The Standby

by K. A Knight

  He explains that we get afternoon tea and a three-course meal for dinner, and shows me how everything works before pulling out a notebook and pen and laying them on the table in front of him. “Is that your work in progress?” I ask, sipping the champagne again. It’s so good.

  He rolls his head on the seat so he can see me. “Yes, I’m stuck on where to go next, honestly. I was hoping a different location and some time away would make it flow. The publishers want a first draft in just over a month and I’m only twenty thousand words in.”

  “Do you mind?” I query, nodding at the notebook. He blinks and hands it over.

  “You don’t have to,” he says nervously.

  “I promise I won’t share your secrets or plots with anyone, I just want to help if I can. It’s the least I can do after everything you have done for me,” I tell him quietly, and he sucks in a breath and nods. I flip to the first page. His writing is scrawling but neat enough to read. I wonder if he always writes in a notebook. Maybe he types it up later? I’ll ask him once I’ve finished reading.

  I lose myself in his writing, flipping through the pages until it finishes mid-paragraph, then I gape at him. “I want more.”

  He laughs uneasily and I get serious. “It’s amazing, Logan, really. So different from your other stuff. I love that you have included actual quotes and facts and they flow really well. I see where you are going with it and I think you do too. The question is, why aren’t you?”

  He swallows and looks away for a moment. “It’s dark, the actual crime. My publishers advised me to...fluff it up a bit to make it more dramatic and less gruesome.”

  “But?” I prompt.

  “But that feels wrong. I want it to be truthful, as close as I can get it. I want the world to know monsters like him hide in plain sight, I want the victims’ stories told. Not just to scare people, but to horrify them enough they might, for one moment, consider how to protect themselves,” he finishes.

  I hand the notebook back over, our hands lingering. “You know your mind, you know your answer. Write it, you’re the author, not them. Write what feels right.”

  He takes the notebook back and stares at me intently. My smile dims and I lick my lips instead, but the captain speaks, breaking us apart, and they announce our departure. I do up my belt and we get into the air, then the stewardess comes around and takes our orders after showing us the menu and giving us more drinks.

  Logan seems inspired and is writing like a madman, so I slip on my headphones and select a movie, watching a comedy. He taps me on the shoulder, so I pull my headphones off to see his guilty expression. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you, it’s just—”

  “Hey, it’s fine. When inspiration strikes, take it. I didn’t think you were ignoring me, just working. I can entertain myself, Worm, so just write so I can read it,” I tease, and put my headphones back on, muting his laughter.

  I sip my cup of tea and lose myself in my film. My gaze goes to Logan every now and again to see him gulping coffee and writing, hunched over his notebook. I’m glad I could help. While he’s not looking, I check him out unashamedly. He really is a beautiful man, it isn’t fair how hot he is or how nice.

  He catches me ogling and grins but goes back to writing, so I finish my film and then put on some music and close my eyes. I’m still tired from not getting much sleep, so I nod off to the sound of Halsey’s voice crooning in my ears.

  Nine

  The music in my ears disappears. “Beautiful?” comes a smooth voice, and I blink groggily to see Logan grinning at me, holding my headphones. This is becoming a habit. Also, how come he looks so good and put together and I feel like I smell like plane?

  What magic does he have? I shake my head and clear my throat. “Sorry, how long have I been asleep?”

  “Only a couple of hours. You looked exhausted so I left you alone, but the meals will be coming around soon,” he says softly, brushing my hair from my face for me.

  “How’s the writing going?” I ask, sitting up in my chair where I must have slumped.

  He grins at me. “Amazing, it’s like that block has gone and it’s flowing. I did, however, have a snoring girl on my shoulder,” he teases, and my mouth drops open.

  “I didn’t!” I gasp, horrified. I snore when I’m extremely tired, so I could have...oh God.

  He laughs. “It was adorable.”

  “Dear God, how embarrassing,” I mutter, my cheeks heating.

  “I have photographic evidence if you want to see?” he murmurs, and my mouth drops open.

