Falling Stars

by J. L. Brooks

  “You’re in my bed, isn’t that better than a hug? I’m sure that was something neither of us thought would happen again. I would think that trumps a basic hug.”

  His laughter stopped slightly as he peeled back the sheets.

  “If it were under different circumstances absolutely. But neither one of us is naked so I will take what I can get. Now get your ass up here.”

  Crawling onto his chest, I felt his heart beating against my temple while lying sprawled across his body. Holding me, his hand grazed along my shoulders, outlining the wings with his fingertips.

  “I'm glad you don’t cover these. I knew the moment I walked into the ballroom it was you. Now tell me why you are packing to leave. Just because you left the company doesn’t mean you have to get out of New York.”

  Breathing out deeply, I turned my head up to answer him.

  “I'm going home Hunter.”

  As much as I tried to keep it hidden, there was no denying the defeat in my voice.

  “Back to Cleveland?” He asked disbelieving.

  “Yes, back to Ohio. I am staying with my parents for a little while. I'll go back to school, find a job, something.”

  If I thought that merely seeing Hunter and being in the same room with him wasn’t bad enough, knowing I was going back to a city that worshipped him was worse. Not only was he often in the local papers, holidays became opportunities for the family to boast of all he was accomplishing. Although he never obtained the success Hunter had, my brother Elijah was somewhat of a mentor to him long ago and they would tag team the turntables at parties. For a short period, Eli owned a little record shop and Hunter would come in when I was helping. However, I had just broken up with a mutual friend and was considered off limits.

  It didn’t stop me from being attracted to him and later flat out obsessing about him every waking minute. Never quite able to figure out what drew me to him so recklessly, I put myself in a position of becoming a social pariah. It was much worse for him, and yet he too persisted past the whispering voices and outright confrontations. Our tumultuous beginning made that first kiss so remarkable that I have spent years chasing that feeling, never to be experienced again. There were no scandalous late night trysts. He told my mother he loved me months before ever laying a hand on my body. I could swear electricity poured from his fingertips with every touch. Even now, lying next to him, my brain sounded every warning to run for my life.

  However, my heart kept me perfectly still. I dared not move away from him, knowing all too well the fleeting moments one can call rapture.

  Needing to use the bathroom, I finally slid out of the bed, pausing on the edge in thought.

  “If you do not mind, please send Dinah a message and tell her to fuck herself. I no longer have a phone, or I would do it.”

  After closing the door, I looked in the mirror and realized my reflection was shit. No amount of vitamin D could remedy this atrocity. At a minimum, a hot shower would be a good start. Turning the faucet to near scalding, I scrubbed, shaved and lathered myself to a squeaky-clean perfection. In my absence, Hunter had found his way over to the sofa and was pilfering through the shoebox I had left on the table. Smiling broadly with every new discovery, the objects evoked a much different emotion in him than in I.

  “You kept all of this? I guess you always were sentimental. It’s cool though. We had some good times.”

  Taking a few random pieces in my hands, the memories opened from the deepest places in vibrant colors and tangible sensations, each one unique and distinctive. I could run my fingers across the plastic badges and feel the bass resonate in my bones. Closing my eyes, I was right back to dancing before a wall of speakers. Dark and sensual, each place he played felt dynamic. Hunter gave the crowd everything he had, and when we were alone, he channeled it into me. “Good times” did not adequately express what I took away from the experience. Knowing if he kept digging he would find the letter, I took the treasures from his hands and emptied a few things onto the table before moving the box out of the way.

  “I should probably get rid of it. Silly really. Take what you want, if you want anything.”

  He looked over the items and picked up a postcard from the bottom of the pile. Slapping the card back and forth in his hand, his knee started to bounce nervously.

  “This was the best, right here.”

  Turning the postcard over, it was a picture of the Chicago skyline and Navy Pier. I couldn’t help but smile. Away from everyone and everything, we were finally allowed to be together. The Windy City was our little bubble, for a few days life was perfect.

