Mister Weston

More passengers boarded the tram, and as I stole one last glance at him, he looked up and turned his head toward me.

He raised his eyebrow and slowly looked me up and down, his expression shifting from stoic to confused. Then that familiar, cocky smile tugged at his lips.

He let go of the handrail and walked over—gripping the handrail next to me and letting his hand brush against mine. “Hello, Gillian.”

“Gillian?” I feigned surprise. “No, I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Your name tag says, ‘Gillian,’ Gillian.” He smiled even wider, looking at it. “I was also burying my cock inside of your pussy four weeks ago, so I’m pretty sure I don’t have you confused with someone else.”

The woman standing next to us gasped and moved away.

“Did you...” I blushed, in utter disbelief that he’d said that aloud. “Did you really have to say that, Jake?”

“Did you really have to act like you didn’t know me?” He raised his eyebrow. “I rewound my security tapes back from the last time we spoke. I didn’t catch you with the other guy you mentioned, the one who’s better than me supposedly.”

“It’s not supposedly.”

“It’s definitely supposedly.” He still wasn’t whispering. “And a part of me is beginning to think you made him up. In case you’re not, though...” He looked somewhat jealous. “If he was any good at fucking, you would’ve never needed to come home with me.”

The man standing on the other side of me leaned closer.

“He’s not made up, and we decided to meet at a hotel,” I said, lowering my voice. “I decided I didn’t want an audience, decided you didn’t deserve to watch.”

“What a shame. I was looking forward to learning what not to do.” He stared at me, narrowing his eyes as the seconds passed. “You really need to work on lying, Gillian. You’re not very good at it.”

“I take it that’s your specialty?”

“Lying?”

“Denying,” I said. “You’re too cocky to believe that anyone else could possibly be better than you.”

“Only when it comes to one particular department.” He stepped closer as passengers pushed by us to get off at Terminal C. “I would’ve never guessed you to be the flight attendant type.”

“Is that an insult?”

“It’s a compliment.” He paused as the tram rolled on once more, finally whispering. “Your attempt at impersonating a pilot makes perfect sense now.”

“I could say the same about you. You never told me you were a pilot.”

“At what point, between eating your pussy and taking you against the wall, was I supposed to bring that up?”

My cheeks warmed as he closed the gap between us, as he trailed his fingers against my silver flight pin.

“How long have you really been flying?” he asked.

“A year, maybe two. And yourself?”

“Twenty.”

“What?” I swallowed, silently doing the math in my head. He didn’t look any older than thirty, and even that was pushing it. “So, you’re in your early fifties? Late forties?”

Another smile. “Late thirties. Where are you headed?”

I didn’t answer. He’d stopped touching my flight pin and was looking at me with the same intensity he did when we first met.

“Do you need to look at your schedule, Gillian?” He leaned forward, whispering into my ear. “I asked where you’re heading.”

“Overseas.”

“Surely you can be more specific than that. What city?”

“London. Where are you headed?”

“London.”

The tram rounded the curve as it approached my stop and I checked his blazer for where a tell-tale Elite pin should’ve been if he flew for the same airline, but there wasn’t one. I let out a small sigh of relief.

“Well,” I said, clearing my throat. “My stop is up next. It was interesting seeing you again, Jake.”

“Only interesting?”

“Yes. Only interesting.”

He didn’t say anything else, he simply continued staring at me, making me wet without any effort at all.

“Now stopping at Terminal D. Gates 1-22.” The speaker system announced. “Please watch your step.”

Jake walked past me and suddenly stopped, looking over his shoulder. “There’s only one Elite flight heading to London this morning. This is where we need to get off for it, correct?”

My jaw dropped. I couldn’t think or get a single word to fall out of my mouth. I just stared at him as his signature, sexy smile crossed his lips, as he looked at me in the same way he did when he pushed me against his bookcase.

“Since you’re not getting off right now,” he said, stepping off and looking amused. “I’ll see you aboard.”

GATE B9

GILLIAN

In flight—> London (HTW)

“MIMOSA ON THE ROCKS for 3B, mineral water for 4B, and an orange juice for 4A...” I muttered under my breath as I opened an ice drawer.

I was standing in the galley closest to the cockpit, mixing pre-take-off drinks for the first class passengers. I was trying to pretend that Jake was not the pilot on this flight, that he hadn’t purposely brushed his hand against my waist when we boarded and winked at me, setting my nerves on fire all over again.