Please Be Seated

by Jenny Bunting

Her daughter, left at the altar, forced to share a room with an accomplished app designer who does not believe in fate and probably does not believe in romance.

  I stand up to wake myself up, jumping tiny jumps to wake up my limbs. No, we are not falling asleep just because we are in a room with a bed. I am going to bang this beautiful man who we may never see again, because I need this.

  Oh, how I need this.

  I walk to the sinks and splash some cool water on my face. Anything to wake myself up. Did Landon act weird before he left?

  Noooo. That can’t be it.

  The worry wakes me up like a shot of caffeine straight to my veins.

  Maybe he isn’t into this now that we’re off the plane. Maybe he’s freaking out. We are sharing the same room now, but that wasn’t his choice. He wanted to go back to the airport, but he is staying here. With me.

  He doesn’t believe in instant connections or fate. He might think we’re moving too fast. He may get skittish and bolt. Did he just bolt? He’s been gone for a long time.

  I have no idea where he would go so late in a town he doesn’t know, but I had a man run away from me who I knew pretty well. Anything is possible.

  I pace, working on my path in the carpet, checking my watch. If I had his number, I would’ve texted him three times already. I let out a sigh of relief when he arrives back with snacks exploding from his arms.

  “I had a bunch of singles and change so I got a little bit of everything. I have no idea how old this food is. I wasn’t sure what you liked. Oh, and…” He hands me a Diet Coke.

  “Thank you,” I say, popping off the top. The fake-sugar taste hits my teeth, and I feel rejuvenated.

  He spreads the snacks across the turquoise-and-orange bedspread. All the favorites are here. I take a bag of Fritos and crack it open. The chips are fresh and crisp between my teeth. He grabs a Snickers bar.

  “It’s been a while, my love,” he says to the Snickers, unwrapping it and taking a delicious bite. His eyes close in ecstasy. “Not stale. A win.”

  Not completely sure if I will be seeing that face later.

  “This feels like a movie,” I say as I crumple the bag in my hand and throw it in the trash.

  “Absolutely,” he says. He smiles and winks, and everything is okay again.

  “Has this ever happened to you?” I ask, sitting down on the bed. The soda and the chips have given me life, and I feel semi-awake. For now.

  “No,” he says with a laugh, taking the last bite.

  He sits down, facing me, our knees touching. “This is not fate, though.”

  “Of course not,” I say with a wink to match his.

  “I just happen to be seated next to the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he says, placing his hand on my knee, like a test. I look up at him, and his eyes plead with me.

  With hesitation, I lean in, touching his cheek with just my fingertips. Our lips touch softly, sensually, and he responds. His lips take mine, and we are back to our effortless connection—strong, easy. My body moves forward toward him like a magnet to another, and his hands press into my upper back. Somehow, I’m straddling him with my arms wrapped around his neck.

  It has been so long since I had romance, so long since I felt a man’s touch on my skin. It feels better than I remember, full of hopeful electricity.

  The kisses take my breath, and I pull away to gulp air. I can feel his hard length through my thin leggings, and the friction between us is enough to drive me insane. He takes a strand of hair and tucks it behind my ear. His eyes connect to mine.

  “Where did you come from?” he asks, his eyes burrowing into mine.

  “San Francisco,” I say like a complete dork.

  Landon laughs with his whole body and steals a kiss. “You are so goddamn cute.”

  We kiss again, and he rolls me onto my back with his lanky frame between my legs. He dives down on me, kissing my lips, my neck, my collarbone. All the sensations fire, and my mind short-circuits with all the new feelings reawakened inside of me.

  This is what I miss the most from being in love.

  Landon pulls back from me and hovers over me. Something brews behind those eyes, something I do not know. All I know is that this feels right.

  “I don’t have anything,” he finally admits.

  Well, fuck.

  “Oh,” is all I say as I sit up.

  “I know,” he says, rubbing his hair. “I have no idea what is even open in Waterloo at this hour.”

