He catches me staring at him. “I’d like to see you again,” he says, and holds my gaze for an instant. Not a question, but a direct statement of fact.
My heart skips a merry beat. “That would be lovely.” We exchange knowing smiles and I turn my attention to outside, where through the slow sweep of the wipers, festive lights herald the promise of a happy Christmas.
The car pulls into the hotel driveway and Charles waves the valet away. He places the car in park and brushes a strand of hair from my face. I can see his eyes twinkle in the dim light. I reach out and touch his face; a bit of stubble greets my fingertips and my heart flips.
In an instant our lips meet. His mouth is soft but intent as it crushes against mine. We kiss slowly, deliberately for a few moments while the passion builds. His tongue teases my lips, gently touching my teeth.
A sigh escapes from deep inside me. I’m carried away with excitement, the unexpected thrill of his scent and the warmth and nearness of his body. I’m on my way to becoming a total, uncontrollable mess, until I glance over his shoulder. I can see half of my crew returning after dinner. Damn. Think fast.
“Charles,” I whisper in his ear.
“Yes?”
“I’d like to buy some bottled water. Would you mind driving me around the corner to the 24 hours shop?” He looks perplexed but agrees with my request. “And would you park up the way a bit? I’d like to walk a bit, catch some fresh air before bedtime.”
Two blocks from the store, Charles turns onto a quiet residential street. “Park over there.” I direct him to a spot in front of an evergreen hedge, away from the streetlights. He pulls in and switches off the ignition, straightens his tie and reaches for the door handle.
“Wait.”
I lean over and kiss him long and hard. His initial surprise eases and he eagerly returns the favour. I explore his body with my hands – his strong chest, flat stomach, firm thighs - and can feel his passion growing with each touch.
He exhales a low moan and passes his fingers through my hair, grabbing it firmly while pressing his mouth to mine. He cups his hand over my breast and squeezes gently, rubs his open palm against me before sliding his hand down to the small of my back.
We tease each other play like this for a while longer. The windows are steaming up and so are we but I know we can’t return to the hotel.
I fumble around until I find the switch to recline my seat. I can feel a smile spread across his lips when he hears the low buzzing sound and the seat slowly slides backwards. He flips up the steering wheel and eases over to my side of the vehicle, our lips still locked together.
I’m almost horizontal and for a moment, I think about the flat beds in first class. Charles straddles me, exposes a breast from inside my wrap dress and rolls his tongue around my taut nipple.
I kick off my shoes and as soon as I tug at his belt buckle, his hand slides up my thigh, pausing briefly to caress the bare skin at the top of my stay-up stockings. His eyes, blue-black in the dim light, flicker with intensity and a wicked smile crosses his lips. My kisses encourage him to continue and he pulls my panties aside.
His touch is gentle and deliberate – a man who know which buttons to push and when. Thoughts of his past lovers are swept away by the sheer bliss rising inside me. I arch my back to reach him and can’t contain the sigh that falls from my lips.
All at once, I can feel the warm leather seat on my bare bottom, then his strong hands lifting me as he slowly guides himself inside.
His hot mouth moves from my lips to my neck and I can feel his ragged breathing in my ears as we move together, giving to each other but also taking for ourselves, our pleasure heightened by this almost public lovemaking. He slows to my pace, ensuring I’m satisfied before letting himself glide over the edge, his breathing fast and heavy.
“Oh God, Lauren, you are fantastic.” We embrace for a while, then he kisses me fully on my lips before dropping back onto the driver’s seat.
“You too,” I say. But there was no time for lingering in the afterglow. “I should get back to my hotel.”
“What about the bottled water?”
I almost laugh aloud, but I don’t want to reveal my ulterior motive for this drive. “You made me forget that’s why we’re here.”
We make ourselves decent and exit the car into the chilled night air. A bright crescent moon breaks through a patch of cloud and a few random snowflakes tumble from the sky. Charles offers his arm and I loop mine through, snuggling against him as we stroll down the quiet street. We circle the block silently, it seems neither one of us wants to break the spell by talking.
