8

Janine

I can’t remember the last time I slept this soundly. Yawning, I stretch my arms and legs before swinging out of bed, the covers sliding off me as I stand up.

Quickly, I grab the terrycloth robe that’s on the chair to wrap around me. It’s Dash’s but it’s closer.

As I tie the sash, I see the pile of blue on the carpet, the discarded negligee. I blush, remembering how it ended up there.

That was unexpected – both the sex and my role as the aggressor. Did I really do that?

Maybe it was the alcohol that gave me courage. Maybe it was the dance that dulled my senses. Maybe it was all the stress from the sham wedding.

Maybe you just wanted to bone Dash.

I pick up the tarty negligee and stuff it into my suitcase.

Dash said sex didn’t have to be involved but I said I wanted more than a turkey baster.

And, boy, was that better than a turkey baster.

“Someone’s in a good mood this morning,” Dash’s voice interrupts my thoughts.

I look at him sitting on the edge of the bed, not realizing that he was already awake or that I’d been grinning.

No, wait. I still am. “Morning,” I greet, trying to stifle this ridiculous smile. I stretch my arms and frankly stare at Dash like I’m some kind of creeper. I just can’t believe a man like him is with me.

Not even “with me.” My husband. Inside me last night. “Did you sleep well?”

“Great.”

He tosses the covers aside and I try not to stare at his cock – with no success – walking towards the window with a finger between my lips.

Definitely better than a turkey baster.

I part the curtains, staring out at the blue sky with a smile. Looks like a promising day after an amazing night.

After seeing a plane move across it, though, I grab my phone from the table, looking at the time.

7:06.

“I guess we’ll be leaving soon.”

“You sound like you don’t want to leave.”

Dash walks towards me, already in his boxers, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I do.” I put the phone down. “Maybe just not yet.”

I sit on the edge of the bed and lie down, staring at the ceiling.

I’m excited about this trip. I really am, especially after last night. But there’s also a part of me that wants to stay on this soft bed all day. I’m sure it’s more comfortable than the airplane seat that has my name on it.

“Come on.” Dash grabs my arm and pulls it. “We need to get moving or we’ll miss our flight.”

I don’t move.

“If you don’t get up, I’ll tickle you,” he threatens.

I frown at the thought, even though I don’t entirely dislike the idea, and force myself to get off the bed. “Okay, okay. I need to shower.”

I can still feel traces of his sticky cum inside my thighs, and a part of me just wants to slide those black panties back on and wear him all day, like a dirty little secret.

* * *

I must be hungry.

I stare at the plate in front of me, loaded with strips of bacon, a few sausages, some potatoes, a pile of greens, a croissant, and some slices of cheese. I even have a separate saucer with scrambled eggs and another with fresh fruits.

Am I really going to be able to finish all this?

“Eat up,” Dash urges, already digging into his pile of food, which is even bigger than mine. “You know it may well be sixteen hours before we get anything good to eat. And no, airline food doesn’t count.”

I grin as I stick my fork into a sausage, remembering what I ate on my last flight.

Actually, I don’t want to remember.

“Besides, you need to replace all that energy you lost,” he adds.

I blush, lifting the sausage off the plate. I finish it in two big bites and grab a strip of bacon, about to put that into my mouth next when I see a woman walking towards our table – a blonde woman wearing a silky black, strapless jumpsuit.

The tops of her huge breasts bubble against the neckline like overinflated balloons, floating above the tiniest stomach I’ve ever seen.

There’s no way I can believe she woke up like this. It’s the living Barbie.

“Dash?” She comes closer, her eyes wide.

Oh, shit. I drop the strip of bacon back on the plate.

Dash knows this woman?

Dash dabs at his mouth with a table napkin. “Marissa,” he says, confirming my suspicion.

“It is you!” She throws her arms around him, pressing his head toward her boobs, which he doesn’t seem to mind.

“What are you doing here?” she asks as he takes a sip from his glass of juice. She places her hand on the back of his chair and her gaze sweeps over him from head to toe. Those thickly shadowed eyes and that surgically narrowed nose remind me of a hawk. “Are you retired? When did you get home? You never called me. I thought you were shot or something.”

I, too, grab my glass of juice and take a sip. I’m so ready to hate this girl. I know that’s petty of me, but all I need is one reason.

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” Marissa adds, leaning forward so that her hair brushes against Dash’s face. She bends lower so her mouth is near his ear. “I still have that black camisole you bought for me.”

