by Whitney G.
The man who was now boarding, the man who’d earned the starring role in all of my latest wet dreams, was turning the head of every woman who looked his way. He was staring at his cell phone, completely oblivious to the blushing cheeks and whispers from the onlookers, and I took several steps backwards, moving back to where I’d been.
Confused, I kept my eyes on him, realizing that he looked even sexier now than I remembered. His full lips were pressed into a firm, angry line, and as he tapped his phone’s screen, I couldn’t help but think about how those same fingers had caressed me, how he’d slipped them inside of me.
There was only one problem with how he appeared right now, though. He was a pilot. An actual pilot.
Dressed in a navy blue uniform, his four gold captain’s stripes stood stiff and bright on his broad shoulders. His blazer was perfectly tailored to his build, not completely hiding the chiseled abs he possessed underneath. And as his free hand gripped a handrail, his hat fell forward, obscuring his beautiful blue eyes.
I blinked a few times, trying to make sense of this, refusing to accept that this wasn’t some sort of mind trick. The more I thought about it though, the more it seemed to add up: He was never home in his condo, didn’t invest too much time into making his space feel too personal outside of those aerial photography pictures, and our first conversation on the rooftop party about the planes made so much more sense now. I just didn’t want it to.
The tram came to a jerky stop when we reached another set of gates, and his eyes remained glued to his phone.
I tried to tear my gaze away from him, to look outside the windows again, but as he clenched his jaw and swiped his screen, I couldn’t help but stare just a little while longer.
More passengers boarded the tram, and as I stole one last glance at him, he looked up and turned his head toward me.
He raised his eyebrow and slowly looked me up and down, his expression shifting from stoic to confused. Then that familiar, cocky smile tugged at his lips.
He let go of the handrail and walked over—gripping the handrail next to me and letting his hand brush against mine. “Hello, Gillian.”
“Gillian?” I feigned surprise. “No, I think you have me confused with someone else.”
“Your name tag says, ‘Gillian,’ Gillian.” He smiled even wider, looking at it. “I was also burying my cock inside of your pussy four weeks ago, so I’m pretty sure I don’t have you confused with someone else.”
The woman standing next to us gasped and moved away.
“Did you…” I blushed, in utter disbelief that he’d said that aloud. “Did you really have to say that, Jake?”
“Did you really have to act like you didn’t know me?” He raised his eyebrow. “I rewound my security tapes back from the last time we spoke. I didn’t catch you with the other guy you mentioned, the one who’s better than me supposedly.”
“It’s not supposedly.”
“It’s definitely supposedly.” He still wasn’t whispering. “And a part of me is beginning to think you made him up. In case you’re not, though…” He looked somewhat jealous. “If he was any good at fucking, you would’ve never needed to come home with me.”
The man standing on the other side of me leaned closer.
“He’s not made up, and we decided to meet at a hotel,” I said, lowering my voice. “I decided I didn’t want an audience, decided you didn’t deserve to watch.”
“What a shame. I was looking forward to learning what not to do.” He stared at me, narrowing his eyes as the seconds passed. “You really need to work on lying, Gillian. You’re not very good at it.”
“I take it that’s your specialty?”
“Lying?”
“Denying,” I said. “You’re too cocky to believe that anyone else could possibly be better than you.”
“Only when it comes to one particular department.” He stepped closer as passengers pushed by us to get off at Terminal C. “I would’ve never guessed you to be the flight attendant type.”
“Is that an insult?”
“It’s a compliment.” He paused as the tram rolled on once more, finally whispering. “Your attempt at impersonating a pilot makes perfect sense now.”
“I could say the same about you. You never told me you were a pilot.”
“At what point, between eating your pussy and taking you against the wall, was I supposed to bring that up?”
My cheeks warmed as he closed the gap between us, as he trailed his fingers against my silver flight pin.
“How long have you really been flying?” he asked.
“A year, maybe two. And yourself?”
“Twenty.”
“What?” I swallowed, silently doing the math in my head. He didn’t look any older than thirty, and even that was pushing it. “So, you’re in your early fifties? Late forties?”
Another smile. “Late thirties. Where are you headed?”
I didn’t answer. He’d stopped touching my flight pin and was looking at me with the same intensity he did when we first met.
“Do you need to look at your schedule, Gillian?” He leaned forward, whispering into my ear. “I asked where you’re heading.”
“Overseas.”
“Surely you can be more specific than that. What city?”
“London. Where are you headed?”
“London.”
The tram rounded the curve as it approached my stop and I checked his blazer for where a tell-tale Elite pin should’ve been if he flew for the same airline, but there wasn’t one. I let out a small sigh of relief.
“Well,” I said, clearing my throat. “My stop is up next. It was interesting seeing you again, Jake.”
“Only interesting?”
“Yes. Only interesting.”
He didn’t say anything else, he simply continued staring at me, making me wet without any effort at all.
“Now stopping at Terminal D. Gates 1-22.” The speaker system announced. “Please watch your step.”