  I remember the small area next to the motel clerk, an area full of meager snacks and toiletries. “Did you go to the general-store area next to the motel clerk?”

  Landon’s face scrunches in confusion. “No. I found a vending machine in the middle of the building.”

  “I wonder if they have condoms,” I say.

  “They could,” he says, and then he slaps his hands. “Adventure time!”

  He high-fives me, and while it is unsexy, it’s so endearing it becomes downright erotic.

  “I’m ready,” I say. I grab a cardigan from my carry-on to throw over my T-shirt and leggings. I pull my flats on over my socks, which is awkward, but we’re going to the lobby.

  The motel clerk has probably seen a lot worse.

  The night is ink black with only the odd light from a far-off farm to illuminate the cracked parking lot. We walk quietly, while other patrons do not have the same courtesy. We hear moaning from a different room, and then, we hear screaming from another.

  The bell shutters with noise when we enter the lobby, and the motel clerk is nowhere to be found.

  “Over here,” Landon says with a finger point. Together, we walk to the picked-over grocery section. There are pretzels (I’m not sure I can ever eat another pretzel at this point), and a shit-ton of pain relievers.

  No condoms.

  “Damn,” Landon says, looking in all the nooks and crannies.

  “It wasn’t meant to be, I guess,” I say.

  “You stop that right now. That’s quitter talk,” he says.

  “What, the fate talk?” I ask with innocence, but he looks at me and rolls his eyes.

  Just then, the motel clerk emerges from the back.

  “See, a sign,” I say.

  Landon glares at me again but leans in. “Let’s see if my charm wins.”

  “Go for it,” I say.

  He clears his voice for the motel clerk and leans on the counter. “Excuse me, good sir.”

  “Yes?” the motel clerk asks, looking up.

  “Do you, by chance, have any condoms for purchase?”

  The motel clerk looks in the general area of the grocery but then shrugs his shoulders. “The other couple with you cleaned me out of my personal stash about five minutes ago. I wouldn’t trust them, though.” We wait for more elaboration, but nothing.

  “Where is the nearest gas station?” I ask.

  The motel clerk looks to the ceiling for answers. “It’s close, about five miles.”

  Landon leans toward me and whispers, “That is not close.”

  “Maybe that’s Iowa-close,” I say.

  “Good point.” Landon smacks the counter with an open palm. “We will be on our way then.”

  “You do that,” he says.

  The night air blasts us in the face upon our exit.

  “Damn,” Landon says.

  Breathing in and out, I summon whatever courage I have to suggest something that makes my palms sweat. “You know, there are other things we can do.”

  Landon quirks an eyebrow. “Like what?”

  “If you are clean, I wouldn’t mind…” I pop out my cheek with my tongue.

  “Oh…OH,” Landon says, pondering it with his chin in his hand. “Well, we must make it fair. You first.”

  “Excellent,” I say as we scamper back to our room. When we get back, his hands are at the base of my neck, his breath hot on my ear. Our kisses become frantic, full of heat and urgency, and my shirt is off with just my boring basic bra that gapes from my c
hest.

  He palms them, and my body responds. I sit back on the bed, and he crawls toward me, gripping my leggings and peeling them away slowly.

  I’m so glad I shaved my legs last night.

  He says nothing as he kisses my belly and unhooks my bra, looking at my breasts like he has uncovered a pile of gold. His tongue rolls over my nipple as I buck under his hand that cradles my sensitive area.

  I rub his hair as I lie there. The sensations are everything, and I don’t know which to focus on first.

  His kisses lighten as he snakes down my body, his lips inches from my sex, ready and wet for him. One finger enters me and then two. Then, his mouth is on me, and it shoots pleasure through me, radiating to all my corners. Moaning has always been a performative act for me, but these are genuine, coming from deep recesses within my core.

  This man…where did he come from?

  His tongue laps at my clit perfectly, and I build quickly to an orgasm that rips through me, sending shutters of pleasure so intense I almost roll off the bed.

