The Role

by A. B. Wilson

  “My turn. Shall we?” I asked him.

  He grinned back, nodded and grasped my hand. We pushed through the doors together. “So, don’t be mad at me—” he started as we walked through, immediately sidestepping a group of chattering, confused senior citizens.

  “That is a shitty way to start a sentence, you know. Only thing worse is ‘we need to talk’, or maybe ‘about that missing million dollars from our bank account—’”

  “Those are not remotely equivalent.” He spluttered at me in confusion.

  “Kidding! But seriously, what shouldn’t I get mad at you about this time?” I asked, elbowing him as we continued toward our gate from the lounge at an unhurried pace.

  “Um, well. I might have upgraded you again, despite you calling it a pointless expense, because I didn’t want to not sit together on this long flight. I mean, we’re supposed to be practicing together. And I did it kind of without telling you because I was afraid you’d say no since this is all new and stuff,” he said in a rush.

  I patted his cheek heavily. “Markus, you shouldn’t have.”

  His face paled.

  “But I’m so glad you did, thank you. I’ll buy you a drink tomorrow when we get in.” I smirked.

  He laughed and tapped my hand. “I’m going to hold you to that,” he said with a wink. I adored flirtatious Markus, but with only one wink and a smirk he’d ruined my brand-new lacy underwear. He took charge of our forward progress and pulled me down the terminal’s moving walkway. Apparently he was one of those people who actually walked down them.

  I was always, obnoxiously, on the ‘Stand’ side of that yellow line down the center of the walkway, daydreaming about the trips people were taking—the family trip to Disney with the parents who already looked overwhelmed and ready to commit adultery, the woman in the white fur coat and enormous black sunglasses trying to entrap a Pomeranian that had escaped from its carrier. The stories their body language told about love and secrets, exasperation and dreams of escape.

  We got to our gate as they began boarding first class, and Markus let go of my hand to rifle through his backpack for his passport. I ignored the gate agent’s curious look as she held out a hand for my documentation.

  She looked between us again and raised her eyebrows at Markus, scanned my papers and waved me through. “Have a lovely flight, Mr. Shellenberg.”

  “Welcome to the lifestyles of the rich and famous. The bold and the beautiful,” he attempted to deadpan as we headed down the walkway. “Where everyone is convinced they know you and have the right to eye-fuck you.”

  “I don’t know if that’s so much a them thing or a you thing,” I said without too much heat. “You’re too pretty for your own good.”

  “Welcome aboard, Mr. Shellenberg, please follow us.” The flight attendants smiled professionally and gestured for us to follow them up the stairs to the first-class cabins.

  While the downstairs of the plane was well-managed chaos, it was almost spa-like upstairs. The lighting was softer, lo-fi electronic music played a soothing backdrop and the dark wood and gold inlay made everything feel luxe as hell. The floor lighting glowed and illuminated each scuff on my four-year-old Adidas. My bracelets, which one of the attendants gushed over as I walked past, felt like the only part of me that belonged in this rarified space.

  At the door to the last cabin on the left, the flight attendant slid the partition open and gestured for us to enter. She quickly pointed out the unobtrusive call button embedded in the wall next to the door, clapped her hands softly to turn on the recessed lighting and backed out smoothly. I took in the streamlined leather loungers, built-in end-tables and sixty-inch flatscreen with wide eyes while Markus dropped his carry-on carelessly on one of the chairs and pulled my own from my shoulder. He set it aside to rest beside his own and gently pushed my jaw back up to close.

  The attendant quickly returned with two glasses of champagne on a tray and passed them to Markus. “Enjoy your flight, Mr. Shellenberg. Let me know if we can do anything to serve you today.”

  I shut the door, hard, behind her and smashed my hand into a button that made a privacy curtain descend over the window in the cabin’s door. The whole experience of flying like this, following Markus around and seeing how differently he lived his life compared to mine—up to this point, anyways—was overwhelming and it pissed me off how small I suddenly felt in comparison. While I was pleased with the plush settings, it was hitting home that I was about to go visit this man’s family when I had taken great care to avoid any and all families since my own had shattered apart. My nerves went into overdrive.

