Random Acts of Fantasy (12 page)

“That’s what she said when she froze as we boarded,” Joe added, leaning across me to talk to Trevor as if I didn’t exist. As if my hands weren’t spiders. As if he didn’t have a FEE-ON-SAY he’d hidden from me for eleventy billion years.

“No. I didn’t.” I began to giggle. Haha. Secrets. I had one, too.

“Yes, you did.”

“Nope.”

“Do you have to pick a fight with everyone, Joe?” Trevor asked. Ah, his warm body felt so good. Joe reached for my free hand, the other one now inventorying the chest hair that sprinkled the edge of Trevor’s t-shirt. One, two, eleventy.

“But she said—”

“I’ve never been on a plane before,” I blurted out, pleased with myself for keeping such a big secret.

Oh. Wait.

“Never?” they said in unison. Trinison. Quadrison. No—quintison, because Amy, Liam, and Sam must have been listening. Five voices all realizing my secret.

“It’s not like I’m a virgin and you’re all finding out right now,” I declared. Perhaps a little loudly, because people a few rows up laughed.

“But you’re a flying virgin,” Amy said.

“I have never flown. Nope. Lots of people haven’t. I’ll bet this is the first time for one of you.”

Silence.

I stood, my dignity ruined, and now my earlobes done run off with my ego. “Anyone else here on their first flight ever?”

A woman said, “My six-month-old is flying for the first time.”

That made Joe snicker. I sat down, defeated.

“Even the spiders and snakes have flown before,” Trevor said.

“SNAKES!” I screamed, shaking against his warm chest. Joe’s hand squeezed mine and he and Trevor shared some quiet words. Then Trevor peeled me off him, the coolness shocking me. The plane felt so tiny, and the thought of moving up into the clouds with no ground beneath us seemed so stupid.

Stupid. Who goes into the air and has that kind of pride, of thinking you could cheat nature and make humans fly? If we were meant to fly we’d have wings, right? I reached back and caressed Trevor’s shoulder blades. Nope. No wings. He was such an angel, though, that I wouldn’t have been surprised to find some tucked in there.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a smile, voice rumbly and low in that way that always made me wet and hungry.

“Checking for your wings.”

“C’mere, Darla,” Joe said, tugging on my hand. “I think you need to go to the bathroom.”

And you know what? He was right. Because suddenly I had to pee like a racehorse. I stood and looked back at the sea of faces sitting, thirty rows of human fleshbags with feelings and opinions and hopes and dreams and hands that didn’t wander off like lost children at the county fair.

But I sat down instead. “No. You go. I’m fine.”

Joe frowned but said nothing, snaking his way (snakes!) through the aisle back to the End of the World where the plane just stopped. Stopped. Like the edge of the planet.

Trevor stroked my shoulder and hitched his hips up from the seat, lifting his ass.

“You want a blowjob? Here?”

One of the guys ahead of us started choking.

“I’m reaching into my front pocket to get something,” Trevor said slowly, enunciating with great care. And then he pulled out a tiny pill.

With hands that were still attached. He handed it to me and my hand took it. It came back!

He pulled out a bottle of water. “Drink this. It will help calm your anxiety. My mom always gives me one just in case when I fly. I guess when I was a kid I was a real basket case on flights.”

“That must have been so annoying for your mom. To deal with someone anxious, I mean.” I put the pill on my tongue (which had not run off) and swallowed.

He just smiled in response.

“You and Joe are so sweet to help me calm down.”

Trevor put the bottled water in the little flappy thing on the back of Sam’s seat. And then he froze in mid-reach.

“Joe?”

“He gave me a nice pill, too.”

Trevor’s eyes got real wide, like I could swim in them if I wanted to, only I’d need hands to help me push the water aside, the water of Trevor, the lapping ripples of pure sunshine and love inside him that could make its way into my pussy and…

I suddenly needed to pee.

My legs were still there, and when I stood all those fleshbags were there, row after row of men and women and boys and girls, the occasional squawking baby fleshbag in the mix. I smiled nice and big as my not-twelve-inch ass made its way down the long aisle to the bathroom.

Occupied.

Bang bang bang
. Didn’t people understand I needed to go? My shirt covered my waistband, but my hands found the button to my jeans undone. Silly Trevor. He must have tried to get in my pants earlier.

“Occupied,” a man’s voice said.

“I can
read
!” I said loudly. And then—click. The door opened, an arm shot out, and I was pulled into a silver-covered room not much bigger than a coffin.

Hey, if you’re headed to hell already, might as well spend some time in a coffin on the way there.

Joe’s mouth crushed mine with the kind of kiss that tells you everything. He wanted me, he wanted my mouth, his hands (attached!) ate up my big old ass, running up under my t-shirt. A groan escaped when he groped my unbra-ed breasts and I groaned, too. Trevor had made my pussy nice and wet by just being Trevor and now Joe was—

What in the hell was Joe doing?

“Want to join the Mile-High Club?” he asked, shuffling his feet, the press of his erection against my thigh the only card I needed to become a member of this exclusive, invitation-only group.

“Hell yes. Sex on a motherfucking plane sure does beat snakes.” Snakes! My head whipped around the room as Joe’s fingers undid my zipper, his hands everywhere, like he’d multiplied them and had them surgically attached to come out whenever he had an erection.

Maybe he had. I couldn’t put anything past Joe.

Oh, how he tasted so fine, like coffee and mint and citrus and man and
yum
. My hands found his cock quickly, somehow figuring out zippers and boxer briefs and the feel of his soft flesh against mine was like ice on fire, like something immortal and naughty being emblazoned into my soul.

