I wake up hot with rays of light filtering in through the drapes. I can hear and feel Aaron's heartbeat beneath my ear, a slow constant thud. That side of my face feels clammy. He still has his hands around me and I find that exciting. I rise as slowly as I can to avoid waking him. His face looks so peaceful in his sleep. And beautiful. The hard edges have softened. He doesn't look so ferocious now.
My alarm starts to ring and I instinctively slam down on the off button but I'm late, too late. I should turn that bloody thing off on Saturdays. Aaron stirs and murmurs something. His arm shoots out, waves around blindly, finds my back, closes around me, and pulls me back to him. I try talking to him but he's fast asleep. I feel immense joy. That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done to me.
I plant a string of kisses on his chest and neck then burrow into him, drifting off again with a big smile on my face.
I feel less warm when I wake up again. I reach out for Aaron but he's gone. My phone is ringing and I feel a little groggy. I sit up and rub my eyes. There's a tulip on my pillow. That warms the heart. I pick it up and sniff it. Aaah… the phone. I pick that up too. It's mom. And it's 9.30.
"Hi sweetheart," she greets me cheerfully.
"Hi mom," I try to disguise the sleepiness from my voice.
"Guess what?" she sounds pretty excited.
"What?" I play along.
"You're gonna have two little brothers! Two! I'm having twins!" I can almost see her jumping up and down on the other end.
"That's great news mom."
"Yes. We just got the sonogram. Wait, Miguel wants to say hi."
"Put him on."
"Hello Elizabeth," Miguel sounds just as happy as mom.
"I believe congratulations are in order," I start.
"Yes. Your mother and I are very happy. The babies are healthy and we are very optimistic. Would you like to name one of your brothers?"
"Miguel, I can't..."
"Of course, you can. Lucille and I can't agree on the second boy's name. Perhaps you could break the tie."
"Well, I don't have anything right now."
"She's only five months in. There's no hurry. You have four months to come up with a name. You can handle that, can't you? "
"Sure. What are you calling the first one? You know… I don't want to duplicate your choices."
"Martin. Your mother always liked that one. Martin Umberto Heaton-Diaz."
"Quite a mouthful," I tease.
"Then you've never heard my full name," Miguel counters.
"Really?" I ask.
"Juan Miguel Ignacio Ponce de León de Canalejas Domingo Blanco de los Remedios Cipriano y Diaz."
"Jesus!"
"Yes. Now that is a mouthful."
"Did they just give you every name there is?"
He laughs, "No. I come from a long line of impoverished Spanish aristocrats in Cuba. The money has been gone for half a century and the power even longer but pride is a stubborn thing. Pick something that can fit on a driver's license though. I don't want my son beaten up in school."
"Ok Miguel."
"I'm putting Lucille back on the line."
Mom has calmed down a bit now but her tone is a little conspiratorial. I know what's coming and brace myself with a mental countdown. "So, sweetie, how is that new job coming along?" The leading question.
"I like it. It's more fulfilling and..."
"Are you seeing anyone?" The question she was planning to ask all along.
"Mom!"
"Sweetheart, I'm just curious. You know I only want the best for you. You're still not hung up on that cheater Ralph, are you?"
"No."
"So, are you seeing anyone," she's awfully friendly. That's her probing voice.
"Mom, there's nothing to tell."
"That's not a not a no. That means there's something to tell. Don't you be coy with me, Elizabeth. I am your mother and I demand to know."
"Mom, it's my private life. I don't want you interfering."
"That ship sailed long ago sweetie. Interfering in your private life is my God-given right. Come on. If I don't, who will?" I don't know how to respond to that.
"Now honey," she continues. "Be a good girl and tell me about this new boyfriend you don't wanna tell me about."
"We've only been on two dates mom. There is nothing to tell. And I wouldn't call him a boyfriend. We haven't discussed labels yet."
Mom scoffs, "Is that this new weirdness that your generation has around relationships, or are you planning to dump him?"
"I'm not planning to dump him, mom. It's still early."
"Are you going on a third date?" she asks.
"I think so."
"Then he is your boyfriend. It doesn't need to be more complicated than that," she states matter of factly. " Now tell me everything about this man."
"Mom, not now!" I try to stand my ground.