  We’re too different for this to work. All this casual nonsense is bullshit.

  I drained my glass of champagne and grabbed for his. “Thanks,” I said. Nicely. Because I was a nice person. Not irrationally angry or scared at all. Nope.

  Markus flopped down on one of the loungers and barely managed to get out between guffaws, “Oh my god. You’re so incandescent right now. You know, if I wasn’t completely certain that you wouldn’t castrate me, I’d tell you that you’re gorgeous when you’re furious. I kinda want to—argh!”

  I’d accidentally-on-purpose tipped my drink over his head. The champagne left sticky bubbles that trailed down his jawline and got trapped in the stubble that coated his cheeks. My momentary satisfaction faded quickly as I watched his eyes darken.

  “That’s it. You’re going to get it,” he growled as he stripped off his wet shirt, threw it on the ground, where it landed with a soggy plop, and came at me, long fingers flexing threateningly.

  “Wait! Wait, stop, Markus. I’m not fucking around here, you’re pissing me off.” I pushed him back and he landed on the other dark leather chair, shirtless and stunned. I sat down more gingerly opposite him. “I don’t like to be ignored and I’m feeling like you’re three levels or more above me. I’ve never even met the family of someone I’ve dated. It’s kind of all hitting me at once here.”

  “Fucking hell. I misunderstood, thought you were messing with me.” He rifled through his bag and pulled out a dry light-blue shirt, shook it and slid it over his head. Despite my anger, I had an internal moment of mourning at the need to cover up all of that skin and lean muscle.

  He came over to me and held out his arms and I stepped into them. “I’ll be okay. Give me a second,” I said in a muffled voice as I wrapped my arms around his waist.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Markus

  Alina’s hands gripped my shirt and I could feel her kneading and worrying the cloth. She wasn’t crying, but was obviously emotional, and I’d completely missed every signal. I inhaled deeply, willing my heart to return to normal, and rubbed small circles between her shoulder blades. A knock vibrated against the door.

  “Yes? We’re fine in here,” I said, my voice slightly more gravelly than normal.

  “Mr. Shellenberg? I need to do a pre-flight check. We’ll be taking off soon.”

  “We’re fine. Absolutely fine. And completely buckled in. We may want something to eat. Maybe some wine? Two bottles of water?” I was desperate to get rid of her as I glanced at Alina, who had pulled away from me as she ineffectually tried to straighten her hair again.

  “Oh my god, are they trying to kill us with punctual service?” she said with a small, forced laugh.

  “Here, let me.” I grabbed her hair tie and tried to coax her tangled curls back into their ponytail. She hummed her thanks and stroked my forearm with a single finger that left a slow-burning trail of fire in its wake. I finally got her hair pulled into a messy ponytail as the attendant knocked again. “Sir, your food.”

  I looked at her. “You good?”

  “Certainly, thanks to my excellent hairstylist.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me.

  “I used to try to do Ella’s hair when I was small, but I’m a little out of practice.” I quickly kissed her cheek as I heaved myself off of my seat to answer the door.

  I tucked the bottles of water beneath an arm and to
ok the trays from the two attendants’ outstretched hands. “Thank you, ladies. We’ll ring if we need anything else.”

  “Of course,” they murmured as they stared curiously around me at Alina, who oh so casually ignored them while flicking through her copy of the script she’d pulled from her bag as she sat curled up on one of the loungers.

  * * * *

  We’d been in the air for about two hours, spending most of it running lines. We were about a third of the way through the season in terms of reading through our scenes together, and I could already tell that she was going to be fine. Whether she was a true natural talent or our vibe was simply that effective, I wasn’t sure, but we were both developing a strong sense of our characters. I leaned against the wall and swirled what was left of my wine while I watched Alina read and toy with a loose curl.

  “Hey.”

  “Hmm?” she responded as she continued to scan ahead in her script.

