Burn (Songs of Submission #5)(16)
Author: C.D. Reiss

His eyes locked onto mine, and I felt naked. “You want him back.”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Fuck. You want him.” He shook his head in a way that indicated nothing less than disappointment and shame.

“What? Is that a problem for you?”

“I should have driven up.”

“Are we back on the whore thing?”

“Don’t hit me again!” He covered his cheeks with his hands. “Please. My manhood couldn’t take it.”

Despite the fact that I wanted to belt him, or yell at him, or even shut down and go ice cold, I laughed.

He smiled and said, “Can you tell me, do you think this is you liking to get tied up? Or are you doing it because he likes it?”

The woman in the seat in front of us turned her head a little, and I shot her a look. She had a baby on her lap and a hemp sling over her shoulders.

“Both,” I said, looking straight at her because f**k her. I was ashamed and horrified, and that made me feel hostile. She turned away. “It’s his reputation I don’t like. And everyone knowing. That’s coloring the type of attention I’m getting from the industry.

“I want to reassure you. I want to tell you this is who I am, and this is me now and forever, and I’m so happy I discovered this side of myself. But I don’t know. Everything about it is wrapped up in him. I can’t imagine letting anyone else touch me like that, which is not what you want to hear. I know that. You think it’s a power thing, and sure, it is. Would it be with anyone else? If I met the right vanilla guy, would I go vanilla?” I shrugged and put up my palms. “It could go either way. I’d have to be in the situation to find out.”

“Well, I like him because of the way he treats you. But I don’t, because of the way he treats you. And I think you’re missing out with Kevin. He loves you.”

“Oh, please give me a break.”

“Deal with it.” He squeezed my hand but looked away. “This is our stop. Let’s get out of here.” He waved to the baby in front of us. The mother held the child tighter.

CHAPTER 16.

JONATHAN

As soon as Will confirmed he couldn’t send anyone to Vancouver, I knew I was going. I’d sleep even less than usual if I didn’t. I arranged a revised manifest, made my calls, packed, and met them on the plane already set to leave that night.

My hope had been that she’d take the plane, I’d slip on with her, and we’d have three solid hours to sort ourselves out. Her fears about what other people thought were well-founded but meaningless. They’d think what they would. She needed to know that what we had was bigger than them and that any concerns she had about being dumped were unfounded. Sexually, she and I needed hard limits. Our discussion had to include how much control she actually exerted when we were alone. I’d gone too far with her without properly setting limits and explaining kinks she had no experience with. In my delight over her, I’d been irresponsible.

I still wasn’t sure how to convince her without touching her. But I felt as though she was slipping away, and I couldn’t let that happen.

I’d gone through immigration and carried my own bags. Security was non-existent. It was my own plane after all, and everyone at the airport knew me. I told them not to hassle my two passengers, and they joked about my habit of bringing women on planes and sending them back without me. I looked forward to the jokes changing. The prospect of keeping Monica was more exciting than bedding a hundred women. I rejected the offer of a ride to the plane. My legs worked, and I didn’t want to announce myself so loudly.

Monica and Darren had gotten through immigration in record time, apparently, and they were already stepping up into the cabin. They were inside and out of sight before I reached the stairs. My pilots, Jacques and Petra, had been married seven years and still held hands as they waited for me.

“Jacques,” I said.

“Jon. We’re scheduled to wait for you. Two days,” Jacques said.

Petra chimed in. “We might have to bounce back for a doctor’s appointment.”

“Well, I think you’re going to have to come back and do a pickup anyway. I’ll text you the names for the manifest when I have them.” I looked them both over. They seemed nervous. “Something you want to tell me?”

Petra smirked.

“No,” Jacques said. “Come on. We have a schedule to keep.”

I stepped onto the plane behind the pilots.

CHAPTER 17.

MONICA

The plane was probably the nicest thing I’d ever seen. The pilots had pointed us up the little stairs embedded in the dropped-down door and into a cabin with ten cushy leather seats. Two seat banks faced each other around a gleaming lacquer table. The wood matched the liquor cabinet and the galley, which was cleaner than my kitchen had ever been.

Darren threw himself into a seat, and I sat next to him. We had work to do. We’d detected a flaw in the sound for the show. It wasn’t much, but the music was meant to be loud, and the little click in one of the forty-some tracks would seriously ruin the experience. I freed my phone and headphones to start.

I smelled Jonathan. Then I saw him standing over the table. I felt like a kid caught eating her lunch before the bell.

“I had a feeling you’d show up,” Darren said.

Jonathan slipped in across from us. “And you didn’t bring me flowers or chocolates or anything?”

I slid toward the window, watching Darren as he said, “I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“Or Monica to get the wrong idea,” Jonathan looked at me with that irrepressible smile. It was nice that he was smiling and nice that Darren was remembering that part of him liked the guy, but I had a mixed bag of feelings.

“This is the second time you’ve shown up where you weren’t supposed to be,” I said.

“It’s my plane.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do. I am going to the opening and the viewing the night before because I love art and because I’m on the finance committee at the B.C. Modern. Now. I have work to do.” He put his laptop on the table and glanced at each of us expectantly. Despite the six other seats, that table was the only laptop-convenient surface. Bastard.

Darren followed suit, his Mac out in a flash. He glanced between Jonathan and me as if one of us would suddenly go into heat.

“I need to check the loops,” Darren said to me, all business. “There was a weird clicking. Then I’m mixing down again.” He handed me the clunky pro headphones he’d brought and looked at Jonathan. “She has a perfect ear.”