I cough, covering my mouth with the back of my hand as I set my glass down. Jesus Christ, this woman.

Marissa looks at me for the first time.

“Marissa, this is Janine,” Dash introduces, his hand gesturing towards me. “My wife.”

This time, her gaze sweeps over me like a weapon detector, hand on her hips and eyes narrowed as she scrutinizes every detail.

I force a smile but cover my face with the table napkin, not sure how I look after almost choking. I suddenly wish I’d worn make-up, considering hers is impeccable. I wish I’d put on something sexier and funkier other than the over- sized gray dress I have on, which I thought would be good for a long flight.

I definitely feel overdressed now, but not in the usual sense of the word.

“Wait, did you say she’s your wife?” Marissa asks, shock written all over her face.

Dash glances at her. “That’s what I said.”

“Unbelievable.” She grabs Dash’s left hand, looking at the band. “You said you didn’t believe in marriage.”

“I did?” Dash wrenches his hand away. “I didn’t know you had a good memory.”

“Oh, I remember every little thing about you.” Marissa strokes his cheek. “Every freckle, every ticklish spot, every…” Dash grabs her hand. “Maybe next time, you’ll remember that I don’t like to be disturbed when I’m eating.”

He looks at me from across the table, rolling his eyes. I suppress a giggle.

“I definitely never thought you’d marry someone like her.” She looks at me again, this time with a look of disgust.

I put the table napkin down on my lap.

“What do you mean, someone like me?” I ask her icily, the first words I have said yet.

“I don’t know, exactly, what I mean,” Marissa says. “What is it called? A commoner? A laborer?” She eyes my plate. “Eat like one, don’t you?” She grins at me. “No offense, of course. The lower class are the real backbone of America.”

I don’t answer, grabbing my fork.

“She doesn’t even look like she’s good in bed,” Marissa finishes in a loud whisper against Dash’s ear.

My fingers tighten around my fork, my jaw clenching. Who the hell does this woman think she is? How dare she say that right in front of me?

“Marissa, be nice,” Dash tells her, barely glancing at her before eating a strip of bacon.

Then he looks at me, his eyebrows creased as his eyes go over my plate. “I thought you were hungry. You should eat. We have to go to the airport soon.”

“You’re traveling?” Marissa asks, her pitch changing from a whisper to a whine.

“On our honeymoon,” I tell her, eating some salad. “Honeymoon?”

“Yeah, you know, the trip couples take after they get married,” I reply to her, pausing to smile brightly.

“I know what a honeymoon is.” Marissa’s voice trembles.

“We’re going to Tokyo,” Dash informs.

“What a coincidence.” Her eyes grow wide as saucers, her hand on her chest. “My husband and I are going there, too.”

I look at her. She has a husband? Wasn’t she just cozying up to Dash?

“You’re married?” I ask her out loud.

“Yes.” She shows off her wedding ring. “Leon is upstairs packing. He’s the most caring, most understanding man I know.”

“He’d have to be,” I mutter, taking a bite out of my croissant.

She eyes the crumbs falling down my dress with disdain then turns back to Dash. “What time is your flight? We’re on the 10:30 one.”

“Soon,” Dash answers.

Marissa places her hands on her cheeks. “I’m sure you and I will meet at the airport. Maybe we’ll even see each other in Tokyo.”

“I don’t know about that,” Dash answers, fingers around his glass of juice. “Janine and I might not actually leave our hotel room.”

I grin. “Yes, we might just get drunk on sake all day, soak in our own hot tub…”

“Oh, I just remembered I have to go,” Marissa cuts me off.

Best thing she’s said all morning.

“I have to buy something for Leon,” she adds. Like a collar?

“I’ll see you later.” She winks at Dash then turns to me with a fake smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

I don’t believe that for a second but I return her fake smile and her lie. “The pleasure was all mine.”

“Later.”

She squeezes Dash’s arm then struts out of the restaurant, hips swaying.

I look up at the ceiling, letting out a breath before eating my bacon.

Finally. Now, I can breathe. And eat.

Dash, on the other hand, is almost done eating, his plate nearly empty.

He shakes his head. “I can’t believe that woman. I don’t know what I ever saw in her.”

“Oh, I don’t think you saw anything in her,” I tell him as

I rush to finish my food. “I think you saw something on her. Two things, actually.”

“Janine…”

“I’ll go get more juice,” I grab my glass and leave the table, heading to where the refreshments are.

Truth be told, I don’t feel hungry anymore. In fact, I don’t even feel like going on my honeymoon anymore.