"Ooh. Is he there?" she whispers excitedly. "Is that why you sounded so sleepy when you picked my call? You've always been an early riser."
"Mother. Please. Don't."
"Oh. I totally understand, honey. When you're alone, we will talk. And you will tell me everything. And I mean EVERYTHING." She won't back off. I just let out an exasperated sigh.
"Goodbye, sweetie. Have a lovely Saturday."
"You too, mother. I love you."
"Oooh. I know. I love you too."
I put the phone down and check the time again. Quarter to ten. I wonder what details to give mom. I decide to put off that discussion for as long as I can. Mother can wait. I need to find Aaron. His clothes are still here but he isn't. He left a tulip on my pillow so at least he didn't run off after bedding me. I'm oddly relieved. I put on a bathrobe, pick up the tulip, and sniff it again. Heavenly.
Now that I'm more alert. I hear voices filtering in. I can't make out the direction or any words. I figure they're coming from outside. When I go to brush my teeth, there's another toothbrush in the holder. It's new and it's not mine. I touch the bristles. They're a little wet. Must be Aaron's. I decide to use it instead. It feels so naughty and erotic.
I think of calling him but decide to get something to eat first. As I descend the stairs, the voices get stronger. They're coming from inside the house. The kitchen. I walk as quietly as possible and listen intently but I can't make out any words. One voice is Aaron's but it's so deep that it doesn't really carry. The other voice is strange but I still only make out a word or two.
As I get closer to the kitchen, the voices get clearer. There's also some sizzling in the background. "... not Joe. Get someone more..." Aaron is saying.
"Someone's coming," the other voice cuts him off.
"Morning," I greet them like I hadn't been trying to eavesdrop. The other guy is Codd. Aaron is making pancakes and frying bacon in my kitchen. In his uniform: black suit, white shirt, no tie. There are three pancakes on a plate by the stove and one on the pan. The smell makes me hungry. Codd is leaning against the sink, facing the entrance. As always, his jacket is buttoned up. His eyes narrow in suspicion but I'm more distracted by the light reflecting off his bald head. He has the shiniest head I've ever seen.
"Ah. It's sleeping beauty," Aaron greets me with a smile and holds out his hands. I run to him and hug him as if I haven't seen him for a year. He smells of body wash and aftershave and bacon and Aaron. I revel in that. He holds me just as tightly, kisses me on the forehead, and turns to flip a pancake. I keep my hands around him. He looks so sexy cooking. I would jump his bones right here if Codd wasn't scowling in the corner.
"Codd here brought me a change of clothes. And maple syrup. He's helping me plan a little surprise for you this afternoon," Aaron explains as he takes a pancake off the pan.
"What is it?" I ask, eager.
"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you now, would it?" Aaron makes a funny face.
"No," I have to agree as I rise on my toes and plant a kiss on his lips.
Aaron pours some pancake batter on the pan and addresses Codd, "Have some breakfast and get on top of what we've discussed."
"Sir, I already ate," Codd protests.
"I insist. These are my best pancakes yet," Aaron says, spooning two pancakes and a strip of bacon onto a plate and handing it to Codd. "Forks and knives are there," he points at my cutlery drawer. "And there is orange juice in the fridge. Elizabeth and I will finish up here."
"I don't think he likes me," I whisper to Aaron as Codd stalks off into the living room.
He looks at Codd's retreating back, and kisses me lightly on the mouth while stroking my cheek, "You know, he doesn't really like anyone," he whispers back.
"Not even you?" I ask.
"I pay him to like me."
I giggle at this. Two of us, whispering like children. He gives me a look and I just smile back. He turns and flips a pancake before turning his attention back to me. I take this opportunity to wrap my hands around his neck and pull him down for a proper kiss. A real kiss. A lover's kiss. I kiss him long and hard. I kiss him until I feel his cock stirring. We break it off when we smell the pancake on the stove burning.
Aaron scrapes it off, dumps it in the trash, and pours fresh batter onto the pan. "Where did that come from?" he asks, breathless.
I just shrug and embrace him. I stay like that, arms around him swaying gently as he cooks, stealing a kiss here and there and nibbling on a strip of bacon. I have him take off his jacket and roll up his sleeves. He asks why, but I don't answer. I just smile, shrug, and caress those gorgeous forearms of his.
