by Kat T. Masen
My mom and I always had a close relationship, being her only child and with no dad around. So, I was quick to tell her my side of the story. Nothing worse than your mom getting all up in your business.
I hated the fact I’d let her down. She treated Benny and Tom like sons, despite their inappropriate sexual references. She knew how tight of a bond we had and was quick to point out how easily I allowed my dick to act before my brain.
My hands wrap around the glass, raising it to my lips, and consuming the bourbon in one go. It no longer burns or clouds my vision. The only feeling ravaging me is anger. So, I fucked up. Yet Tom and Benny threw our friendship away like I wasn’t fucking human.
With the fire of the bourbon running through my veins, the reality of my life became crystal clear. I was bored with my job, bored of this place, and tired of the same old Boston. The only thing which kept me here was my mom, but even she had her own life.
I need a fucking change.
Start new where I can reinvent and rid myself of this life I had relied on, the people I had relied on.
I pull my cell out of my pants pocket, scrolling through my phone until I come across my cousin Charlie’s number. Pressing dial, I wait patiently for the call to connect.
“Um, excuse me, sir,” Charlie greets, flatly. “Do you have the wrong number?”
A laugh escapes me. The sound of her voice is a welcoming change from my draining thoughts.
“I know, I know, I’ve neglected my cousin duties.”
“Neglected would be an understatement,” she informs me, her tone softening and more relaxed. “I’m surprised you’re even alive. It’s been like what… close to two years since I last spoke to you?”
“I comment on your posts.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“I’m sorry, okay?” I offer my apology, sincerely. “Life has been…”
“Busy?” she answers, letting out a sigh. “For me, too. Okay, so before I grill you for not meeting your nieces yet, how have you been?”
I pause, trying to piece a reasonable answer together before she interrogates me even further. Charlie and I were close as kids whenever we spent our summers together. My mom and her dad shared the same biological father. According to my mom, she was the result of an affair my grandmother had with Charlie’s grandfather while he was married. My own grandmother claimed it was a mid-life crisis affair on her behalf, but I’ve only met her a small handful of times since she remarried and moved to Washington state.
While Mom tried her best to stay in contact with her brother, Mark, it was actually Charlie’s mother who became close to her, which is why we spent time with each other growing up.
I’d always thought of Charlie as a big sister rather than a cousin. We made so many great memories, but much like other families, time slipped away, and we both grew up so quickly.
“I’m thinking of coming out to LA,” I mention, casually.
“Sounds great,” she rushes with excitement. “When? You’ll probably need at least a week to see everything—”
“No… I mean for good.”
It has been on my mind nonstop for the last month. All I need to do to make it official is hand in my resignation. That, and lease out my condo.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” I pause again, letting out a sigh. “I just need a change of pace.”
“But what about your job?”
“There are other jobs.”
“Noah, c’mon, it’s me,” she reminds me. Although we don’t speak as often as we probably should, when we do, it’s as if time never passed. Charlie knows me too well. “This isn’t like you. You love Boston, plus your mom is there and your best friends. I know those boys are like brothers to you.”
“People change,” I counter, dismissing the mention of Benny and Tom. “It’s time to start somewhere new. So, any chance I can crash with you until I get myself sorted?”
I realized over time, I’d burrowed myself into a comfort zone here in Boston. Moving to California seems like a great idea, but I don’t want to rent or buy a place just yet if I can’t see myself staying for long.
“Listen, I’ll have to clear it with Lex, but since he knocked me up again, I’ll say yes for both of us,” she grunts, seemingly unhappy with her predicament.
“Oh, shit.” I laugh, curling my fist and bringing it to my mouth. “Congrats are in order, but hey, listen, two weeks at most. I just need to make sure it’s right.”
“Please don’t congratulate me, I want to throw up,” she complains with a groan. “So, when are you thinking of coming?”
“I need to give notice, settle things here so probably in a month or two?”
“We’ll be waiting.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “Built-in babysitter.”
