Despite her claim of him being like a father to her, something dark and green twists my stomach at the sound of that man’s name. “Is that why you want me to meet with him? Because you consider him a father of sorts?”
Her face softens. “No, I want you to meet with him because you two share a connection. One so profound, his face is showing up on my Soon-To-Be Departed pad. Speaking of which…” She goes over to the backpack, still sitting next to the chair where she left it, and pulls out her drawing pad.
Ripping two pieces of paper from the top, she says. “You can throw these away if you want. But until you two connect, the gift’s going to keep on urging me to draw his portrait for you, once a day.”
She hands me the torn out pieces of paper.
Each sketch is different. One is of the man smiling, and the other is of him peering out over a pair of reading glasses. But now, instead of a date, question marks occupy each drawing’s top left corner.
I’m deeply aware that I do not know this Jae-Hyun person. Yet Kristal’s agreement to my terms completely depends on her belief that I do. Plane or no plane, neither of us would be here right now if not for this mysterious link she thinks Jae-Hyun and I have.
“I’m not sure what ‘feed your head’ means,” Kristal suddenly says into my awkward silence. “I think it’s about drugs. You know…60’s rock.”
She turns back to the table. “Anyway, Kristiano brought me a few things for breakfast, too. Wanna eat? We could, like, mix and match all the dishes. I’ve never eaten a Japanese breakfast before.”
Speaking of drugs….
I look up from the portrait. No, I do not want to eat. At least not breakfast.
However… “Our plane leaves in an hour. I should shower.” It feels like I’m reminding myself of my responsibilities just as much as her. “You will have to eat alone. Please avail yourself of whatever you want from my breakfast. I am not hungry.”
Disappointment shadows her face, but I resist the urge to give in to her offer. Eating together feels too intimate. Like that laughing dinner we shared at Sukiyabashi Daniel—the one I ended up replaying for months on end.
I cannot afford to indulge her, I decide as I turn to head for my shower. Or myself.
16
Embryonic Journey
I’m still resisting the urge to indulge myself a few hours later. We’re most of the way through the flight, and I’ve yet to make any progress on the market research report I was in the middle of vetting yesterday when Kristal showed up at my door.
I blame People magazine.
Kristal forgot her usual shyness and jumped into my arms when she found the stack of magazines waiting for her on the plane. Every issue of People from this year, including next week’s end-of-year issue—which hadn’t officially hit newsstands yet, made neatly available for her.
One hug. It was only one hug. And I’m a grown man, known throughout Asia as a playboy. But that one hug was enough to resurrect the erection I thought I had taken care of in the shower.
Now, I can barely concentrate for the sight of her, curled up in the seat across from me, flipping through her magazines. A gift that I already suspect makes her happier than the drawers of lingerie and full wardrobe I plan to present her with when this short side trip is done.
I refocus my eyes on my laptop screen, determined to finish my work before we land in an hour. I was supposed to have turned around this report two days ago before I made the spontaneous decision to hop on a plane to San Francisco. But halfway through a follow-up request for more research, my gaze floats right back up to the woman sitting across from me.
I could move. I should move.
Suddenly Kristal rises from her seat before I can make my body comply.
I watch her pass by Declan as she makes her way back to the washroom at the back of the plane. Perfect time to move to another seat, I think.
But then, instead of doing that, I follow her.
I feel Declan’s curious gaze on me as I also pass by his seat, even though there’s a small toilet for the pilot and steward I could make use of at the front.
He most likely understands what I plan to do, but like me, he is surprised that I am about to do it.
I spent the last flight I took with an escort so engrossed in my work that I completely forgot I’d decided to bring someone along on my short business trip to China until we landed. And that was not the first time something like that had happened. Escorts were like extra pieces of luggage on my trips. There, but not necessarily used.
To say this current behavior isn’t like me is an understatement.
Lifting the small red, engaged sign, I flip the locking apparatus from the other side of the door, gaining entrance with just a flick of my finger.
I find Kristal at the sink, staring at me wide-eyed. The water is still running, I note, but she’s no longer washing her hands, most likely because I’ve invaded her space with the manipulation of one lock.
I place a finger on my lips before she can ask any questions and close the door behind me.
As private jet washroom’s go, this one is relatively large. It’s hexagon-shaped with plastic walls and floors painted to look like wood and tile, respectively. It also boasts a shower, a built-in seat, and even a state of the art GoNoRobo toilet, a special off-menu item given to only a small number of tech billionaires as holiday presents.
There’s plenty of room in here for me to wait my turn patiently. But I wrap my long arms around her waist, pull up her sweater dress, and answer all of her unspoken questions by plunging my hand down the front of her panties.
I smile at her gasp, and something wicked unfurls inside of me as I watch her in the mirror.
“I would like for you to ride my hand,” I whisper in her ear. “Come quickly and silently, please.”
In the mirror, her eyes flare but then flutter close under the ministrations of my insistent fingers, plunging in and out of her while my thumb works her clit.
My dick pulses when her hips start moving, her beautiful bottom unconsciously stroking my length until suddenly she goes completely still. The tangy scent of her arousal rises into the air as her folds squeeze helplessly around my fingers.
Good girl.
I pull her tights down to her ankles, then turn her around and help her into a half-seated position on the sink. A few seconds for the condom, then ahhh, I’m back inside.
I anchor one hand at her waist and curl the other around the back of her neck to hold her. I want to, but don’t let myself kiss her. I just keep her steady as I pump into her with a desperation I should not be feeling less than twelve hours after the last time we did this.
She stays quiet, but disobeying my instructions from last night, her arms slip around my waist. Her legs spread as wide as they can go with the tights still around her ankles. She grips my butt, pulling me in closer, deeper so that we’re very nearly hugging as I thrust into her.
It doesn’t take long in this position. For either of us. With a muted choke, she bites into my shoulder as she comes again. Her pussy clamps so tight around me, Japanese spills out of my mouth, deep and guttural as I explode into the condom.
Panting, she rests her head on my shoulder as we both come down. “Is it…are you always like this with your escorts?”