  “Get up,” I said impatiently as I rose to my feet. “You’re about to see why we pay the big bucks for these seats.”

  She stood and watched with interest as I reclined both loungers and spun them so they aligned and formed a full-size bed. I pulled pillows and a down comforter emblazoned with the logo of the airline in gold thread out of the closet by the door and shook them out with a snap to settle on top.

  “Your bed, madam.” I gestured with a bow that would have been worthy of a Shakespearean actor.

  “My hero,” she gasped and flopped onto our bed. “This is unreal! How do they have such comfortable mattresses on a lounge chair? On a damn plane?”

  “You can watch a movie if you want or keep reading, but I need to crash.” I threw her the remote. She put it on an end table and flipped on one of the reading lights next to the side she had staked out.

  “I’m fine. Give me a second to finish this scene.” She looked up at me and her eyes narrowed as she watched me start to undress. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Uh, getting out of these clothes? My jeans are still damp from the champagne shower, and I’m not sleeping in them.” I got the jeans in question off, shrugged out of my shirt again and slid under the quilt, ignoring the heat in her stare, although it made me smile internally.

  I lay on my side and watched her read for a bit with my head propped up in one hand. Alina’s eyes scanned quickly up and down the page and she snuck a look at me.

  “What’s up? Thought you were sooo tired,” she said with a smirk.

  “I am, but I like watching you. And I need to know if we’re okay. This morning and everything else is a lot to take, a lot of pressure on something new. Am I doing enough to support you?” I reached out to stroke her arm, circling the wrist that wore my bracelets.

  She set her script in her lap and turned and faced me fully. “Yeah, we’re okay. If it’s weird for me to date someone like you, it’s probably weird for you to date someone like me.”

  “You’re right. It is a little bit,” I answered. “What about the family thing?”

  She kissed the tip of my nose. “It’s fine. Seriously, I should have talked to you about it earlier. As long as you’re aware that this is strange for me, but I’m trying.”

  “I won’t forget.” I brushed her bangs away from her face and searched her eyes for the sincerity that low-key shone out at me. She grabbed my hand and kissed the palm before placing it back on my chest, over my heart.

  “I’m glad we’re on the same page. Night,” I muttered as I turned over.

  “Night,” she said softly.

  I hummed something indistinct and closed my eyes, so fucking happy to be where I was in that exact moment. We were going to have to have a talk at some point soon, because I was already past the point of casual with her, but she seemed determined to hang on to that fact. I listened to her flip a few pages before she gave up on trying to read and got up. A few seconds later, her jeans hit the ground with a jingle. The bed dipped again as she got in and clicked off the light.

  She wiggled back toward me and sighed as I curled up around her. One of her hands idly stroked the back of my forearm that draped across her stomach. The last thing I heard before my eyes slid blissfully shut was a throaty moan as my thumb rubbed gently back and forth across the smooth skin of her bare stomach beneath her T-shirt.

  * * * *

  A few hours later, something woke me—a bright light and sharp click. The cabin was dark and quiet again as I sleepily took stock of Alina. She was facing me with her head pillowed on my shoulder, and I was turned slightly toward her, both arms clasping her close. Her leg was trapped between mine, and one of her hands had a death grip on my bare hip.

  The first time that I saw her, I hazily recalled, the entire world had seemed to slip away, the ground beneath my feet disappearing, leaving only her face and voice as anchors that had kept me from flying into the void. What I felt now was that same sense of weightlessness. The body curled next to me was the only form of gravity holding me together.

  Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. I swore that I could feel her heartbeat echoing and speeding up to synchronize with my own. I was so warm and comfortable. I kissed her forehead and drifted back off after deciding the flash of light that had startled me awake had been a dream.

  * * * *

  When I woke again we were lying facing each other, our foreheads touching and legs entangled. One of her hands was dipped into my boxer briefs. Her thumb gently swirled around the head of my cock while her other hand curved over the muscles in my chest, teasing mindlessly down my stomach.

