Dirty White Candy, Ultimate Vacation, Book 2 by Anita Cox Page A

shots.”
    Shots?   It was ten in the morning.
    “Here,” she said handing me a small plastic shot glass.   “It’s delicious and tastes like apple pie.”
    I stared at the shot glass.   Was I surrounded by alcoholics?   Who   drinks shots at ten in the morning?
    “Bottoms up!” Dave cheered.
    I took my shot along with everyone else.   Jordan was right, it tasted good, not like alcohol at all.
    “Damn, that’s dangerous,” I said.
    Jordan laughed, “I know, right?   You could really fuck yourself up with those.   I tend to lose my clothes if I drink too many.”
    Duly noted .
    “Okay, I got ribs, steaks, chops and chicken.   Get your plates and grab what you want.   There’s plenty.”   Sally ordered everyone.
    After eating, more shots and a trip to the worst smelling outhouses on the face of the planet, we went to the infield, which was about an hour’s walk.   My feet were filthy and aching by the time we found our spots.
    After jets flew over, a local celebrity kicked off the race by singing the national anthem.   Some country artists told the racers to start their engines and we tried to watch cars as they flew by so fast they were a streak of color.   It was so loud, my ears were numb.
    After a few more drinks, I had dozed off and was woken by the sound of screeching metal.   I leapt out of my chair as a four car pile-up, slamming against the concrete wall in front of us.   Fans were standing and cheering.
    I felt the adrenaline surge through my veins that John has talked about.   Suddenly I was awake and alert, on my feet and cheering.   For what, I had no idea.
    “Exciting, right?”   John grabbed my hand and kissed me.
    Jordan had lifted her shirt and flashed her very large breasts to the drivers and pit crews.   She had grabbed them both and bounced them up and down then side to side yelling, “whoo hoo.”
    “Yes it is.   Who do you support here?   I mean, who is your driver?”   I asked, finally taking an interest in what was going on.
    John smiled.   “I like Kyle Bush, and so does Mikey.   It’s the car with the M&Ms on it.”
    “That’s right!   Best damn driver since Dale senior.”   Mike nudged me.
    “I see.”   Who the hell was Dale senior ?
    The race finish with a guy named Junior winning.   Apparently, it was his favorite track and the fans loved him.   As we made our way back to our trucks, people were screaming, “Go Junior!” and “It’s a Junior Nation.”
    The crowd seemed very pleased at the results.
    We packed everything in the truck and waited among lines and lines of cars to get out of the track, then the town.
    We were both so exhausted, neither one of us spoke on the way home.
    Back at our apartment building, John carried the cooler to my place and kissed me goodbye.  

BREATHTAKING
     

     
    After two weeks of planning, prepping, shopping and the most exercising I ever recall in my entire life, John and I were at the airport ready to board our plane.   John and I had only managed to make love a few times in the last few weeks, so I was primed and ready for play.
    “Did I mention I hate flying?” John asked as he stared at the gate.
    “Are you afraid to fly?”
    “No, I hate the security, the waiting, the tight quarters.   Flying is a miserable experience.”   John’s left leg was bouncing, shaking the whole row of seats.
    “John, it’s a short flight.   They will be boarding any minute.”   I tried to reassure him.
    “I know, I’m not going to freak out, I just don’t like it.   I promise, once we’re in the air, my mood will change for the better.”   He kissed the back of my hand and forced a smile.
    Finally a female voice came over the intercom announcing boarding for first class passengers.  
    “That’s us.”   I pulled his hand trying to get him out of his seat.
    “What?”
    “Oh, did I forget to mention,” I giggled, “that we had first class tickets?”   I bent down and kissed him.   “Now off