It came as a text on the in-flight screen. Just one word.
Now.
No name. No room for confusion.
He hadn’t looked at me in hours. After fingering me into a silent orgasm under a fleece blanket, he returned to his scotch like I was nothing more than a slight disturbance in his flight plan. I had stared out the window and watched the night sky blur into ink, trying to remember how it felt to be touched and not forgotten. But when that message appeared, glowing against the blue screen in front of me, my body remembered instantly.
I stood up, careful not to glance at him, careful not to show the tremble in my thighs. I walked slowly down the aisle past sleeping passengers, heads slumped to the side, mouths parted in shallow breaths. I reached the first-class lavatory and slipped inside. The