  My hands were anything but innocent, and one was wrapped around her upper thigh and ass to dip slightly beneath the fabric of her boyshort panties, soaking my fingertips as they glided through her folds. She was so fucking wet. My other hand was entwined in her loose curls. I pulled gently and was rewarded by a moan as she arched toward me, bringing her chest into blazing contact with mine.

  At some point, one of us had pushed her shirt up high above her breasts, and the feel of her soft skin and pebbled nipples gliding across my chest had both of us panting as we ground minutely against each other. But so softly. And so slowly. The whole situation was completely unreal. The quiet, the dark, the plane’s white noise and her warm body aligned with my own.

  We continued the slow push and pull, finding a tortuous rhythm, as if our bodies couldn’t bear to be separate entities any longer, as if we needed to be absorbed into each other. Her hand slid completely beneath the waistband of my underwear to grasp my cock, and I groaned as she began to stroke me with a fist that tightened inexorably as she jerked me off.

  I opened my eyes, owning the moment and my need for her. Her eyes were already wide and questioning, looking to me for her answers. “Yes?” I asked gently and she smiled faintly.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  I dropped my mouth to hers and shuddered as her tongue swept across my lips. The faint taste of champagne lingered and the scent of her body wash rolled over me in waves of dusky sandalwood. My hips bucked wildly into her hand and I dragged my fingertips slowly up her bare back to tangle in her hair. Her curls wrapped around my fingers as I cradled her head in the palm of my hand while she clumsily tugged down my briefs and worked to free herself from her own.

  The slightly rough, laundered sheets of the plane’s bed chafed my overly sensitive skin as I rolled onto my back, taking Alina with me. She leaned over me with her hands braced on either side of my face, her bracelets jingling musically in my ears while we stared into each other’s eyes, both of us in disbelief about what we were doing, the liberties we were finally allowing ourselves.

  “Arms up, sweetheart,” I whispered as I gently pulled the shirt over her head.

  God, she was gorgeous. Her tits were perfect handfuls, rising and falling above me as she looked down at where she sat with her pussy spread open over me, soaking me. She started to slide back and forth on top of me, coating me with her arousal.

  I gently tongued one of the temp
ting, wine-colored nipples that hovered over my mouth until it tightened to a point. She gasped as I sucked hard, grinding down onto me as I thrust upward against her heat, almost but not quite sliding inside her. The next time that she eased her hips forward I brought a hand down to her ass, my fingers parting her slit as she moved backward, impaling herself on two of my fingers.

  “Fuck. Fuck, that feels so good, Markus!” she hissed as she took over the pace, fucking herself on my fingers and angling her hips lower to rub against my aching cock.

  My balls tightened up and lightning gathered at the base of my spine as I struggled not to come. She called out my name as she finally bore down, hard, moving faster and faster until her inner muscles tightened like a velvet fist around my fingers. “Fuck, Markus. That…that…that was—”

  “It was,” I practically gasped. I was still incredibly hard.

  “Fuck,” she said again. She moaned slightly as I jerked against her still-sensitive flesh. My teeth clenched as I fought to keep from thrusting up into her. Her breathing slowed and she lifted her head to look at me. I was in absolute agony as she smiled knowingly at me. She bent her head back to my chest and drew her tongue in a slow circle around my nipple. I blew out a harsh breath and she raised her head, nipping at the base of my throat. “You all right?” she asked innocently. “I feel amazing, so relaxed, pleasantly sleepy. Maybe I’ll just…”

  I groaned, not wanting to beg, grabbed a pillow and pressed it over my face to muffle my curses. She lifted it and kissed me gently. Her tongue traced my lips and I tried to wrap my arms around her and pull her back down on top of me. She leaned away and said, playfully, “Nuh-uh, not so fast. It’s my turn to take care of you.”

  She carefully placed the pillow to the side and smoothly spun to crawl down my body, where she swirled her tongue around the head of my still-hard cock then down to its base to tease my balls. “Let me make you come,” she murmured as her soft lips encompassed me.