  “I agree. I’ll keep that one, unless you want it. But you can probably pick another up tomorrow since you will be there.”

  Hunter gave me a look of surprise.

  “How do you know I will be in Chicago? Are you stalking me?”

  Nodding in agreement, I started moving about packing more things into a box on my desk.

  “Isn’t that my job as an ex-girlfriend? I think I have your toothbrush next to my shrine of all things Hunter Michaels.”

  His smile grew broad and I could see the inner narcissist starting to show.

  “You want to see it? It’s in the bathroom between the sink and the tub. Make sure to put the lid back down when you’re finished checking it out.”

  Hearing me joke, although at his expense, began to put him at ease. The things that made me so angry for so long suddenly did not seem very important. I knew he wasn’t staying, but acknowledging he still cared began a slow burn in a cold situation, giving me a sliver of hope that someday things would be right with the world again.

  Walking up beside me, Hunter placed the postcard on the desk and grabbed my hips, pulling me closer.

  “Come with me Lila. Just for a few days. I think you need it.”

  He must have been crazy to think I could just uproot my life and take off for a few days with him. Yet the truth was quite the opposite. I was the delusional one. I had no life, not anymore. Caught in limbo, the request could have not come at a more opportune time. I must have been staring at the wall too long as the sharp jab in my ribs caused me to cry out and smack Hunter in return.

  “What the fuck was that for?”

  “Stop thinking about it and pack your shit.”

  “I didn’t say I was coming!”

  Backing me against the desk, his eyes flashed with excitement and a devious smirk.

  “Well if you recall, I know exactly how to make you come”

  His nearness caused warmth to rush over my entire body. I did my best to ignore his innuendo and could only imagine what would take place if I accepted his offer. Knowing I really didn’t have a choice, my pride forced me to act resistant. I might have been falling apart, but I was far from compliant. Trying desperately to remind myself of every reason why this was a bad idea, my heart laughed hysterically at my vain attempts to control anything. Perhaps that was the entire point.

  “I will only accompany you if you promise me one thing.”

  Looking a bit nervous, Hunter tilted his head and waited for my request.

  “Do not bring up the book again.”

  Meeting his gaze, he nodded in agreement. Once that was settled, I cracked a smile and packed a bag. The moving company would charge me extra for doing more work, but in this case I was happy to fork out the dough.

  The moment the door closed to my loft, the world began to spin in a new direction. Everything around me seemed to distort around the edges, resting just outside of my focus. Words would form but fail to leave my mouth, as if they came out it would shatter whatever spell we were under, so I remained quiet and just took in everything. Pulling up to a small airfield in New Jersey, Hunter grabbed my hand and excitedly led me into a plane hanger.

  “You are fucking kidding me! You own a plane?”

  My jaw dropped as Hunter shook hands with the pilot of the small jet and laughed.

  “No, not this one. I have a Cessna Cub, this here is a Citation Sovereig
n. It’s just a charter.”

  “What’s the difference?” I wasn’t a pilot and it was an honest question.

  Jogging back towards me, he smiled and pointed across the hanger at a different plane.

  “Mine is not as big, but it looks similar to that one.”

  I started to giggle as my mind went into the gutter. Realizing I was being ornery, he held back his own laugh while describing the differences between prop planes and jets.

  “Can I see it some time?” I asked.

  “Would you trust me to fly you somewhere?” He asked, sounding hopeful.

  Without hesitation I felt myself light up. Whether or not the plans actually came to pass, it was something to hold onto just in case.

  Having this adventure with Hunter seemed surreal. The people we had become, yet still so at ease with one another. I was curious as to why he was so keen on doing the book and how everything truly played out, what he was told and how he felt about the project. More so, what he was expecting me to write. I wanted to see his life, not just read it on the internet. I wanted to be a part of one of the holiday stories, not just hear them. If I was being completely honest, most of my thoughts were not honorable. Having the imagination of a writer had already been put to good use the moment we boarded the private jet.