Jake walked past me and suddenly stopped, looking over his shoulder. “There’s only one Elite flight heading to London this morning. This is where we need to get off for it, correct?”
My jaw dropped. I couldn’t think or get a single word to fall out of my mouth. I just stared at him as his signature, sexy smile crossed his lips, as he looked at me in the same way he did when he pushed me against his bookcase.
“Since you’re not getting off right now,” he said, stepping off and looking amused. “I’ll see you aboard.”
Gate B9
Gillian
In flight --> London (LHR)
“Mimosa on the rocks for 3B, mineral water for 4B, and an orange juice for 4A…” I muttered under my breath as I opened an ice drawer.
I was standing in the galley closest to the cockpit, mixing pre-take-off drinks for the first class passengers. I was trying to pretend that Jake was not the pilot on this flight, that he hadn’t purposely brushed his hand against my waist when we boarded and winked at me, setting my nerves on fire all over again.
This is not happening. This is not happening…
To make matters even worse, when I ventured into the cockpit to ask him and the first officer what they wanted for lunch, I was pretty sure he said, “Is your pussy on the menu?” before coughing and asking for steak and a Coke.
“Miss Taylor?” The sound of The Hawk’s voice made me drop a stack of napkins. I turned around to face her and she frowned, motioning for me to fix my hair.
“Yes, Miss Connors?” I asked.
“Would you like to explain why the passenger in 12C has a glass of Sprite in his hand before takeoff?”
She says this like I have a choice…
“Feel free to answer me any time between now and right now, Miss Taylor.”
“He told me he was having stomach pains after eating something spicy,” I said. “I was simply going above and beyond and handling things The Elite Way.”
“No, you were not.” She glanced down
the aisle and then narrowed her eyes at me. “Because in The Elite Way, there’s no way in hell that someone in economy has a glass before takeoff.”
I gave her a blank stare.
“Glasses are for first class and they’re not given until we’re in the air. Always. Passengers in economy get a bottled mini water, a smile, and a vomit bag if they’re having ‘stomach problems’ before takeoff. During flights, when we do offer them beverages, they receive plastic cups. Surely you learned this in flight attendant training and you’ve shockingly never made this mistake before, so do I really need to go into the numerous safety reasons behind glass and plastic cups during pre-take-off?”
“No, Miss Connors.”
“Good.” She snapped her fingers and pointed down the aisle. “Go get my first-class glass back. Now.”
I rolled my eyes and headed down the aisle. With her on this flight, maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t have too much time to think about Jake at all.
I kindly asked for the glass of Sprite from 12C, replaced it with a plastic cup and finished serving the remaining drinks for first class.
I double checked the manifest for the passengers’ dinner requests, made sure the overhead bins were locked shut, and watched the other two flight attendants take their time doing their jobs.
They were supposed to be assisting the last boarding passengers in business and economy, but they kept finding random reasons to come to the front of the plane to step into the cockpit. To ask Jake meaningless questions or “make sure” it was a Coke he wanted to have for a lunch beverage.
“You’ve flown with him before?” The blonde, a woman who’d introduced herself to me as Elizabeth, whispered.
“I wish.” The redhead, Janet, stared straight ahead. “I would definitely remember him. Trust me.”
“Is he wearing a wedding ring?”
“No. First thing I noticed.”
“No tan line where one should be either, just in case?”
Before she could answer, Miss Connors appeared and loudly cleared her throat. “When the two of you get done playing Cockpit Connie, would you kindly return to doing the job you get paid to do?”
The two of them blushed and quickly walked away.
I glanced toward the cockpit as Jake and the first officer looked over their weather reports and vowed not to look anymore once the door was locked.
The second boarding was complete, I completed my checklist and strapped myself into a jump-seat, grateful that this was one of the newer, more luxurious planes. There was no need for all of the flight attendants to stand in the aisle and demonstrate the safety procedures, since every headrest held its own television that played a prerecorded clip.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking…” Jake’s deep, sexy voice came over the speakers as we pushed back from the gate and rolled toward the runway. “On behalf of the flight crew, let me welcome you aboard Elite Flight 1505 to Heathrow-London. Our estimated flight time is eight hours and fifty-five minutes, and we expect this to be a very smooth flight,” he said. “If there’s anything you need during our trip, the flight attendants aboard are here to make you as comfortable as possible. Please sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight.”
I waited to hear him say the remainder of the Elite Airways spiel, especially the mandatory “I love flying for Elite and I hope you’ll love it as much as I do,” but it never came. The only sounds that came next were a beep and the sudden silence that always came before the plane ascended toward the sky.
Shutting my eyes, I tapped my fingers against my dress as the plane flew higher, as the sound of air pressure hitting the metal rushed against my ears. No matter how many times I flew, takeoff was always the most nerve-wracking part for me.
When the plane finally leveled and the seatbelt sign was turned off, I opened my eyes and unbuckled my seatbelt. Knowing Miss Connors would soon be critiquing my every move, I figured I might as well start the wine and cheese service early.
