by Cat Shinier
* * *
The elevator doors close behind Raoul and I walk back to the living room where Matthew is busy clearing things off the table. He is slightly flushed.
“Hi Matthew, is everything okay?”
Matthew looks up at me.
“Miss Buchholz, everything is fine, thank you. Mr. Shalazar informed me that he will be flying back to Houston this evening, and that does not leave me very much time. So I have to coordinate everything really quickly.”
I can feel my heart dropping.
“Mr. Shalazar is leaving?”
Matthew worriedly hurries over to me.
“Miss Buchholz, are you okay? You are as white as a sheet.”
I nod and say that I’m fine. Then I run up the stairs to my bedroom because I feel like I have to be alone.
My thoughts race through my head. Is everything over now? Do I fly home to Germany, too? Is this it? I have to swallow back my tears. I grab my cell phone and am about to give Susan a call when I notice that there is a text message waiting for me. Shamar sent it.
* * *
Darling I must fly back to Houston this evening. I would like you to come along. Please pack your things. I will be back at about 6 p.m.
* * *
That takes a load off my chest that is about as heavy as the rock of Gibraltar. The tears run down my cheeks, but I smile at the SMS. He’s taking me with him. So it is not over yet. I only have an hour to pack, so I start folding things up as fast as I can and toss them into my suitcase, which takes only minutes so that I have enough time to text Susan:
* * *
Susy, hope your exams are going okay. Tonight I’m flying to Houston with Shamar – I look forward to that. Will text soon. Good luck. Luna.
* * *
I grab my suitcase and my purse and head out of my room and towards the stairs. That very moment Matthew darts out of one of the rooms.
“Miss Buchholz, please. Let me carry the suitcase. They are going to come and get the baggage soon. You don’t have to carry anything. Just leave it.”
So I place the suitcase on the ground before Matthew can grab it from me.
“Thank you, Matthew. Then I will just leave it here. Are you going to be leaving, too?”
“Yes, my flight leaves tomorrow morning.”
“So we’ll see each other in Houston? That’s great. I would have missed you.
Matthew smiles back and bows. Did I say too much?
“Mister Shalazar will be here at about 6 p.m. Would you like to have a snack?”
“No, I’m still full from lunch, thanks,” I tell him, shaking my head.
I leave him and turn back to the stairs, where I take a seat to wait for Shamar, who appears the second I sit down. The doors open and there he is. He looks tired.
“Hello, darling,” he says while he walks towards me. “How did the interview go?”
I’m so happy to see him. Even though we were apart for only a few hours it feels like an eternity.
“Exciting. Great you’re back. I was missing you already.” We walk towards each other and meet halfway. And the magic becomes palpable again. He wraps his arms around me, and his warm lips are on mine. He tastes like peppermint and coffee.
“Did you get my SMS? Matthew told me that Raoul was still interviewing you. I did not want to disturb you.”
I nod. “Yes, I got it and my suitcase is packed. I told Matthew. And, by the way, the interview with Raoul went really well, it was so relaxing. I thought the conversation was going to be much more stressful.”
Shamar strokes my back, and I can feel him smile.
“Raoul really liked you. I think he enjoyed the conversation he had with you.”
I’m so happy to be close to Shamar again. I kiss him.
“Am I able to just come along with you? Don’t you have to change my reservations?”
“No, that’s all been taken care of. One of my assistants did that. Are you ready?”
A few minutes later we are sitting in the huge black van with the tinted windows and are being chauffeured to the airport by Ahmad. But not, as I had assumed, to the departure hall but rather along the building and to a gate behind the building, about 200 yards away from the terminal and the high gate that surrounds the airport.
We drive right out onto the field. A man with a vest and ear plugs waves the lighted beacons that he is holding in both hands. We drive right up to a large white jet and stop beside it, and I see it has the same initials that Shamar has on his T-shirt monogrammed on the tail.
