The Casanova (The Miles High Club)

by T L Swan

  I smile and go to my closet.

  Red netball dress  touchdown.

  An hour later, my email pings and I smile. It’s Ed—I have his notification as a different sound.

  Hi Pinkie,

  How are you?

  What’s new?

  I smile and reply:

  I’m great, how was your date with the toilet cleaner?

  Nerves swirl in my stomach as I see the dots. He’s typing.

  Incredible.

  My eyes widen and I put my hands over my mouth in surprise.

  What?

  I smile broadly and can hardly contain my excitement to write back.

  Incredible is a strong word.

  What was so good about it?

  I see the dots and do a little dance on the spot. I knew he felt it too.

  It’s not just me.

  Her, she is . . .

  There are no words for how hot this woman is.

  Let’s just say it was a great night.

  I’m taking her away today for a week, so I may not have internet service to email you.

  I giggle out loud in excitement. Oh wow, for the first time I feel optimistic about us. Perhaps this trip will bring out more of my Edgar in Elliot.

  God, I hope so.

  Taking her away?

  Wow.

  What brought that on?

  I hold my breath as I wait for his reply.

  I want her to myself for a while.

  I smile as I close my eyes. I want you to myself too.

  I pace as I think. What will I write?

  Umm . . .

  She’s a lucky girl.

  Have a great time, check in if you can.

  oxo

  Okay, speak soon.

  Xoxoxo

  A text sounds on my phone.

  I’m out the front.

  x

  I smile through the window of my bedroom and see the black Bentley pull up to the curb.

  A kiss at the end of his message really shouldn’t excite me as much as it does.

  I take one last look around my bedroom and get the distinct feeling that I’m forgetting something, but God knows what it is.

  I bounce downstairs. “Beck, I’m going,” I call.

  She appears from her room and smiles as she holds her arms out. “Be safe.”

  I hug her. “I will.”

  “Have a great time.”

  “Okay.”

  “And just come home any time you want. If you aren’t getting on, bail instantly.”

  I widen my eyes. “Yes, Mum. I wish Daniel was home, I wanted to see him before I go.”

  “He’s out for the day.”

  “Tell him I said goodbye.”

  “Okay.” She opens the door and I brush past her in a rush. I feel like I’m Scarlett O’Hara escaping Alcatraz or something. I know I shouldn’t be this excited, but holy hell I am. Andrew is at the door and takes my suitcase from me.

  “Thank you.” I smile.

  I try to walk calmly to the car and Elliot gets out and opens the door for me. “Hello,” he says.

  He’s so tall and towers above me; I go up onto my tippy toes and kiss him. “Hi.”

  His hand goes to my behind as he smiles down at me. “Hello,” he repeats.

  “Long time, no see,” I whisper up at him.

  He chuckles and moves out of the way so I can get into the car. I glance up to see Rebecca standing in the open door watching our interaction.

  Yes, I know I’m kissy . . . but he secretly thinks I’m incredible and you need to mind your own business already.

  I get into the car and Elliot slides in beside me.

  Andrew gets into the front seat after placing my bag in the trunk.

  “Thank you, Andrew.” I smile.

  He dips his head in the front seat as he pulls out onto the road. “Hello Kate, nice to see you again.”

  Elliot sits back in his seat as he watches me, wearing blue jeans and a white T-shirt and runners, with a navy bomber jacket on the seat. His big blue eyes look especially piercing today . . . or that could just be my incredible rose-colored glasses.

  I reach over and put my hand on his thigh and take his hand in mine. His quads are thick and muscular and I get a thrill that I can touch him like this.

  He picks my hand up and kisses my fingertips and I smile goofily over at him.

  “What is that look, Kathryn?” He smirks.

  My eyes flick to Andrew in the front seat—I can’t say it out loud for heaven’s sake.

  He raises his eyebrow in question.

  “Just excited,” I whisper.

  He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “Well, that makes two of us.”

  My eyes flick to Andrew in the rearview mirror. Can he hear us?

