Bare in Bermuda - Chapter #2 - Free To Read

Chapter Two

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Chapter Two

Chapter Two

“I think the industry name is escort.” Henna put her cell phone away and looked at Anton. “So what's a hunky Cuban guy like you doing working in a bar?”

“I’m a model,” Anton said. “This helps pay the bills. I thought about getting into your line of work. I'm just not sure I could go gay for pay. But then again, I won’t know until I give it a try. Do you work with an agency?”

“Wait...” She held up a hand and concentrated on the cacophony of noise, trying to pick out one certain sound. “Do they make announcements in the bars?” She leaned to the side and nearly fell off of the stool. The crowd at the gate area was gone.

“No,” he said. “We get more people missing their flights because they're sitting at the bar and not keeping an eye on the departures boards for updates.”

She grabbed her purse and jumped off the stool. “You are great. Thanks for the drink. Good luck with the modeling!”

Henna ran without a backwards glance from the bar to her gate. No one remained in the boarding area except for the agent who had taunted her. He stood at the door to the jet way. The plane, with jet way still attached, could be seen outside the window.

She waved and hooted at the gate agent. “Please! Please let me on!”

He watched her approach, his face lighting up as she neared. “And here I thought you had abandoned all hope and left,” he trilled. “Because I'm feeling benevolent and I really don't feel like the idea of dealing with you again, I'm going to let you pass. That and I found an extra special seat for you. You're just going to love the people you're sitting between. Ticket.” He held out her boarding pass, which she snatched from his fingers. He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the jet way. “Go.”

Her frustrated, angry, and somewhat befuddled brain screamed at her that something wasn't right. Something was missing. Something important. Why did airports turn normally intelligent people into dunderheads? She ignored her inner voice until she reached her aisle. Then, as the flight attendant closed the door to the airplane, she felt the lack of her carry-on dragging behind her.

“My carry-on!” She waved down a flight attendant counting passengers. “I left my carry-on in the bar. The sports bar right outside the gate.”

“You need to take your seat.” The flight attendant smiled a practiced professional smile. “Now.”

“I forgot my carry-on in the bar,” she said, moving up the aisle. “I need to go and get it.”

The flight attendant barred her path like a bridge troll. “The door is closed. You need to take your seat.”

“What do I have to do to get you to open the door?” Screaming in frustration tempted her. Not a very Henna like thing to do. Picking up Eduardo in the bar didn't fit her normal pattern, but she'd done that. Somewhere between going ballistic and just accepting the loss of her bag remained a solution.

“You don’t understand. My two thousand dollar dress for my sister's wedding is in that bag. And the shoes. The seven hundred dollar shoes are in the bag. Along with about two hundred dollars’ worth of underwear. And the makeup. I'm not even going to tell you what I spent on makeup. Please. I need my dress. I very purposefully didn't check it because I didn't want to lose it.”

“You spent two thousand dollars on a dress?” The flight attendant stared at her.

“I’m really not dealing very well with my sister getting married. She's twelve years younger than me. I figured a great dress would help.” The truth, told to a stranger, liberated her from having to continue to lie to herself. “I really need my fantastic dress and my stupidly expensive shoes, or I just might not be able to make it through the next couple of days.”

The look of something close to pity and understanding filled the woman's face. “You're going to need to take your seat,” the flight attendant told her firmly yet gently. “I'll see what I can do about your bag.”

“You really don't understand. I really, really need my bag. How can I get off the plane, run and get my bag in the bar, and get back on?” She smiled hopefully.

“Nothing that won't equal your day ending in a jail cell.” The flight attendant continued to smile. “Please take your seat. I promise I will see what I can do about your bag.”

Henna’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Her bag with her French dress, her Spanish shoes, and her Italian underwear might as well be on Mars. She checked her boarding pass and seat number. Wedged between a man who overflowed his own seat and a chubby woman who shared hers with a small baby rested a middle seat just for her. She knew these people. The woman had verbally abused the gate agent. Together he'd put them on his own version of the naughty step.

“I'm there.” She pointed to the small space that overflowed with books, magazines, and baby paraphernalia. The large man on the aisle glared at her then harrumphed as he hefted his bulk up. The mother with the baby grumbled in her seat as she started to shift the contents from the middle seat.