Codd comes back in with a clean plate as Aaron is flipping the last pancake. The sour look on his face is gone. He looks almost happy, "Those pancakes were excellent sir."
"Come on, Codd. You don't have to kiss my ass like that. You know I would never fire you for telling me my cooking sucks," Aaron teases.
Codd doesn't yield, "No Sir. The pancakes were truly great. If any of my ex-wives cooked like you, perhaps I might still be married." We all chuckle at this.
"Well Codd, you made my day," Aaron says. "If I were a woman, I would think you were trying to bed me." This elicits bigger laughs.
"Well, Sir, you know I'm not," Codd's scowl is almost back. "I need to..."
"Yea, I know," Aaron cuts in while turning off the stove. "Don't worry about the plate. We'll take care of it."
"Alright," Codd replies as he places his plate in the sink. Aaron and I exchange glances as we watch him walk away. There's a palpable tension between us. I have one hand on his shoulder and the other on his chest. He has one hand around my waist and the other on the belt of my bathrobe. He undoes the knot and lifts me onto the kitchen counter as soon as we hear the door close behind Codd.
He undoes his belt and pulls down his pants and boxer shorts in one fluid motion. The condom appears out of nowhere. He puts it on at an unbelievable speed and this somehow makes me hornier. He penetrates me in one savage thrust. There's no pain, only pleasure. I must be getting used to him.
I go for his lips as he ravages me. The kitchen window is open and I can usually hear my neighbors from there. I don't want them to hear me screaming my lungs out. I do that in Aaron's mouth but even then some sounds still escape though they're not as loud as they could be. He's not gentle at all, pummeling me ferociously while his hands crush my butt cheeks in their grasp. I love it. I dig my fingernails into his back and try to take him as deep inside me as I can.
I can feel an orgasm building up. It explodes to the surface with Aaron's relentless pounding and I cum violently, nearly biting his tongue. He keeps going, intensifying the pleasure to a level I didn't know was possible. His ramming is unrelenting. I climax once more before he finally twitches and calls out my name. I feel heat deep inside my belly as he holds me tight and trembles in my arms.
Finally, he pulls out of me. I feel something warm and wet slide down my thigh. I look down. It's semen. The condom hangs torn on his semi-hard member. The bloody thing burst. He looks panicked.
"I'm sorry Elizabeth. I promise to be more gentle," he apologizes as he passes me a paper towel. The look on his face is precious. He's always calm and composed. I've never seen him like that before. His panicked face is cute. I want to kiss him.
I stroke his cheek, "There is no need to panic. My period tracker says I'm very infertile this time of the month but I'll take Plan B just to be sure."
He lets out a sigh of relief. "I'll have one of my men bring it over," he offers.
"No. I don't want your errand boys buying my birth control for me. That's a very personal purchase. It's the sort of thing you get yourself."
"Ok. I'll get it for you. How long do we have?" he asks while pulling up his pants.
"24 hours. Sperm don't swim that fast."
That makes him chuckle, "Is that an attack on my virility?"
"What do you think?" I tease him as he helps me off the counter.
"Sperm are very small and the distance from your..." he hesitates.
I look at him. "My what?"
He points awkwardly. "Say the word, Aaron," I prompt him. He swallows. "Come on. You're a big boy. Say the word or I won't let you near it again." I point at my sex, teasing.
"Lady parts," he finally says.
"Not the word I'm looking for. Come on, say it." I'm enjoying torturing him. There's a pained look on his face.
"Vagina," he blurts out.
"Noooo. Too scientific," I shake my head. "You know the word I'm looking for," I stroke his cheek.
"Cunt," he whispers, uncertain.
That brings a smile to my face. "That's the one," I stand on tiptoe and kiss him on the lips. "Why didn't you want to use it?" I ask.
"It's too vulgar."
"So you've never uttered the word 'cunt' before?"
"Not directly to a woman's face, no. It's… uh… ungentlemanly. "
"Uh," I grunt and hug him. I couldn't love him any more right now. After we break off, he picks my bathrobe off the floor and helps me into it. We wash our hands together in the sink, him standing behind me, his chin resting on my head. We take our breakfast into the living room.
