by Jess Bentley
But I tell myself this is what she wants, and it is not my place to override that. If she needed my help, she probably would have asked me for it instead of declaring her intentions to leave last night.
But if she accelerated her plans by a whole day, it must mean she is more upset than she is letting on. Perhaps she wanted me to ask her to stay?
Brushing the thought away, I nod at the airport valet who approaches me.
“M. King, I presume?”
He checks my credentials, then hands me two first class tickets, no questions asked. This is one of the great perks of being a frequent traveler and I feel a small twinge of remorse. Jordan is not getting the red carpet treatment that she deserves, while I am. She's having to hoof it through the airport, get searched in customs, and get sneered at by few more French people on her way out of the country. I'm going to hop on the back of this airport golf cart and get chauffeured right to the gate.
But this is my life. What am I going to do, apologize for it?
I take the seat next to the window and watch the line of passengers slowly making their way through first class, back to coach. They’re in the other aisle, while I'm way over here in the last seat next to the window.
“Champagne, monsieur?” the flight attendant asks me sweetly, bending over at the waist and flashing me a clear, unobstructed view down her neckline, between those tiny, European breasts, all the way to the concavity of her belly. My eyes bounce off of that area, somehow repelled automatically.
Perhaps she notices my disinterest, because she straightens immediately. But I accept the champagne, tipping it to my lips immediately to conceal my expression and my face in case Jordan wants to look over.
She's there again, standing in line, waiting for the other passengers to get their carry-on bags stowed in the overhead compartments and drop into their narrow, coach section seats.
The man behind her keeps shuffling up way too close, then smirking to himself and nodding. I don't like the way he's looking at her. Not one little bit. She doesn't even seem to notice that he manufactures some kind of physical impairment that has him hulking over her, practically collapsing on top of her.
As the plane begins to roll away from the gate and across the tarmac, I see the guy in the suit leering as he leans into the row, just beyond the blue curtain that separates first class from coach. He swings into the seat and I just know it. I just know that he's next to her. And I can tell from the look on his face exactly what he's planning.
“Excuse me, miss?” I ask the stewardess as she walks by. She turns back to face me. Her expression far less friendly than it was before.
“Oui?”
I withdraw a business card and hold it out to her.
“There is another passenger on this flight. Her name is Jordan Burke. Would you please give her this and ask her to join me? I reserved both these seats.”
The stewardess grips the back of the seat as the plane begins to take off, her eyes flickering nervously over her shoulder.
"I'm sorry, sir, but the plane will be taking off in just a moment. I cannot —"
“You can,” I tell her simply. Of course she can. People only say “I can't” because they have been trained to do that.
In any case, she seems to understand that I am not going to take no for an answer, and she plucks the card from my fingers, nodding curtly with her lips pursed.
It doesn't take long. We’re only in the air for a minute or two when I feel her presence. Literally, I'm looking out the window, but I can feel her close to me.
I turn in my seat expecting to finally get the scolding I so richly deserve. She's going to be angry with me for leaving, for being here now, and for summoning her out of her seat like I own her.
But instead, she is smiling at me with gratitude or relief or something. A lock of hair falls in front of her face as the plane sways slightly, and she pushes it behind her ear.
“I believe you were in the wrong seat, darling,” I hear myself say like some kind of character in an old movie.
She smiles shyly and drops into the seat next to me. She's not angry? Whatever kind of luck this is, I'm happy to go along with it.
“How did you know?” she breathes. “I mean… It's like I just wished for you, and all of a sudden the flight attendant was handing me your card…”
She blinks, her eyes as wide and innocent as a child's.
“How did I know?” I repeat, trying not to let on how confused I am.
“Well, that guy, he was so creepy! Just hovering over me, trying to touch me, I think. You know what I mean?”
Hovering… Yes, I can see how that would be creepy, I scold myself, painfully aware that what he was doing is not completely unlike what I have also been doing by following her through the airport and buying her a seat without her knowledge.
