by Liz Adams
Their turn was next at the tollbooth and he paid the attendant there.
The bridge spanned across from Oakland into downtown San Francisco. The actual airport was miles further, all the way to South San Francisco.
As most of the cars took the downtown exits, Jonathan stayed on the freeway. “How about you? Are you in college?”
“Yes.”
“Your major?”
“Communications.”
“Great. So would that be for business? Advertising? Education?”
She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Probably advertising.”
“Is that what you want to do? Get a job in advertising?”
She shrugged and didn’t answer.
***
They reached the airport and Jonathan dropped them off at the curb of their airline. The luggage weighed heavy as he pulled out their bags from the trunk. He said to the tall one, “Be sure you attach your name and address with those tags over there.” He tilted his head toward the outdoor airline stand that had a display of luggage tags.
“You’re not coming in?”
“I’m going to park first, and then come back to do my assignment. My name’s Jonathan.” He extended his hand. “What’s yours?”
“Alina.” Her hand felt soft and warm in mine. She gestured to the curvaceous one. “This is Claire, and this is Saskia.”
The blonde waved.
“Okay, Alina. It was great meeting you all.”
They said their goodbyes and the three of them worked at getting tags for their luggage.
Jonathan started to get in the car, and the idea of never seeing her again bugged him. As a reflex, he got back out. “Can I ask you something before you go?”
Alina looked up.
The words didn’t come to him. “How do you say, ‘I don’t have the hiccups?’ ”
She smiled. “Ik heb niet du hik.”
“Ik heb niet du hik.”
She nodded.
He tapped the roof of the car. “Now I know two things in Dutch.” Nothing more to say. “Have a good flight.”
“Thanks.”
He drove off to park the car.
***
After removing and pocketing his wallet, Jonathan put his backpack in the trunk of his car and walked from the parking lot to the International airport. He made his way through the sliding glass doors of his laboratory.
A bundle of nerves tightened inside him. This hands-on assignment felt like he was about to be taking on a challenge that could leave him shedding his final light, setting as the sun to an end of everything he once was.
Inside the San Francisco International airport, the airlines’ twelve check-in aisles were perpendicular to the breezeway. As if the layout of the room was a giant, twelve-pronged letter E, the vertical line of the E being the breezeway connecting all twelve aisles.
Jonathan looked for the perfect subject. There were plenty of gorgeous women, many of them standing in lines waiting to check in their luggage. But what was he going to do, walk up to one of them and start groping her? She’d probably call security and he’d get thrown out, if not arrested. The more he thought about it, the more absurd the whole plan seemed to be.
He continued walking along the breezeway, passing the first few of the twelve aisles. The sounds of luggage wheels rolling across the tiled floor filled the vast space. A happy sight caught his eye. Down one of the aisles, he saw Alina with the other two girls standing in an empty line. The odd thing was that while the other aisles had crowds of people stuck in lines, Alina and her friends were not only alone standing in their own line, but they were also the only ones in the aisle. There were no other travelers in their aisle, and there seemed to be no airline attendants there to help them check in. The three of them stood between the black waist-high ribbons used for guiding the people waiting in line. Each aisle was separated from the other aisles by walls, so no one could see the girls unless they were standing where Jonathan was, in the breezeway. He realized the girls must have been super early and were waiting for the scheduled check-in time to roll around. Meanwhile, they stood alone in line.
All three of them were reading from the Fifty Shades series.
Did Alina have a religious upbringing? Did she feel shame for having sexual desires? Did she want to be tied up and relinquished of responsibility for any pleasure she got? Even if it meant being humiliated?
Alina tucked her book under her arm and took a chocolate bar from the backpack at her feet. She shared the chocolate with her friends.
Jonathan approached them. “Hi, again.”
Alina beamed. “You’re back.”
“Indeed I am.” He stood beside her, the black ribbon separating the two of them at their waists. “When’s your check-in time?”
“At one-o-clock.”
Jonathan looked at the large clock on the wall. It was half past twelve.
“How’s your assignment going?” Alina bit into a piece of chocolate.
“Not so well.”
She gave him a sympathetic look and offered him some chocolate.
“Thanks.” He took it from her, gently brushing against her hand with his fingertips. The square of chocolate tasted sweet.
He asked her if she liked the book she was reading. She held the first in the series: Fifty Shades of Grey.
“It’s...okay.” She shrugged and looked away. The way she said it sounded more like she was too ashamed to admit liking it.
“I’ve heard a lot about it. I’m just now trying to figure out some things about the way men and women relate. I haven’t read the book, but the concept behind it... I find it very interesting. Makes me curious.”
“Yeah. It’s interesting.” She bent over, unzipped her backpack and slipped the book and chocolate inside.
Was Alina a good subject to test his theory? “This may seem like an odd question, but are you religious? Or did you have a religious upbringing?”
She shrugged and said with her adorable Dutch accent, “Not really. I mean, we celebrate Christmas, but we never go to church.”
“Okay, thanks.” He could feel himself blushing at having asked such a question out of nowhere. At least he found out she wasn’t a good test subject.