My laughter lingers. “I’m not great with kids. But happy to have Lex show me around town.”
“You behave, okay?” she warns me. “Single men like you spell only one word.”
“What are you talking about?” I tease, pouring myself more bourbon as we speak and walking toward my laptop. “Didn’t you see my profile photo with the halo hovering over my head?”
Charlie snickers. “Listen, in terms of a job, a friend of ours runs a publishing house. Lex is a stakeholder, and I know they’re looking to expand their marketing division. I’ll get Lex to call you later, okay?”
“Sounds like a plan,” I respond with a smile. “And Charlie… thank you.”
“You’re family, Noah. You don’t ever need to thank me.”
We say our goodbyes, and the moment the call ends, I think about Charlie’s parting words. I’d always thought of Benny and Tom as family, but the last few months have proven how very wrong I was.
Moving to California is exactly the fresh start I need.
With my laptop switched on, I open a Word document and begin typing up my resignation letter. I’d been working steadily at this company for the last four years. Worked my way up from Marketing Analyst to Marketing Director. E-commerce is my strength, and I know leaving this comfortable position will be a risk.
But the biggest risk in life is not taking a risk.
Rereading my words and downing the remnants of my bourbon for extra encouragement, I attach the document to an email. Typing very few words, though with a heartful thanks for all the opportunities, my mouse hovers over the top of my inbox until I finally hit send.
It’s time to move on.
NOAH
I’ve never been fond of flying. Something about being crammed into a confined space along with two hundred impatient people all in a hurry to reach their destination seems unnatural. Add to that the cardboard food that’s barely edible, coffee which tastes like water, and worst of all, the extremely claustrophobic restroom.
I avoid flying anywhere unless, of course, it’s for leisure. Like Cancun last year. Leisure and pleasure all rolled into one. A boys’ trip which turned into a weeklong fuck-fest with a newly divorced woman seeking revenge on her ex-husband by spending his money.
Life was so sweet back then.
It’s a five-hour flight to Los Angeles, five hours of flying economy because business class is sold out, sitting next to a girl who bursts into tears every time she flips the page of her book. Cute girl, maybe early twenties, with a short brown bob tied back and reading glasses which make her look nerdy yet sexy at the same time. She’s curled up, legs beneath her chin, resting against the window. The way she sits, along with the way she bites her nails nervously, warns me that Miss Goody-Two-Shoes should best be left alone.
But I’m bored and not in the mood to watch the crappy television shows or unpopular movies they show on the plane.
Without trying to draw attention, I watch the way her lips tremble and her eyes glass over with every flick of a page. My stare immediately wanders to the title of the book—Moving on After a Broken Heart.
Too. Fucking. Easy.
Then my mind halts, remembering the promise I made when I left home.
I promise to keep my dick in my pants.
I promise not to engage in sexual activity that may be construed as any form of revenge.
And so, this one-way ticket is supposed to be a fresh start—a way of reinventing myself in a place filled with superficial wannabe actors and actresses.
Hollywood.
I close my eyes with my earphones on, trying to drown out the aircraft noise.
Not long after, there’s a gentle tap on my shoulder. “Sir, would you like a drink?”
I open my eyes to be met by a sexy red-haired stewardess waiting to serve me with a flirtatious smile. Fuck, those lips. Red lipstick—my weakness.
I’m not thirsty, but decide I need to leave a good impression on her and order a scotch. I’ve never fucked a stewardess.
It would be so damn hot if she left that uniform on while I fuck her from behind.
She pours the scotch into the glass, trying to disguise her smile. I know she’s feeling it. Through her white blouse, her nipples are practically teasing me. Noticing my tray table isn’t down, she leans forward, her tits so close to my face, and opens the table while accidentally brushing my cock in the process.
“Here you go, sir.”
“Thank you, Ivana,” I say, eyeing her nametag.
Only lingering for a moment, she turns her body in the opposite direction, purposely bending over to serve the gentleman across the aisle from me.