“I told you we should have just bought a seat for Junior,” the woman with the baby scolded the fat man.

Filled with hope, she smiled and asked, “Do you two want to sit together? I'll take the aisle or the window and you three can sit together?”

“We paid for an aisle and a window,” the woman said firmly. “The middle seat is yours. And don't use the overhead compartment. I have valuables and breakables in there, and I don't want them crushed.”

Henna glared at the woman, reached her hand up, and popped open the overhead compartment.

“I said...” The woman stopped speaking when Henna raised a finger to silence her.

Henna exhaled slowly, not unsure that steam didn't curl out of her nose. “Don't go there. With the day I've had, I'm just done being nice.”

The contents of the nearly empty overhead compartment were shoved to one side with a flick of her hand as she flung her purse into the empty space. A small cheer went up from the passengers around her.

With a purposeful slam, she closed the overhead compartment then took her middle seat, holding on tight to her book. “And just so we're clear, the armrests are mine.”

When the plane reached cruising altitude, the seatbelt sign came off, and the pilot let everyone know they were in for a bumpy ride as they skirted Delores, but soon enough they would have smooth sailing to paradise.

With Len to her right and Cathy and Junior to her left, Henna sat in the middle seat with the book she just couldn't get into as she thought about Eduardo. Why didn’t she get his number? Why? She could have just asked.

After rocking and bumping across the sea for nearly two hours, the ride smoothed and she knew the answer. He’d intimidated her. The control she normally held tight to when picking up a man slipped from her grasp Eduardo’s presence. He’d owned her and the conversation. For once, she wasn't the boss. She’d been dominated. Like picking up a stranger in an airport, it was a day for firsts.

Eden getting married so suddenly had been a bucket of cold water down Henna’s back. At some moment in her life, she’d passed that intangible point that marked the difference between being single and being alone. There was a time between her thirtieth and thirty-third birthday’s in which all of her friends, with the exception of Simon, met someone and got married. They fell like dominoes. One weekend everyone was single. The next they were half of a couple. Six months later, the wedding invitations started to arrive. Recently, she’d been invited to a round of baptisms, briss’, and first birthday parties.

The irrefutable truth was, she had found many men who could have made perfectly fine husbands, but not one of them had lasted. Smart, good looking, professional men who nearly universally married her girlfriends in the end. Each man had been just flawed enough for her to reject. Or if they had been good enough, they hadn’t called her back.

Two notable times she'd been half of a couple. Each time the relationship failed. No matter how hard she worked to make it perfect, no matter how giving and exceptional a girlfriend she'd been, they'd dumped her. What made it even worse was, she'd been replaced both times by women who Simon assured her were not nearly as great, pretty, smart, and accomplished as she was. It was possible friendship swayed his opinion, but she liked to believe he was right.

She’d learned too late that there was no perfect man or relationship. Trying to create the perfect relationship, at least according to Simon, might have been the thing that had been the slow killer those two times she'd had a boyfriend.

As much as it pained her to admit it, her mother had been right. There really was a point at which all of the good men would be taken. Worst part of all, the good men who were left had started dating younger and younger women. The men she worked with who were still single and in her age range, all had girlfriends in their twenties. The hard truth might actually be that her ship had sailed. She hadn’t been on a real date in a year, and the last man she’d slept with had been a twenty-two year old bartender who thought her name was Sheila.

Thinking of Eduardo, with his pretty mouth and deep brown eyes, made her feel desired by a man worthy of her attention once again. It also kept her from thinking about her sister getting married. How did Eden find a husband with the snap of her fingers while she remained single after years of concerted effort and first dates that never went anywhere?

She switched her thoughts back to Eduardo. Destiny did not exist. But if it could, just for once, she wanted it to bring Eduardo back to her. Eduardo and her carry-on. She needed her fabulous dress. Wearing her fabulous dress would automatically make her feel good no matter how much she wanted to feel sorry for herself on her sister’s wedding day.

Len and Cathy passed Junior over her once again. Either they possessed no sense of boundaries or they wanted to annoy her. Passing the baby back and forth seemed like some kind of bizarre fertility rite and she’d had enough. For two hours, she’d sat between them. When she’d refused her snack, Len had taken it. When she’d gotten up to use the lavatory the first time, he’d acted as if she expected him to give up a kidney.