  I lean into Elliot. “Where are we going?” I whisper.

  He smiles as he puts his arm around me and pulls me close. “It’s a surprise.”

  “Does that mean you don’t know yet?”

  He chuckles and kisses my temple. “Yes.”

  I glance up to see Andrew’s eyes flick back to the road—he just saw that.

  I snuggle in close; Elliot’s chest is broad and his strong arm is around me. His aftershave is out of this world, how does he smell so good?

  “I feel like I forgot something?” I whisper.

  “All you need is your birth control pills.” He smirks.

  My eyes widen and flick to Andrew.

  “Stop it,” Elliot mouths.

  “He can hear us?” I mouth back.

  “So?” Elliot raises his eyebrow. “Forget he’s there.”

  Jeez, this is awkward. How do you forget someone is there listening to everything you say?

  I wonder what he’s heard before . . . what I wouldn’t give to put him on the lie-detector machine for an hour. I bet that would make for some interesting listening.

  My phone rings in my handbag and I dig it out. The name Daniel lights up the screen. I glance up to see that Elliot has read his name, and I go to put it back.

  “Answer it,” he says.

  “No, I’ll get it later.”

  “Answer it,” he repeats with more force as he takes his arm off my shoulders.

  Oh fuck, it’s going to look obvious if I don’t answer it now.

  “Hi,” I answer with an awkward smile.

  “What are you doing?” Daniel snaps.

  “Ha-ha, oh hi, Daniel.” I fake a laugh. Oh crap, Elliot can hear this conversation. “I’m on my way to the airport.”

  “You’re going away with him?” he barks.

  I push the phone nearly halfway through my skull to try and block it so that Elliot can’t hear. “Yes, just for a few days.”

  “Are you crazy?” Daniel blurts out. “That’s fucking stupid.”

  Elliot’s eyes narrow as they hold mine.

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “Um, crazy excited. I have to go, now is not a good time.” I fake-laugh again, oh hell on a cracker. Why are my flatmates such wet blankets?

  “Don’t go, this is a bad idea,” Daniel barks.

  I see the Adam’s apple in Elliot’s neck swallow as if he is clenching his jaw.

  “One night with him and you’re already doing what he says. No dick is that good, Kate.”

  Oh hell, I feel the blood drain from my face.

  There goes the neighborhood.

  Elliot glares at me and I can feel his contempt from here.

  “Goodbye Daniel.”

  “You can call me—”

  I hang up, cutting him off.

  I awkwardly stuff my phone back into my bag. Why wasn’t my phone on silent?

  Well, that was just fucking great.

  “Ah.” I shrug, embarrassed. “Daniel’s a bit protective.”

  “And has a death wish,” Elliot mutters dryly. His attention goes to out the window.

  We sit in silence as we drive along for a while. Elliot’s thoughts are on God knows what and I’m plotting ways to cut out
Daniel’s tongue.

  God . . . what next?

  Elliot had already told me this morning that he didn’t like Daniel touching me.

  Imagine what’s going to happen next time they see each other . . . And they obviously will, I live with one and am sleeping with the other.

  And where the heck is this coming from? Daniel was excited for me when Elliot was chasing me. Now it’s suddenly a bad idea?

  Ugh, this is a fucking disaster.

  We arrive at Heathrow Airport but instead of going to the main entrance, we continue to a side street and are stopped at a checkpoint barrier.

  Andrew passes out some kind of paperwork to the security guard through the window and the guard takes it back to his little station and checks it.

  Elliot is silent and broody and I know Daniel has pissed him off.

  It’s not my fault.

  If it’s any consolation, Daniel pissed me off too.

  I don’t want to say anything that Andrew might hear so I remain silent. We are ushered through the barrier and moments later are driving along a road that seems to connect to a tarmac.

  I want to ask what we’re doing, but I don’t want to sound stupid. The car drives for what seems like miles and then we pull up next to a fancy-looking plane.

  The car stops and Andrew gets out.