The pancakes are great. As good as Codd said. Definitely better than mine. I'll need to get that recipe. Can't let him know he can cook better than me. We eat in silence, exchanging occasional glances and caresses.
"This was delicious," I compliment him as we finish up. He looks at me weirdly, unable to think of a reply. Men have no idea how to take a compliment.
"Would you like to help with the dishes?" I try to sound playful. He cooked, I can do the dishes. I just want to see how far I can bend him. Testing people's limits is a bad habit that I may or may not have acquired from the CIA.
"No, thank you. I'm not that progressive. I've gotta make some calls." He kisses me on the forehead and then squeezes my butt.
"You're sure you're not just saying that to avoid doing dishes?"
"No," he strokes my cheek, cups my chin, and leans in close. I close my eyes, hoping for a kiss. It doesn't come. "I'm still man enough to refuse dish duty without needing to make up some lame excuse. Now, go and do the dishes, woman, before I make you kneel and gag on my dick," he whispers hoarsely. He's horny. Again. It's so hot. I look into his eyes as I reach for his crotch and grab his dick through his pants. It stiffens on contact.
I drop to my knees and violently tug his pants and boxer shorts down, setting his johnson free. Ralph used to call his LBJ, Mr. President, and Ralph Junior. That made it quite funny to me when I heard he had also named his son Ralph Junior. I idly wonder if Zoe knows her husband named their son after his penis. I wonder if Aaron has named his penis. He doesn't strike me as the type.
Speaking of Aaron's penis. It's angry, throbbing, and in my face. I take it into my mouth in one smooth move. He lets out a sigh. I take it in too deep and it hits the back of my throat. I feel like I'm choking so I slide my head back slightly to give myself some breathing room. I wrap my tongue around its head. He tastes like me. I look up and meet his gaze. It's a mixture of awe, shock, desire, and admiration. A silent plea. I try to look defiant but I smile instead. I'm enjoying this. He lets out another sigh.
I maintain eye contact as I run my tongue around the tip of his schlong then down his shaft. I watch his face contort with desire and inner me jumps with joy. I never thought I'd enjoy giving head this much. I could get used to this. With Ralph, It was always a chore that I tried to avoid as much as I could. I cup his balls with one hand, massaging them gently, then sheath my teeth with my tongue and really get sucking. He grasps my hair, running his fingers through it, braiding and unbraiding it as I go to town on him.
It doesn't take Aaron long. He grunts and shoots his seed into my mouth in pulses. It's thick, salty, and greasy. I expect to gag or feel nauseous but I don't. I hold him in place until he's released every last drop. Then I open my mouth to show him his seed and swallow. His eyes go wide and he collapses onto the couch. I rise, sit on his lap, and give him a wet sloppy kiss.
I stay on his lap as he rocks and caresses me gently, happy and sated. His lap is my favorite place in the world. I'm sure a lot of psychologists would have a field day theorizing why I like sitting on him so much but I don't care. I love it there. I love the feeling of his hands around me. It makes me feel safe and loved.
He kisses my forehead and strokes my face. We stare into each other's eyes. I can't believe there was a time when I would avoid his gaze. His irises are deep dark pools and his pupils impossibly darker. There's still a hint of sadness there. I love you, my eyes whisper. I wish I could say that out loud. But it's still early and I don't wanna come on too strong. I've never been good at handling rejection. He takes a deep breath. He's about to start talking. The prospect oddly excites me.
"Elizabeth, about what happened back in the kitchen. I'm truly sorry. I'll be more gentle with you."
"Where did that come from?" I'm curious.
"Codd brought me some bad news. Normally I would take my frustration out on a punching bag. I'm very sorry I took it out on you and we had the whole bursting incident."
"I liked it."
"Liked what?" he looks puzzled.
"The sex. It was intense and spectacular. I enjoyed every moment of it. You don't need to apologize for that." He narrows his eyes at that. Half puzzled, half flattered. I kiss him again. "I'm glad I helped you release some tension. The bad news, anything I can help you with?" I ask.
"No." His response is flat and dismissive. It stings. I want him to confide in me. I won't let him shut me out. And this is a litmus test. I want to know how he sees our relationship. There's a whirlwind of feelings inside me and I want to know that he feels as deeply as I do. That he sees me as a partner. Someone he could talk to. Not just a sex toy.