He turned me, one finger sliding in my wetness, and I groaned, because Joe had this
way
. This perfect way of touching me that made me—

“Oh, God,” I whispered. “Right there.” The throbbing made all my fears and shakes and worries go away, and he turned me so my ass faced him, then pulled my jeans down with a frantic need that made me want him more.

“What about a condom?” You’d think my brain, which was more likely to wander off than my hands, wouldn’t worry, but some part of me did.

“Got it.” A kiss on my neck came with the tearing of foil and then he was poised at the tip of my sweetness and plunged in from behind, his thighs hot against my own, my arms balanced over the toilet seat, my face inches from the flushing warning.

Romantic.

You take what you can get, and in this case I was getting out of my head as Joe was getting into me, and holy fuck as he thrust into me it was like all the cacophony of this plane-ride chaos—of Mama and work and Suzy and the enormity—disappeared into the lust of being fucked so hard and so well I pulled in, a wave of muscle and need curling up and tightening around him like I could never let him go.

“You’re milking me from the inside,” he hissed, the motion making him thrust harder as I came not once, but a million times in one giant wave, pulsing through my core as I shook not with anxiety, but with the
oh, holy hell
of Joe delivering exactly what I needed, and when.

His tight legs told me he was coming, too, and then he bent down and hissed my name in my ear, the kind of verbal branding that makes you smile from within at the knowledge that you own him and he owns you.

And then my hand slipped and I flushed the toilet.

My loose shirt slid down the little hole, into the blue water, and I watched it, transfixed, mouth open and my vision barely returning to normal after orgasming like it was an Olympic sport and I was defending my gold medal from four years before.

“What the fuck?” Joe said, loud, just as someone banged on the door.

My neck pulled down from the sheer force of the cotton from my v-neck being sucked down into the bowels of purgatory, the stainless-steel bowl that normally held excrement now holding me hostage, my shirt a ridiculous parody of what a shirt should be, my body struggling with Joe still in me, my naked ass facing him, pants and undies in a pool between my ankles, my face being drawn into the bottom of a toilet bowl.

A toilet.

The seconds before death descend are rumored to be a moment of reckoning, where your entire life flashes before your eyes and you come to profound understandings about yourself.

I had those seconds.

And the most profound thing that went through my head was
Please don’t suck my body in and make my face pass through a pipe covered with businessman shit and deposit me through 10,000 feet of air
.

Half naked.

Joe pulled out and I swear he did it so fast I heard a
pop!
, like a sexual sonic boom from moving faster than the speed of sound. My jeans and undies slid up my legs and he whispered, “Oh God oh God oh God” over and over while I was trapped, attached to the commode by my shirt.

And then Joe reached into the center of the toilet, grabbed the end of my t-shirt, and yanked. Hard.

Released, I went flying backward, my back whacking against the little sink behind us, but I was free!

Bang bang bang
. “This is inappropriate and you need to come out now. This is the flight attendant, and I could have you removed from the plane.” The woman’s hard voice snapped me out of it.

“You okay?” Joe fussed with my shirt, which now looked like I’d been eating a blue snow cone the size of a small child, and tripped and fell. The cotton was twisted all to hell and I had this huge blue streaky wet mess down my front.

“Go! Just go. I’ll be back in a second.” He kissed my cheek and squeezed his tight ass out of the bathroom. I heard low voices as he went into hardass mode, and I knew that flight attendant wouldn’t bug me. Not after a tongue-lashing from Joe.

My pussy ached with that post-sex rush you get, my shirt was a god-awful mess and I felt flushed (no pun…aw, hell,
that
one was intended) and numb all over. When I looked in the warped mirror, the face that greeted me had bright eyes and red cheeks, and my hair was a bit blue on some of the ends, like I’d just done one of those 5K running races where people throw colored powder and water at you because you have nothing better to do than to pay to run in a race where you come out of it looking like you got stuck in Willy Wonka’s factory.

“Please prepare for takeoff,” the pilot’s voice said, loud and large, and I looked down. Shirt on. No bra. Hands in place. Pants. Oh—I buttoned my button, smoothed my wet, stained shirt over my pants, and left the bathroom for my seat.

Fourteen rows away.

This time, all these smiling, warm lovebags of light stared up at me. I was them and they were me. My heart and soul and pussy were so expansive they could hold everyone. Really. I felt like bliss and the world, including the plane, loved me. The wings loved me and the peanut packets were my Cupid.

I sashayed up to my seat and Trevor looked to his left in horror. Loving horror.

“What—” he barked, fury pointed instantly at Joe. Loving fury, of course.

Amy turned around, Sam and Liam with her. They all half stood, eyes coming over me. I was that luscious. I know, right? They felt the love.

“What happened to you?” Trevor asked.

I looked down at myself. “You missed the announcement. Tie-dye workshop in the bathroom.”

“You sick dog,” Trevor said to Joe as Joe stood and scooched me past him, nestling me between them.

Amy gasped and just pointed to my shirt, looking at Joe and Trevor with a curious look. “What? Haven’t you ever tie-dyed a shirt in an airplane toilet before? Pffft. And you call yourself accomplished,” I muttered.

And then I clicked my seatbelt in place and rested my tired, loving head on Trevor’s shoulder, my hand on Joe’s thigh. He took my hand. We didn’t need more. “I’m a member of the Mile-High Club, Trev.” I giggled.

He smoothed the hair off my forehead, fingering the end of one piece. “Blue?” He took in my shirt and I closed my eyes.

I could feel Joe shrug.

“I hate to break it to you, Darla, but we haven’t even left the tarmac.”

“Is the tarmac some kind of country I don’t know about? We don’t have tarmacs in Ohio.” And the world faded out slowly as I gave over to a cloud of love so big it made me snore.

Chapter Six

Trevor