Hollywood's Secret Baby

“I’m on the pill,” I groan when his warm presence pulls away.

He’s back on top of me in an instant, his fingers having found their way to my clit.

“Just fucking get inside of me,” I sigh into his ear.

I spread my legs and feel the tip of his cock rest on my slit. He looks into my eyes and kisses me. Then he slides inside me.

Stars light up my brain. Some wild mix of both pleasure and pain at the sudden invasion. It’s been quite some time for me, so his girth takes a bit of getting used to. But soon we’ve fallen into a rhythm, the slap of our thighs as he pumps in and out like a clock counting down to what is sure to be an orgasm to remember.

A flight attendant knocks on our door, pauses (no doubt at the sounds coming from our little cabin), and finally says in a tight voice, “Dinner will be served shortly.”

Neither of us responds, except to quiet our moans and breaths until we’re sure he’s out of hearing range. Before we get started up again, I pull Cory onto me, as he’s been holding himself up o

n his arms this whole time. Hugging him to my chest, our skin touching from our toes to our lips, I roll him over so that I’m on top.

After sitting up, I whip my hair out of my face and rest my hands on his chest for balance.

“Hey, Hot Stuff,” Cory says in a sexy voice that’s nothing like the one he had back in high school. This single thought throws me back into the past, back to when we were just kids who ate together because no one else would sit with us. Back to when we were unattractive and undesirable even as nothing more than friends to 99% of the student population. Being of the opposite sex, we would get the occasional insult hurled our way about us being a loser couple. Cory would always deflect these, not by denying it, but with a witty comeback. His favorite was one that he claimed to have learned from a British comedian with a foul mouth by the name of Jimmy Carr.

After we were accused of sleeping together because no one else would have us, Cory stood his ground, looking at the bully who said this until he got the reaction he was waiting for, which was:

“What? Nothing to say?”

To which Cory replied, “If you’re looking to get my comeback, you’re going to have to scrape it off your mom’s face.”

I didn’t get it the first time I heard it, but to those around us who did, it earned a raucous laughter and enough time for us to crawl away.

Eventually the assholes at our school were right. We slept together. It was only once, but Lizzie was the result of that prom night gone wrong. That night we let our hormones get the best of us.

Am I making the same mistake all over again?

“What’s wrong?” Cory asks when I push away from him.

All I can do is shake my head, bite my lips, and worm away from him. I’m back on my feet despite the ‘Fasten Seatbelt’ light that’s just appeared above the door, pulling clothes back on as he asks me again and again what’s going on.

“I don’t know,” is all the answer I give. And it’s the truth. Even if my life depended on it, I couldn’t point out exactly why I’m suddenly switched off like a light. All I know is that this doesn’t feel right. It’s like I’ve woken from a dream that seemed perfectly natural when I was in it, but now looking back, I wonder how I never realized how messed up everything was in that fake world.

For Christ’s sake, Lizzie is just across the aisle, not ten feet away. What if she had wandered over here? She never knocks, and opening that door would have led to a lot of questions I’m not remotely prepared answer.

With all my clothes more or less back in place, I hop out of the tiny First Class room and walk briskly to the bathroom. But I’m stopped by a flight attendant who points me towards the lounge area. “We’re just about to take off. If you could wait for just five minutes.”

Fortunately, everyone else in First Class is in their individual rooms, luxuriating in their perfect little lives. Including Lizzie who seems perfectly content with her headphones on and one of her favorite cartoons playing on the screen.

The sofa in the tiny lounge area has seatbelts built in. Before the flight attendant pulls a seat from the wall and buckles herself in, she pours me another glass of champagne. I don’t drink it, but it does give me something to divert my attention, watching as the tiny bubbles slide up the glass. The engines power up and soon the floor and walls are vibrating around me. I keep expecting Cory to burst out of our room and take me in his arms. I don’t even know if that’s what I would want, or if I wouldn’t simply push him away again. But it would still be better than sitting here alone, wondering why he’s apparently not worried about me in the least.

Lizzie is going to be scared. This is her first time flying. But when I hop up to check on her, against the stewardess’s calls to sit down, I find that Lizzie hasn’t even noticed that we’re moving. She’s completely absorbed, her little hands robotically moving honey-glazed peanuts to her lips. Sarah is there too, and when she sees me poke my head in her compartment, her eyebrows rise, but I throw myself back into the lounge before she can ask what the problem is.

Lizzie is safe. That’s all that matters.

As we lift into the air, I stare out the window, watching the old world where I knew my place fade beyond the gauze of clouds.

Five minutes after we’re in the air, a door slides open and out strides Sarah. She’s changed into some flowing robe-type thing that’s made of what appears to be silk. She’s most certainly not wearing a bra underneath it, and I wonder if this is a comfort choice or another way for her to grab attention from any passerby. Particularly from Cory.

Not that this should bother me. I just left him mid-sex, so it’s obvious that he chose me over her. But I still hate that I have to compete with this woman who could win over 99% of the male population without saying a word.

“Not a fan?” she asks. I almost apologize for whatever action I’ve committed that made it apparent I’m not into her latest fashion choice, but then she reaches across and pries my hands from the edge of the seat. “You’re daughter did not seem to mind. I don’t think she even noticed. She is lucky. I was terrified of flying when I was her age. But then I came to terms with the fact that it’s not much different than being on solid ground. Because it’s not really all that solid when you think about it. Even on Earth, we’re just specks of dust hurtling across the galaxy.”

“It’s not the plane,” I admit without looking up.