"Aaron," I place one arm around him and gently caress his upper arm. "You know you can talk to me, right? This isn't just a fling to you?" That gets him. He looks pained. He shakes his head and starts talking.
"The Senate passed some dumb new regulations last night. Late-night session. It was an amendment really, tacked onto an omnibus bill by that jerk-off Prescott. It passed by acclamation with barely a quorum. Nobody bothered to read it. My man in Washington assures me it is going to pass the House as well."
"So this amendment is bad for you?"
"Yes. very bad. It was specifically tailored to hurt me."
"How?"
"My aeronautics division has been developing an exciting new product. It's why I acquired Strauss. It had some technology I needed but Karen refused to sell me the patent unless I took the whole company off her hands. I kept the project under wraps but word obviously leaked. Development is complete and we started testing this February. The results have been very encouraging. We were looking forward to launching within two years or so. Prescott's petty amendment is going to quadruple my development budget and delay the launch by up to six years."
"But how do you know it was tailored to harm you?"
"I start developing the most advanced jetpack in existence using the same safety standards used on light aircraft and suddenly Robert Jerk-off Prescott comes up with an amendment that makes FAA rules governing single passenger aerial vehicles stricter than those applied to 300-passenger aircraft? How?"
"Why would Senator Prescott do that?"
"I may have funded a group that torpedoed his presidential ambitions."
"May?" I ask.
"Well…" he hesitates. Wondering. "I did. My name wasn't on the donor list of that advocacy group but the money came from me. He found out."
"Wait, that series of attack ads against Prescott last election, that was you?"
"Yes."
"They were brutal. You cost him the election. I understand why he would hate you. But if you hid your donations, how did he know it was you behind the campaign?"
"I may have called him to gloat after his polling took a nosedive," he admits reluctantly.
"So you know Prescott personally?"
"Yes. He was our next-door neighbor growing up. He's still mom's neighbor today."
"Why can't you just make your peace with him?"
"I can't," he responds adamantly.
"Why?"
"He killed my dog. Poisoned Albert just because Brandon pissed on his car."
"Albert is the dog?"
"Yes. My first and last."
"When exactly did this happen?"
"I was 14. Brandon was 11. He ran over Brandon's snowman so Brandon pissed on his car. He only splashed the bonnet and the tires. And he was just a kid. There were so many ways to resolve that little dispute. The next morning I found Albert dead in the yard and that psychopath was grinning from his window." Aaron sounds supremely pissed.
"Wow! What did you do?"
"I set fire to his house. Firemen came too early so I only got the garage and part of the roof. Prescott made some noises about pressing charges. To placate him, my father sent me to boarding school. In New Hampshire." He says that last part with some feeling.
"And that ended the beef?"
"He didn't press charges," Aaron shrugs. "I was willing to consider the whole thing even until he got Harvard to revoke my admission."
"He did what?"
"I got into Harvard by early decision so Prescott had my offer pulled."
"How?"
"He was Mayor of Houston at the time and had been college roommates with the dean. They told me my admission was being revoked because of character flaws highlighted by an anonymous Harvard alumnus. Northeastern snobs," he curses. "That anonymous alumnus could only be one guy. He asked me about my admission status the very next day. He wanted me to know it was him."
"That's fucked up," I console him. I can't help but feel sorry for him.
"I still got into a great college but I dropped out anyway so maybe it didn't matter all that much in the end. But the vendetta stands. We've traded blows over the years but this is the first time he's really landed a good one since that college decision."
"What are you going to do about it?"
"He's coming up for re-election this year. He has always managed to win his senate races despite my better efforts but that presidential loss dinged his prestige pretty bad. He's vulnerable this time round. Helping him lose will give me some pleasure but the damage is already done. I'll have to eat the loss. The rules are unreasonable and we will challenge them but it might take three years just to get the case in front of a federal bench, let alone a decision. Prescott has already won this round." Aaron sounds dejected.
His phone vibrates. We exchange a look and giggle because his pants are still around his ankles. "Be a good girl and reach into my pants for me," he implores. I pull his pants up to his knees and fish out his phone. Jerk-off, the caller ID reads.
I give him a questioning look as I hand him the phone. "Robert J. Prescott," he answers both me and the phone simultaneously. Prescott says something but I can't hear his side of the conversation.