  My eyes widen as I stare at the plane: it’s big and lush and looks like a jet. “This is your plane?”

  “This is a Miles plane, yes.”

  “How many planes do you have?”

  “Three.”

  “Oh . . .” I feel my stomach flutter with nerves; what do you even say to that?

  It’s easy to forget that my sweet garbologist Ed is a Miles.

  I mean, I know it is . . . but . . . he really doesn’t seem like the same person.

  Fear runs through me—what if he isn’t?

  My thoughts are interrupted as Elliot opens the car door and holds his hand out for me. “Come.”

  I take his hand and climb out of the car; it’s windy and my hair blows up in the air.

  The plane’s engine is noisy. Elliot leads me to the stairs and a fancy-looking stewardess and a pilot in full uniform are standing at the top.

  “Good to see you, Mr. Miles,” the pilot says.

  Elliot shakes both of their hands. “Thank you.”

  The stewardess smiles and her eyes hold Elliot’s a little longer than needed . . . He puts his arm around my waist in a clear signal.

  Hmm . . . who’s she?

  He leads me through and past them . . . so no introduction of me?

  I wither a little, feeling insignificant.

  It’s a weird setup, no aisle. Cream leather seats in sets of two and a large room at the back—the doors are closed so I can’t see what’s in there.

  One huge television is on display in a lounge area.

  He opens the overhead. “You can put your handbag up here.”

  “Okay.” I reach up to put it in and his hands drop to my hips as he takes it from me and places it above.

  “Thanks,” I whisper.

  He gestures to a seat by the window and I sink into it; he sits in the one beside me.

  I feel awkward; I just got on a plane where the pilot and stewardess addressed him by name, and yet he didn’t introduce me to them.

  Weird . . . and annoying.

  I stare out of the window so I don’t say something.

  I remind myself that nobody is supposed to know about us, and that he’s just protecting his privacy.

  So why didn’t he give them a fake name for me . . . hell, call me fucking Pussy Galore for all I care.

  Ugh, this shouldn’t bother me; I annoy myself.

  “Can I get you anything?” the beautiful stewardess asks as her eyes linger on Elliot’s face.

  “Yes.” He smiles as he sits back in his seat. “Two champagnes please.”

  His eyes flick over to me. “Would you like anything else?”

  “No thanks.” I fake a smile: don’t talk to me, I’m not in the mood to talk to rude people.

  “That will be all, thank you,” he says.

  She smiles and disappears into the little room at the front.

  Elliot slides his hand up my thigh and I twist my lips—don’t say it . . . don’t say it.

  He brushes his fingers between my legs as he leans over and looks out of the window.

  I flick his hand off. “Stop,” I whisper.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing, but seeing as I don’t have a name it doesn’t matter anyway, does it?”

  Amusement flashes across his face. “You’re annoyed I didn’t introduce you?”

  “Nope.” I cross my arms and look out of the window again.

  Damn straight, I’m fucking annoyed.

  “I have my reasons,” he whispers.

  “Clearly.” I smile sweetly. “I love being at a whim to your reasons.”

  He chuckles and leans his head back against his seat as he looks at me.

  “What?” I ask dryly.

  “I wondered how long until Kathryn showed up.”

  I tilt my chin to the sky as I stare out of the window. “Kathryn doesn’t put up with your shit, Elliot.”

  “No, but she sucks my cock so well . . . so, I can forgive her.”

  “Sshhh,” I whisper angrily as I look around for the stewardess. “Will you shut up?”

  He leans over and nuzzles into my neck.

  “Stop it,” I say. He bites me, holding my head to his, and I smile as I try to subtly get away from him.

  “Promise me something,” he whispers.

  “What’s that?”

  “Promise me that we can have angry sex soon. I need to fuck you when you’re raging fucking angry with me.”

  I laugh out loud in surprise; the man’s an idiot. “With your annoying personality, I don’t think that will be a problem, Elliot.” I take off my cardigan.

  “Where’s my cute nickname from last night?” he whispers.