Fuck! What I would give to stick my fingers in her sweet pussy right now. I bet it’s tight too. Barely touched from all the traveling she does.
Control yourself. Miss Goody-Two-Shoes next to you would have a heart attack if she knew what your dirty mind wants to do to Ivana right now.
What was that about controlling my dick?
Who fucking cares anymore?
New place, a new set of women.
Perfect.
The remainder of the flight is uneventful, and Ivana, much to my disappointment, hasn’t come back for round two. With only an hour left until we descend, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes decides to strike up a conversation. Another reason I despise flying—small talk with random strangers beside you.
“Sorry about the blubbering mess,” she apologizes while placing the book in the pocket behind the seat in front of her.
“Must be a good book,” I respond politely, not interested in the slightest about making conversation.
“Good as in eye-opening. I feel much better now. I’m Amber, by the way.”
I smile back. “Noah.”
“Noah,” she repeats. “Cute. Are you from LA?”
Cute? For fuck’s sake, this is not going anywhere. Time to terminate the conversation. I’m not moving to LA to meet friends, especially ones who think my name is ‘cute.’
“No, just moving there.”
“I live not far from Santa Monica Beach with my two roomies,” Amber informs me. “LA is a nice change if you’re from the East.”
“I like warmer.”
“I miss the cold winters. When I stayed in Jersey with my girlfriend… I mean, my ex…” And there it is, the reason why she’s been a train wreck this entire flight. I just never took her for a lesbian. It’s kind of hot. Damn, she eats pussy. We have something in common.
“I loved being inside and watching the snow fall. Helps if you’ve got hot chocolate and are having wild sex in front of a fireplace,” she reminisces.
The scotch swirling around in my mouth almost splatters onto the chair in front of me. She said what?
“Uh, yeah.” I laugh nervously, unsure of where to go from here. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a wild-sex-in-front-of-a-fireplace type of girl.”
“Well, then, Noah, it’s amazing how looks can be deceiving.”
Her eyes dart back and forth, scanning the passengers around us. With most people asleep, she slides a little closer and rests her hand on my thigh, inching it closer until it’s sitting on my cock. Stroking it softly above the material of my pants, I allow her to continue until she suggests we should take this out back.
“Back where?” I ask, wondering what she has in mind.
I turn my head, and I notice the back of the plane isn’t full. I enjoy fucking in public, but this, this seems risky. Don’t be a pussy, Noah. You’ve jerked off watching several pornos with girls getting off on airplanes.
I unclick my seat belt and stand, walking toward the back where the larger restroom is located, assuming that this is where Amber wants to fuck. Ivana is standing against the wall eyeing me as I walk down.
Oh shit.
With Amber following close behind, Ivana tilts her head and watches her.
“Well, this is a nice reunion.” Ivana grins, eyeing us both from head to toe.
“Just using the restroom.” I smile back.
“Let me open the door for both of you. If you need any assistance, please don’t be afraid to ask.” Ivana bites the corner of her lip, gazing at me with her sultry eyes.
“We could use some help,” Amber whispers, latching onto Ivana’s arm.
Ivana pulls a piece of paper from her pocket, taping it onto the restroom. The words Out of Order printed and stuck on the door.
“Ladies,” I murmur, running my hand along Ivana’s collarbone. “We need to get creative with this space.”
Ivana places her juicy red lips on mine, rolling her tongue around while moaning in my mouth. There’s a hand stroking my cock. I don’t know who it belongs to nor do I care. Ivana continues to kiss me with deep penetrating moans almost biting my lip in the process. I pull away and see why.
Amber has shifted Ivana’s dress up, past the top of her garters. She pushes Ivana’s black lacey panties aside, exposing her beautifully shaved pussy. Fuck. I watch in awe, waiting for her to slide her tongue against her clit. I’ve been with two women before, but never in a restroom of a plane. This here is fucking heaven.