As the baby was passed, leaving a trail of biscuit crumbs in her lap, she needed to get up. With a flick of her fingers, the seat-belt came undone. Len, in the aisle seat, barred her way to freedom. Standing and looking down at him wasn’t enough of a hint. Smiling and gesturing to the aisle didn’t do it either. Instead of moving, he filled in a word on his crossword puzzle and ignored her. If she had to straddle him and climb over him, she would.

“Can you please let me out?” she asked as nicely as possible.

His eyes flicked up at her then back at his crossword puzzle. A large and suffering sigh escaped him as his eyes rolled up to look at her. “You are just on my last nerve. You’ve elbowed me since you sat down and now you want to get up every two minutes.”

“This is only the second time I’ve gotten up.”

“You’re one of those little bladder people that drinks a lot of water. I can tell by looking at you.”

“Please let me out.”

“You’re not going to keep getting up and down are you?” He lifted the bulk of his stomach and unlatched his belt. She had brief and disturbing vision of his wife having to push his belly out of the way in order to have sex with him. Quickly as she could, she envisioned what Eduardo might look like under his clothes and smiled. Much better.

“Yes. I have a tiny bladder and I like to hydrate. Would you like to trade seats?” Hope rose inside her as she slipped past Len.

“We paid for an aisle and a window seat,” Cathy reminded her. “I told the gate agent very firmly, that we needed the center seat to be kept free. Ask the stewardess to move you, if you’re so unhappy.”

Henna looked up and down the plane. “There are no free seats.”

“Then make yourself useful.” Cathy pulled a baby bottle out from the bag she stowed under Henna’s feet. “Have someone heat this up.”

Henna stared at the offered bottle. “Give me the aisle seat and I’ll do it.”

“Clearly you do not have children.” Cathy shook the bottle at her. “Otherwise you’d be a little more understanding and helpful. People are just not nice to people with children. We’re treated like third class citizens, especially when we travel.”

“Aisle or you can do it yourself.”

“Never mind.” Cathy reached up and pressed the call button.

Henna popped open the overhead compartment, snatched her purse, turned away from the trio and walked to the front where the lavatories, the prep area, and the psychological curtain separating the huddled masses in coach from the privileged few in business and first.

A flight attendant worked busily preparing trays with fresh fruit and linen napkins. Not for coach. “Can I help you?” the woman asked with a smile.

“Umm…not really. I’m just standing up for a minute.”

“You’re between those people with the baby,” the flight attendant said.

“Yes.”

“Wine? Beer? Scotch?”

She laughed. “I’m fine.”

The flight attendant who threatened her with jail time appeared from beyond the mental barrier to business class. She looked up from the paper in her hands. “Dr. Hirsch?”

“Yes,” Henna said. “That’s me.”

The attendant with the fruit tray disappeared to the front.

“Your bag was found by a man working in the sports bar. It’ll be forwarded to you tomorrow. For now, it’s locked up. You’ll have your dress and your shoes for your sister’s wedding.”

Henna’s hand covered her mouth. “Oh, my god!” She hugged the flight attendant briefly. “Thank you. That’s so nice of you. I didn’t think I’d ever see it again.” Destiny had come through for her. Maybe she could be convinced that supernatural forces worked in her life.

“Honestly, it was nothing,” the attendant said. “From what I was told, someone from the sports bar in the terminal had followed you to the gate with it, but the door was already closed. Once the door is closed, we might as well be up in the air.”

“I can’t believe this,” she said. “I really can’t. Can you ask to have the person who found it leave their number or email address so I can thank them?”

“Sure,” the woman said. “Not a problem. I can’t guarantee they will, but you never know. You got your bag back. Maybe things are starting to look up.”

“I’ve had the worst day. It started out bad, got a bit better, and then turned horrible again. You’ve restored my belief that people aren’t really out to get me. I don’t even mind being stuck between that pair with the baby anymore.”

The attendant laughed. “Them!”

“I don’t care anymore. I’m going to have my dress.” Hopefully. She'd start getting the names of people and contact numbers of the people in the chain of custody for her bag. Then she could be certain that if it did disappear again, she'd know who had it last and how to find them.