  I twist my lips as I try to act serious. “What?”

  “Ell,” he whispers.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

  “Although, I think it went like . . . oh Ellllllllllllll.” He moans as he simulates me having sex. “Fuck me harder, Ell, oh God yeah . . . just like that.” His eyes roll back in his head and I whip him with my cardigan.

  “Shut. Up,” I whisper as I try to hold my smile. “You can talk, you moan like a fucking cow.”

  He laughs out loud and pulls my head to him and kisses me. “It’s actually a prize-winning bull, get it right, Landon.” I smile against his lips and our kiss turns deeper, and then I remember the pressing point and I pull out of his grip. “Stop kissing your way out of the shit.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.” He leans back again. “Although, for the record, I won that argument.”

  My mouth falls open. “You did not.”

  “Here you are, two glasses of champagne.” The stewardess passes them over to us; we both jerk back from each other guiltily. She puts down a tray of chocolate-coated strawberries on the table in front of us.

  “Thank you.” We both smile.

  “Can I get you anything else?” she asks.

  “Not at this stage. Maybe a top-up after we take off,” Elliot replies as he takes my hand in my lap.

  The stewardess smiles and goes back to her little room at the front.

  Elliot holds his champagne in the air.

  “What are we toasting?” I smile.

  “The Canary Islands.”

  My eyes widen. “We’re going to the Canary Islands?”

  He smiles as he sips his champagne.

  “Where to?” I whisper in awe as I sip my drink.

  “There’s a sex club down there,” he replies casually.

  I frown . . . what? Oh, hell on a cracker . . . I didn’t think this through.

  “Go on,” I mutter dryly.

  “Masked men tie you up and
you get to watch me have sex with copious other hot women.”

  I choke on my drink and cough out loud. “What?”

  He slaps me on the back. “But don’t worry, if you behave, I’ll let you clean me up when I’m finished with them.”

  “Are you serious?” I laugh. Thank God he’s joking. “And how will I clean you up?”

  “With your tongue, of course.” He sips his drink with a mischievous smile.

  I lean closer to him. “But what you failed to read on the brochure, dear Ell, was that while you were having boring sex with mediocre women”—I sip my champagne—“I’m getting tag-teamed by the huge masked men, who, I may add, are allowed to”—I pause as I think of the right wording—“do their business inside of me . . . and it is you who gets to clean up their mess . . . with your tongue.” I smile and clink my glass to his.

  He winces as if getting a vivid visual and then his lip curls in disgust.

  The plane begins to hurtle down the runway and I grip the armrests and close my eyes.

  “You’re a dirty girl, Landon,” he whispers as the plane lifts off the ground.

  “I try my best,” I reply as I hang on for dear life.

  “How come they get to come inside of you and I don’t?”

  “Because they’re a fantasy,” I whisper with my eyes closed. “And you’re a real-life player who has probably had sex with ten million women.”

  “It’s nine and a half million, don’t get carried away.”

  I laugh out loud and so does he. Our eyes hold each other’s and he picks up my hand and kisses it with an unsaid affection. It’s not forced and it doesn’t feel wrong.

  Elliot Miles is fun.

  I like this game we’re playing . . . although I have no idea what it’s called or whether it has any rules.

  All I know is that the playing field is in the Canary Islands and I’m going to have a good week. Probably the best.

  I smile as I look out of the window, but sadly, I get the feeling Elliot is going to give me the hangover of all hangovers.

  The high will be worth the fallout . . . I think.

  “Would you like a top-up, sir?” the stewardess asks. I never did get her name. Although I must admit, with every glass of champagne her pining eyes over Elliot get a little more annoying.

  He’s taken, bitch.

  Okay, he’s not taken. But he is today and . . . for the next week, so back off already.

  “No thank you, Clarise. We are going to retire,” he replies casually.

  “Oh.” She nods as if taken aback. “Yes, of course.” She turns. “Call me if I can be of any service.” She walks into her room and closes the door behind her.