“So, you’ve done this before?”
“No.” He spread my legs and gently pulled my panties down to my ankles. “I’m just very well-versed in airports and I think you need to relax before we start this arrangement.”
“I can relax…”
“I’ll make sure of it.” He took my panties and stuffed them into his pocket. “In the meantime, let’s agree to start over after today. Can you do that?”
He didn’t wait for me to agree with him, though. He pushed my dress up past my stomach and spread my legs a little further. Without saying another word, he lifted my left leg over his shoulder and buried his head between thighs, devouring my pussy for so long that I went completely weak at the knees, that he had to cover my mouth to muffle my screams.
I clawed at his back as his tongue brought me to orgasm twice in a row, leaving my pleasure etched onto his skin.
When he finally finished, he had one hour until boarding so he simply put me back together and walked away, saying, “I’ll email you for where you need to meet me in Charlotte next week. And for the record, the taste of your pussy’s come is incredible…”
Gate B14
Gillian
Charlotte (CLT)--> Atlanta (ATL) --> Montreal (YUL)
* * *
Subject: Charlotte
How’s your week going so far? (Mine is very stressful and hectic.)
—Gillian
* * *
Subject: Re: Charlotte
This email isn’t about fucking. (Emails are only supposed to be about fucking.)
—Jake.
* * *
Subject: Charlotte (The Correct Email)
Meet me in Terminal C when you land. Gate 15.
—Jake
* * *
Subject: Re: Charlotte (The Correct Email)
Regardless of if **emails** are only supposed to be about “fucking,” would it kill you to say, “Hello, Gillian” or “Hope all is well, Gillian” before launching into where you want me to meet you for sex? I thought we agreed to be cordial…
—Gillian
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Charlotte (The Correct Email)
We also agreed not to have pointless conversations. Terminal C. Gate 15.
—Jake
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Charlotte (The Correct Email)
If you don’t start being cordial with me after today, I can promise you that I won’t come meet you anymore.
—Gillian
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Charlotte (The Correct Email)
And I can promise that you have no idea who you’re fucking with…
—Jake
Subject: Atlanta
You were supposed to meet me at E3 thirty minutes ago.
—Jake.
* * *
Subject: Re: Atlanta
I’m still waiting for you to ask me about my day or say hello first…
—Gillian
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Atlanta
Keep waiting. Get to E3. Now.
—Jake
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Atlanta
Hello. How are you? Please meet me at E3 so we can have sex today because I am addicted to having sex with you. See how easy that is? Give it a try. :-)
—Gillian
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Atlanta
Stop fucking with me, Gillian…You have thirty seconds to get to E3.
—Jake
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Atlanta
SERIOUSLY, JAKE? Did you just say what I think you just said over the speakers?
—Gillian
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Atlanta
If you’re not here within the next ten seconds, I’ll make sure to say “Gillian’s pussy.” Try me.
—Jake
Subject: Montreal
Hello. How are you.
Tim Horton’s. Arrival Zone.
—Jake.
* * *
Subject: Re: Montreal
Fuck you, Jake.
—Gillian
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: Montreal
Looking forward to it in three hours.
—Jake
I leaned against a chair, scrolling through Jake’s latest text messages—unsure whether I could wait another week to have him again. For the first time in my life, I felt like I needed sex. In the past, when the sex was with my previous boyfriends, it’d felt good—sweet, even, but this was different. It was raw, no-holds-barred, and primal, and I was beginning to believe him when he claimed I was just as insatiable as he was.
“What’s up with that goofy grin on your face, Miss Taylor?” Miss Connors sat across from me at the gate.
“Nothing.” I tucked my phone into my blazer pocket. “Just checking up on recent events.”
“Oh really? Because I thought for sure the reason you were looking like an idiot was because ever since you went to the bathroom a couple hours ago, you’ve been walking around with your dress inside out.”
What? I looked down and sure enough, the white seams of my dress were face up, something I’d neglected to check when I redressed earlier.
“Go fix it, Miss Taylor.” She waved me away. “Now.”
As I walked past her, I heard her mumble, “I swear they get dumber every year…I don’t get paid enough for this…”
I slipped inside the closest restroom and quickly flipped my dress inside out. I made sure my hair was still sleek and in place, and then—still on cloud nine after today’s sex, I called Meredith.
No answer. An immediate text from her appeared instead.
Meredith: Hey, Gill. Been weeks since we caught up! Are you okay? I’m at a crucial run-through right now, so I can’t talk. Can I call you later tonight?
Gillian: Of course! And I’m more than okay :-)
There was no one else I could call right now, but since I wanted to get this off my chest, I logged into my abandoned blog from years ago and started a new post.
* * *
~BLOG POST~
Oh New York, New York, New York…
I finally found the cure for getting over you: Flying…and—
Write later,
Gillian
No, wait…
**Taylor G.**
* * *
I heard Miss Connors calling my name and posted the blog without finishing. But as I stepped out of the restroom, I realized it took all of five seconds for my only follower to comment, as if no time had passed at all.
* * *
KayTROLL: Welcome back. This should be interesting…Or not. Your writing seems even worse than before. Now, after all these years, you can’t complete simple ass SENTENCES???! O_o #sadddddd.