“It's lucky that I saw you,” I tell her as she slides into the seat next to me.
“Oh, I'm probably just overreacting,” she says confidentially, her eyes a little shadowed with embarrassment. “I know I'm probably just paranoid, but I always feel like people are watching me. It's totally crazy, right? I mean… I just never feel like I really get any personal space.”
Tell her, I tell myself. Tell her now!
I know that I can't keep the truth from her for much longer, but I need to find the right time. Then again, is there ever really going to be a right time?
“I'm sure everyone feels that way sometimes,” I hear myself say and then instantly regret it. That was the perfect moment. I curse my cowardice.
“I'm sure you're right… Oh! What was that?”
Her eyes widen, and her fingers automatically gripped the armrest. Instinctually, I slide my hand under hers and cup it in mine, closing the other hand over it protectively.
“Some rain. Just a little turbulence. Everything is fine.”
“It doesn't seem fine to me,” she murmurs as she eyes the champagne sloshing around in the glass.
“Just put your seat back a little bit,” I instruct her, leaning over her to press the button and then pushing the seat back slightly. As the fabric of our shirts meet, the plane bounces slightly, and I almost fall into her.
But the near connection is electric, and I know she feels it too by the way she draws her lower lip between her teeth.
“Let me just get this blanket over you,” I tell her as I draw the fabric up to her shoulders.
She nods gratefully and I let my hand slide down under the blanket, stroking her nipple through the fabric with the side my thumb, noting how it hardens instantly under my touch.
“There now, Little Girl,” I breathe close to her ear, drawing in the delicious scent of her as she trembles slightly under my touch. “Is that better?”
"Yes,” she whispers, her lips parted.
My hand trails down, finding the hem of her dress and reaching underneath it. She's warm and wet between her thighs and I drag my fingers against her. Her thighs spread for me gently so I can reach into the satiny panties she's got on.
“Oh, you're so wet for me, aren't you, Little Girl?”
She hitches her breath. “We can't do this! I can't be quiet,” she whispers urgently.
“You will be quiet,” I growl in her ear, shifting closer to her as I run my middle finger up and down her slick seam. “I don't want to hear a sound out of you, do you understand me?”
She bites her lips together and nods, closing her eyes. I feel her hips trembling underneath me.
“That's it, Jordan,” I whisper, letting my tongue dart against the velvety skin of her earlobe. “Just like that.”
The plane lurches again, and I insert one finger inside her, flicking gently at the tip to caress her G spot. As the plane rolls and trembles, I fuck her with my middle finger, rolling my thumb over her clit until she shakes beneath me, harder than the plane.
She's not quiet when she comes, but she's quiet enough. I'm sure the man behind us can hear her desperate, nearly muted cries, but I don't care. She come
s against my hand in a shattering, clenching surge, wetting my palm beautifully.
“You see?” I ask her as I withdraw my hand. I run my sticky thumb over her lower lip and her tongue slides out tentatively to taste herself. “I knew you could do it.”
Sighing deeply, I watch her as her eyes begin to close. The thick, humming air of the plane and the bliss of her orgasm are enough to tip her over the edge into sleep. For long minutes I just watch her, thinking how lovely she is. How unique in the world. How blissfully unaware of the truth.
I realize suddenly that I can't be the one to tell her. But I can be there for her when she finds out. I can use whatever resources are at my disposal to help her. I'm not sure what she's going to want to do, but whatever it is, I'll be there. I have to protect her.
Chapter 13
Jordan
“What the fuck were you thinking?” asks Kelsey. “What is wrong with you, for fuck’s sake? Are you actually retarded?”
“Um, no,” I answer, confused. Why is she turning on me like this? Why does she suddenly hate me? I’m not sure what to say, since maybe she has a point. But does she have to address me like this? I would never speak to anyone like that.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” she mutters, shooting me a look like daggers. I try to keep my head. She obviously doesn’t have hers. But part of me wonders if she might be right. “Don’t you have anything to fucking say? Whatever, I’m done with you.” She shakes her head, disgusted.
