o, is it true? You’re piloting for Karina again?” is the first thing I hear when I swipe on my screen to accept Serena’s call. No doubt she’s been assigned to the same flights I’m flying for the socialite.
“Why do you ask me questions you already know the answer to, pussycat?” I shoot right back at her.
“Maybe I just like the sound of your voice.”
“I already know that,” I retort. “What’s it to you? A client’s a client. At least Karina won’t be pinching your ass.”
“Don’t be so sure. I’ve heard she swings both ways. I’ve also heard she enjoys her threesomes. Do you think I’d be her type, Jag?” Serena says. Even on the phone I can hear her making a coy pout.
I won’t lie, my mind immediately flashes to the image of me fucking Karina while Serena rides her face. Goddamn, that’s like some triple-X action. “You can ask her that after you get her to tell you whether she wants the chicken or the fish, Serena.”
“Ha ha,” Serena drily sends me. “You’re really into her, aren’t you? Following Karina around like you’re some sort of puppy. Maybe I was wrong when I tried to read you the other day. She wouldn’t have struck me as the sort of type you’d pursue so hard after. I can tell you right now there’s nothing she’s got that I don’t have.”
I roll my eyes while I press the phone close to my ear. “If you say so, Serena.”
“What did you do last night anyway? Not her, I know that much.”
“Jesus, are you spying on me? Get a life, Serena,” I say, not sure I’m flirting anymore. “Besides, I got up to some perfectly adequate fun. Hanging around Escobedos isn’t my idea of a good time.”
“So you fucked someone young and impressionable. Shy and virginal and trembling when you touched her the first time,” Serena says, irritation ramping in her tone.
“Oh baby,” I whisper back, knowing how a deep whisper gets things going for her. “Don’t stop talking dirty to me.”
“Fuck you, Jag.”
“Hey, I just do what I do every night, Serena. Life’s good. Don’t shoot me just because you didn’t get your college dick. Or… worse. You did get your college dick, but it’s skinny, entitled, weak, cums under a minute dick. That sounds more like it.”
“Ugh,” Serena says, confirming my suspicions. “Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t get too horny on the flight. I’m not cleaning up after your messes.”
“What do you think I have Will for, pussycat?”
That got her to hang up. A smirk rises to my face.
I hadn’t planned on directing my thoughts to yesterday, as good as that was — and it was good. So good I’m actually wondering if there’s something wrong with me, because I find myself craving Alexa.
Alexa. Sophisticated name for a sophisticated girl, boyfriend or no boyfriend. That pretty little dress, her perky little body in it, those heels she kicks off so she can drag me to bed…
Fuck me, I’m hard again.
Actually, I’ve been hard nonstop since she left the room.
I’ve got a whole day before my next flight. The smart thing to do is to resist calling her. Maybe what I need is to move on to my next conquest. Someone new for Serena to be jealous about.
Or maybe I can just lie back, think about Alexa grinding against me as I was thrusting into her… Fuck. I give up. I want her.
I’m not so sure I’m used to this sensation.
Come on, girl, pick the phone up.
I’m walking to Miss Karina’s building, needing to pick her itinerary up so I can log a flight plan. She’s old-fashioned, likes to make me come to her, likes to print things out, hand hard copies to me. You’d think she’s somehow ignored the existence of email these last few decades.
Of course, my calls aren’t to Karina, or her assistant. My calls have Alexa written on the screen, as the screen animates arrows pointing towards her name.
This is my third phone call to her, and she hasn’t picked up once.
Goddamn, it’s almost as if she doesn’t want to talk to me. Yeah, right, as if that’s a thing. She gave me her number, remember? I’m just manning up and letting her know I’m interested.
Not like any of those pussy guys who text and wait by the phone, counting down the minutes to a reply. With me, I’m all about immediate, prompt action. She gives me her number, I’m going to call her, I’m going to ask her if she wants to hook up again.
Or go out to dinner. Fuck, that should be allowed too, right?
The call goes to voice mail just as I pass through the lobby, signing my name in the guest book before I’m handed a visitor’s pass. “Thirtieth floor, suite A,” the security guard tells me as he waves me along.
“Hey there,” I speak as the voicemail tone goes off, recording my message. “It’s Jagger, from last night. Just updating you that I’ve got some long-distance flights out but it looks like I should be able to make time for you if we want to get together again. Yeah? Give me a call.”
Then the beep, then I hang up.
Shit, what kind of girl is this Alexa? Designer dress, lethal heels, makes a confident man doubt himself. Did I somehow not do my best? I mean, she sure wasn’t faking that O. I’m not like other guys, I know when a girl’s cumming like crazy.
Maybe that’s what happened. She’s never had an orgasm during sex before. She’s only familiar with the kind she gets from electric toothbrushes after a Sex and the City marathon, right?
Okay, that was mean. But yeah, seriously. Is that it? Because I gave her a hundred percent last night, and was ready to give her a hundred percent more before she bolted on me.
Maybe this, maybe that. I’m practically paralyzed by all my thoughts, trying to figure this girl out. I sure won’t be doing that over voicemails, that’s for sure.
A receptionist greets me as I arrive at Miss Karina’s office, a tastefully decorated place that reminds me of a hotel I once stayed at. “Jagger Long, Elizabeth’s expecting me. Or Miss Karina herself, if she’s around,” I tell the receptionist, sliding my phone back into my jeans pocket.
