by Dori Lavelle
“That must have been a shock. Are you okay?”
“Now I am.” I pick up my salad bowl and put it in the kitchen sink. “But when I saw his face . . . It was terrible, Allison. I thought I’d faint.”
“Do you think he knew who you are?”
I shrug, even though I know she can’t see me. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I left as soon as I saw his face.”
“You walked out on him? What did Hector say?”
“He wasn’t happy, of course. I hope I still have a job tomorrow. He said we need to talk.”
“I’m so sorry, sweety.” She lowers her voice. “Do you want to come over, to sleep here?”
Allison lives only a few blocks from me, but I’ve already taken up too much of her time. “No, I’ll be fine. To tell you the truth, I kind of knew something like this would happen one day, that I’d bump into someone I know. I just never expected it to be him.”
“I can only imagine how hard seeing him again must have been for you.” She lets out a breath. “What will you do if he comes back? Will you reveal your identity?”
I drop onto the edge of the bed. “No. He’s no longer a part of my life. I don’t owe him a thing.”
“What if . . . he could have changed?”
“I don’t care.” I form a fist with my free hand. “It’s a little too late for that.”
“I know it is,” Allison allows a few seconds of silence to pass before speaking again. “I think the best thing for you to do now is get some rest. You’ll feel better in the morning. I’ll give you a call before work.”
“Thanks. You’re the best. Kiss Leon for me.”
Even though I dread the conversation, the next person I call is Hector. I can’t wait until tomorrow to find out if I’m still working for him. Better to get the talk out of the way.
“As much as I’d like to fire your ass, you made quite an impression on Mr. Black. He wants to see you again in two weeks. You better not mess up again.”
“But—”
“No buts. He wants only you and you’re going to be a professional about it.” He clears his throat. “By the way, he left behind a generous tip for you.”
“What tip?”
“Three hundred dollars. He said it’s for the time you took to walk to the white room.”
“That’s—”
“Crazy, I know. But the man is clearly loaded.” He chuckles. “You better get over your fear of being discovered and give the man what he wants.”
When the call ends, I fall back onto my lumpy mattress and find my Christmas music playlist on my phone. I have a habit of turning to Christmas carols when I’m upset, no matter the time of year. But tonight, as I let the music wash over me, tears squeeze through the corners of my eyes.
5
Derrick
The tag attached to her uniform inches from her right nipple says her name is Jayne Reese. Her slate gray eyes tell me she wants me to fuck her. If lust at first sight is a thing, this is it.
Even before she exchanges a word with me, I know I’ll fuck her.
My dick is hard as I lean into the reclining seat and watch her make her way down the narrow carpeted aisles, talking in a hushed voice with the other passengers while glancing at me from the corner of her eye. When she finally turns to me, her gaze lingers on my face a little longer than necessary. Our hands brush as she hands me a coffee. She gives me a shy smile before she turns to a man typing on his laptop. Picking his pillow from the floor, she bends over more than she needs to. She knows I’m watching.
Flipping open a copy of the New York Times, I bide my time, waiting for her to meet the needs of the others before meeting mine. When the plane is hovering comfortably above the clouds, headed for Spain, she returns to me, her curvy hips swaying from side to side, a smile brightening up her heart-shaped face.
“Is everything to your satisfaction, Mr. LaClaire?” The scent of her perfume reminds me of summer but it’s cut by the sharp trace of hand sanitizer.
Although our family owns several private planes, and my brothers make use of them constantly, I only turn to them during emergencies or for short trips. Every time I fly with one of our jets, images of the crash which resulted in our parents’ deaths taunt me. Images that will forever be carved at the surface of my mind, reflected in my dreams. Images of broken bodies and disfigured faces. Images that send me flying all over the world looking for a rush to drown them.
Every time I board a plane, commercial or otherwise, I send each of my brothers a text message to tell them I love them. I don’t give a damn if it’s considered cheesy. If the plane I’m on happens to come crashing down, I want them to know they were among the last people I thought about.
Besides the fact that I feel safer being flown by a pilot responsible for more people, forcing him to pay additional attention, I also get a chance to be among hot flight attendants. I have a taste for women in uniform and make the most of their services, more than they’re paid to provide.
“Everything is perfect, Ms. Reese.” I lean back in my seat and allow my gaze to slide from her smooth forehead down her perfect nose and sun-kissed lips, past her fragile chin, to her smooth neck. “That’s a lovely necklace you have there,” I say in an attempt to start a conversation outside what is required.
Her fingers move to her throat, touching the vintage compass pendant that rests in the hollow of her neck. “My grandmother gave it to me.” Her eyes light up at the mention of someone she loves. “She said it will help me find my way back home. She never really wanted me to become a flight attendant.”
“She must miss you a lot when you travel.” I fold my newspaper in half and lay it on my lap. “How old is she?”
“Ninety.” The light in her eyes dims. “Her health is deteriorating. I wish I could be there for her more often.” She glances over her shoulder at one of her colleagues, a woman with a sharp bob and equally sharp eyes that keep flicking in our direction.