  It seemed such a shame to let a perfect opportunity go to waste. Unfortunately, this was real life and not one of my stories. The thought surfaced that this might all be for show and my heart began to sink. Whispering to myself, I made a silent plea. “Wake up Lila.”

  This was my favorite part of flying. The moment when you are taxiing speedily down the runway and the plane separates itself from the ground. The way your stomach drops towards your pelvis, pressing you into the seat. It is both frightening and exhilarating. In a small aircraft, the feeling intensified as I held the armrest and closed my eyes.

  “Where are you Lila?”

  Hunter was studying me with the utmost curiosity. Smiling slyly, his chin was perched on his elbow, head tilted to the left as he sat across from me.

  “Subspace,” I joked.

  “What do you know about subspace Lila? I never took you for being anything other than a domme, too untrusting.”

  I laughed at his knowledge of the S/M lifestyle. “I write dirty books you know. I could be submissive under the right person. The problem is no one is man enough to put me in my place.”

  His eyes slowly began to glaze over. This was not a conversation I could have ever pictured myself having with him. Granted we were adventurous back when we were together, but role-play was something that never even crossed my mind back then. He struggled with the fact I wore full brief panties at twenty-one, and not a sexy thong from a lingerie shop. For my twenty-second birthday, he even went as far as taking me to a Victoria’s Secret and pointing at three separate tables and telling me to pick from just those and no others. That was not me; I was not that sexy girl. It was even worse when I found out my mother encouraged the plan, as she was often tucking my wide banded undies into my low hip huggers on the way to church.

  Conspiracy! I giggled thinking about that moment and the fact I still was wearing those same damn wide banded cheap underwear. I could never break the habit. I owned drawers full of lacy boy shorts, silky thongs and negligee’s, but my granny panties would never go away. Seeing me laughing to myself caused Hunter to kick my leg.

  “What’s so damn funny Keaton?”

  I pressed my tongue against my upper teeth in a wicked grin and pulled the edge of my pants down, revealing my source of humor. Shaking his head, he covered his mouth and chuckled along with me.

  “Some things never change do they?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh ecstatically. How funny a simple gesture could restore years’ worth of memories. That one trigger unfolded the past in an instant. In another quick motion, Hunter unsnapped his belt and was squeezed between my legs with my head smashed against the plush Italian leather seat under his hungry lips. Perhaps my dream of joining the Mile High club was not so far fetched.

  I relaxed into his kiss, tasting the sweetness and urgency. Frenzied hands pawed at my legs, shoulders, anywhere he was able to grab flesh. I unbuckled my own seat belt and fell to the ground beneath him. He was rock hard and readied against my stomach, without any provocation other than showing what type of underwear I was wearing. It was hard to believe such an innocent gesture could turn into such a blazing encounter. I should have had my wits about me, but I was not myself. I was vulnerable, my guard down from the past twenty-four hours and he took full advantage of it, I let him.

  Sweeping his hands down my ribcage, he unsnapped my jeans and lifted himself enough so I could shimmy them off. Hunter was not a stranger. This wasn’t some random sexual act with the unknown, not that it justified the behavior. His hands on my body felt as though I was able to breathe after being held underwater for far too long. My skin melted beneath every caress, each kiss reviving a stagnant heart.

  “Fuck, Lila, tell me to stop. I can’t until you tell me to.”

  “Don’t stop, for the love of god please don’t stop.”

  I was honest. I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted him to devour every square inch of flesh. The moment of truth came as his swollen head prodded my silky folds. He looked me in the eye for confirmation; he would not force himself on me. Slacking my legs out a little more each way, my hand pulled against his waist encouraging him forward. A deep exhalation of breath escaped my lungs as he sank deeply. He stilled against me shaking, and clinging tight. With his head buried in my neck, I whispered my only wish.

  “Please Hunter, I need you.”

