“No…” I felt my cheeks reddening. “I was just angry with you.”
“Then you ‘just’ really should’ve showed up.” His voice was low. “I waited for you for an hour because I thought you were playing games like before. I was looking forward to burying my face in your pussy, tasting your clit with my tongue.”
I was silent, but my fingers were tracing the hem of my soaked panties.
“You can’t decide to randomly break our rules when you want to—especially not when it gets between me having you.”
“You say that as if you really like me.”
“I really like your pussy,” he said. “But seeing as though I have yet to experience your mouth around my cock, that may be subject to change in the future.”
I bit my lip as he breathed heavily over the line, as he sounded even angrier.
“You’re not going to say shit about fucking up my entire weekend for the second week in a row?” he asked. “Making it so I have to wait another full week for you?”
“I won’t stand you up again…”
“I’m aware,” he said. “Because I’m going to make sure that thought never crosses your mind again when I see you. I don’t care how dripping wet your pussy gets or how loudly you scream when you beg me to let you come because I won’t show you any mercy whatsoever, and I won’t hold back like I normally do.”
“Jake, I said I was—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you said.” He was speaking slowly. “I don’t care how mad with me you are again. You can ride my cock until you’re not mad anymore, and I can tongue your pussy until you can’t think anymore.”
“Jake…”
“I’ll be seeing you in Atlanta next Tuesday, correct?”
“Correct…” My clit swelled beneath my fingertips.
“Good. Glad we could have this conversation.”
I nodded as if he could actually see me.
“Oh, and Gillian?”
“Yes?’
“This counts as a late night phone call.”
“Okay. And?”
“Don’t let it happen again.”
Gate B17
Jake
New York (JFK)
She can’t follow rules for shit…
“Are you there, Jake?” Gillian asked me on the phone, a full week and a half later. “Are you still there?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Then what did I just say?”
Why am I still on the phone with this woman? “You said your brother seems to be acting like a bride-zilla and his girlfriend isn’t even aware of his plan to propose yet.” I paused. “And then, you said you realized that it’s nine o’clock at night, you’ve been talking to me for over an hour, and you need to let me return to my life where late-night phone calls don’t exist.”
She laughed her infectious laughter. “I think you like my late night phone calls.”
“I don’t.”
“Then stop picking up the phone.”
“Stop calling me five times in a row.”
She laughed again, and then continued talking as if she hadn’t heard me say that we’d been on the phone for over an hour. For the tenth night in a row she’d decided that “no late phone calls” meant call me anyway, and as much as I wanted to hang up and tell her that I didn’t want to hear about her life outside of the bedroom, I couldn’t do it. For one, the sound of her light and sultry voice—even though she rambled and asked one too many questions, was somewhat calming for my fraying nerves. For two, she was the only woman who could intrigue and enrage me all at once—the only woman who could literally piss me off one second and have me laughing at her the next.
“And that was it,” she said, finally done talking. “Thank you for listening to me again.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“You could make things even with me, if it makes you feel better.”
“Make things even? How so?”
“Well, I’ve bombarded you with my family drama for the past few days—”
“Past ten days.” I corrected her.
“Okay, okay.” Her laughter came again. “Past ten days. You could tell me something about your family.”
“I don’t have a family.”
“Everyone has a family, Jake. But you know, I bet I could fill in some of the blanks of yours myself, actually.”
I rolled my eyes, but instead of ending this call like I should’ve, I let my intrigue get the best of me. “Try me.”
“Well, you said you were from Missouri on the first night we met and unfortunately back in New York so…I’m willing to bet the ‘unfortunate’ part means either: A) Your family also lives in New York. B) You left your family in Missouri and New York is the only place they won’t come bother you, or C) You’re attempting to repair an estranged relationship with your New York family but it’s harder than you expected. Which one is it?”
“D. None of the above.”
“Well, it was worth a try.” There was a smile in her voice. “Can I guess again?”
“You can do whatever you like. I’m about to hang up.”
“Wait,” she said. “I only have one more question.”
“Somehow I doubt that…”
“Are you going to the airline’s gala tonight? Since my flight was cancelled, I’m considering going with my roommate.”
“Gillian…” I sighed. “Is this the last late night phone call we’re going to have? It really needs to be.”
“Yes.” She sounded somewhat offended. “I won’t call you again after tonight unless it’s about sex.”
“Thank you very much.”
“You could at least answer my question before you go, though…”
“I’m not sure if I’m going to the gala,” I said finally. “I’m leaning towards no, though.”
“Well, if you don’t go, would you like me to tell you all about it?”
“That’s another question. See you in Atlanta Monday.” I ended the call and leaned back—half annoyed, half aroused. I wasn’t sure if I actually liked her incessant rule breaking or not.
Not wanting to think about it for any longer, I looked outside my rearview mirror. Contrary to what I’d told Gillian, I was already at the gala, watching attendees guard their designer clothes against the light rain.
I considered driving away and acting like this event wasn’t really happening, because I could do without seeing the promised commemoration of Flight 1872 or witnessing the unveiling of a new plane, but I couldn’t get my key to turn in the ignition.
For another hour, I watched more attendees slip inside, watched the rain fall harder against my windows, and as a round of thunder roared in the distance, I stepped out of my car. I walked to the front of the line, and handing my ticket to the security guard, not even attempting to give an apology.
Inside the hangar, grand and glimmering chandeliers hung from the ceiling’s exposed pipes—drenching the room in a blinding white. Ivory clothed tables surrounded the massive stage at the center of the room, and miniature ice sculptures in the shape of aircrafts lined the back wall.