"If you're calling for a campaign contribution, I already sent my two-dollar check."
"So you called to gloat."
"Your little stunt was already factored into my contingency plan."
"A minor setback at best."
"Enjoy your regulatory shenanigans while you still can. The primaries are gonna be tough this year. Career-ending." Aaron threatens.
"Strictly speaking, that would be against campaign finance laws. I don't break the law, as you know."
"Questionable? Maybe. But completely legal. That's what my lawyers say, at least."
"I always do. You'll have to excuse me. I need to go generate the taxes that pay your salary," Aaron hangs up.
"You enjoyed that," I say accusingly.
He looks at me like he's seeing me for the first time, "Revenge is the purest fuel. It burns hotter and cleaner than anything else." He taps on my thigh, "You know what? Screw that pansy-ass surprise. We'll go flying."
"What was this pansy-ass surprise again?" I ask, curious even though I'm excited about the flying. I have a hunch it won't involve a plane.
"I was..." he starts then stops. "No. I might need to reuse that one in the future. Good ideas are hard to come by." That's both endearing and exciting, even if it's a little frustrating. He is thinking of us having a future together!
"Go do those dishes. I really need to make those calls," he adds, then smacks my ass and lifts me as he stands. He plants a kiss on my forehead before placing me down then bends to pull up his pants. I pull him in for one last kiss before I walk away, exaggerating the sway of my hips. I hope he's watching.
The private elevator opens into the foyer of the 60th floor. I know from Marjorie that Aaron's penthouse takes up the entire floor. 10,000 square feet at least. I was looking forward to seeing his space but it's a bit of a let-down. I wasn't expecting gold ceilings but I wasn't expecting empty rooms either.
The walls are white and bare. The floor is hardwood. Ebony. The high ceiling is similarly unadorned, bearing simple light bulbs instead of ornate chandeliers. He leads me into his living room and it's barely furnished with a single black leather couch and a glass coffee table. It's the size of a tennis court and completely bare save for the couch, coffee table, and an easel by the floor-to-ceiling windows which provide sweeping views of the Houston skyline and the park below. There's a blank white canvas on the easel and a stack of brushes on a small adjoining table.
"You paint?" I ask.
He shakes his head, "No. Never had the talent. I had that set up for you."
What? "For me? Why?"
He shrugs, "Because I expect you'll be spending a lot of time here. You can move in whenever you like."
"Move in? Don't you think it's too soon?"
He puts an arm on my shoulder. "Elizabeth," he starts. "I'm 35 years old, a fully grown man by any standard. I'm a loner. A hermit even. I have no problem with that. I've always been comfortable with my own company and generally hate interacting with other people for a second longer than I absolutely need to. People irritate me. You don't."
He looks into my eyes and strokes my cheeks gently, "I haven't enjoyed anybody else's company as much I've enjoyed yours in a really long time. I like you. No… I LOVE you." That gets my heart beating impossibly fast. "I've always known what I want. And right now, I want you."
He continues, "I'm not going to string you around for a year before confessing my feelings. I'll do that right now. I love you and I want to spend all my free time with you. If you want a deeper commitment, I'll marry you on Monday. Who cares if it's too fast?"
"Aaron..." I start, stunned and not exactly sure of where I'm headed with this.
"Shhh," he cuts me off. "You don't need to answer that right now. I'm just putting all my cards on the table. All I want to know is if you share the same feelings that I have for you."
"Aaron, this is all so sudden," I stammer, overwhelmed. I don't know what to say to him. I'm happy and fearful at the same time.
"You don't need to say anything," he says as he cups my chin. "All I need to know is whether you wish to continue seeing me."
"Yes," I whisper. I don't even think about it. The word just slips out. I feel a sudden sense of relief wash over me. I embrace him and sob uncontrollably. I don't understand the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me right now but the one thing I do understand is that I want him to continue holding me and rocking me gently.
After I calm down I pull his face to mine and just kiss him. It's our gentlest kiss ever. It's passionate but not urgent, oddly asexual yet deeply satisfying. It leaves me feeling warm and fuzzy inside.
"I love you too Aaron," I finally whisper once we break off the kiss.
He smiles and holds me even tighter, "Do you still want to go flying?" he asks.