  His hips began a slow circular grinding, forcing me to cry out. Lifting my legs in the cradle of his elbows, he pounded forcefully. Hearing our grunts and bodies slapping with sweat brought me closer and closer to the edge. I felt his back stiffen as his speed increased, indicating he was near, but I was unable to match his pace.

  He was waiting for permission.

  “Come inside me. It’s okay.”

  Part of me realized it was a little late to be thinking about catching something from him, the other part didn’t care. I had been dating someone seriously for six months and sprang for an IUD. A month later the relationship fizzled, however, I still had a good four years before I needed to remove it. I refused to believe Hunter would knowingly put me in danger, if he did, I deserved it.

  With a ferocious cry, his fingers dug into my shoulders as he found his release. His cum was like lava pouring out and seared me from within. After collapsing onto my chest, my fingers lightly grazed his shoulders. Guilt was a sad little puppy at my feet and it knew I didn’t give a flying fuck. Squeezing my channel walls in a playful manner, he laughed.

  “Stop it, I’m sensitive.”

  I squeezed again ignoring his whine.

  Grabbing my arms and holding them above my head, Hunter looked down at me with the most peaceful expression. That post orgasmic glow.

  “I’ve missed you so much Lila, you have no idea.”

  Hunter's confession caused my inner defenses to rise up. I turned my head and forced my body away from him. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be so careless but I couldn’t stop. Standing up, I looked over my shoulder at him.

  “I can imagine.”

  As I rushed to the plane's lavatory, I nearly keeled over at the opulence. Accustomed to the tight quarters of commercial flights, I was unprepared for the master bathroom I walked into. There was a tiled shower, full toilet and sink. I did not have to squat to relieve myself, nor maneuver around awkwardly. Walking out without any clothing, I was surprised to find Hunter fully dressed and back in his seat. Nervously I found my jeans and t-shirt and pulled them on in haste. Taking my seat I felt suddenly ashamed at my brazen behavior. Did he think I was like this all the time?

  The fear made me quiet the rest of the way. I curled into my seat and pretended to sleep. A few moments later, everything swept away. Hunter tapped my shoulder lig
htly to rouse me from my slumber.

  “We’re here Lila, you passed out the moment we took off and have been sawing logs ever since. You must have needed sleep more than you thought. Good thing too because we have quite a bit to do tonight.”

  Shaking my head in confusion, I rubbed my eyes in the bright cabin.

  “I passed out at take off? Are you sure?”

  “Yup, out cold.”

  There was no indication he was being untruthful. Waking more, his outfit was different than I remembered. I stood and stretched while he wrapped the cord around his headphones and shoved them into his satchel.

  “Let me use the bathroom real quick, is that okay?” I asked.

  “Of course, I'll wait.”

  After opening the small door, I knew I had to have been dreaming before. This was not the cavernous spa I had envisioned. Every detail was so vivid and real, while becoming more disappointing every passing minute. He had not touched me, much less annihilated my body. I was not sore, as one would be without being intimate after so long. Sadness pierced my heart at my cruel imagination.

  I cracked the door to see Hunter lounged casually on the chair and his face lighten up as I approached. It could only be fantasy being that easy. He pitied, not desired me. He knew I was a mess, when all I wanted was for him to fuck me. I wouldn’t blame him for not going down that road. It might be a lot of fun, but there could never be no-strings between us. Even after all of this time, the invisible cords that bound us tugged a little tighter, making their presence known. I wish I knew how to cut them…

  It had been quite some time since I had felt so feminine, so ladylike. The delicate silk lay smoothly against my hips and thighs, clinging to the sheer fabric of my stockings. Gone were the days where this was common place, women did not wear garters and corsets as part of normal attire. Perhaps they did, just not in the circles I was familiar with. When I stated I wanted to buy some new underwear, yet leaving out the dream, Hunter insisted on the finest garments at the shops along Michigan Ave. Forgoing the typical La Perla, he sought out a smaller boutique hidden among the larger merchants. The woman smiled as she grabbed a champagne colored piece from the rack I kept eying and ordered me to undress.