“You were late boarding, so you missed the circus. We had to kick them out of first class. The woman went to look if there were empty seats, found that it's nearly empty, and decided she'd just give herself an upgrade.”

Henna laughed. “I've never gotten an upgrade in my life. I'm pretty sure if I paid for one of those seats, I'd be furious if they were moved next to me without having to pay for the privilege.”

“Come with me.” The flight attendant nodded in the direction of business class. Henna followed her through the archway to the better class of service. “I think you need some TLC.”

“No.” Her breath stopped in her lungs. “Really?”

“Really. I’ll go back and let your new friends know we moved you.”

“Please do.” Henna walked behind the woman past the rows of business class seats and then through another curtain to the world of privileged frequent fliers. It could have been just her imagination, but she thought it might have even smelled better. Another first. Two actually. An upgrade and first class. All new experiences weren't bad.

The attendant put her hand on a seat back. “Here. Enjoy the rest of your flight.”

“Oh, I will!” She took the woman’s hand. “Thank you so much.”

“Honestly, we’ve all had bad days. This is just some good karma for me the next time I have one coming my way.”

Henna took her seat next to the window and gazed out at the blue ocean beneath her. Maybe an hour of the flight remained, but she would enjoy every moment of that hour. Just as soon as she used the lavatory.

She walked to the front of the airplane and slipped inside the cavernous first class bathroom. Never before could she conceive of how people could have sex in an airplane toilet. Seeing the size of the first class lavatory cleared up that particular question for her. It was by no means enormous, but there was a lot more room than in the coach lavatories. And it was clean.

“Nice.”

She took all of the time she wanted. She brushed her teeth, did her hair, fixed her lipstick, moisturized, and at last, freshened up her perfume. If there had been a bathtub, she would have used it. Like all good things, her time in the lavatory came to an end when someone knocked on the door.

With a sigh, she gathered her purse and flicked the latch to the side. She looked down at herself for a final check, then up as the door opened and into the face of Eduardo.

“You,” she breathed.

“You have been in here for twenty minutes,” he said. “Are you unwell or just fussing with your hair? I know what women are like.”

“Fussing with my hair.” Her mouth refused to close. “What are you doing here?” First her bag had returned to her, then Eduardo. Destiny refused to be dismissed by her skepticism.

“Destiny. I knew destiny was working in my life today. I knew we would meet again.” He pushed her with his body back into the lavatory. The door closed behind him then he latched it closed. “Do you want me to let you out, or do you want to hear about my fantasy?”

She swallowed hard. “I think I’d like to hear your fantasy.”

“My fantasy,” he moved closer until she was pressed against the wall by his body, “has me meeting a beautiful woman on an airplane then having her seduce me and make me feel like a man.”

“I can do that,” she said. “Mostly. I have no condoms.”

He reached inside his trouser pocket and pulled out a condom. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“How much? I don't want to be crude, but I respect the fact that you are a professional and I will pay you for your time. Normally, I would be more discreet about such a thing, but I think we are past that point at this moment.”

She looked at him with his warm eyes filled with heat. “How much?” In those beautiful brown eyes, she was a prostitute. A sexy thrill shimmied up her body. Why not? “Normally, I'm pretty pricy...”

He pulled out his wallet, flipped it open, and offered her five crisp hundred dollar bills.

She added being offered cash for sex to her list of firsts as she held up a refusing hand. Pretending to be an escort was one thing. Taking cash in exchange for sex, just seemed a bridge too far into the fantasy. “But let's call this one mutual gratification and fantasy fulfillment.”

He put the cash and his wallet away. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

Without another word, his hand snuck around her neck under her hair and pulled her mouth against his. His lips roughly opened hers as his tongue plunged into her mouth without hesitation. A squeak of a sigh escaped her, a reminder to breathe before she passed out from the sudden rush of unexpected ardor.

His hand released her neck as his lips moved from hers and down her throat. His hands moved to her hips and rested for a brief moment then slid down her thighs to the hem of her skirt. With a quick move, he inched up the fabric to her waist, leaving her panties exposed. He looped a finger around each side and, with a sharp tug, ripped her panties off, exposing her bare mound. Another first. She looked down for a brief moment as he examined her.