“Are you the only family she has?” My voice is drowned by the rustle of food wrappers and the captain’s voice over the loudspeakers.
Jayne picks up my empty cup of coffee and places it on a silver tray. “She’s all I have.”
“I bet you don’t get to see her often.”
“Not really. That’s why this is my last trip. I want to spend a bit more time with her before . . .” Her next words dissolve on her lips.
I shift in my seat. Time to change the subject. The conversation is headed in a direction I didn’t intend for it to go. As much as I wanted to connect with her on a more personal level, making her sad would defeat the purpose of our conversation.
I gaze past her shoulder at the other flight attendant, who is now watching us shamelessly, her face tight with disapproval. “Is the woman with the bob and pearl earrings your supervisor or something?” I say above a whisper.
Jayne visibly flinches, looking over her shoulder to the woman in question. “Yes, why?”
I lean forward. “She doesn’t seem to approve of our conversation.”
“Yeah.” Jayne shifts from foot to foot. “I should get back to work. Is there anything else you need, sir?”
“Actually, there is.” I hold her gaze, communicating without words.
“Anything.” Her tone is flirty.
“You sure about that?” I give her a grin that gives her pale cheeks color.
“I’m sure.” The way she utters the words tells me it’s not the first time she will be doing what I’m about to ask of her. Naughty girl. How many men has she slept with mid-air? And how’s that my business? My only concern is to make sure I’m next in line.
Her supervisor starts making her way toward us.
“Okay, Jayne, it was nice talking to you.” I pull a pen from my breast pocket and jot a message on a napkin. Doing my best to be discreet, I place the napkin on the tray next to the glass. “I hope to see you later.”
With that, she gets back to work, even though her gaze keeps returning to me from time to t
ime. She read my note. I can see the fire in her eyes.
My suspicions are confirmed when the lights go out and she ends up locked inside one of the toilets with me, her back pressed against the wall, legs around my waist, my dick pulsing inside her.
My jaw tightens with tension as the muscles of her warm, sleek pussy wraps around my cock, sucking me dry. As I thrust into her, her ample breasts bounce on her chest. Her mouth opens in preparation for the scream I know she might not be able to hold back much longer. I place a hand over her mouth, killing her orgasmic moans before they’re heard from outside. Gazing deep into her eyes, I press her harder against the thin wall, tighten a hand around her firm ass, and thrust into her several more times until she comes for me. When I reach my own breaking point, I withdraw and lower her feet to the floor, remove the condom. I place a hand on her shoulder and push her down.
“On your knees.” My voice is raw with desire.
A sexy smile playing at her lips, she obeys and my dick disappears into her mouth, inch by inch. Placing a supporting hand behind her head, I push myself deeper into her, stopping only when she gags. Throwing back my head and closing my eyes, I revel in the rush of adrenaline brought on by the thought of fucking a woman in midair. But when my balls drain of cum, it’s not her face I see in my mind’s eye.
6
Brooke
“Hey, Shana, have you seen Hector anywhere?”
Shana is one of the other ladies working at The Mirage. Her eyes meet mine in the lit-up mirror she’s sitting in front of. She has the largest oval eyes I’ve ever seen on anyone. Nestled into her twenty-year-old coffee cream skin, they’re most definitely her most appealing feature. And she knows how to make them look great, bringing them to the forefront with make-up just enough to enhance them. A black negligée lays in folds on her lap and clear-heeled stilettos rest on their sides at her feet.
She takes a pause from plucking her eyebrows, long enough to shake her head. She’s not much of a talker. But then again, most of us at The Mirage don’t talk much to each other. We come to work, do what we have to do. We return to our lives. We pretend we didn’t sleep with men we didn’t know.
“Oh, okay.” I drop my purse onto one of the six stools lining the long, cream dresser and pull out my makeup bag and wig. I fluff it out.
The door opens with a silent squeak. Jolene walks in. She’s thirty-nine and has thick wild, brown curls that make her face look tiny. Today, the lines around her eyes tell me she hasn’t slept much during the day.
“You okay, Jolene?”
She gives me a frosty look and sits next to Shana. “There’s nothing to be okay about.” She rubs her eyes, smudging her makeup. She turns to me with a somber expression. “Sorry, I get cranky when I’m tired. But that doesn’t give me permission to be a bitch.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “How’s your mother?”
“Same as always. My sister is watching her tonight.”
Shana and I listen for five minutes as she tells us about her difficult life of caring for her mother, who’s in the last stages of Alzheimer’s.
“Have you seen Hector, by any chance?” I ask when she’s done and I’ve sympathized with her situation. It’s eight and Hector is always at The Mirage no later than 5:00 p.m., an hour before the doors open, to ensure the cleaning lady, did a good job tidying the rooms.
“He said last night he’s having an anniversary dinner with the wife and he might be late.”