He tries to pay for the water but I insist, wanting to at least show some ability to fend for myself. Once again, we’re in the hotel driveway. I wait until he walks over to my side of the car.
He takes my hand and helps me out. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says, as he pecks me on the cheek and closes the car door behind me. Aren’t those the words every woman wants to hear?
“That would be lovely. Good night Charles.”
“Good night, darling.” And he watches as I push through the revolving doors.
Thankfully the lobby is now empty, except for the receptionist, who nods politely while I wait for the elevator.
Upstairs, I roll around naked between the smooth white sheets, recalling every detail of the evening, from the first sip of Champagne to the last kiss, and everything in between.
CHAPTER 5 ~ Afterglow
It’s just past ten a.m. when I awake, having slept like a baby on Valium. I emerge from the shower and the red light on the phone is flashing. The message is from Charles. A brief, “good morning, hope you slept well,” sort of message. I almost drool over his smooth, classy accent before I realize how dismayed I am to have missed him. The fact he even called has me dancing around the room.
I bump into Richard in the lobby and we walk to the high street for a late breakfast of cappuccino and croissants. The sky is overcast and the temperature is milder than yesterday.
“You seem very cheerful this morning, Lauren. Did you have fun with Mr. Sterling? You can rate the evening on a scale of one to ten if you’d rather not share the details.”
“Well, where to begin?” I say, cupping the warm mug between my hands.
“Begin at the beginning or jump to the good parts. I’m easy.”
“We had a lovely dinner at a gorgeous restaurant and then he drove me back to the hotel.”
“Ho hum,” he says and mimes a fake yawn. “I find it hard to believe you didn’t let him nibble your ear lobe or at least kiss your hand. You’re a very beautiful and charming woman, Lauren. Unless you’re still pining for bad Bradley? Tell me it isn’t so.”
“Not so, on both counts. There was some kissing involved.”
“I knew it. You can’t fool old Richard. And…?”
“And we’re going out again next week.”
“Next Saturday? That’s Christmas Eve.”
“Oh God, you’re right. Maybe he forgot too. Anyway, he left a message this morning, so I suppose more details will emerge later. Are you here next week?”
“Thank you for the compliment darling. You know I’m senior enough to not work over Christmas but flattery will get you everywhere. On the twenty fourth, I shall be at home with my loved ones - Gordon, his mother and the two pommies. We’re visiting my mother on Christmas day and I’ll spend the rest of the week at the gym, sweating off the extra weight, which is far easier to manage than guilt.”
“Oh, it sounds like fun, Richard.”
“Exactly. It ‘sounds like’ fun. If Mr. Sterling isn’t available, I’m sure the crew will have something planned, so there’s no need to sit in your room, crying into your eggnog.”
We finish breakfast and walk onto the street. “I’m going to Boots – do you need any last-minute gifts?”
“No thanks darling, my stockings are already stuffed. I’ll see you at pick-up in a few hours. Ciao for now.”
We hu
g and Richard walks away.
I wander in and out of a few shops on the high street. Elegant Christmas decorations abound, real evergreen wreaths and trees festooned with white lights and cheerful red ribbons. No tinsel and no poinsettias, real or fake. When it comes to the holidays, the Brits know how to exude restrained style and good taste. I fall in love with a magnificent floral arrangement of holly, ivy, gigantic pine cones and hydrangeas overflowing a neo-classical urn.
The crowds’ festive mood is contagious. I’m feeling generous and scout for gifts. Even a few simple items, like unusual soaps, chocolates and jams, are well-appreciated by people who don’t have the opportunity to travel much.
I meander back to the hotel, taking a short-cut through an old church yard and cemetery. There’s one couple strolling hand in hand before me. They seem so obviously in love, I’m drawn to recalling the previous night with Charles. I wonder if he will try to call me again before I leave. Once I’m back in the room, I see there’s no flashing light on the hotel phone; just a note under the door that our transport to the airport has been delayed by 15 minutes. But I’m still pumped by his earlier call as I pack my bags and head to the lobby.
