by Robin Leaf
She spent the past week moving her stuff into my apartment, and I knew with moving and running the bar, she was busy. I kind of felt a little bad that she would have to move again in the coming weeks, but I had to focus on the end game.
I was happy that my buddy Kyle was helping her. Moving was not a one-person job.
I felt horrible that I was not there to move her. However, this trip couldn’t be rescheduled, and she had to be out of her apartment by the first.
She thought I was coming home later tonight, but I decided to surprise her early. I texted Kyle right before takeoff with my change in plans and asked him not to tell her. He hadn’t texted back either, so I wasn’t sure if he got my text.
I looked over at my neighbor. She was busy scrolling through something on her phone, apt in her concentration, right down to her narrowed eyes and the tip of her little pink tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth. It traveled slowly across her bottom lip, from one side to the other. I wonder what that tongue would feel like… taste like.
That fucking tongue.
I shook myself out of my ogling before I got hard again and focused on my own phone, opening my Flow app, the mindless game I used to help me think whenever I had a problem. Thinking inappropriate thoughts about a girl I just met definitely qualified as a problem.
Heather. Think about Heather.
I loved my little bookworm. She was so sweet and shy, but every once in a while, she would surprise me. Sure, she was quiet, but sometimes, the foul mouth on that sassy girl could make a sailor proud.
She owned a couple of bookstore/bar combos, one in New Orleans and one near her hometown. Her shop was right below my apartment at the edge of the Quarter, which she opened a little over two years ago. She had great business sense, knowing that a bookstore combined with a bar would kill in New Orleans. I admired her.
Plus, she was very supportive of my career. I mean, she didn’t show interest by asking me questions about my game, but she understood how much time and energy went into my creation and was supportive by giving me all the time I needed. She would read while I worked. Just her presence was comforting.
I had to smile at the memory of how we met. Her bar was there for two whole months before the weekend she sponsored her first author signing. I went down to see what was causing all the commotion and was roped into dancing on the bar and convinced to go shirtless by a trio of crazy chicks. I learned later that they were the authors. The trio played matchmaker, and presto, Heather and I started dating. It honestly was one of the best nights of my life.
Meghan Quinn, one of the other authors at the signing, gave Heather her prized possession, a signed squeezable ball in the shape of a boob. It was kept in one of those Plexiglas cubes, like some treasured signed baseball, and displayed it behind the bar with a spotlight shining on it, not something I would expect from my shy girl. Everyone noticed the boob behind the bar.
Strange lot, those romance-reading people.
Heather was both anxious and easy going, a peculiar combo that oddly worked for her. Anyone looking at her would read her wrong. She had a simple beauty, with classic features, alabaster skin, almost black hair, and clear blue eyes. Honestly, she fit in with the New Orleans’ goth scene quite well, even though she didn’t consider herself one. She certainly didn’t dress the part. She loved simple, flowy dresses that matched her sweet and innocent personality.
We didn’t have a whole lot in common, but since opposites attract, we worked.
Kyle didn’t think she was the girl for me, but he couldn’t be more wrong.
I was brought out of my thoughts by movement next to me. My cute neighbor got up to go to the restroom, and yeah, I watched her walk away. She was not tall, but confident and graceful, holding her head high, with a slight sway to her hips that transfixed me. Damn, her ass was perfect in those jeans.
I felt eyes watching me. Sure enough, the classically-dressed woman sitting on the other side of my neighbor smirked at me.
“It seems the universe might be reaching out to you,” she said, nodding her head in the direction of my restroom-bound neighbor.
The universe? Was she not listening to my philosophical speech? The universe has nothing to do with life. This woman is crazy.
I blinked. “I don’t believe in signs from the universe. I believe in choices.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Can’t both exist? Sure, we ultimately choose, but can’t fate play a role by randomly dropping an opportunity in your lap?” She turned in her seat and went back to reading the papers in her hand. “Maybe you should pay attention.”
I focused back on my phone.
There was no such thing as fate. We made our own fate. Chance encounters were real, sure, but the idea that some force was controlling life? The idea was so preposterous, it made me chuckle.
Hearing the lavatory door open, I looked up, and again was struck stupid by the vision before me. She had removed her jacket. The kicker? Her t-shirt. A sugar skull Stormtrooper over two amazingly perky breasts.
Double fuck.
I quickly looked back at my phone again before the girl could notice me staring at her chest.
My stomach dropped just as the plane did, my phone rocketed out of my hand to the floor, and the sugar-skull-Stormtrooper-covered breasts landed on my face.
She smelled so good, like warmth and sunshine and a hint of strawberry, taking me back to my childhood. I took a second to inhale.
My hands went to her hips of their own volition to steady her. Every time she went to stand, the plane would jerk, causing my hands to grope her, and she ended up falling on me again, her hands grabbing at me. She hit the tray holding what was left of my nasty champagne, spilling it on her ass. She seemed to be frantically scrambling to get up, so I pulled her to me, securing her in my arms to keep her from getting hurt while the turbulence passed.
“Just wait here a second,” I instructed calmly, “until it stops.”