“Nice,” he said as his palm cupped her. “I like this.”

Before she could object to having a pair of fairly pricy panties ripped into a rag, she checked herself. The woman she wanted to be at that moment lived a life filled with panty-ripping adventures in airplane lavatories. That woman would keep her ripped panties as trophies of her sexually charged encounters with dazzling foreign men. When his finger slid between her lips and found her already pounding clit, her panties were the least of her concern. His finger slipped, slid, and swirled around her pussy like a magic wand. Every flick of his finger brought her closer to an orgasm that had been itching to be released since their first encounter in the bar.

“You are already ready for me,” he breathed into her ear. Before she could respond, his mouth took hers again. He grabbed her tightly around her bare hips, pushed her up onto the sink, and then released her. The sink beneath her vibrated from the power of the airplane’s engines in an unexpected and completely invigorating way. She deepened the stretch of her thighs, opening them to draw in the thrum and shimmy of the airplane.

His tongue jerked in her mouth as he fumbled and tugged on his trousers. The sound of the zipper stimulated her nearly as much as the vibration from the powerful engines pushing them through the sky.

“Look at me,” he told her.

At first, she glanced into his eyes, then she followed his gaze down to where he stood between her thighs. He held his cock in his hand. A spontaneous and wholly genuine wow flew out of her mouth as she took in the size of him. His hand came under her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. “Tell me the truth,” he said. “Have you ever seen bigger?”

“I can truthfully tell you I have never seen bigger in my life.” He released her chin and she looked down again. Her hand reached for what had to be a mythical ten inches of engorged manhood. When her fingers wrapped around him, he was as solid as granite and as big around as a tennis racket handle. “I am really impressed.”

“Are you lying to me as a professional courtesy, or are you telling me the truth?”

She stroked and tugged on him as she marveled at not only the size of his cock, but to her utter amazement that he grew even thicker and longer in her hand. “No lie. I have never seen such a big cock before in my life.”

“Good,” he said. “Now you won't forget me.”

“That is a fact,” she said.

He handed her the condom without bothering to give her any instructions. She knew what to do without being told. After the wrapper was discarded, she held him tight and unrolled the condom as far as it would go up his substantial cock.

He took her hands when she finished and placed them around his neck. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

She nodded and fixed her hands around his neck. He entered her quickly and roughly then moved without pausing, plunging into her then out in rapid succession. With every thrust, she took another inch of him until she felt stretched and pulled like a virgin. The foreign feel of being so full equaled the exquisite and tantalizing hurt.

His hands fell on her legs, then his fingers wrapped around her knees and forced them up and open even wider. Every yoga class and Pilate’s session suddenly and wholly became worth the time, money, and effort as he buried himself inside her. Being filled by a man after a near year long absence of male attention curled her toes. Size really did matter a great deal. It might not be everything, but it made more of a difference than she previously imagined.

“Am I hurting you?” He pushed against her a final time then held himself in place.

“Yes. No. Yes, but I like it.” She ran her hands over the cotton of his shirt. The muscles of his chest and stomach were firm and abundant under her fingers.

“I'm all the way in. I'm going to make you scream, then I'm going to fuck you until I erupt inside you like a volcano.” He slowly slid out then plunged back in with one hard and merciless thrust. His hands forced her legs to open as wide as they would go and

Dirty talk. If it took acting like a prostitute to get a man to talk dirty to her, then she very well might give up medicine and consider the oldest profession as a viable new career choice.

“You are big,” she sighed into his ear. Not too big. Just the right kind of big. His pubic hair stroked her bare clit like a soft bristled brush as he sank inside her. After only a few strokes, the combination of the airplane humming beneath her ass like a giant vibrator, the way he filled her, and the gentle rubbing against her sex, that feeling of inevitable orgasm grew rapidly inside her.

When she came, the feeling snapped her like a hard, raunchy, and delicious smack. Pretending to be someone who screwed for a living freed her for the sort of uncontrolled moment of pleasure. There was freedom in being a woman who would not only have sex with a stranger in an airport lavatory, but who did it for a living. She got why her patients in the escort business did it and loved it.