During the bus ride, I take Charles’ business card from my purse and play with it. Should I send him an email or text message? If so, what should I say? I opt for a brief email acknowledging his phone call and referencing my upcoming trip.
Charles - Thank you for the lovely evening. Sorry I missed your call. Looking forward to my next visit to London. Lauren. I know it sounds stilted, maybe formal, but I don’t think I’ll win any brownie points for gushing or sounding needy. I turn my phone off and close my eyes.
~
The trip home is hectic, with a full load of passengers and lots of young children. In first class, serenity reigns and it’s comical to see the difference between my cabin and the rest of the plane. All flight long, coach class crews travel to my galley, needing a quick coffee break, drink of water or first class snack. Normally I’m quite happy to have visitors but I finally ask Richard to intervene.
“There’s so much foot traffic, I think my passengers are getting annoyed. Can you say something to the crew? I don’t want to sound like a bitch.”
“I’m happy to bitch for you, Lauren. Really, if they love first class so much, they should work. Don’t worry darling, I’ll look after it before I open the duty free cart. By the way, are you doing any onboard shopping?”
“Not this trip, but I’ll ask the pilots.” I hadn’t spoken to Jim since the outbound flight so this would be a good opportunity to talk about Brad, if I was still interested. Funny how a new romance can ease the pain of an old one. Even though I might be jumping from the frying pan into the fire, I’m going to enjoy the ride.
I call Jim on the interphone to tell him his meal is ready and to ask about duty free. He says yes to dinner with a glass of milk and no to shopping for both him and the first officer. When I enter the flight deck, Jim has folded out his tray table and tossed his tie over his shoulder. “I’m ravenous, as usual. Must be something about the time change.”
“Bon appetite,” I say, not wanting to discuss Brad. My hand is on the door knob when Jim speaks.
“How was your date with Mr. Bentley?” So he knew already!
I keep my cool and reply, “About as fabulous as you’d expect a date with a handsome billionaire to be. How did you know?”
“Brad told me.”
“Brad! He wasn’t in London, was he?”
“No, but Jennifer was and she texted him and you can guess the rest. Maybe Jennifer thinks Brad still has the hots for you.”
“Brad has the hots for flight attendants in general.” I even manage to chuckle about it. “Call when you’ve finished your meal. There’s some leftover first class dessert, black forest cake, your favourite.”
“Thanks, Lauren. And by the way, Melissa says Brad made a big mistake. I agree.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate your support, Jim, but that’s all in the past now.” It is, and I’m ridiculously pleased.
~
Even though our flight left Heathrow late, we touch down on time and reach the gate five minutes after. Richard’s landing announcement reminds everyone to collect their bags, coats and children before leaving the aircraft. That always brings a few giggles, even from the primmest passengers.
The crew deplanes last, as usual, but we take a few extra moments to wish each other Merry Christmas and for those flying the following week, to toss around ideas for the layover. Most of the shops and some restaurants will be closed so it’s wise to schedule a private dinner or confirmed reservation.
“What about you Lauren?” David asks. “Do you have plans for Christmas Eve?”
I’ve just turned on my phone, but there is no new message from Charles.
“Maybe,” I say, “but then again, maybe not.”
“No problem, we can talk on the flight next week. I hope we can work together again.”
“Me too.”
I hug Richard and wish him a Merry Christmas.
He squeezes hard and plants and a kiss on each cheek. “Same to you darling, and a sexy New Year.”
~
By Tuesday, I receive the first of many emails from Charles. Most of them are short and sweet, updates on his day and a few details about our plans for Christmas Eve. Dinner and something after. “I’ll be driving the Bentley but let me remind you that I do own a hotel.” That makes me smile.
Olivia calls me for a quick get together and over lunch at a nearby café, I spill the beans about the true nature of my encounter with Charles.