I’m always a bit freaked out when I think of Hector’s wife, wondering if she knows what he does. We’ve never seen her at The Mirage. From the photos he has shown us, she’s at least ten years younger than Hector, and the clothes and jewelry she wore pointed to her having an expensive taste. Maybe she doesn’t care what he does for a living, as long as he keeps the money coming. Or maybe she’s okay with his line of work. Either way, it’s none of my business.
“Does the pained look on your face have to do with what happened last night?” Jolene goes to open her locker.
I peel my gaze from her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do. Everyone was talking about how you walked out on a white room client.”
Shana stops applying her makeup and watches me with wide eyes.
Hector was the only one who knew. Why would he tell the other ladies? What if he puts a target on my back?
Running a brush through my wig, I contemplate on how best to respond.
Jolene waits patiently as she unzips her linen dress and lets it fall to the floor. She’s naked underneath.
The silence in the room is deafening, broken only by the ticking clock and a car honking outside.
“I had my reasons for doing what I did,” I say.
“Well, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Jolene comes to sit next to me, now dressed in a pair of canary yellow panties and bra. “Why did you do it?”
“It’s someone I knew from high school.” What do I have to lose by being honest? We’re all in the same boat after all.
“Hell no.” She places a hand on her chest. “I’d have a heart attack if anyone I know finds out what I do.”
“Exactly.” My shoulders sink with relief.
“What a coincidence that he happened to show up when you were working. That you got him instead of someone else.”
“Yeah.” I twist to face the mirror, guilt gnawing at me. Hector said I was the best girl present that night. I can’t tell Jolene that, especially since she was one of the ladies working.
“Are you okay?” Shana asks and I gaze at her in surprise. She hardly talks to me and when she does, it’s always in monosyllables.
“I’m dealing with it.” I force a smile.
“Hopefully, he won’t return,” Jolene adds.
My chest tightens. “That’s what I’d hoped as well but apparently he wants us to finish what we started.” I bite my lower lip. “Or didn’t start.”
“Shit. That’s messed up.” Jolene squeezes lotion into the palm of her hand. “Well, give him what he wants, take his money, and tell him to butt out of your business.”
“That’s exactly what I intend to do.” If he manages to see through my disguise. Maybe I’m worrying about nothing. He might not even know it’s me.
“Damn. I’m late for Mr. Mercedes.” Jolene pulls a slinky stretch dress over her head, spritzes herself with her favorite rose water. She rushes out of the room.
Mr. Mercedes is one of Jolene’s regulars and, apparently, he can be quite demanding.
Shana leaves the dressing room right after Jolene. Just as she closes the door, it reopens. Hector walks in with a huge smile.
He’s wearing a gray suit jacket over blue jeans and an off-white shirt instead of the colorful Hawaiian ones he loves so much.
“You look nice.” I crack a smile. “Must be a special night.”
“I came from dinner with my wife. It’s our anniversary. Five years.”
“Congratulations. Looks like you had a good time.”
“I did. Thank you.” He pushes his hands into his pockets. “How are you doing, Brooke?”
“I’m okay.” I cross my legs and fold my hands in my lap. “I’m so sorry, Hector about what happened last night. I should have been more professional.”
“Water under the bridge.” He pulls money from his back pocket. “Here’s the money Mr. Black left for you.”
I frown as my fingers wrap around the three hundred dollars. “I still don’t get why he would pay me for something that didn’t happen?”
“That’s not payment. It’s a tip. Don’t pull the same crap next time.”
“I promise.” My chin hits my chest and I silently pray I won’t end up disappointing Hector again.
I unravel my fingers, extend my hand toward Hector. “I don’t think it’s right for me to take this. You have it. I let you down.”
“The man is swimming in cash if he’s willing to pay for a service that wasn’t offered. Take the money. Don’t pretend you don�
�t need it.”
“I do.” I nod and slide it into a side pocket of my purse. “What’s on schedule for me tonight? I didn’t see myself on the calendar.”
“That’s because you have several white room clients today and I didn’t want to make the others jealous.”
“But I messed up yesterday?” I had expected to be banned from the white room for a while.
“We all make mistakes. Over the past six months, you brought in the most money. Almost every client you’ve been with returns to The Mirage. And they ask for you. What am I supposed to do, send them elsewhere?”
“Thank you, Hector, for not sending me out the door.”
“I’m a businessman. If you leave, your regulars would stop coming.” He chuckles. “I can’t let that happen.”
I give a tiny smile but it’s hard to feel proud of what I do. “So, who do I have first?”
He clears his throat. “I’m sorry but for your next session you don’t only have one client. You have two.”
“Two?” A knot forms in the pit of my stomach.
“That’s right. Cousins.”
My fingers grip the hem of my skirt. During my entire time here, there were only two occasions where two different guys slept with me at the same time. It was the most disgusting thing I’d ever experienced. The thought of doing it again makes me want to throw up.
Hector’s forehead creases. “Are you okay about this?”
I nod. I can’t let him down two nights in a row. “Sure. I’ll do it.”
“Good.” He squeezes my shoulder. “This should more than make up for yesterday.”