And then it hit him. Alina was not religious, she enjoyed Fifty Shades of Grey, from what he could tell she thought he was attractive, and she looked pretty damn good herself. According to his theory, she would not be submissive because she didn’t have the religious upbringing. In fact, if she was like most Dutch people, she probably didn’t feel any shame about sex, so she wouldn’t feel the need to be dominated into having sexual experiences. If she didn’t submit to his sexual commands, that would support his theory. If she did, well, then his theory was wrong. Somehow, the idea of her not responding to his sexual commands in public made him feel better. Not just because it would validate his theory, but because if she did respond to his commands, how far would she let him go? How far would he let himself go? He didn’t want to think that far ahead.
His heart pounded as he found the courage. “You know the assignment I mentioned?”
“Yes.”
“It actually relates to figuring out some things in the way men and women relate. I wonder if you’d be willing to help me test a theory of mine.”
“Like what?”
“It starts by holding this.” He held out his coat.
She took it in her hands.
Jonathan said, “Whatever happens, don’t let go.” She tightened her fists as if to show she’d obey his command. He understood her willingness. He hadn’t made any unreasonable commands. Yet. “Good. Now I need you to look over there.” He pointed to the airline logo. It said KLM and had an image of a crown above the letters. He turned to Claire and Saskia. “To make this work I need Alina to be the only one responding to me without any interruptions. Is that okay with you?” They nodded. “Okay. Good. Now Alina, I’m going to stand behind you and touch your shoulders, okay?”
Her jaw dro
pped and she looked at him.
“I’m going to need you to keep looking at the logo.”
She turned to her friends. Jonathan wondered why. Maybe to see if they would stop her? Maybe to see if they were going to intervene? Maybe to get their permission? Whatever the reason, her friends were smiling. They were probably wondering the same thing he was. Just how far would she let him go? She returned her focus on the logo.
He stood behind her, the waist-high line-guiding ribbon between the two of them, and placed his hands on her shoulders. He noticed there were twenty-three minutes left before the attendants returned to start checking in luggage. That would completely interrupt his goal.
“What city are you from, Alina?” He started to massage her shoulders.
“Utrecht.” Her voice was soft and beautiful. “Just south of Amsterdam.” She glanced at her friends, they were still smiling. As if anticipating his instruction, she returned her gaze upon the logo. He pressed his thumbs into the muscles above her shoulder blades. She was quiet, but by her uneven breathing it seemed like she was having a hard time staying quiet to his touches.
“How do you know Claire and Saskia?”
“We know each other from university and decided to travel together for vacation.”
He repositioned his thumbs to the back of her neck, massaging the top of her spine. “You mentioned that you’re working on your Communications degree, but it sounded like you weren’t very passionate about getting a job in it. What are you passionate about?”
She was silent for a moment, letting his fingers connect with her. “Graphic design.”
“Graphic design. There’s a lot of demand for that these days, considering all those authors out there self-publishing and needing good covers for their books.” He moved to her forearms, massaging with rolling fingers. The next part would be tricky. “So you’re doing really well, Alina. Though it may not seem so, you’re helping me a lot.” He wondered if that sounded too condescending. And if women who liked BDSM enjoyed being talked to that way. “What I need next is for you to describe the logo you’re looking at while I massage you in front. Use your graphical design eye to describe it. Do you think you can do that?”
“Just describe the picture? Like the shapes and colors?”
“Yes. While I touch you in front. Do you think you can do that?”
“I guess so.”
“Great. Go ahead.”
“It says KLM in light blue, and shows a crown using circles, a rectangle, and a plus sign.”
He reached from behind her, under her shoulders and stroked the edges of her bra beneath her small breasts. He couldn’t believe he was doing this! Touching this cute woman he hardly knew. In public, no less. His fingers traced the outline of her breasts.
He glanced at Claire and Saskia. They’re eyes were practically out of their sockets, but their huge grins told him they’d play along and remain silent. For now. Seventeen minutes left before check-in.
Jonathan wondered what Alina was thinking. Maybe “I can’t believe I’m letting a strange man touch me. In public, no less.” Yeah, she probably thought that. But more than that, she probably thought, “This guy just wants to fondle me. I’ll give him points for coming up with a unique strategy.”
“What does the logo have to do with relationships?” she asked.
It was a good question. But Jonathan could tell by her chuckle she knew the logo had nothing to do with anything, and she was just playfully putting him in a tight spot of having to explain. He realized something. She managed to control him by asking the question. The realization was startling.
Alina wasn’t weak. She probably didn’t have the desire to be weak, either. What if all women who liked BDSM didn’t have the desire to be weak? Control could go back and forth between the two of us. So what was the appeal? Why is she letting me touch her this much? How far will she let me go?
Then it hit him. “How far will she let me go?” was the key question. His experiment was like a test for her to see how far she’d let a stranger touch her. Like skydiving, she was seeing how far she could overcome her fear. In this case, she was testing her sexual limits.
“Well?” She turned her head slightly toward him without breaking eye-contact with the airline logo. “What does the logo have to do with relationships?”
In a way, Jonathan thought she was letting him know that she knew what he was up to and could call him on it at any time. It was surprisingly endearing. It made him want her more.