"Yes," I reply.
He takes my hand and leads me down the hall. Holding hands with him feels different now. There is no tension. I barely think about it. It just feels like the most natural thing in the world. I'm more relaxed around him. He stops at a thick metal door. Vault class. It slides open as soon as he stops.
Inside is all kinds of weird apparatus and blinking lights. It's even larger than his living room. The only things I recognize are a computer screen and a desk. Everything else seems alien. "What's this?" I'm puzzled.
"My home lab," he explains. "That's Yvonne," he points to a bank of blinking lights covering the entire length of the wall from floor to ceiling. "She's a supercomputer."
I just nod. He pulls out two briefcases from beneath the desk and hands me one. It's heavy. 20 pounds at least. "Do you need some help with that?" he asks as we walk out. The door slides shut behind us.
"No. I'm fine." I can carry 20 pounds. He leads up a flight of stairs past a long narrow indoor swimming pool and into the roof past another swimming pool, this one Olympic-sized. Two of Aaron's men are lounging on the deck chairs by the rooftop pool. They immediately rise and carry our cases to a waiting helicopter.
"Where are we going?" I ask Aaron.
"Out to sea. International waters off the coast of Galveston."
Aaron straps me in then says something to his men. He conducts a pre-flight check before climbing into the pilot's seat. "So this is how you woo your girlfriends?" I tease as we wait for take-off clearance from air traffic control.
Aaron doesn't look amused. "I haven't had a girlfriend in 13 years, Elizabeth. How do you think the rumor about me being a eunuch got started?"
"I'm sorry," I apologize.
"No need to be. I'm not offended. And I am using this helicopter to impress you so you're not entirely wrong."
The authorization comes and we don't talk again until we're airborne. Aaron lifts off smoothly and then levels towards the sea, flying along the Buffalo Bayou. I've never quite seen the city from this height.
"Is it hard to fly?"I ask.
"No. Once you learn it's really easy. Do you want to learn?"
"Maybe."
"When that maybe turns into a yes let me know. I can arrange for a private tutor."
"Really?"
"Yes. Why would you doubt that?"
"I wasn't doubting. Just an expression. I will think about it."
"Ok."
"When did you learn to fly?"
"As a kid. My father had a small Cessna."
"I've been meaning to ask... How come you have no furniture."
"I don't entertain and never have guests over. I never just got around to buying furniture. I go home to sleep, eat, and change. I might also have entertained fantasies of furnishing the penthouse with you." This spikes my heart rate again. We exchange glances.
"Aaron, that's very flattering."
"It's not flattery. It's the truth. I've had you on my mind for a while. Now that you're officially my girlfriend, will you please help me furnish our penthouse?"
"Ours?"
"Yes, Elizabeth. Ours. The place is too big for one person. That's why I avoid it so much. Come share it with me. Bring joy to my dreary halls."
"Aaron, moving in together is a big decision."
"I know, I've already thought about it, and decided."
"But I haven't."
"I know that as well. You can maintain your own place if you like. Or we can have joint custody. My place on weekdays, yours on the weekends. Mine is closer to work. The drive from Delphi to the museum is less than 10 minutes instead of your usual hour-long commute. And it will make me so happy waking up to that beautiful face every day. I would kiss you right now but I don't want to die in a plane crash just yet." That makes me blush.
"I'll think about it," I promise. The romantic in me wants to move in with him but the spy urges caution. I may also need to run that decision by Marjorie. I wonder what she would say about that. And I will have to tell Aaron about my employment with the CIA at some point. I can't keep it from him forever. I also wonder how he would react to that.
"Take as long as you need. But you will help me choose furniture, drapes, rugs, and all that boring house stuff, yes?"
"Yes."
"We're now in international waters," Aaron declares triumphantly after about an hour of flying. He starts descending and I spot a massive container ship seemingly anchored in the middle of the ocean. There's nothing but blue sea for miles. The container ship has no containers on board though.
"We're landing on that?" I ask Aaron.
"Yes. The Fat Duck."
"Why has it just stopped in the middle of the ocean?"
"It's waiting for us." Of course.
A man on deck waves us onto a helipad. Aaron lands smoothly. We're greeted by a party of seven men as we climb out. A nervous portly man in a captain's uniform speaks first and proffers Aaron a hand. "Mr. Waller, welcome aboard The Fat Duck. I'm the captain, Jonathan Drakos."