  Landon stands, wiping his mouth, and I feel another wave of desire.

  After the aftershocks have rolled out of me, I sit up, pulling him toward me by his belt loops.

  “My turn,” I say, unbuckling his belt.

  “You don’t have to,” he says.

  Oh, now I’m definitely doing it.

  He doesn’t protest much longer as I unzip his pants. He is already long and thick. Inside, I’m also crying. Why couldn’t there be one questionable condom in the whole motel?

  The orgasm was amazing, but it would’ve been more amazing to have Landon inside me.

  Starting with the head, I flick my tongue against it slowly, and Landon responds. He leans toward me, and I take him deeper into my mouth. Bobbing my head, his breath quickens, and he moves with me, matching my rhythm. I bring my hand to his balls, and he responds. Looking up at him, I see this beautiful man I just met and I love knowing that I have this effect on him.

  His hands lightly rest on my head, and he says breathlessly, “I’m going to come.”

  I do not pull away but, instead, lock his eyes with mine. That connection unravels him.

  Salty liquid hits the back of my throat. I swallow dutifully and pull away.

  His eyes are closed as he stands there, teetering on his heels. He kisses me, although each other is still on our lips, and it’s a kiss of shared experience, of connection.

  “That took the stuffing right out of me.”

  I giggle at his turn of phrase, and he smiles. He asks while smiling, “What?”

  “Stuffing. It’s cute,” I say with a snicker.

  “Yeah, glad I said that after.”

  “No, it’s endearing,” I say.

  “Let’s not think about how unclean these sheets are and get to bed.”

  “Sounds great.”

  The sheets are softer than they appear when we climb in. Landon pulls me toward him so I’m the little spoon. He grips me and buries his head in the crook of my neck.

  “Sorry, I’m a snuggler,” he says.

  “Completely fine with me,” I reply.

  So funny to go from crying in the bathroom during a break from a job I hate to having oral sex with a man I barely know in a random motel room in Iowa.

  A complete stranger that has become more familiar to me than men I’d been with for years.

  Landon might not believe it, but this feels like more than just a random coincidence that we were seated next to each other.

  No matter what he says, this feels like fate. It feels like love at first sight. It’s everything we tell little girls not to expect.

  6

  The buzzing of my phone wakes me from my coma. It was the kind of sleep where I completely forgot where I was. It startles me, actually, but the memories of the night before come flooding back, and the panic leaves me.

  Landon is still here, asleep, with one arm across my middle.

  My phone vibrates, and I check the screen. It’s my boss, Daryl.

  “Hello,” I say once my fingers stop fumbling and I can press talk.

  “Erin, thank God. I’ve been trying to call you. Where are you? I heard what happened.”

  “I’m in Iowa. In a motel.”

  “Oh, poor thing; I’m so sorry.”

  I don’t mention that I’m not the least bit sorry. I push my hair from my face. “What’s up?”

  “The Coffer Group, they called me. They’re not sure about the deal. Supposedly, they got another offer, and it looks good to them, too, and they’re floundering. I need you to go back to New York. They like you, and I think you can close it. It is just really unfortunate you are in Iowa.”

  “Can I call them? Maybe that can work. I have no idea when I can get a flight to New York. I mean, it’s Iowa.”

  “The other offer came local, so someone in New York. Listen, I really need you to get back there. Stay as long as you need to. Close this deal. If you close this deal, the promotion we’ve been discussing might happen sooner than later.”

  I pause for a second. I’ve been asking for a raise and promotion consistently for years. When I think about how much money I’ve made the company and how little has trickled down, I could scream.

  It doesn’t matter that I cry in bathrooms during work. It doesn’t matter that I just met the most interesting, soul-connecting man I have ever met. This is business, and this is my life.

  Landon is just a guy I had fun with once, who did not believe in fate, though my body screams that yes, this is fate.

  “Okay, I’ll go.” I have no idea how I will get back to New York or even to the airport.