“So this is the plane we are going to take?” I had thought that we were going to be flying with the airlines, maybe even first class. But I had not expected a company jet.
Shamar nods. “Yes, it’s easiest this way.”
I’m so naïve, I think to myself once again.
We get out and head towards the staircase that leads up to the plane where a stewardess is waiting for us at the top of the stairs. As I move closer, I can read her name on her name tag. “Natasha.” There is a spacious area right behind the doors, including various armchairs and tables. The chairs look like they can be turned into loungers. In the back, I see a narrow hallway and a door.
We sit down, and the stewardess asks us if we’d like to have something to drink before the plane lifts off. As usual, we order water. Outside I hear voices and people running up and down the stairs, then Raoul appears at the cabin door. He is being accompanied by a very serious looking official who checks our passports and returns them with a friendly nod.
Quite a difference to what I’m used to. Normally I have to stand in line to get checked in. Then stand in line to have security check my bags and the things I want to bring on board. When the time finally rolls around to board the plane, that process takes at least another 20 minutes, then followed by the walk from the door of the airplane to the seat which takes what seems like a small eternity.
So here I sit in a private plane and don’t have to think of a single thing. I didn’t even have to acquire a ticket to get where I am, and nobody checked my bags, and instead of waiting in line, the official gets on board and joins us. Money moves the world, is all I can think of.
When everything has been taken care of, the stairway is towed away by a small van and the doors are locked. I can hear the engines below, and while their roar starts to increase the captain tells us over the intercom that we are ready for takeoff. There is a small jolt, and the plane starts moving. Raoul and Shamar are talking business while I feel a little left out, and a bit nervous. I’m almost expecting the chair I’m sitting in to slide backwards. I look out of the window and see that we are passing by the other planes that are waiting for takeoff. And even though the sun is beginning to set, and the light outside is dimming, all the lights along the runway are lit and are shining brightly.
As the plane picks up speed and the engines start roaring I try to imagine what awaits me in Houston. All of these past few days have gone so fast. Shamar looks over at me and takes my hand.
“Don’t be afraid, everything is fine.” His hand touching me has a calming effect on me, and that is good, because now the engines are really starting to roar as we suddenly lift off and seem to be airborne immediately.
The plane banks elegantly to the left, leaving Dubai behind. There’s a delicious smell of food in the air, and I realize that I’m getting really hungry. A short while later Natasha appears with various meals we have to choose from. I select small rolls and a vegetarian spread, salmon steamed on vegetables and a salad, with a chocolate mousse for desert. I made the right choice, it seems, everything tastes delicious. After dinner we are served whiskey, and I have a nice chat with Raoul, who is beginning to feel quite familiar. Of course, he knows more about me now after our interview this afternoon.
Then Raoul and Shamar huddle together again to discuss business. I look out the window into the pitch black sky, and see my own reflection. My thoughts wander while I get more and more tired and am hardly able to stifle a yawn.
�
��Would you like to sleep, Luna? Let me show you the bedroom.” Tenderly Shamar caresses my back. I nod.
“Would you please excuse us for a moment, Raoul?” Shamar rises and helps me out of my chair.
Raoul smiles. “Of course, Shamar, no problem. I’ll get cracking on this MacAllister here in the meantime,” he says lifting his glass and toasting us.
Shamar takes me to the back of the plane and opens a door which leads into a bedroom with a large double bed. There’s another door that leads to the bathroom. I’m speechless, and I once again understand that Shamar is introducing me to a completely new world. One that I actually never knew existed. For him it is a matter of course. For me it isn’t.
“Why don’t you just stretch out and try to get some sleep, darling. There are a few things I must discuss with Raoul, and then I’ll join you. Is that okay with you?”
“Of course, Shamar. I’m really tired.” Shamar gives me a kiss and leaves. I go and inspect the bathroom and find everything I need. Then I slip under the covers and turn to my side. The steady drone of the engines sends me to sleep almost immediately.