Eduardo grabbed and nipped her earlobe between his teeth. “I felt that.”

“So did I,” she said. “You are really amazing. And I am not just saying that. You are. You have to be the best lover I've ever had.”

He continued to thrust slowly as he again put his hand on her chin and turned her to look up at his face. “You're saying that to be polite.” He smiled a little as he fished for affirmation of her compliment.

“No,” she said. “That is the truth. You are amazing.”

“So you'd fuck me for free again?” He thrust unexpectedly fast and deep, forcing a yelp of surprise from her.

“I'd pay you,” she said.

His hand released her chin then returned to her leg. “Perhaps we can work out an arrangement after.”

Without more chat, he got down to the business of his own pleasure. His hands released her legs and slid under her ass. His fingers cupped and squeezed her flesh as he pulled her tight against him in rhythm with his thrusts. He worked the repetitive movement of pulling out as he slid her just far enough off his cock to keep it inside her pussy. Then, when he nearly slipped out, he thrust the entire length into her with every return. Never, in her life, had she ever been so thoroughly fucked.

His orgasm equaled her expectations when it came. The muscles of his abdomen contracted as he held her stationary and plunged deep. His cock twitched and unloaded within the condom. At last, when the promised eruption subsided, he sat her on the sink.

“You are exquisite,” he breathed into her neck.

Another first. No man had ever called her exquisite before.

He slipped out, leaving her pussy feeling both empty and slightly abandoned. Logic told her their encounter rushed towards the obvious conclusion. Her body didn't care that the plane would be landing sooner rather than later and that the time had arrived to get back to her seat and to reality.

Eduardo removed the used condom with a wad of tissue then flushed it down the toilet. She fixed her hair in the mirror as Eduardo adjusted his trousers. He gave her a nudge out of the way then turned on the water. She gave him yet another thorough look as he cupped his hands under the water then bent his face down to the sink to give it a splash.

“How exactly do we get back to our seats without the flight attendant noticing? Despite what you may be thinking, I've actually never done this before.”

He stood tall and wiped his hands and face with a few paper towels. “I already gave her three hundred dollars not to notice anything.” He stood behind her and looked in the mirror. His fingers combed his hair then his hands fell on her shoulders.

“Smart.”

“I was serious about my fantasy. I always wanted to do that. Tell me you’re available tonight.” Eduardo breathed on her neck as his lips brushed down her skin.

“Absolutely,” she sighed.

“How long are you in Bermuda?” His hands ran through his hair like a comb. “Are you meeting a man?”

“I think I’ve just met a man.” Silently, she wondered if she’d ever really met a man before. Possibly not. It was possible that she’d only been with boys in man-sized bodies before Eduardo.

“You know what I mean. I don’t want to make this anymore awkward than it needs to be. This is not what I normally do, but I want to be with you again. I’m willing to accommodate you within reason, but not if you’re going to Bermuda to meet another man.”

“I’m not meeting another man,” she said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet a second time. “I insist,” he said as he began to pull out cash. “If for nothing else but to pay for your underwear that I destroyed.”

Then realization smacked her in the back of the head. “I think we need to clear something up right now.”

“I insist,” he said. “I find it charming that you protest, but I insist. You have given me an experience worth more than this, but unfortunately, it's all I have on me at the moment.” He took her hand and folded the money into her palm then wrapped her fingers around it. “Where are you staying?”

“Hamilton Princess,” she said.

“So am I.” He kissed her on the cheek again. “We can work out the details in the car.”

She held the money in her hand, not sure what to do with it. “I'm not a hooker.”

Eduardo looked down at her and smiled. “Of course not. You’re a gifted courtesan. A most perfect escort. If I had known there were women like you available, I would have perhaps done this a while ago. But I did not believe my friends who told me to trust them that they knew what they spoke of.”

How to get him to understand? “I'm not a prostitute. No one has ever paid me for sex before in my life. I was very serious when I told you that we were mutually living out a fantasy.”

He stared at her through their reflections in the mirror. “You must understand that I'm not inclined to believe you.”

“You really don't have to believe me, do you? I am telling you the truth. I'm not really a prostitute. If you knew me, even a little, you'd be shocked at my behavior. None of my friends would believe me if I actually decided to tell them about this. I have this reputation for being a bit stiff.”