She looked me in the eyes, her breaths coming heavy and quickly. Her panic-filled eyes softened and she nodded, sighing and sinking onto my lap. Before she looked away, I noticed her eyes contained gold flecks that made them sparkle. I wanted to pull her closer to me, maybe nuzzle her and kiss her behind her ear. The softness of her body and the way she looked at me, like I was her hero who saved her from certain death, made my cock, again, take notice. I had to recite the alphabet in binary code before he made himself fully noticeable.
A chuckle came from across the aisle. I looked in that direction to see a perfectly manicured eyebrow raised with an “I told you so” smirk plastered on the face of the fate believer.
“I think it’s safe to go back to my seat now,” the girl on my lap uttered quietly.
Instinctually, my arms tightened around her before immediately letting go to help her stand. Hopefully she didn’t notice. She smiled at me sweetly, a naughty sparkle in her eye.
That naughty sparkle made my thoughts turn x-rated.
Holy shit. How long until this mother fucking plane lands?
Five
Kaelyn
Fuck.
Fuckity fuck.
Damn, that man, with his eyes and his hair and his smelling good and his arms around me.
I almost wished I could go to the bathroom again. Splash some cold water on my face. Change my underwear, and not because of the champagne on my ass. It was because of the memory of his hands on me.
Damn.
My savior made me swoon. I literally swooned.
I just wanted to snuggle in. Inhale. Run my fingers through his hair. Lick his neck up to his ear and bite. Rub my ass on his lap and feel what he had to work with.
Fuck.
He’s unavailable.
No coveting.
FUCK!!!
I was going to hell.
Correction, I was already there, on a plane with the perfect guy sitting next to me who was friggin’ taken by another woman.
It was like a line from that Alanis M
orissette song.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as he placed his ear buds in his ears, laid his head back on his seat, and closed his eyes, getting lost in his music. It only served to make me want him more.
“He’s not as attached as you think he is, Miss Cartupeli,” Dr. Bourgeois leaned over and murmured, awakening me from my lascivious trance.
“Huh?”
“I’ve been watching. He’s as smitten with you as you are with him.” She smiled. “My advice?” She leaned closer and whispered, “Don’t let this one get away.”
I thought back to the rumors about Dr. Bourgeois. Someone said she was a practicing witch. Another said she was a Voodoo High Priestess. On my last weekend in New Orleans, I thought I saw someone who looked a lot like her in the Quarter offering psychic readings, but a wedding parade blocked my view. At this moment, I had to shake off the strong woohoo vibe she was shooting my direction.
Crossing her legs, she adjusted the papers in her lap. “As I remember, you fight fiercely for what you think is right. And he is right. For you.”
“He’s not –”
“Yes,” she interrupted. “Yes, he is. I just about combusted from the sexual tension between you.” Smiling, she added, “Very few couples have that kind of heat, especially from the get go. With the banter and the palpable attraction…” she looked me in the eyes. “Well, let’s just say when you find it, you have to stake a claim on it and never let it go.”
My mouth was too busy dropping open to respond right away.
“Why…” I cleared my throat and lowered my voice. “Why would you want to help me?”
She pulled her glasses off slowly, folded them, and placed them in her lap. “It seems I suddenly feel the need to right my wrong.”
I felt the confusion color my face. She must have noticed because she clarified.
“I seem to have made a mistake where you are concerned. I thought your response on your midterm was far too eloquent and well-thought-out for someone to have written it in the short amount of time you did. Honestly, in all my years at Tulane, I’ve never had someone connect all the dots of my question quite as perfectly as you did. Based on your conversation with that handsome gentleman over there, you quite possibly could have been the first.”
Oh yeah, I failed to mention that Dr. Bourgeois taught Philosophy of the Self, the class I took to satisfy one of my required Humanities credits. Most of the stuff I talked about with him earlier in the flight came from some of the readings and lectures in her class.
“How did you get that from what we talked about?”
She sighed. “Like your answer on your midterm, you referenced philosophers by name, added pop culture and literature references, and correctly connected your examples, and if I remember correctly, you even talked about a video game in your blue book.”
I laughed. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t admit that I totally bullshitted my way through that answer.” I took a breath. “But I absolutely did not cheat.”
Her eyes widened as she sat back, twisting her mouth to the side.
“Well, my dear, your bullshitting is more impressive than the thesis the doctoral candidate I am currently mentoring is writing.” She unfolded her glasses and put them back in place. “I will go to the records office in the morning and restore your credit for the class, and I plan to give you an A.”
I smiled. “That’s not necessary, Dr. Bourgeois, I replaced the credit pretty easily.”
“It’s the principle of the thing.” She tapped my knee. “Take the win, Kaelyn.” Picking up her papers, she quipped, “And please do take my advice. Some people are just meant to be together.” When she widened her eyes, something kinda scary sparkled in them and held me captive. “I have a very strong feeling things aren’t going to work out like he thinks they are.”
I glanced in the direction of my neighbor. He appeared to be sleeping, so I let my eyes linger. I watched his throat as he swallowed. Who knew the bobbing of an Adam’s apple could be so… tantalizing. That neck… gah. Were necks supposed to be sexy? His was smooth and thick, and it led to that strong jawline.