At some point, I wake up when I feel Shamar climbing into bed with me. I am lying on my side, and he cuddles up to me from behind. Like the past nights, he is naked. I can feel his warmth along my back. It’s pleasant to stretch out against him, and subconsciously I rub my backside against him.
“If you continue like that darling, I won’t be able to stop myself from ravishing you,” he whispers into my ear, and immediately I’m wide awake. I feel his hard penis hot against me and digging into my behind relentlessly. Now that I’m awake I’m more than willing to continue this game.
I start moving and rubbing myself against him. But now it is on purpose and with a specific intention. Shamar puts his arm around me and cups my breasts. His hand slips into my nightgown and starts pleasuring me. I moan and feel the moisture pool in my crotch. My bare behind is right in front of him, and my nightgown has slid up quite a bit. His hard penis glides along the fold of my derriere while his warm breath is accelerating in speed, and caressing my neck. I like to have him behind me like this. The memory of Peter appears briefly and disappears just as quickly as it came. This is something completely different. Shamar would never be violent or hurt me, of that I am absolutely sure.
Shamar turns around in the other direction quickly and takes a condom from the drawer in the little cabinet and during that time I take off my nightgown. I take the package from him and remove the condom. I am kneeling over him with my legs spread apart and pull over the condom. While I do that he watches me in the ray of light that shines in from under the cabin door.
I want to squat down on him and take him up into me, but Shamar turns around and pulls me on his knees, pressing my chest down on the mattress. Now my most intimate feminine spot is looming right in front of his eyes, unprotected.
His tongue starts licking me and he moans deeply as he tastes me. “You are so moist and you taste so good,” he whispers. Immediately his tongue returns to where it was to pamper me again. The pressure in my abdomen starts building with a ferocious speed, but I don’t want to come without him because I know that I cannot control or stop my orgasm once it has started.
“Please come to me,” I plead with him.
“In a moment, my angel.”
“Please, come… I moan, and I can feel my orgasm building within me, relentlessly. “Shamar, I’m about to come and I want to have you in me.”
“If that is the case, your wish is my command.”
He leans up behind me and his penis is right in front of my entrance. With a deep and swift thrust he penetrates me. He’s so big I can hardly take him up inside me. He retreats briefly and then thrusts again. He fills me completely and my orgasm comes crashing over me. I moan quietly while my muscles contract around him.
Shamar moans, too. “Oh God Luna, you’re so tight and so hot.” While my orgasm starts to wane, Shamar is picking up speed. He grabs my arms and pulls them back. This way the top part of my body is held in the same position. His movements are incredibly erotic, and he pushes into me from different angles, alternating the insistence with which he does. He alternates between a fast, steady beat and slow and luxurious. I can feel my insides starting to pulse again.
Shamar seems to feel it, too because he moans. “Come again, Luna. Come once more. For me.”
He’s holding me while he conquers me, quickly and firmly. I didn’t know that you can come on command, but when he’s finished saying that another huge orgasm rolls over me.
While my muscles twitch and close hard around him, Shamar orgasms vehemently. We are both completely out of breath and fall back onto the bed, exhausted. Having sex above the clouds is breathtaking. I lie next to Shamar. My pulse is racing, and I’m completely spent. It takes a while for my breathing to calm down again, and then I have to smile. A big wide smile. The Mile-High Club has a new member – me.
Shamar walks over to the bathroom to throw away the condom and then returns to bed. We cuddle up and fall asleep.
Chapter Thirteen
After a 16-hour flight we are approaching Houston’s George Bush International Airport, and at about 4:30 a.m. local time the descent starts. I have completely lost all sense of time but sure could use some food, since the dinner that Natasha served was quite a while ago.
There’s a nine hour time difference between Houston and Dubai. Natasha served us breakfast in bed, a luxury I have a hard time getting used to. Here I am above the clouds in a bed with Shamar and someone is serving breakfast.