Stepping into the galley, I took out a tray of wrapped gourmet cheeses, nearly dropping them to the ground when I saw Jake standing in front of me. He was staring at me intently, those stark blue irises playful, yet watchful.
“May I help you with something, Captain?” I asked. “It’s a bit early in the flight for you to be out here.”
“You don’t need to call me that.” He took the cheese tray from my hands and set it on the counter.
“Are you here because I didn’t bring you your Coke yet, Captain?” I needed to remain professional. “I’ll have to bring it you after the wine and cheese service, or my supervisor won’t be happy with me.”
“This will only take five minutes.”
“I can only give you five seconds.”
“Fine.” He looked at me. “I need to fuck you again.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” He stepped close, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I need to fuck you again. Preferably the second we land in London, but I’m not opposed to doing it after you get finished serving either.”
It took everything out of me not to say, ‘After I get done serving would be fine,’ so I swallowed, trying to get my thoughts together. “I thought we both agreed that it couldn’t happen again. Besides, now that we’re in this situation, it really can’t happen again. It’s against company policy.”
“You’re the last person who ever needs to talk about following company policy.”
“Well then, I’ll just say no thank you. Even if I was interested, now that I know you’re a pilot, you couldn’t pay me to sleep with you again. I’m sure you have plenty of other flight attendants at your disposal. Sleep with one of the ones you’ve slept with before.”
“I’ve only slept with one flight attendant,” he said, his eyes on mine. “Although I’m not sure she counts since she lied when we met and told me she was a pilot.”
“Maybe she was just trying to be mysterious.” I could barely hear myself. “Regardless, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a pilot.”
“No, it doesn’t.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “What do you have against pilots? Something you’ve experienced?”
“Something I’ve heard.”
The plane shook suddenly and I braced my hand against the wall as the seatbelt sign turned on. I tried to lean forward to grab the cheese tray, but Jake held it still—looking calm as ever.
“Don’t you think you need to return to the cockpit?” I asked. “Or do you not feel the plane shaking right now?”
“It’s only light turbulence. It’ll stop once we get out of the clouds.”
As if on cue, the first officer’s voice came over the speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, my apologies for the light turbulence you’re currently experiencing. We’re cutting through a patch of clouds, so it should only last a few more seconds at most, and I’ll turn off the seatbelt sign again here shortly. Hope you’re enjoying the flight.”
The beep sounded and Jake’s eyes returned to mine.
“So, back to our conversation about pilots—” His fingers trailed my lips. “What have you heard?”
“A lot…”
“Then tell me,” he said. “Tell me exactly what you’ve heard.”
“I’ve heard that pilots can’t be trusted, that your occupation practically calls for each and every one of you to cheat.” I paused as his free hand strummed against my waist. “The ones who aren’t married have a woman in every city and they fuck whoever, whenever they want. They even sleep with some of the passengers from time to time.”
“Is that all?” He pressed his forehead against mine.
“No. No, that is not all.”
“Okay.” He looked as if he was holding back a laugh. “Continue.”
“I’ve also heard that all of you—”
“Some of you.” He cut me off. “The word ‘all’ is a bit presumptuous.”
“Fine. Most of you are emotionally distant and cold. What you see is what you get. It’s all yo
u get. Even the rare pilots, the good guys who almost seem capable of being faithful are…”
“Are what?” he asked. “What have you heard about them?”
“They almost always have a flight attendant for a mistress.” I moved my head back before he could lean in any further. “Is any of that true?”
“If it was,” he said, looking slightly amused, “I would’ve agreed with you. Contrary to your uneven and untrue arguments, a man’s profession has nothing to do with his degree of fidelity.”
I opened my mouth to object, but he pressed a finger against my lips.
“That’s only my first rebuttal,” he said. “Second, if a pilot is single and does have a woman in every city, that shouldn’t be a problem since he doesn’t owe anyone anything. I’ll agree with you on your last point, though. What you see is definitely what you get, but I have no interest in having a flight attendant as a mistress.”
“Too scared your girlfriend will find out?”
“We’ve discussed this.” He pulled me close. “I don’t do girlfriends.” His lips were suddenly on mine, coaxing and warm, then demanding and hot. His teeth punished my bottom lip with a soft bite and I couldn’t help but kiss him back.
Slipping a hand under my dress, he whispered against my mouth. “You don’t want this again?” He tugged at my soaked panties and pressed his thumb against my swollen clit, sensuously rubbing it in circles as he trailed his tongue against my neck.
“No…” I lied, holding back a moan.
Everything around me became a hazy blur as his fingers continued to mercilessly tease me, as his tongue swirled against my exposed skin. I wanted to give in, to admit that he could bring me to pleasure like no one else could, but I knew having him again would only affect one of us.
“Gillian.” His mouth returned to mine. “Say yes to fucking me at landing.”
“No.” I bit his lip and stepped back. “I can’t.”
He looked completely confused. “And why is that?”