  “You didn’t!” I almost yell.

  He laughs, pulls out his phone, and logs on to Instagram to share his latest post, which shows his chin and shoulder and me, my crazy hair covering most of my face, asleep on his shoulder.

  The caption reads, “Made a new friend, she likes stripes and sleeping, how adorable!”

  I cover my face as he laughs and pulls my hands away to wink at me. “Everyone agrees with me by the way, adorable.”

  “Hello, sir, here is your meal,” the stewardess interrupts, and thank God, because what would I say to that?

  We eat our meal as I read what he’s written. It’s really good. I make some notes for him, and afterwards he goes back to writing and I watch another film, hopefully not falling asleep this time.

  We only have an hour left to the flight and Logan has stopped writing for now. Instead, we are playing hangman in the back of his notebook, giggling like teenagers.

  “Yes! I win!” I cheer, and he laughs and leans closer, dropping a kiss on my lips. We both freeze. The move was so natural, so normal...we stare at each other, and my eyes drop to his lips and he groans.

  “Don’t look at me like that or we are going to end up trying to join the Mile High Club,” he whispers hoarsely.

  “I have to admit, I’ve always wanted to,” I reply, licking my lips. He watches the movement before his eyes close and he pinches his nose as if in pain.

  “Ry,” he murmurs, and when he opens his eyes and sees me staring, he mutters a curse, grabs the back of my head, and yanks me closer.

  He smashes his lips to mine, kissing me hard before pulling away and sucking on my bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth. Groaning, I sweep my tongue across his and he opens for me, both of us moving closer to each other, pressing our bodies together. The plane disappears, as does everyone else, until we hear a stewardess.

  We break apart panting to see one heading our way with a plastic bag to collect rubbish. Logan swears and I follow his eyes to the front of his trousers where his hard cock is tenting the fabric. I cover my lips and the smile there as he looks around in panic.

  He grabs the blanket and places it over his very obvious erection as the stewardess reaches us and collects our trash. “Tables away please, we are landing,” she tells us politely, and I have to bite my lip not to laugh at the poor guy who is trying very hard not to show the evidence of our kiss.

  He puts it away and shifts in his seat as she passes, and when he catches my gaze, he notices my amusement and narrows his eyes. “Evil temptress,” he growls.

  “Whoops, good job she didn’t take the blanket.” I laugh and he joins in.

  Ten

  We get to disembark the plane first, and just like before, Logan takes my bag for me, throwing it over his shoulder with his, uncaring about the giant yellow flowers on it. I snap a picture when he isn’t looking. He looks cute with it.

  I have to get my passport from my bag, but the airport itself is huge. And super clean and sparkling, so much glass everywhere. We even have to take a train from one terminal to go through passport control at the another, and then walk at least ten minutes to baggage claim.

  We wait there for our bags and he leans down. “How are you getting to your hotel?”

  “I was just going to book an uber.”

  “No, you’ll share my car,” he states, and it’s done just like that. He texts someone and then grabs his suitcase while it goes past. We wait patiently for min
e and I snatch it. He passes me my backpack and takes my suitcase, pulling one in each hand. I walk next to him, unable to stop the grin on my face. It feels nice to be looked after.

  The closer we get to the entrance, the more the heat hits me, and I’m glad I wore a dress. I grab my shades from my side pocket and hold them as we go through a glass door into a departure area where there are hundreds of people waiting to drive tourists to their destinations. We walk down the line as he looks for his name, spotting it on a sign held by a man in a suit.

  The man greets him, and they talk as I gaze around, and when I look back he’s taking both suitcases and leading us away. Logan grabs my hand and twines ours together as we follow him outside. The heat smacks me in the face and I can feel myself sweating already.

  We have to cross at least four lanes of traffic—the drivers are crazy and we have to just run for it. He leads us through a tunnel to a multi-storey and the black car waiting there for us, with the doors raised up… into the air like some posh sports car, because of course that’s what it is.