We don’t leave our bedroom until later. Raoul’s already in his seat shuffling papers. He had the 2nd bedroom at his disposal, and before we join Raoul, Shamar shows me the rest of the plane, that has a total of three bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. Then the sitting area where Raoul is, and a small kitchen. Between the cockpit and the sitting area is the space for the crew, where a second crew sleeps when it’s a long haul flight.
I glance out of the window. The airport lights are bright, and it will be daylight soon. I fill out the immigration papers the stewardess handed to me before as I’ll be needing them for customs soon. The plane is reaching the final stage of its descent, and we are apparently about to land. We sort of sink the last few feet and gently set down on the runway. Houston’s skyline is lit and bright against the dark sky in the background. I admire it while the plane taxis along the runway, about to reach the parking position.
Even though I’ve spent the night in the sky, I feel quite rested. Shamar and Raoul also look rested, too and look like they are ready to go. They are used to traveling more than I am. I wonder what the time difference is going to do with me. Probably wreak havoc, although I have heard that it is easier to travel from East to West than West to East.
Then the doors of the plane open. As we disembark I realize that the temperature here in Houston is a lot cooler than it is in Dubai, and much cooler than I expected it to be at this time of night, even though we are far to the south. A large Mercedes is parked next to the plane. It’s a black SUV Mercedes GL 65 AMG. It’s huge, and the windows are tinted so that you cannot see inside the car from the outside. Aha, so Shamar is worried about his safety here in the United States, too, and not only in the Emirates.
A man in a dark suit gets out and opens the rear door on our side. He’s older than Shamar, and I’d say he is in his 40s. Raoul and Shamar greet him cordially and call him Kieran.
Shamar introduces me, and I say hi. Afterward I get into the car behind Raoul and enter the dark interior. The back consists of two individual seats that are separated by a seat. Pretty complex, I think to myself. Lots of space. Wealth is space, and space is a luxury.
Raoul, Shamar and I settle into our comfortable seats. I notice that there are various buttons on the side, but I can’t figure out what they are for. But that doesn’t matter because the car starts moving the minute we are settled, and our seat belts are fastened. We leave the airfield and head for a
separate exit where I have to hand over my passport again, but the immigration formalities only last a few minutes. Raoul and Shamar quietly continue their business discussion while I have a look at the buildings and the landscape we pass by on our way to Shamar’s house.
We are heading north on Interstate 45. Shamar said the area where he lives, The Woodlands, is about 30 miles from downtown Houston, so I assume we’ll be arriving in about half an hour. I settle back and close my eyes, feeling jet lag catching up with me, and the sound of the car’s engine is really making me feel like going to sleep.
All of a sudden there’s a jolt, and I’m awake. A security person is discussing something with our driver. We seem to have arrived. Woodland Hills is an old gated community with huge mansions, somewhat remote and not near roads. At this time of early morning, people are still asleep and the houses are dark. Nobody is to be seen except the security people who drive around.
Eventually, we turn off on Tranquil Path, where suddenly the atmosphere appears to be even more refined. We take a left and an electronic gate opens automatically. You cannot see into the grounds from the street. Trees line the path leading up to the house, and we approach a white building that looks like a conglomeration of various smaller buildings, with the one big building seemingly constructed of many smaller ones. It is absolutely gigantic. I see several saddle roofs and gables. Large, floor-length windows with smallish outlets are distributed across the whole surface. The house has two stories, whereby the top floor is situated under the gables of the roof slopes.
This is not simply a house - this is a giant estate. Even the distance from the street to the house is immense. As far as I can see the property continues behind the house. We pass by a dark green, immaculate lawn covered with flower beds surrounding trees and bushes that have geometric shapes.
There’s a roundabout in front of the house that makes it possible to back up without having to turn around. The driveway passes by the house, but I cannot see where it leads to, because we stop in front of the front door. Raoul remains seated while Shamar leaves the car.