“Let us assume that I do believe you,” he said. “I find it hard to imagine that you are anything other than wholly sensual and passionate.”

“If only that were true.” She smiled and shrugged. “I haven't had sex in nearly a year and all I can say is thank you for rocking my world. I really never will forget you, and I can say in all truth, you really do have the biggest cock I have ever seen.”

“Henna,” he laughed. “You have no idea how much you delight me. I am pleased that I could give you an experience unlike any you've ever had before. You have given me the same.” Lips found her neck just as the fasten seat-belt sign lit up. “Tell me that you will not disappear when we land and that you want to see me again.”

“I will not disappear when we land, and I truly want to see you again. All of you. Just so you know, I really never ever do anything like this.”

“Neither do I,” he said. “I'm not going to say it's been a year since I've had sex, but I've never paid for sex before.”

“Which...” She reached into her bra and plucked out the cash he’d handed her. “This is yours.”

He took the money for a moment then tucked it back into her bra. “Keep it. What kind of fantasy would it be about being paid for sex if you didn't actually get paid?”

“Let me at least take you for dinner tonight,” she said.

He kissed her on the mouth again. “I will take you, and we can discuss any other fantasies we might like to fulfill.” He released her then turned to the door. She smoothed her skirt a final time as the door opened and Eduardo stepped aside to allow her to go first.

She reached into her bra and took out the folded bills from where they were jabbing into her skin. After looking down to make a quick adjustment, she glanced at the money then looked up from the stack of bills to find a flight attendant giving her a grin with a raised eyebrow.

“I...” Henna looked down at the cash then at Eduardo's back then at the flight attendant. “Oh, never mind.” She sighed, pulled out her wallet, and stuffed the cash inside.

Eduardo had friends who had told him of experiences with women that liked to think of themselves more as courtesans and would never take cash. They'd be offended by cash offered for sex. But they expected gifts. Expensive gifts offered with alarming frequency.

Cash would make their arrangement more straight forward but would remove too much of the enjoyment from it for him. Giving a woman gifts seemed the most normal thing in the world to him. If she expected him to offer her compensation for her continued attention, then he could oblige her. He was a reasonable man and she was a business woman. Price negotiation was part of his daily business routine. Coffee and sex were the same thing—commodities that could be haggled over.

He preferred to keep something as vulgar as cash away from something as purely delightful as Henna. As a rule, his generosity knew no end. He just didn’t want to be taken advantage of. So he and Henna would need to discuss mutual expectations before anymore condom wrappers were ripped open.

She nearly continued past him but he stopped her by capturing her hand.

“Just sit with me.” He didn't want to give destiny a chance to separate them.

She sat in the seat next to his as he grabbed his carry-on and his suit coat from the overhead compartment. He slipped on his jacket then settled into his seat. “Where were you seated?”

That he hadn’t noticed her before she’d walked past him, irritated him. He very nearly had missed the opportunity destiny presented him with to meet her again. The moment he walked away from the bar, he regretted not getting her number.

“I was in coach for the first two hours then I was moved here.”

“Why were you in coach?” he asked.

“I am very tight with my money.” Her purse was open on her lap. Like all women, she carried one of those large leather bags that could fit a watermelon. She examined her ripped panties discretely concealed within the confines of her bag. The look on her face and the way she crinkled her nose as she balled up her underwear told him that she might not appreciate having his passion consume him where her panties were concerned. If she gave him the chance, he'd take her shopping for a dozen new pair of panties purchased for the express purpose of being ripped off her.

“I didn't have much notice before having to buy the ticket. It was pricey enough already without adding on extras like comfort or dignity.”

He placed his hand on her knee where the hem of her simple black skirt rested against her bare thigh. He leaned over and gave her neck a kiss as he took in a deep breath of bluebell scented skin. She didn't pull away. Rather, she tipped her head just enough to give him better access to the curve of her throat.

“I am meeting people in Bermuda.” He pulled back to look at her. “But if you can be discrete, then I think we can spend time together.”