  The driver puts our bags away, I have no idea where, and Logan helps me into the back before going around the other side and slipping in next to me. He links our hands together again, propping them on the leather seat between us. The car has purple LEDs inside and looks like some futuristic car with all the gadgets.

  I watch as the driver puts down the passenger side door and then slides into the driver’s seat. Once his door is shut, the air con flips on and cools us down, and some music starts as he grins at us. “Hello, sir and madam. Sit back and relax, we will be there in under thirty minutes.”

  I return his smile and he starts the car. It purrs as he pulls out of the airport and onto what looks like a motorway, but just...bigger. He speeds, weaving through traffic, making my heart race even as I grin. I peer out of the window, taking in all the buildings and scenery as we pass. Logan leans closer and tells me about everything, it’s obvious he’s been here before.

  He explains about the malls, the palm, the Burj Khalifa, and everything in between. I listen intently, he’s better than any guidebook or google search, and there is so much I want to try from his descriptions. Like the marina, the aquarium, and Ski Dubai as well as the boats and beaches.

  We take the motorway all the way onto a beach front road where you can see the sea, beach, restaurants, and shops to the right, and hotels and more shops and restaurants to the left. I feel like my mouth is permanently open, everything looks so beautiful.

  Logan leans forward. “Please drop us at the Sheridan,” he instructs, and the driver agrees. Logan looks over at me. “I’ll ensure you get checked in and then go and get my keys for my apartment. We could meet up later?” he suggests, nervous all of a sudden.

  “Or you could get your keys, drop your bags, and come to my room to finish what we started on the plane,” I counter, running my hand down his chest, making him swallow.

  “You got yourself a deal.”

  The Sheridan is as nice as it looked in the pictures. The glass doors are revolving, the floor marble, and the reception is huge with chandeliers and paintings hanging everywhere. There is even a glass staircase in the middle of the lobby. I head straight to the curved wooden desk, spotting a restaurant door to the right and elevators in the very back.

  The man there smiles as I pass over my room information. “Hi, Miss Shaw,” he says instantly. “I hope your flight was okay?” he asks as he starts to type.

  “It was great, thank you, and thank you for being understanding about the delay.” I had emailed them yesterday and they were very kind.

  “Of course, we added an extra day as you advised. Now here is your room key. You are on floor four where the access to the VIP pool is located with a private bar. Your room is ocean facing, and the WIFI password is on the booklet in your room. If you have any queries, please do not hesitate to call us, just dial one on your phone in your room. I hope you have an excellent stay.”

  I smile and take the key. “Thank you.”

  I turn back to Logan and grab my suitcase. “Room 401,” I tell him.

  He grins down at me. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He backs away, watching me for as long as he can before turning and strolling outside.

  Smiling, I head to the elevators and up to my room. It’s beautiful, so much more than I was expecting. It has a king-sized bed, easily the biggest I’ve ever seen, covered in pristine white sheets and a blue comforter. The air con is on, so it’s a nice temperature. The room has two matching blue seats and a table, as well as a built-in wardrobe with a mirror, safe, and a flat screen TV on the wall. The bathroom is modern and has a walk-in shower on one side and a bath on the other, with a mirror with lights around it between them, above the toilet and sink.

  The best bit though? The view.

  The balcony is accessible from two sliding doors, and outside is a small sofa and a matching rattan seat, all looking out of the glass balcony and into the crystal-clear blue sea. The sun will be setting soon, and the sky is a dusty orange with pink tones, highlighting the beauty of this country.

  I spot the beach stretching as far as I can see, and the walk just behind it filled with shops and restaurants. It’s so picturesque that I’m itching to explore it.

  For the first time in over a week, I take a deep breath that isn’t filled with pain and anger. I breathe in that ocean air and close my eyes, a smile on my face. Logan or not, I’m glad I came. I feel like I’m finding my way back to myself again.

