The Price of Desire

by PE Kavanagh

  I stopped at an airport shop to buy a bottle of water. I must have begun daydreaming on line and was awoken from my Vegas fantasies by a deep, slightly accented voice saying, “Excuse me, ma’am. Excuse me, are you ready?”

  I looked ahead at the huge gap in the line ahead and the clearly impatient sales girl at the register. The gentle beckoning certainly had not come from her. I turned around to see a man smiling at me.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said breathlessly. Wow, he was very good looking. Too good looking. The kind of man with whom I tended to act like a complete idiot.

  “Gosh, I must have been daydreaming...”

  “NEXT!” came the insistent urge from the cashier. I paid for my water and magazine, then walked out, afraid to look back at the man. Not that I needed to because his face was indelibly etched into my mind.

  I arrived back at the gate just as boarding began, my generous sister kind enough to have upgraded me to first class. The experience was growing more and more perfect, and I settled into my big comfy seat and accepted a glass of champagne from the attendant.

  I realized, a bit too late, that I hadn’t set myself up well for the flight. I needed to get my magazine out of my bag, put away my phone and buckle my seat belt. But all my hands were full. I sat, awkwardly, trying to figure out what to put down and how to juggle everything.

  “Would you like some help?” someone asked. Not just someone, but that same voice from the store. Could it be?

  I turned around to see one seat behind me, on the other side of the aisle, the gorgeous man with the beautiful smile. How did he know what I was doing? Was my clumsiness transmitting seats away?

  I decide to bypass my potential embarrassment, as this was an omen of great things, and I wasn’t going to let Monique the Dork rule the day. Monique the Goddess/Diva/Sex Kitten was coming out to play. And play with this man I would.

  “Why yes, I would,” I said in as coy a voice as I could muster. Did that really come out of my mouth? Holy shit, I was embarrassed for myself already. But no, must keep going. No retreat.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked, right back in that fucking sexy voice of his, so deep and tinted with just a hint of an accent. Italian? Or Spanish? Holy crap this man could probably talk me into an orgasm. Right here on this plane.

  “Well, would you mind pulling my tray out for me? I seem to have a shortage of hands.” I looked up just in time to see the flight attendants eyeing me quizzically. I flashed right back - Back off bitches. He’s mine.

  “Absolutely,“ he volunteered. He rose from his seat and was by my side in one easy step. He removed my elbow from the armrest and pulled out the small extension of the middle tray, which I’d already filled with my phone and headphones.

  I could smell him as he leaned in to me, and thought, this man cannot be for real. I was getting more and more turned on. I wondered if the lady sitting next to me would switch seats.

  “Anything else I can do for you?” he asked with the most enticing smile I had ever seen. The champagne must be going to my head…

  “Well, yes, since you asked. A refill would be wonderful.” I handed him my nearly empty champagne glass.

  He took my glass, walked to the galley, and asked the shocked attendants for more champagne. They admonished him to return to his seat, as we were about to take off. He smiled at them and they filled the glass without any more commentary. He was a charmer and knew it. I wondered if this guy was ever denied what he wanted. Part of me wanted to be the one who rejected him, but who was I kidding. This man could’ve invited me into the airplane bathroom and I would probably have gone.

  “Champagne for the beautiful lady.” He stood in front of me, handing me my newly filled glass. Did he really just call me a beautiful lady? I tried not to look so obvious while searching to see who else he could have been referring to. What an ass I am.

  He laughed softly.

  “Why, thank you. I will definitely recommend you for a generous raise.” And I winked. Seriously, I winked. I must have been channeling some celebrity vixen; something was fueling my newfound brazenness. We hadn’t even taken off yet, and it was already the most fun plane ride I had ever taken.

  He returned to his seat and I looked down, pretending to flip through my magazine. OH MY GOD. I knew I was breathing hard and tried to calm myself down. Take it easy, babe. I’m sure this guy is used to women falling all over him. Play it cool!

  I pretended to skim my magazine through the remainder of takeoff. Every now and then I felt like he was looking at me, but I dared not turn back and check. Too obvious, too desperate, even though I was both of those things. Just keep reading, I told myself.

  I remembered my headphones and decide to put some music on. Yes, that would be just distracting enough to keep me from obsessing.

  His hand was on my arm. HIS HAND WAS ON MY ARM! I turned hesitatingly, removing my headphones as if in slow motion.

  “Hi,” I squeaked.

  “Hi.” Then nothing. He smiled at me.

  “My name is Marco. I, um, I’m going to a friend's wedding in Vegas. Not that you asked.” He laughed at himself and shook his head slightly. Maybe he was nervous too. Wow. This was good stuff.

  “My name is Monique, though nearly everyone calls me Nik. My sister was nominated for a science research award and I’m going to the ceremony. My younger sister too. The three of us are having a bit of a girl’s weekend I guess.” I laughed shyly, wondering if he had any idea what girls do with a weekend in Vegas.

  “Staying anywhere good?” he asked.

  “We're at the Wynn, where the conference is.”

  “Great!” he said a bit too quickly. “That's actually where the wedding is. Have you been there? It’s a beautiful hotel.”