“I'm meeting people, too,” she said. “Trust me. The last thing I would want is for anyone to find out that I picked up a man in a bar, then hooked up with him on the flight. Being discreet is absolutely essential. Doesn't mean we can't meet up on our own.”

“I thought you said you weren't meeting a man.” The moment the words came out of his mouth, he would have pulled them back in if he could. Her eyes narrowed, and her pretty lips flattened across her face. He knew women well enough to know the look of a suddenly cross one that could become angrier very quickly.

“I'm not,” she said. “I'm meeting people. Not a man.” She looked at him. “Who are you meeting? A woman? Because you're being about as tight lipped as I am. Let's be totally honest here. I'm probably about as willing as you are to start giving you an abundance of personal information. I don't know you, and you don't know me. I get that we just did the most physically intimate thing two people can do with their bodies, but that was more about biology, brain chemistry, and the nature of physical attraction than it was any kind of desire to get to know each other better. I like you. I think you might be interesting and the kind of guy I'd like to get to know better, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to start giving you my life story. For the moment, other than your name is Eduardo, which it might or might not be...”

He pulled his passport out of his breast pocket and held it open for her so she could examine his name. “Eduardo.”

She nodded and gave a grunt of approval. “You speak Spanish, you’re divorced, or so you say. Men tend to lie about these things, and I'm going to need a little more confirmation that your wedding band isn't buried deep down in your carry-on before I'm convinced. I don't know a thing about you other than you are hung like a bull and can screw like a jackhammer.”

He raised a finger to interrupt her. The only women he knew who could speak so long without a pause or providing another person the opportunity to get in a word were all universally Latin.

“Are you Hispanic by any chance?” He could tell her diatribe wasn't quite finished. Experience had taught him to ride it out while mentally preparing what he could say to appease her when she finished laying into him.

“No. Dutch and Polish.” She looked him up and down then plucked at the sleeve of his jacket with her fingertips. “English linen. Hand-stitched and beautifully tailored. Somebody either picked that out for you, or you have exquisite taste and a bucket load of money to spend on clothes. How do I know that you're not a gigolo come to meet some client?”

“No,” he laughed. “Not at all.”

“Are you sure about that?” Her eyes swept over him again. “Because I imagine some women would pay top dollar for what you've got going on below your belt. And the rest of it.”

“If my current venture falls through, I will consider what you have said when choosing a new career.”

“What do you do?”

“What do I do?” Tricky question. But the diluted truth would do. “I'm a farmer.”

She laughed loudly. “Bullshit. Farmer's don't wear Italian loafers and Swiss watches. If you're a farmer, then I'm a prostitute. Which I'm not.”

The wheels of the plane bumped along the tarmac as they made contact with the ground. The jolt distracted Henna from telling him off long enough for him to take control of the conversation.

“I'm really a farmer,” he said. “It's the truth. I'm meeting family so I need to be discrete. I believe you don't take money for your companionship. But perhaps you will indulge me and let me give you a gift or two during our time together. You are correct that we don't know much about each other, but I can truly say I would like to spend time with you as we can find it, so that I can learn more about you. What do you say?” He lifted her hand from the sleeve of his jacket and kissed her knuckles.

“I say okay. Just as long as we have that whole prostitute thing is sorted out, then I think we can find some time away from our other obligations to indulge in some mutually beneficial fantasy fulfillment.” She smiled at him at last. “As for gift buying...” She scrunched her nose a little. “I'll think about that. It's sound a bit sugar daddy to me, and I tend to pride myself on my independence. I get that some men are like that, and some women tend to get a bit bent out of shape if they're not showered with tokens of appreciation, but it's just not in my experience to expect that kind of thing. I tend to be a more fifty-fifty sort of girl.”

“And I tend to be a more hundred percent sort of man. I'm not going to let you buy me dinner or even split a bill with me. That would make me very uncomfortable.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “It's been a long time since I've been on a proper date.”

Their conversation was cut off by their arrival at the gate. Two hours at the very most and he would be engaged in the best sex money could buy. Or not.

Eduardo wasn't certain of what the truth might be. If she wanted to tell him she wasn't an escort, that was her prerogative. If she told the truth and that her experience with him had been pure escape, then it could be he had met the woman he'd been looking for to make his life more interesting and fuller than it had been in a long while.

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