Deep Control (Dark Dominance 2)

“Does it help for me to explain everything, or is it annoying?”

“No, please explain. It helps.” It gave me something to think about besides my embarrassment, and my impending doom. The engines roared, coming to life. I laced my fingers, popping a few knuckles, then all the words came at once. “I would like to know what every hum is, please, every beep. I want every hiss, bang, and tilt of the plane to be explained as normal, or abnormal in the event of a disaster. Also, please let me know when we’re experiencing turbulence versus a more serious plunge toward the earth.”

He laughed, a deep, rich sound, and the plane started to move, rolling slowly out onto the tarmac. I looked around the cabin but no one else was alarmed, or even paying attention. His friends across the row had already closed their eyes, leaning into each other. The man’s hand traced over the top of his partner’s over-the-knee socks like he didn’t have a care in the world. Were they taking a nap?

I envied their lack of nervousness, and the fact that they had each other to lean on. My career kept me too busy for serious relationships, and I had a history with the man beside me that made me reluctant to lean on him for comfort of the physical type.

“We’re taxiing to our runway,” Devin said as the plane picked up speed. “All movement at an airport is coordinated and back-up coordinated, so there’s no chance of anything accidental happening now.”

“Except a flat tire,” I commented as I felt a bump.

“I doubt we’ll get a flat tire. What you feel are tar strips on the tarmac, like, airplane speed bumps.”

“Okay.”

“Right now, while we taxi, the pilot and first officer are going over last minute checks, making sure all the systems are working correctly, and nothing is turned off that should be on. You can’t see from where you are, but the control surfaces on the wings are going through their paces to be sure they all work. These mechanical systems are triple-backed-up, so they never fail.”

“Never?” The theoretical scientist in me rejected that word. “I’m sure there have been instances of them failing.”

“Okay, very limited instances, but you have a better chance of winning the lottery than dying on a plane because of mechanical issues,” he said, a platitude I’d heard many times by now.

The taxiing stopped. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff. I knew the takeoff was coming next, the rush and rise and loss of safety. Along with the landing, it was the hardest part for me.

“Jesus, please.” I breathed the two-word prayer, though I wasn’t the least bit religious. I was only religious on planes. “Jesus, please. Jesus, please.” The engines revved again. The plane started to move, going from stopped to very fast so quickly that I felt my stomach slide to my knees. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”

“Deep breaths.” Devin took my hand, enveloping it in his big fingers. “One moment at a time. Let it happen.”

Oh God, that was totally something a Dom would say. I remembered the warmth and force of his fingers stroking my pussy, making me toss in my bonds. It sent me to a weird, detached place where I was partly in the plane freaking out, and partly back in the dungeon with my blindfold and gag. The plane lifted, along with my stomach, going airborne. I could feel the nose tipping up.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I whispered.

“Breathe,” Devin insisted, his tone more serious. “We’re off the ground and everything’s fine.” He started describing the principles of lift and thrust as the engines roared louder. I heard nothing he said, just a bump and then another, louder, bump. “That’s the landing gear folding into the plane,” he reassured me, and I bit hard on my lip, waiting. I knew if anything catastrophic were to happen, it would most likely happen now as we gained altitude. The plane banked to the right and I gave a strangled scream, grabbing Devin’s arm.

“Just turning on course,” he said.

“But we’re still climbing!”

His friends across the aisle gave me sympathetic looks, which made me feel even more embarrassed. The roar of the engines ebbed. A stall? Total power loss? No, the plane was nearly to cruising altitude, Devin explained. I realized I was still clutching his forearm, like he was a life preserver and I was in a sinking boat. I wasn’t sure if two minutes had passed, or two hundred.

He leaned down to catch my gaze. “We’re on our way, Ella. May I call you Ella?”

I stared at him.

“Or would you prefer Dr. Novatny?”

“Um, Ella’s fine.” My voice broke on the last word. It seemed to have taken an eternity, but we were in the air, and nothing catastrophic had happened yet. The plane was leveling off, and the engines weren’t so loud now. I let go of his arm as casually as I could and returned my hands to my lap. I wondered how high we were, but I couldn’t bear to look out the window. I swallowed as my ears popped.

“Talk to me,” he said. “Any concerns? Any questions you need answered right now?”

I did a body check and tried to slow my breathing. I was alive. The plane hadn’t blown apart due to some undetected crack in the fuselage. Although that might still happen. “So…everything seems normal in this flight right now?” I asked, a hint of pleading in my voice.