  “I haven't been, no. But I hear good things. Then again, is there anything in Vegas that isn’t amazing?”

  “Good point,” he agreed. “I am sure you and your sisters will add beauty and grace to anything there.”

  “Or maybe there will be three very drunk women, completely unused to all that glitz, making fools of themselves.” Did I really just say that?? Ughhhh. Get yourself together, girl.

  “You are very funny, Monique. And I really can't imagine that happening. So, what are the husbands doing with themselves?”

  Wow. He was digging for info. My gosh, this was too much fun.

  “Missing us,” I said with a playful grin. His face fell, slightly. “Just kidding. No husbands between us.”

  “Lucky Vegas,” he said, flashing that smile again. This was too much. I was having such a great time with this guy that I forgot to notice that he was totally out of my league. No, I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I was going to rise to the occasion.

  As I turned to respond to him, the flight attendant stepped directly in my view. “Have you decided on your meal?” Snippy. Very snippy.

  I ordered and let her finish her survey before turning back to Marco.

  “Do you live in San Francisco, Marco?” I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

  “Yes, I do. I have offices in New York and Argentina as well so I spend some time there.”

  “That's a wonderful combination of places to be. What do you do?” Cool and calm, not looking like I care too much.

  “I’m an architect. Mostly private homes but a few public buildings. In the US and South America.”

  “That’s very impressive. I've always been fascinated by architecture. It’s such a cool mixture of art and science, don’t you think? Creative and functional at the same time. Built anything I would have seen?”

  “Well, maybe. We could turn around in Vegas and go to South America so I could show you myself.”

  Okay, that was some serious flirting. And I could keep up. I might have been rusty, but I wasn’t dead.

  “Sounds great. Shall we tell my sisters and your friends, or just run away secretly?”

  “I’m all for full disclosure. And I can just have my assistant take care of it all so
we don't have to deal with any emotional backlash. You know how people tend to take awards and weddings so seriously.”

  We were both laughing pretty hard by then. I kept reminding myself to stay present to how fun this was, in that moment, without projecting how badly it would inevitably end and how much suffering was in store. This does not have to be another example of failure, Monique. You've had plenty of those. Maybe this is the perfect setup for a juicy Vegas affair, or even just a lovely interaction with another human being that is bringing me pleasure. This is enough, I kept telling myself.

  “I am a chef.” It came out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying. Oh boy. Now, I’d really set us up for a fantasy.

  His eyes widened. “Amazing,” he said. “Now that's what I call art and science… and magic. I would give any of my buildings to be able to cook something that makes people experience how I feel after a good meal.”

  “You don't cook?”

  “Yes, actually I do. But not very well. My family is Argentinean and Italian - food is everything. It's in our blood, but unfortunately mine is buried a little bit deeper. I do okay, I guess, but nothing like what you must do. I can only imagine what you must create in the kitchen,” he said, making me immediately think of sex. What was this guy doing to my mind?

  Everything he said was seductive. Flamingly seductive. I flashed into a scene of us in my kitchen with lots of food and very little clothing. Yum.

  “Maybe when we are in Argentina, you will cook something for me.” That jolted me out of my reverie, forcing me to remember his joke just minutes before.

  “Fair enough I suppose, in exchange for you taking me on a tour of South America to view your buildings.”

  This was getting so rich and delicious I could hardly stand it.

  We spent the rest of the flight talking about our lives, joking about our fantasy trip and comparing Vegas itineraries. We disembarked together and headed to baggage claim together (even though neither of us checked luggage) and walked outside together.

  “Are your sisters picking you up?” he asked.

  I laughed. Too loudly perhaps.

  “We’re not that kind of family. It's all about independence with us. And besides, they are much too busy getting the party started. It's fine. It's such a short taxi ride.”

  He cleared his throat, clearly wanting to say something. “I would love if you came with me. I mean... I have a car. I mean I’m getting picked up... a car service... and we're going to the same place. And you could come.”

  Chapter Seven

  Sleek Black Limo

  He stopped talking and lowered his head. He’d had a hard time with that. The thought of him feeling a bit nervous with me was too ridiculous to believe. I was just this boring mom pretending to be glamorous, living a fake life to go with my fake weekend. He was this gorgeous, most likely brilliant architect with a global business. Did I mention gorgeous? Oh and smart. And really well spoken, with great manners and sweet breath... Oh, I had to stop.

  “Yes, that would be great. If you don't mind.” Sexy smile.

  “I would love it. But I think I said that already,” he chuckled.

  I followed him as he strode toward door number six. I noticed, as it was my favorite number. Good sign. A quick glimpse in the reflective glass soothed my worries just a bit. I actually looked pretty damn good. At least for me. Things were holding up and those extra sessions at the gym (to work off all my sexual tension) were paying off. Maybe I wasn’t so far out of his league.

  Just outside was a sleek black limo with his name in the window. As he approached confidently, the driver asked, “Mr. Gonzales?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He opened the door for me, and stood as I entered. I noticed him looking at my legs. Good. Very good. We had all inherited those great legs from Mom, whose legs were out of some fashion magazine. Absolutely perfect. Even when I couldn't stand the rest of me, I knew my legs could stand up to scrutiny. No problem to linger there a little bit.