“You’ll see. A lot of experiments have surface interaction, but the actual study is done with an ulterior...” ‘motive’ was the wrong word; too revealing of what he wanted. “...method.”
Twelve minutes left. Time to take back the control.
“What happens next is a kind of game. I’m sure you’ve played it before. I’m going to say a word and you say the first thing that comes to mind, okay?”
“Okay.”
What do I say? Random words? Jonathan thought of what he had for lunch. “Sandwich.” He moved his hands down the sides of her T-shirt.
“Food.” Her chest tensed up.
“I need you to relax, Alina.” He felt her chest expand with a deep breath. “Menu.” Further down, his fingers reached the edge of her white T-shirt.
“Choices.”
“Book.” He put his hands under her shirt at her stomach. She laughed. Sounded like nervous laughter. She looked at her friends who seemed to be enjoying the show. “Keep your eyes on the logo, please.” Her skin felt incredible. The sensation made him grow harder. He positioned himself to make sure he could see as much of her face as possible. He loved seeing her reaction to his touches. “Book,” he said again.
“Fifty Shades of Grey,” she said.
“Lust.” He moved his hands from her front to her back, all the while staying under her shirt.
“Wet.” Her face flushed when she realized what she said. Was she wet? His prick twitched at the thought.
“Love.” He reached up to the clip of her bra.
“Greg.”
Greg? Who’s Greg? And why do I feel angry about it? He ignored the task of analyzing his feelings and just worked on trying not to reveal his anger.
“Sex.” Jonathan unclipped her bra. She gasped. He said, “The first thing that comes to mind. What is it?”
“Condom.”
That made sense. Concern over getting pregnant trumped pleasure. Who the hell was Greg?
“Safe sex.” He reached again to the front of her chest, his fingertips slipping underneath the base of her bra cups.
“Yes.” She brought her hands up and buried her face in his coat, hiding her blushing cheeks from anyone who might be watching. Her friends giggled at her response.
“Keep looking at the logo, Alina.” When she did, he enjoyed how beet-red her face had become. “Greg.” Sliding his hands under her bra, he planted them firmly on her breasts. His dick became uncomfortably twisted in his pants and needed adjusting. No way was he going to let go of Alina to fix himself, though. “Say it. The first word that comes to mind. Greg.”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
Yes! Jonathan rewarded her by rolling her nipples in his fingers. She shut her eyes and bit her lip. Suddenly he knew this had gone too far. He shouldn’t have been doing this. Fondling the tits of a woman he hardly knew. He could end this game whenever he wanted. So why wasn’t he ending it? She felt so good. Her skin was softer than any he had ever touched before. Her rubbery nipples poked firm against his fingertips. He could have run his fingers along the hardened tips of her breasts all day. Then it hit him. He wanted to see how far he would go. This wasn’t just a test of Alina’s sexual limits, it was a test of his own, too.
But why wasn’t she stopping him? If she wanted to practice testing her sexual limits, wouldn’t it make more sense to do so with someone she knew and trusted? He was a stranger. For all she knew he might be a rapist. Then he realized that she knew she was in no danger. Being with friends in a public p
lace with a man she probably would never see again, she was safe. Again, it was like skydiving. Overcoming the fear of free-falling is a lot more appealing with a parachute. Challenging one’s fears in a safe environment seemed like the ideal recipe.
Her breasts felt incredible. His rod was getting more and more knotted in his jeans. He wanted to bend her over the countertop and thrust into her. Nine minutes left. “Can I ask you a question, Alina?”
“Okay.” The word came out in a puff of desire.
“I just got out of a relationship, too. So I understand how you feel. My question is, which of you ended it? Greg or yourself?”
“I did.”
“How come?”
She hesitated. Was it harder for her to reveal something intimate about herself than it was to let a strange man touch her breasts? Or was it that the question wouldn’t make him a safe stranger anymore, somehow sharing about who she really was took away from the safety?
“He wasn’t living up to his potential.” She gestured with a free hand, probably releasing the pent-up nervousness she had from this situation. “He was an artist. A really great painter. But every time I suggested an art show or a fair for him to present his work, he wouldn’t do it. He said he’d just fail and it wasn’t worth trying.”
Jonathan wanted to kiss her. Here was a woman who’d support his dreams. “And what kind of man are you looking for?”
“Someone who takes charge. Someone who wants to be a better man. Someone who listens to me and understands me when I want to support him.” She moaned and then added, “And someone who’s good with his hands.”
Jonathan’s heart pounded. Seven minutes before check-in. “It’s time to test your hands.” He removed one of his own from under her shirt. “Hold my coat in one hand. Give me your other.”
She did. He threaded his fingers through hers, enjoying the bond, the connection, as his other hand remained under her shirt caressing each breast.
His heart pounded like crazy. He hadn’t felt such a surge of adrenalin since he fell off his bike when he was a kid. While living in San Francisco on the hills of cable cars, he rode his bike down one of those steep hills and lost control. Fell off and broke his arm. He ran all the way home uphill clenching his teeth through the pain. As horrible an experience as it was, it helped him get to know himself, what he was capable of surviving.