Once the desire to lick his chin dimple became too strong, I turned away.
I absolutely would not take the advice of the crazy lady next to me. There was no way I was going to be the buster upper of a happy home.
Nope. There were other fish in the sea.
Unfortunately, there were also sharks in the water.
It’s why I chose not to swim anymore.
***
Holy hot damn, we were finally landing. In the interim between my earlier lust-capade and now, I confirmed landing time with Ruby so she could pick me up at the airport, researched the restaurants and came up with a few possible plans for the menu to discuss with the chef, notified my choreographer friend of the cancelled flash mob, and cooled my red-hot yearning to a mild desire.
Okay, cooled might be a bit of a stretch, but I had it under control.
I just needed to get off this plane, get to Ruby’s, peel myself out of the crappy champagne pants, and wow at the meeting.
Oh, and forget about him.
Mister fucking perfect.
Six
Brody
I felt the jolt of the tires hitting the runway signifying the end of this torturous trip. I spent the last hour in my own head, half of the time fantasizing about this vivacious, beautiful, practically-perfect woman, whose scent still lingered all around me, and the other half calling myself a cheater. What kind of guy am I that I can’t keep my sexual thoughts at bay? Lust is one of the seven deadlies; it certainly was killing me at that moment.
Slowly.
The plane came to a stop, and all the other passengers scrambled to gather their belongings so they could make a hasty exit. I opted to go a little more slowly than the rest, giving this girl who was unknowingly my tormenter a chance to exit.
She stood and bent over to retrieve her carry on from under her seat.
I tried so hard not to look. I really did.
But it was right there. Her perfectly gorgeous round ass, so close I could have reached out and touched it.
I didn’t. The memory of it in my hands just an hour earlier was branded into my palms.
Shit, if there is a hell, I was going to it. In a rocket ship.
Maybe that was an idea for my game. Create a hell world where gorgeous women appear out of nowhere, and the player can’t have them. They’d bend over just out of reach. No touching allowed.
Then again, maybe that’s a bad idea. I might lose my “Everyone 10+” rating.
She stood and started to walk toward the exit, but she stopped, wrapping her hands tightly around the strap on her bag, and turned slowly to face me.
“Hey, happy birthday. Congratulations again on your game.” She closed her eyes tightly and opened them, sincerity shining in their depths. “And good luck tomorrow. I know she’ll say yes.”
As she turned and bolted, I thought I heard her mutter, “I would.” Maybe that was wishful thinking.
I watched her walk away. I mean, why not? I’d likely never see her again, so what’s the harm in memorizing the view?
I never asked her name, and I never gave her mine. It was safer that way. Now we were simply two strangers on a plane who had an interesting conversation and accidentally felt each other up. What an awesome story to not share.
Before she exited, she looked at me. I waved, and she smiled kind of sadly, which tugged at my chest.
And she left.
***
I entered the bar first before going upstairs thinking Heather would be there. For some reason, I just needed to lay my eyes on her.
“Hey, Brodes,” Stephanie’s raspy voice called, seeing me in the mirror behind the bar. She unpacked the last bottle of Bud and stuck it in the cooler before facing me and leaning her elbows on the wooden surface. “How’d it go?”
“After a few tweaks, they’re going to beta test it. If it goes well, it will be out in the fal
l.”
She held up her hand for a high five. “That is fucking awesome, my dude.” She placed a bottle of some local brewery’s red ale on the bar. “Try this one.”
I took a sip and nodded to Stephanie. She had too many piercings to count, full sleeves of tattoos, and dressed like a biker chick. Today’s chosen hair color was hot pink. She was one who bounced from job to job, and once she mastered one, she’d move on to the next. I am never surprised by what she’s done because frankly, she’s done it all, from computer tech to doing some sort of training for firefighters. She’s also hinted that she worked as a communications specialist at some secret agency that required high level security clearance. She even delivered pizzas. Now she had mastered bartending, so I assumed she’d be moving on soon. It was great that Heather snagged her when she did, or I’d still be stuck in my own creative process. I bounced ideas for my game off her brilliantly creative mind, and she was the first to play the final product with me.
“I plan to cut you in on my deal.” I took my first drink and nodded my approval. “Purpose wouldn’t be a thing without your input. I owe it to you.”
“Fuck, Dude, I told you before, it’s unnecessary. I enjoyed helping. I don’t fucking expect anything.”
“Yeah, and I told you to suck it. You’re gonna take your cut.”
“Ugh, fine,” she huffed, rolling her eyes playfully. “I ain’t gonna turn you down.” She smiled, sticking her tongue through her teeth. “Wouldn’t want to be rude.”
“Good.” I downed half the beer. “Heather here?”
“She was here early this morning, but Douche Boy picked her up to make one last run to her apartment. I think I heard them come back about fifteen minutes ago.”
“Why do you hate him so much?”
She rolled her eyes again. “Why do you like him?” She shuddered. “He’s a fucking tool.”
I took a minute to finish the bottle and stood. “Thanks, Steph. For the beer and… everything.”
