thongs. Barely concealing his dick, a slim band around each hip that narrowed to a string as it ran through his butt crack. He would have never bought something like this for himself. Omar had suggested them. He thought Amir might enjoy seeing him in it. He was probably right.

Quickly pulling a tank over his head, Apollo went to the kitchen, ostensibly to get a bottle of water. But, the real reason was just to give the butler a bit of a show. When he turned away from the refrigerator, he caught him in mid-stare. Eyes glued to his ass, mouth open. When Apollo's eyes dropped to the guy's crotch, that scrumptious cock was definitely in a half swollen state.

"What's your name?" Apollo asked after taking a swig.

"Agador." The spell now broken, his expression rather sheepish.

"Mine's Apollo."

"I know that."

"What kind of a name is Agador?"

"Brazilian." Stammering, "I'm from Brazil."

"I was going to go for a swim."

"Yes sir."

"To cool off."

Agador blushed. He tried to clear his throat.

Apollo decided to just go for it.

"You like?" Apollo asked as he turned to display his butt. He watched as Agador's eyes wandered over his body.

"Yes sir," he replied huskily.

Marivilhoso! Agador thought. Apollo's beautiful boy butt. Soft white globes, dimpled on the sides, a slightly darker narrow crack, barely concealed by the thong. The opening between his thighs, his covered balls just visible. What it must smell like! In spite of the loose culture in Las Vegas, he'd felt so cut off, afraid to approach anyone to express his feelings.

Without another word, Apollo went to the dining room table and bent over, elbows brushing aside one of the place settings.

A soft groan left Agador's lips. Apollo twisted around to see him unbuckle his belt and lower the zipper of his pants. In one fell swoop, his pants and underwear at his ankles.

"Oh man!" Apollo rasped.

A nine, possibly, ten inch angry looking stiff black cock came into view. Pre-cum already on the tip. Shuffling over, he pushed the back of Apollo's thong to the side.

"Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Lube!"

Agador chuckled, "Right here!"

With that, he reached down to his pants and pulled a small container of Liquid Silk out of his pocket.

"Are you shittin' me?"

Agador chuckled again, "Always carry with me. Just in case."

Apollo didn't laugh. He was so turned on he was practically dizzy.

A quick application around his cock. Some more around his finger and on Apollo's ass. Apollo grunted as Agador inserted one finger, then two.

It took awhile for him to get it in. Apollo winced, gasped, breathing quickly. Finally, Agador was able to begin small movements in and out. He came in a gusher soon after. It hurt so damn good, Apollo thought.

When they finally stumbled apart, Apollo stripped off the now soiled and damp thongs. He'd lost his erection from that royal fucking. It quickly returned, though. Whimpering, Agador slipped to his knees, swallowed Apollo up, and gave him a skillful blow job.

When it was all over, Apollo chuckled.

"Thanks for making an already great day even better!"

"My pleasure, sir."

Agador busied himself straightening the dinner table. Apollo took a quick shower, jumped into a fresh pair of swim trunks, and headed to the pool.

"I'll have a Tanq and Tonic," Apollo told the pool boy. Even though he was obviously under 21, the guy just shrugged. He turned and went to fetch his drink.

Collapsing on a luxurious chaise lounge, Apollo let out a long sigh of contentment. Drained, a little sore, but otherwise, doing good.

Absentmindedly, he clicked on the web site for the local paper from back home. Well, home, if he could call it that. Every once in awhile, he checked it, mainly for the obituaries. He fully expected to see death notices for either one or both of his parents at some point. The way they lived, always on the edge, something was bound to happen.

A headline caught his attention: "Two Killed, Two Injured in Car-Semi Mishap."

Apollo jerked upright, suddenly unable to breathe.

"Two passengers in a sedan were killed yesterday, the driver and another passenger critically injured, when a semi-trailer truck left the road and broadsided their car traveling in the opposite lanes of traffic.

Traffic in both directions of Highway 51 between Alcott and Warren was tied up for several hours following the crash.

"Randy Bergman, 18, Madison, and Scott Perkins, 19, Lake Harmony, were pronounced dead at the scene. The driver, Carey Sterling, 20, and another passenger, Connor Roy, 13, both of Madison, were transported via medevac helicopter to City Hospital where both are listed in critical condition.

"The driver of the truck, Marvin Warner, was treated for injuries at a local hospital and released.

"State Patrol and County Sheriff's investigators were still trying to piece together details of the incident late yesterday. Initial accounts indicated the driver of the truck lost control, crashed through the barrier on the left side of the highway, flew through a wide median at full speed, and hit the late model BMW driven by Sterling on the driver's side.

"'This crash was horrific,' Trooper Stan Nelson reported. 'I'm surprised that anyone survived the impact.'

"This report will be updated."

Setting the drink down on the table, the pool boy asked, "Is everything ok, sir?"

Apollo realized tears were streaming down his face.

"What? Oh. Ya, ok," he said wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand.

Apollo pushed refresh on the page several times in a row but nothing new came up. He took a sip of the drink, immediately feeling sick to his stomach.

Then, an update on the left side of the page. Apollo sucked his breath in and gasped.

"Crash Claims Third Victim."

"A car-semi crash yesterday that killed two people claimed a third victim late today. Connor Roy, 13 years old, died from his injuries at City Hospital. Carey Sterling, the car's driver, remains in critical condition.

"Son of Carrie Roy, Madison, and Pierre Roy, Flint, Michigan, Connor was about to enter 8th grade at Roosevelt Middle School. Funeral arrangements are pending."

The update went on to rehash information from the original article.

He wasn't crying but, still. The tears continued to flow down his cheeks in rivers. Shivering and trembling, even in the desert heat. When he glanced up, the waiter and one of his colleagues whispered to each other as they stared at him.

Carey. A soft spot, the only soft spot, in his stone cold heart. Their first meeting, many months ago, in that boulevard median. Even though he'd tried to keep Carey at a distance by acting like a prick, Apollo somehow knew something was there. Their subsequent brief encounters left him wanting. Wanting more.


Deng supported his head with his hand, elbow on the desk, as he watched Apollo enter an Uber in front of the hotel.

A few clicks, some code, and he easily hacked into Uber's system. Scrolling and clicking for another minute or so and he found the vehicle Apollo was in. On the way to the airport. Airline reservations systems were incredibly hard to break into. But, he'd track him down, sooner or later.

Deng picked up his phone and messaged Omar.

"We have a situation."

Talk about this story on our forum

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

* Some browsers may require a right click instead