  We sat very close to each other in the limo. Closer than strangers normally would.

  “You are leaving on Monday right?” He had asked me that already. What was up, I wondered?

  “Yes. After we recover from our raucous celebration of Nora's big win. She's convinced that she has no chance but my sister is the golden girl. She works her ass off and wins. A lot. Lizzy and I are both expecting to see her up on stage with a no-tears acceptance speech. She's not one for soft emotions.”

  “And you? Will you be crying?”

  “Most certainly. I'll probably be crying during the boring speeches. I may even start if we see an especially touching billboard on the way there. Yup. That's me.”

  “Lovely,” he said looking at me so deeply I thought he might have been reading my mind. It felt as if hours had passed. Or at least minutes. I wasn’t sure.

  “I have to ask you something, Monique.”

  “Yes?” Curious. So curious.

  “Would you have time to go somewhere with me?”

  “You mean other than Argentina?”

  “Yes. Somewhere local. For now at least.” Gosh that smile was going to be the end of me.

  “There is a restaurant I have been wanting to try. It is supposed to be spectacular. I would like to take you there, if you have time.”

  Oh my God, he just asked me out. On a date. Perhaps I misheard. No, it was definitely a date. Shit. What was I going to do? Would the girls understand? I knew they were hoping to spend all our time together. But how could I say no to this man? Oh boy...

  “That sounds really nice. As long as you understand I love to eat. People have been frightened when taking me out to dinner.”

  “I can't wait to experience that. I am definitely up for the challenge.” The grin again. “Does tomorrow work for you?”

  “Actually, could I just check with my sisters? Nora is a real stickler and likes to have everything planned out. I just need to see if Friday or Saturday is better.”

  As if we were using our sibling ESP, my phone beeped with a message. Nora, I was sure.

  Where are you, Nik? Do I really need to be the only one drinking in this family??

  “Excuse me,” I said to him. “I need to get back to the boss.”

  On my way. In a shiny black limo. You are welcome to pull yourself off the barstool and greet me at the entrance, like a sister with manners would do.

  Limo?? Who are you? And what have you done with my simpleton sister??

  I showed him the text exchange, which sent him into gales of laughter.

  “I see all of you are very funny. I can tell you love each other a lot.”

  “Yes. Despite outer appearances, we do. And this is the real me... the simpleton sister. Now you know.”

  “I can't imagine what your family must be like to think you are a simpleton. You are not in the Gabor family, are you?”

  We both laughed.

  “While you have your phone out, why don't I give you my number so you can let me know about tomorrow? I don't want to intrude on your time with your sisters, really. But I would love to spend some time with you. It has been a wonderful afternoon, talking to you.”

  I handed him my phone like a star-struck teenager. I even giggled, embarrassingly enough.

  He took it confidently and began to type in lots of characters. Many more than I would have expected. I held myself back from peeking over his shoulder but the anticipation was killing me. What the heck was he writing? Did he have one of these extra-long Latin names? Was he writing me a love note? Hee, hee hee. The girlish giggles came out again.

  He handed me the phone.

  “Okay, I put my full name, so you can find me at the hotel. Also my cell and email. And a little note so you remember who I am.”

  “Do you think I would forget you?” I was really surprised. Had this guy not looked in the mirror lately?

  “I would never presume that I made nearly as much of an impression on you as you made on me.”

&n
bsp; Humble to top it all. I was toast!

  We were mostly silent for the last few minutes of the trip. I liked sitting next to him, hearing and feeling his breath. Every now and then we looked over at each other and smiled. No words needed. Also surprisingly, not awkward.

  We arrived and someone from the hotel opened my door. Marco came around from his side and took my hand to help me out of the car. I could almost swear that he pushed the valet out of the way. His hand felt soooooooo nice. Big and warm and not too soft. The hands of a man who used them. Unspeakably sexy.

  We stood face to face for the briefest moment and the idea of kissing him crossed my mind. Not something that regular me would do in a million years. But the goddess diva? Definitely. The moment passed before I could move on my impulse. Perhaps I’d be given another opportunity. Hopefully.

  We followed the bellboys, with our luggage, into the hotel and the bustle of Las Vegas. This town was a secret passion of mine. Not something I admitted to too many people - it didn’t really match my down-to-earth image - but the part of me that loved glitz and glam and stardom felt at home here. I couldn’t help but grin.

  I headed toward the unfortunately long check-in line when Marco wrapped his arm around my waist and whispered, “Come with me.”

  We moved past the crowds to a desk, off to one side. I thought the sign said VIP or concierge or something like that. I was too busy taking in the sights and sounds of Vegas. Gosh, I was happy to be there. And not only because that amazing man had his arm around me.

  He provided his information, to which the stunning woman behind the counter cooed, “Welcome to the Wynn, Mr. Gonzales. So wonderful to have you back.” He told her that I’d also be checking in and he’d appreciate her help. She obliged.

  My sister had reserved us fabulous rooms, certainly, but I wasn’t not sure I would have gotten this level of service. I was very grateful.