“Lauren, you didn’t!”
“Oh God, I did, I really did. And I don’t regret it. He is so gorgeous and…”
“And…?”
“And super sexy, a fabulous lover.”
“Just imagine what he could do on a mattress in a room.”
We’re giggling so loudly, I’m afraid we’ll get kicked out of the restaurant.
Olivia leans in and her voice becomes serious. “By the way Lauren, you’re not getting involved too quickly are you? After all, he’s miles away and busy and really wealthy and his family…”
“What about his family?” I swirl the last mouthful of cappuccino in my cup and swallow it hastily, afraid to hear her opinion.
“His family is very upper crust, but I’m sure you’ve already checked online about that. The Sterlings have quite a reputation for snobbery and I’m certain they’d prefer Charles to date inside his circle. They might be suspicious of your motives.”
“My motives? What do you mean by that?”
She reaches over and grabs my wrist. “Don’t get mad, Lauren. Things are changing in British society but not as quickly as one might think. A few eyes were batted when Prince William started dating Kate Middleton, but her family has bags of money and she wasn’t a flight attendant, her mother was.”
My indignation flared. “Olivia, that’s outrageous, how can you say that? You’re a flight attendant, too. I’m not trying to date someone in the royal family, and I’m not after his money, you know that.”
“Lauren, I may be wrong, and I do hope I am, but please just have fun and don’t set your heart on a lifetime with Charles Sterling. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’m a big girl and I know what I’m doing. I can handle this.”
“I see that faraway look in your eyes whenever you talk about him but never mind. Let’s chat about something else.”
I feel deflated but Olivia is a straight shooter and is only concerned with my emotional well-being. There was no reason for me to be angry at her. I apologize sincerely but her words stick in my mind.
CHAPTER 6 ~ Anticipation
The plane touches down at Heathrow early on the morning of the 24th. There were a few open seats in coach– I suppose most people had already reached their destination by that time – but first class was full and not with the usual crowd of business executives and
old money.
“What a motley crew,” our purser, Elizabeth, sniffs after they deplane. “Walmart must have had a seat sale.” Elizabeth is chic, smart and as senior as Richard, but with a more biting sense of humour. With the amount of settlement she’s received from her last two husbands, I’m amazed she bothers to work at all. Richard says she likes to get out of the house once in a while. “I mean the penthouse, darling.”
“I suppose it’s the usual end-of-year redemption of upgrade coupons. Use it or lose it. Well, we gave them our very best so at least they’ll have something to remember on their next flight in coach.”
We collect our luggage and walk down the stairs to the crew bus.
“Do you have plans for tonight, Lauren?”
“Yes, I do.” Not wanting reveal too many details, I change the subject quickly. “What about you – will you get together with the crew? David has planned cocktails in his room, then dinner at the Greek restaurant around the corner. I’m sure they’d like you to join them.”
“Ah, Peter the Greek. He’s actually Swiss you know. I’m surprised the restaurant is still around, but I suppose all those hungry pilots and flight attendants keep him in business. How sweet that he’s staying open for us tonight. Yes, I think I’ll do that.”
We’re the last two to board the bus before it swings away from the airplane. A few minutes later, we stop so Elizabeth can drop off the customs documents. She then joins the rest of the crew at the back of the bus. They’re mostly junior and ready for a fun time. I hear the “crack, fizz” of cans opening and I know they’re not drinking soda.
Even though I hate seeming anti-social, I curl up in the front seat and gaze out the window. The sky is dreary and the forecast calls for rain, it’s too mild for snow. I should try to sleep but I’m so excited about tonight. Fortunately, traffic is light and it doesn’t take long before the bus jerks to a halt in front of the hotel. The driveway is full of cars so we have to haul our bags up the long steep road. Thank goodness for suitcases with wheels. Inside the lobby, I hold back while the crew checks in. Perhaps there’ll be a message from Charles. I haven’t heard from him since Thursday night. Odd, since we’d been in touch several times a day.
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