“Um, I’m not really sure what I did, Kels,” I say carefully. “If I did something stupid, you can tell me. But I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”
“Well, it was my idea to be friends with Britt, and instead you just ran off and started a friendship with her. If you want to be so close with her, I’ll just be close with my other friends.”
“I uh,” I start, my mind reeling. Why is she attacking me? “I uh... thought we were all friends? Like we were all going to be friends together.”
“Well clearly not. Didn’t you go to the movies with her on Thursday?” she demands. The tone of her voice is shrill. “I didn’t get any text messages from you. You didn’t call me. You chose to hold her closer to you. So I am going to do the same. No hard feelings, but bye.”
“Uh, okay,” I barely get out before she spins around and storms off. My hands are shaking, so I stuff them into my pockets, confused. I never suspected she could turn on someone like this. Or more than that, that she could turn on me like this. I am practically her sister for crying out loud. Joined at the hip, and have been for years.
“Kelsey,” I say weakly, but it’s too late. She’s already gone.
Maybe I should have told her that I was going out with Britt. Maybe it was wrong of me not to invite her, but I thought she said she was going to be busy that night. And besides, she has other friends who she goes out with on occasion without me. Sure, I get jealous sometimes, but I figure it’s normal. But apparently she’s allowed to do that and I’m not. That’s how it is, I guess.
Unless that’s not how it is anymore. Now it feels like I’m not even friends with Kelsey. I walk across the common area, trying to avoid the eyes of my schoolmates. Through one of the windows, almost in slow motion, I see Kelsey and Britt talking and laughing. Then Kelsey shoots me another look—an appraising, cold look. Britt doesn’t notice. She has her head thrown back and is covering her mouth like she always does when she laughs hard.
Kelsey slowly turns her head away from me, but her eyes trail me a little longer. I stop in my tracks. Could they be talking about me, laughing at me? If I keep going in the same direction, I’ll have to pass them. And that doesn’t seem the wisest course of action right now. Still, I’ll have to find another way to my calculus class. Kelsey had tested out of it—she was as amazing at math as she was at making me feel like shit today. Fuck it, I’ll just pass her, and that’ll be that.
“Hi Britt,” I say, as brightly as I can manage. “Kelsey,” I add like an afterthought. Who knows how she’ll punish me now?
“Hey!” Britt turns to walk with me and quickly falls in step. “Did you get your calc homework done? See you later, Kelsey!”
“Bye Britt.” The slight emphasis Kelsey gives to Britt’s name lets me know that she is definitely considering ways to punish me. And now I’ll be punished for whatever Britt does too.
I wake up with a jolt, the darkened plane humming with its solid energy. My breath is caught in my throat. I can’t tell if I’d been dreaming, or remembering. Is Kelsey my friend, or my tormentor?
And what is King? The same?
I look around frantically, catching the eye of a passing stewardess. “Yes, Madame. Would you like something?” she asks.
“I’ll get a scotch on the rocks,” I say. “Make it a double.” I don’t know why. I’m not much of a drinker, and I never drink scotch. And I think I heard the double thing from a movie or something. But she just nods, her perfectly coiffed blonde hair not moving.
“Yes of course,” she whisks off to retrieve the drink, and I realize I’m clutching the arms of my chair. I’m totally disoriented. It seems there’s nobody seated next to me to fight for the space, because it’s hard for me to even let it go. I thought it was full, so someone must not have shown up for their flight? But the attendant soon is at my side. She puts the tray table down on the seat next to me with a practiced motion, and hands me the glass. I fumble through my purse and she shakes her head no, meaning that I don’t need to pay. Soon I’m bringing the burning liquid to my lips, the fumes from the drink already searing my nostrils.