“Everything’s great. The most that will happen over the next few hours is a bit of drag or turbulence, but you shouldn’t let it bother you, since it’s a natural part of flight. Before you know it, we’ll be touching down in New York.”

“There aren’t any weird sounds or anything?” I cocked my head. “What’s that hissing noise?”

“Cabin pressurization. The system’s automated and backed up, so everything you hear is normal.”

I saw a hint of amusement in his eyes. My fears must seem ridiculous, considering he flew planes for a living. “I’m sorry.” I put a hand to my forehead, trying to see the humor in what was going on. “I have a tendency to worry about things. To overthink. My field of science is based on questions more than answers.”

“I’d love to hear about your work,” he said, settling back a little. “And I’m not just saying that to keep you talking so you won’t be scared.”

We both laughed, and I let out a breath. As the plane barreled through the sky, I started telling him about my previous research at the European Gravitational Observatory in Santo Stefano. I described the three-kilometer wide VIRGO interferometric antenna that we used to intercept the gravitational waves of energy from events happening in the farthest reaches of the universe, light years away, waves that were measured in such tiny increments that those increments were still being invented.

I explained that the study of molecular-sized, light-years-distant waves could eventually lead to answers about the origins and dimensions of our universe. At that point, his friends started listening, eavesdropping at first, then joining the conversation and asking me as many questions as Devin. They were so curious and engaged that my nervousness receded, and the ongoing hum of cabin pressurization bothered me less. A bout of turbulence made me stammer in the midst of explaining the curvature of space-time, but I managed not to fall to pieces, and the ride smoothed out moments later.

“So, you’re doing more of this work in New York?” Juliet asked. “Research on gravitational waves?”

“Yes. Well, it’s an NSF-funded project. The National Science Foundation.” I looked away, biting my lip. “It’s this thing called the Astrophysicists, Cosmologists, and Engineers Consortium, or ACE Con. They’re doing a lot of the stuff we did at Santo Stefano, but honestly, I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“You’ll miss your work in Italy?” Devin asked.

“It’s more that I don’t respect the person in charge.” I pushed thoughts of Leo from my mind, and the frustrating helplessness of my situation. “I work in a very tight field. It’s competitive.” I shrugged. “Sometimes you just have to do stuff for your career.”

Fort nudged Juliet. “You’d know about that. You have the boss from hell.”

“He’s not so bad.” Ju

liet laughed. “Okay, he’s pretty out of touch. His name is Goodluck Boundless, if that tells you anything. He’s an artist, but in his mind, he’s more akin to a god.”

I laughed along with them, but felt a little embarrassed. Talking to normal, non-scientific people was a minefield for me. I thought back to the social skills classes my father had forced me to take as a child, when he saw my braininess alienating me from my peers. Rule number one: don’t blather on about esoteric thoughts and theories until people’s eyes glazed over.

“You work for an artist?” I asked, dutifully turning the conversation to her. “That must be fun.”

“It is fun. Goodluck’s pretty well known in New York,” said Juliet. “Have you heard of him?”

Juliet was pretty, brown-haired and bright-eyed. I hated to admit that I didn’t know her artist, but I’d never heard the name. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not much into the art world.”

“See?” Devin laughed. “I’m not the only one who’s out of touch with the ‘scene.’”

“What do you do for a living?” I asked Fort next, since I already knew Devin was a pilot. I was aware that I was focusing attention on his friends because I couldn’t look at him without blushing.

“I work for Sinclair Jewelers,” Fort said. “Actually, my father is the owner, so I work for him.”

“Your dad owns Sinclair Jewelers?” They were a well-known luxury brand, even in the Tuscan countryside.

“Fort’s filthy rich. His real first name is Forsyth,” said Devin in a haughty accent.

Fort gave him a look. “Does Ella know that your dad owns the airplane we’re flying on right now?”

“He owns the whole airline,” Juliet chimed in, nodding at me. “Talk about filthy rich.”

“My dad’s only part owner,” countered Devin. “He doesn’t own the whole airline, and I don’t own any of it.”

I watched this exchange with amazement. All this time, I’d been sharing the cabin with millionaires. They were Fortune 500 people, and I was a thirty-year-old lab rat. “My father teaches physics at the University of Munich,” I said. “He’s never owned any companies, but he’s a really hard grader, from what I understand.”

That’s right, Ella. Joke and smile as if you have a perfectly well adjusted father, as if he hasn’t been living in a fantasy world for the last fifteen years.