“If my ex could see me in here with the both of you, she’d die,” Amber moans loudly.
Without any further delay, she shoves her head between Ivana’s legs as Ivana curses at her, begging her to suck her pussy and stick her fingers deep inside. I’m at a slight loss for what to do, caught up in the excitement of it all. But time is of the essence because this plane isn’t going to stay in the air forever.
My cock is throbbing, the blood pumping hard as I restrain myself from blowing too quickly. Knowing I don’t have a condom on me, I settle for a blowjob while Amber finishes Ivana off. It doesn’t take me long—two women staring up at me with wild eyes, fighting to suck me off the hardest.
Fucking. Suck. Harder.
“Sir,” a voice calls to me. “Sir, please fasten your seat belt. We’re descending into LAX.”
Startled and confused by my surroundings, it takes me a moment to realize it was only a dream. And Ivana, ironically, is the one who bursts my pornographic bubble. Still standing over me, she notices the hard-on and walks away with a satisfied smile.
Cock tease.
The girl beside me begins a conversation, introducing herself as Erika. Funny, I didn’t peg her for an Erika. Much like my warped dream, she asks the same questions, buying time with mundane topics. When the wheels of the plane begin to drop, loudly echoing through the cabin, Erika drops the bombshell.
“I broke up with my boyfriend because he cheated on me with one of my friends. And you know what makes it worse? They’re still together!” she cries loudly.
I want out of this plane.
Out of this conversation.
So, being the dick that I am, I don’t say anything else and pretend to be enjoying the view through her window as the plane hits the ground and screeches to a halt.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Los Angeles,” the pilot announces.
I give myself a moment to take it all in. The fact that I’m here beginning something new, embarking on a new adventure, it would’ve been nice to have a moment of serenity as we taxied into the terminal
, but Miss Chatty next to me takes the opportunity to go on about her ex-boyfriend.
She turns to face me, staring me down behind her glasses. “Give me your honest opinion. You’re a guy, and I need a guy’s perspective. If I hooked up with someone else, say, like a rebound, would that make him angry, you think?”
Oh, sweetheart. You’re asking the wrong guy.
It’s like dangling a bottle of scotch at an AA meeting. Here she is dangling her frigid little pussy in front of me. Clenching my fist, I try my hardest to answer her question without insinuating we should meet up so I can show her a real man wouldn’t be cheating on her sweet, pretty ass.
“Erika,” I say, standing up to open the overhead locker and remove my bag. “Do whatever it is you need to do to move on. Don’t waste your time worrying about someone who doesn’t feel the same.”
Pat on the back for that mature response.
The chaos begins, passengers scrambling to grab their belongings to exit the plane. Erika thanks me for the advice, and I say goodbye, following the line that begins to move toward the exit.
Along with everyone else, I walk through the corridor, then turn the corner and see the crowds of people waiting at the gate.
Charlie’s standing at the front with one of her daughters. I immediately recognize her even though I haven’t seen her in years. Her normally brown hair is slightly darker, chopped into a shorter style that reaches her shoulders. Back when we were younger, she was a lot paler, but I’m assuming living in California is why her skin is so olive. She’s always been a beautiful girl, a reason why every boy in town wanted to date her when we were young.
I wave hello, distracted by a tap on my shoulder. I turn around as Erika hands me a piece of paper. “My number. I’m taking your advice. Make sure you call me, okay?”
Wow! So even when I’m trying not to be sexy, I must come across that way. Talk about an ego boost. I wink back at Erika, following it up with a smile, shoving her number into the pocket of my pants.
“Uncle Noah!” The little girl runs toward me, wrapping her tiny arms around my leg. What the hell am I supposed to do? I don’t even remember her name. She looks exactly like her dad—mousy brown hair with bright green eyes. I’d expect a little girl should be dressed in some sort of frilly dress, but not her. She’s wearing a white T-shirt with #Superhero printed on it in bright green along with a cape. Okay, seriously, the kid already rocks.