Just like it permeates my nose, the alcohol begins to pervade regions of my brain, and I let go of the armrest, and let my head hit the back of the chair again.
I guess I am just a glutton for punishment. I begin to think of King’s hands, how they could creep over me, draw me in, effortlessly, gracefully, like a cat with a mouse. Watching the mouse try to get away is always the greatest thrill, to let it almost out of reach and then to pull it back in and claim it.
That’s how I feel when he touches me, like he’s completely in control, every nerve of my body on fire, needing him as he toys with my affections, my emotions. My body. Teasing each part of me, making me wonder if he would gratify me, or bite me, his lips so close to my skin that the energy field was jumping between us, until they closed on my nipple, and I arched my back pushing myself as near to him as I could. His teeth glancing against the hard nub as his hand reached around and squeezed, hard.
My breath catches in my throat, this time from excitement, happy that he’s claiming me, feeling everything he did to my nipple like a ghost hand on my clit, bringing me close to orgasm without even being touched once. I imagine myself falling over the edge as his knee pushes between my legs, his cock sliding up my thigh.
Then his hand opens his fly, pulling it out, his cock bouncing in eager anticipation, and feeling my skirt being yanked down as he slides between my legs.
But I have to stop feeling this way. This is fantasy, that’s all.
I left Paris. Left King. And left Kelsey, even if she did leave me first. The schoolyard may have been the first place I had given up my strength and my power, and then with King. I’ll be damned if I will ever do it again. I’ll get over this situation on my own.
Maybe I’ll get a dog.
I force my mind to stop thinking about King and Kelsey and start thinking about a dog. Maybe a big dog. Though that wouldn’t fly too well in Manhattan. It’s time to leave my parents and get a place on my own, though. If I move to Inwood or something, maybe I could live by a park and still be on the subway line to get downtown. I muse about a Bernese Mountain dog. Their friendly but intimidating size is just the perfect animal to snuggle up to and to ward off would-be attackers with. I wonder how much they cost?
It’s nice to know that I have a bit of money coming to me, but I have no idea how much it is. I hope I haven’t blown through it and more already.
It’s difficult to figure how much it
is. Kelsey had some vague side business that she never really told her parents about—something online that made her some real cash, but that she didn’t like to talk about. I always encouraged her in it but her parents were not impressed, preferring to get her to concentrate on her studies.
She must have, in some rare moment, decided that I deserved some of her money, and I would be going to the lawyer to see just how much will be left, if anything, after what I’ve spent on this trip. It probably won’t be much, but it might be just enough to visit a dog breeder and get a puppy. A big clumsy puppy with giant paws, and a perma-grin. One that would never be stolen away from him. A smile and an open doggy mind, just looking for the next treat and the next walk.
I sink deeper into my chair and sip my drink, finally getting out the headphones and flicking on some movie. I’ll be home soon, and that’s what matters.
And then there he is. King. Of course, he pulled me into first class. That crazy dream must have messed me up hard.
Slipping into the seat beside me, veering his perfect hips under the tray table. Smiling at me. And God help me, I snuggle against him. I’d call myself weak, but the truth is he’s just too strong. Overpowering. I have no choice.
The lawyer ruffles his papers.
“Well as you may know, you’ve been invited here today for the reading of the will,” he says, looking at each of the four of us pointedly. “Mrs. and Mrs. Rawlings, as Kelsey’s parents, Ryan as Kelsey’s brother, and you, Jordan, you are here because you have also been specifically mentioned by name in the document.” He clears his throat.
I wonder how many times has he had to deliver bad news, unexpected news. Is there part of him that enjoys seeing the surprise on people’s faces, the shock when he delivers the final blow? I try to sneak a peek at Kelsey’s family. They’ve never been that fond of me, and I don’t really know why.
But I need to remember—now’s not really about me. As her ‘will and testament,’ this is Kelsey’s last statement in the world.
