Fuck that’s not good right?
The flight crew can serve and pick up through every single kind of turbulence, they are super human. Fuck. If the pilot is telling the super humans to sit down, we really are all gonna die.
Chapter Six
Marcel
Juliet was nervous about the turbulence and overwhelmed by her first sexual experience. She was beautiful and accommodating and despite being nervous and inexperienced it was a delightful moment I am glad I got to share with her.
It has been a rough fifteen minutes but finally the wheels touch down. I've been holding Juliet's hand because she's terrified. And if I'm being honest, I'm a little nervous too because the minute the plane touches the ground we slide for a good long while before we're able to reduce our speed and come to a stop. The moment we do, the plane erupts into applause. Juliet and I remain holding hands because she's still a little shell-shocked.
“Well, we made it,” I announce just to give her that extra level of reassurance.
“Thank you for your patience everyone,” the pilot comes on the overhead speaker and says. “We just landed at Bradley Airport in Connecticut. The weather is extremely dangerous with blizzard conditions; all flights have been grounded. There are a few restaurants open for those of you who need to get something to eat, but passengers are being advised to stay within the airport as most ground transportation is not operating at this time. We'd like you all to be careful when opening overhead compartments and mindful of one another.It's going to be a long night for everyone. When you get into the airport, staff will help you find accommodation for the evening. We don't expect the weather to let up until midafternoon tomorrow with most airlines remaining out of service until further notice. Thank you for flying with us.”
Ah, for fuck’s sakeis all I can think.
I have a meeting tomorrow morning at nine a.m. in Rhode Island and I’m meant to be back on a plane tomorrow night to New York. This fucks up all of those plans. But I can push my meeting a day or two and there's no reason I need to be in New York other than who wants to spend the holidays alone in Rhode Island of all places.
Juliet lets go of my hand and starts collecting her things.
“Thank you, Marcel,” she says with a gorgeous smile, probably just relieved to be done with the eventful flight. “This has been one to remember.” She sounds much calmer and more collected.
I pick up her hand and kiss it. “For me as well,” I say as I let her walk in front of me and follow her out of the airplane.
Once we get into the airport it is total madness. People are hounding the airline agents to rebook tickets, the restaurants are teeming with diners and the lines extend well past their entrances with dozens of people standing in queues waiting for food.
I hear Juliet sigh as she takes in the surroundings.
“Do we say goodbye here?” She looks at me and her eyes are a little swollen and sad from tears she’s already shed.
“If you’d like,” as soon as I say it my heart hurts a little. I’m doubtful that I will ever meet another Juliet.
“Um, I guess.” Her voice cracks a little and I can tell she’s getting emotional. It will only be worse if I leave her later, so I decide it’s best just to end this now.
I’d ruin Juliet’s life. The moment she finds out what a complete emotionless piece of shit I am, she’ll run with a fair amount of trauma to work through. It’s best with me just taking her virginity in a one night stand and leaving the rest to mystery. It’s mean and heartless, but I told her I’d give her a good orgasm and she had three. Mine was so mind blowing I hardly remember much of anything. It was awkward and sweet ... fuck I need to block it out or I’ll obsess over something that will never be.
“Okay, Juliet. It was lovely meeting you. I guarantee that I will never meet another soul as sweet as yours.” I lean forward and kiss her soft pretty lips. “I want to give you some cash, not for anything other than some expensive airport food.” I dip my hand into my jeans to fish out my wallet, but she’s already got her backpack slung over her shoulder and she’s walking away.
“I’m good,” she says with her head bowed down and I know for a fact she’s tearing up again.
Better just leave it, I think to myself, it will only get worse, so I watch her go. She gets in the astronomical Starbucks line and sets her backpack down. They don’t have vegan food at Starbucks. Ugh. I want to worry about her, but instead I walk to the first class lounge which is packed with passengers, but I belong to the exclusive executive flyers club and blissfully there are only a few passengers enjoying champagne and caviar. I walk to the concierge and book the last airport suite. ThankGod. I can dine in peace and finally get a little sleep before figuring out what the hell I’m going to do tomorrow.
As I’m texting my business associates and ordering a glass of champagne, I think of Juliet eating whatever vegan scraps they have available at Starbucks and just know that she isn’t going to eat properly tonight. I brush it off.
“I’ll have caviar, 2 bellini’s, the smoked salmon, herbed creme fraiche, and filet mignon. And do you buy any chance serve vegan items?” Fuck me for asking.
“We have a full vegan menu, sir.” Wow, really? Okay.
“And how late do you serve?” I mean, I should know, just in case I want to try something vegan.
This is the idiotic thing I tell myself. I do a fairly good job of trying to forget Juliet for a few hours. I eat my meal; I go to the suite and have a shower. I even dress for a proper night of sleep when I start to toss and turn. All I can think of is Juliet lost in the mass stranded people, starving on Starbucks. I put my clothes back on and leave the suite, which I have for the next two days in case we’re stuck here that long.
I walk out into the airport and think, where would Juliet go? I know she’s flying to Rhode Island and chances are she’s going to stay on the same airline so she isn’t probably going to be too far away from where I left her. And it turns out my sleuthing is correct. My heart explodes when I see her auburn hair peeking out of the hood of her jacket. Her head is resting on her backpack and she has her beautiful legs tucked up underneath her. Beside her is a cup with her nameJulietwritten in black ink and the remnants of a spicy falafel ball or something similar ... which now explains why Starbucks was the restaurantof choice. She’s curled up near the window tucked as far away from other sleeping people as she can get and looks small, sad, and lonely. I know I’m going to burn in Hell for this, but I don’t care. I march right over and crouch beside her.
“Juliet,” I gently shake her shoulder. “Ma chérie,” I say softly. She’s wearing ear buds so I pluck one out and speak again. “Ma chérie,” I repeat.
And I should have anticipated what happens next, but of course I’m not thinking about the consequences of my actions.