  I get lost there for a while, in the bullshit of my last relationship. Catering to him, making myself quieter, less opinionated, easier, all for him. Never again. Love shouldn’t change you and nor should the person want you to. If they truly loved you, it’s because of who you really are.

  Not an act or a mask.

  Here on the balcony, I toss that mask into the air and watch it crumble into my new beginning.

  Eleven

  A knock comes at my door, and I brush back my hair and open it to see a grinning Logan. “Hey—” I start, but he pushes in and grabs my hips. Hoisting me into the air, he covers my lips with his as he kicks the door closed behind him.

  Giggling, I hold on to his shoulders as he walks us backwards, not looking as he tries to find the bed. Eventually, I have to pull away with a laugh. “Left.”

  He goes left and throws us both onto the huge bed, landing between my thighs, and the dress I still wear slides up to reveal more skin. He grins down at me, giving me a cheeky smile. “I missed you.”

  “You were gone not even fifteen minutes.” I snort and he winks.

  “Fifteen minutes too long,” he murmurs. His face turns serious then. “Tell me, Ms. Shaw, what kind of panties are you wearing?”

  I giggle, I can’t help it. “Why don’t you find out?”

  His eyes twinkle, removing his serious expression for a moment. “Gladly.” He kisses me again and then crawls down my body, pushing up the dress to reveal my panties. He makes an “Ah-ha” noise. “I see, very nice. Practical but beautiful like their owner,” he comments in that serious voice.

  “Why don’t you see what’s underneath? Use that author’s curiosity.” I grin, leaning up to see him.

  He smirks up at me. “Absolutely, research.”

  “Research?” I repeat, slightly breathless as he grips my thighs and starts to move his hands closer and closer to where I’m aching for them to touch.

  “Into how to make the beautiful, mystery woman scream,” he murmurs, as he finally reaches my pussy.

  “I think you found that last night,” I point out, chest heaving as he pushes aside my panties and strokes my folds with absent-minded fingers, eyes still on mine.

  “Well, practice makes perfect…” He trails off as he dips a finger inside me, and I drop to the bed, my neck arched back as I let him ‘research’ the fuck out of me.

  “Yesss,” I agree, as he finally yanks off my underwear, tossing it away before settling back between my legs. His tongue
laps at my clit, making me moan and writhe for him. My hands reach out and clench the once perfect white bedding on either side of me as he fucks me with his fingers and mouth.

  “Logan, please.” His name on my lips must spur him on, because he rears up above me, pulls down his zipper, and frees his cock as I lie panting beneath him. He grabs a condom from his pocket with a wink, and I watch eagerly as he covers his cock.

  Fuck, my pussy clenches remembering how good he felt. Leaning up, he helps me remove my dress and then shucks his own clothes until I can feel him skin to skin. Settling back between my thighs, he throws one leg over his shoulder as he lines up and slams inside me in one brutal thrust.

  Groaning, I grab my breasts and tweak my nipples, making him moan as he watches. “Fuck, that’s so hot, Stripes.”

  Then, he starts to fuck me for real, pulling out and slamming back in, twisting his hips at the end of each one to catch my nerves. My eyes nearly roll back into my head at the pleasure coursing through me.

  He feels so good, so long and hard, stretching my pussy. His skin slides against mine, his irregular breathing against my ear only interrupted by these tiny little moans that have me wanting to prove to this man how much I want him.

  Groaning, I wrap my legs around his waist and link my hands behind his neck. He fucks me harder, faster, inciting my moans until I can’t take anymore. I roll us so he’s now on his back, my knees spread on either side of his hips and his cock still buried in my pussy. He gapes up at me as I ride him.

  Spreading my hands behind me, one on each of his thighs, I roll my hips until he grunts, his hands landing on my hips and guiding me as he thrusts up to meet my movements. We set a punishing rhythm as I bounce on his cock, and when he leans up and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, my head drops back, my mouth open on a silent scream.

  “Ryan,” he gasps, his mouth open against my skin as he tastes my sweat. “Fuck, you drive me wild.” He groans, the sound vibrating against my flesh.