“I’m afraid Miss Karina is not in the building,” the receptionist smiles apologetically. “Right this way to Elizabeth’s office, though.”
She leads me and when we arrive at Elizabeth’s office, she doesn’t even need to introduce me, because Miss Karina’s assistant immediately comes out with a sheet in her hand. “Pilot, right? You look the type, that’s for sure. Here you go.”
I quickly glance over all of the itineraries. “So I’ll need to liaise with you about ground transport after we’ve landed? These destinations will involve fairly straightforward airports, don’t worry.”
“That’s right,” Elizabeth says, nodding. She’s kind of cute, but a bit old for me. Pushing on her mid-forties, that’s for sure, with her wrapped in a bun.
I wait for her to add — you never know what you’ll get with Karina, there are always some special requests — and I get none. “Well, sweet. I’ll make sure the jet’s ready at the hangar in good time for the flight. You flying with?” There’s a charge in her eyes as she watches me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, if that’s the case.”
She smiles as I turn to leave. “I’m afraid that is not the case. Stuck here handling all of her business affairs while she jets off to yet another charity bash. Oh, well. Good luck.”
I enjoy the work. Not only the actual, physical act of flying a plane — most anyone can hold onto sticks and let the instruments go into autopilot. Being in flight is thrilling, but I also enjoy the business of it. Managing people. Taking care of the key passengers. Checking in with the cabin crew, making sure everything’s going well. Doing a thing and seeing it all the way through. Nose to tail.
My idea of perfection is not so much wowing someone over a perfect sunset, but flying in impossible conditions and making it look easy.
Not to brag, but I’ve done that a lot. Flying sorties for the Navy taught me a lot about composure, executing high-G maneuvers to intercept enemy fighters. And flying corporate clients in executive jets taught me a lot about coolness under fire of a different sort: not letting big-shot corporate types boss me or my guys around.
Some of them always do that. Most of our flights are non-smoking, but just because CEO X or vice-president, sales, Y thinks he’s in a private jet he can light a cigar, well, that doesn’t fly with me. On my plane, there’s one boss. That’s me.
My best clients are the ones who don’t necessarily know that at the start, but rather come to it after experiencing my style of piloting.
That’s how I end up with fat bonus checks from the likes of Señor Escobedo. The money’s nice, but it’s not exactly my driving motivation. My goal is always a perfect flight. Without events and executed so smoothly you’d think you could do it yourself.
Which you can’t, by the way.
“Serena,” I greet the chief stewardess, who’s still wearing a hoodie and yoga pants. That’s probably on purpose, because it sure makes her ass look great. “You didn’t forget your uniform, right?”
“Two hours to flight, Captain,” she reminds me. “It only takes me five minutes to get in my uniform.”
“Might take less than that if someone else is doing the undressing for you,” I point out to her.
She pouts so much at my teasing comment that I have to laugh. “You should help me out then — also, damn it, Jag. Can you please not keep checking your phone when you’re talking to me? You make a girl like me feel like she’s a troll.”
“That’s between you and your mirror,” I shrug.
She is right about the phone, though. I keep checking it, tipping the screen up to my view every few minutes, maybe every few seconds, actually.
I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t know why I was doing that. So I’ve chosen to take an ‘ignorance is bliss’ position. I’ll keep checking my phone until something interesting happens, okay? ’Til then, sorry Serena.
“Just waiting on a call,” I absently respond.
“I hope you’re not going to be checking on your phone while we’re flying,” she sasses right back at me. “Especially since we finally got in-flight WiFi working.”
“Hey, I’m not the one posting to Instagram during a flight,” I joke. Serena chuckles along at the comment, remembering how we had a trainee who got fired for doing that.
Actually, I might have been doing the firing. I absolutely hate it when people are on their phones on a flight. I don’t care if you’re doing it because that’s where your music is, or if you’re playing a game. Just enjoy one of the last places in the world where you can truly disconnect from everyone. Tens of thousands of feet in the air, you have a world all of your own.
Not everyone shares my view on this.
“I’m going to change, now,” Serena says, making it sound more than a little like an invitation.
“Good luck with that,” I say, letting her linger just a second longer. Then I quip, “I’m already in my uniform, pussycat.”
Serena walks off, dragging her rolling suitcase and shaking her head.
“Come on, Alexa, give a man a call,” I growl, checking my phone again.
And there it is. A buzz, at first. Then my ringtone. Not a message, either — she’s calling me.
I immediately lift the phone to my ear. “Hey.”
“Jagger,” Alexa’s sexy little voice begins. “Hey, I’m sorry about being busy… I’ve been swamped. No bueno, I can tell you that.”
“Ha, it’s fine. We all get busy sometimes,” I respond.
“Are you busy tonight?” she asks. “We could meet up. I’ve got a little time off for that.”
I groan a little too loud. “I’m flying today, actually. About to take off in an hour. Private client. Tell you what, though, I’ll call you when I land, how’s that?”
“Tell you what,” Alexa counters, sounding exactly as much of a princess as she did last night. “We’ll see.”
“Naw, not another ‘we’ll see’, you’re better than that,” I put up a playful protest.
She drops the call, and I find myself flinching. What happened to the banter, girl? Talk about playing hard to get.
Goddamn, this is an unexpected displeasure. I’m staring at the phone, trying to figure out whether I’m offended or not.
What I need to do with Alexa is to fuck some respect into her.
That’ll teach her. Next time. There will be a next time.