  Landon stirs next to me when I kiss his cheek. One eye cracks open, and he looks at me.

  “Morning, sunshine,” I say. “I have to go.”

  That wakes him up. He sits straight up and rubs his eyes. “What?”

  “My boss called me. The deal is about to fall through, and I need to go back to New York.”

  The expression on Landon’s face can be described as blank. “Okay,” he says.

  I breathe in and out. I do not want to be the typical woman who jumps all over a man for a response of one word. Still, it hurts me that there is not more angst, more desire from him.

  We sit there at a standstill. I break, standing up and walking over to my luggage.

  He says nothing as I pull out my rumpled suit and examine what I’m dealing with. Landon says nothing as I search and eventually find the iron. As the iron warms on the ironing board I found, I check for flights out of Waterloo to New York.

  When I turn back, Landon sits cross-legged on the bed, cracking his knuckles. It feels like we’re strangers again—something I keep forgetting.

  His stare bores into me, even with my back to him. I turn around and shrug. “What?”

  “I wanted more time with you,” he says.

  “Well, I have to work. The deal may fall through, and they want me back in New York. I have to go.”

  “But it seems like you hate your job.”

  “I don’t hate it,” I say as I hold my hand a little from the iron. It’s finally hot enough.

  It helps distract from the awkwardness and the general anxiety.

  “When I first sat down next to you, you seemed so uncomfortable. It’s just something I noticed.”

  He is not wrong. It makes me want to crawl out of my skin. My parents always raised me to believe that work is not supposed to be fun. It’s called work for a reason, so you find something you’re good at, excel at it, and that will fulfill you. Not the work, since it is work.

  A stranger sees something in me that my friends don’t see and my parents do not comment on. My brain spins with his words.

  “I’m good at it. And I’m vital to my company.”

  “You just seemed like a very unhappy person when I sat down. That is, until we started talking, and then you came to life. It was nice to see.”

  That comment strips me bare.

  This man,
who does not believe in fate or destiny, has an unknown level of heartbreak in store for me. Patrick, so steadfast, blindsided me on our wedding day when everything about our relationship felt safe and comforting. Landon is uncertainty incarnate, and I cannot take it, known or unknown.

  “Maybe I just want you to fly back to San Francisco with me. Spend more time with me.”

  “And then what?” I ask as I run the iron over my blazer pockets. Working on the creases is the perfect distraction.

  “And then…I don’t know.” His honesty hits me in the gut. He is basically asking me to quit my job just so we can spend a few more hours together. There are no declarations of love or passion from this man I’ve known less than twenty-four hours.

  That kind of thing only happens in movies, but I still hope and pine for it like a silly, silly woman.

  I prop up the iron and turn around. “I have to go for my job. I can’t just get on a plane with you, and go back hand-in-hand, and then we never see each other again. Are we together now…”

  “No,” he says bluntly. He stands up and approaches me, and I recoil away from his outstretched hands. His brow furrows. “But I would like to see where this goes.”

  “Ah,” I say, putting my hands on my hips. I laugh, at the ground.

  What should I expect out of this man I just met? I have no idea.

  “Erin,” he says softly, reaching for me again.

  So many things came to me after Patrick left. All the signs I did not see. The red flags that slapped me in the face, and I did not register them.

  Here, a man tells me that he doesn’t believe in fate, we are not together. I would be a complete idiot to not see this for what it is.

  Not fate. Not even a blip on the great loves of my life. This was just a tryst in a rundown motel in Iowa. Something to pass the time, something fun to tell my friends when I go back to San Francisco.

  “Let’s just call this what it was. A distraction,” I say.

  “Erin, I…” Landon says, and then my phone buzzes again.

  Daryl.

  “I have to take this,” I say as I point to my phone.

  Daryl is breathless. “Hi, so Charlotte was able to find a flight out of Waterloo that lays over in Chicago, but you could be in New York by one. I need you at the airport immediately.”