Aaron shakes his hand and taps him on the shoulder, "Don't mind me, Drakos. Proceed as if I'm not here." He shakes hands with the other six men and dismisses them all. They go below decks or wherever it is sailors go on a ship. We're soon alone on deck with the sea spray in our faces.
"This ship has no containers on board. What is it doing here?" I ask.
"It's a research vessel, not a cargo ship. I had it converted a few years ago. We have been using it for testing and exploration. The guys here are testing a new range of seafloor scraping and scanning robots," he explains.
"You want to mine the seafloor?"
"Nope," he shakes his head. "I just sell the equipment."
"But wouldn't mining yourself be more profitable?"
"Probably. But mining just isn't my cup of tea. The field holds little interest for me. I like building things. I can't say the same for digging rocks out of the ground. I would rather stick to what I enjoy," he responds as he opens the briefcases. Inside each are a pair of boots, gloves, a helmet, some narrow steel pipes, and cables.
"Take off your shoes," Aaron hands me the boots. They're shiny and made of metal. And so heavy I almost drop them. I put on the boots first and then the gloves as Aaron fastens my helmet. He runs the cables from the boots to the helmet and gloves, cinching them at the waist and keeping them in place with velcro bands running around my legs, arms, and torso. That's why he wanted me to wear yoga pants.
"What are these for?" I point at the cables.
"Backup," he says as he wraps up with me and starts putting on his gear. He looks like a huge dork with his helmet and cables running all over the place. "A kiss for good luck," he asks. I pull him to me but our helmets crash and we can't truly get our faces close. I giggle and he chortles. We tilt our heads and finally bring our lips together for a short passionate kiss.
"So, how does this thing fly?" I ask him.
He responds by kicking a switch on the side of my right boot and then bends to do the same to his own. "Rise," he says as he takes both my hands into his. I give him a puzzled look.
"You control the jetpack with your mind. The helmet has brainwave sensors. Just think of rising and it will respond," Aaron explains.
I think of flying off into space like superman. I feel like I just got punched in the soles of my feet then my stomach drops. My hands are wrenched from Aaron's and the next thing I know I'm shooting up like a rocket. My boots are obscured by white smoke. Aaron is still standing on the deck of the ship, vanishing fast with my rise. I scream.
"Are you OK?" Aaron is shaking me by the shoulders. I touch my head. The helmet is gone. It's hanging down my back by a strap around my neck. I blink and look around. There's nothing visible for miles in either direction. I look down. The sea must be at least a thousand feet below. We seem to be floating in the air. Fear turns my insides to jelly. I gasp and hang onto Aaron for dear life, shaking.
Aaron wraps his hands around me and gently caresses my back, consoling me. "You'll be fine, my love. These jetpacks are extremely safe." He untangles my hands from around his waist and cups my chin with the glove. It's a lot rougher than his hand. "You just panicked, OK? And you rose into the air too fast. I'll have that setting changed."
"You just need to relax. Take a deep breath and relax," he urges me. I take a deep breath but I still don't feel relaxed. All I feel is fear. "What if I tip over?" I ask fearfully.
"You won't tip over," Aaron says. "The flight stabilization on this thing is the best in the world. You passed out at 5,000 feet and you're still here."
5,000 feet? "5,000 feet?" The fear intensifies. I look down again and start shaking in terror. Aaron holds me again. "I passed out?" I stammer.
"Just for a while," he consoles. "You're completely safe, Elizabeth. These things have undergone thorough testing. You'll be completely fine." I just cling on to him. I feel safer that way. 5,000 feet. 5,000 feet. 5,000 feet, the figure keeps repeating in my mind. No building is that tall. Even the Empire StaBuildinging is only 1400 feet tall. I wonder about what a fall from here would be like. The only silver lining is that there would be no pain. Water would feel like concrete from such a height. I would die on impact.
"Why 5,000 feet?" I ask while still clinging to Aaron. We're not falling so that's a good sign.
"That's the maximum height this thing can fly at. You need an oxygen mask to breathe above 10,000 feet so we kept it under 5,000," he explains. He rocks me gently then slowly untangles my hands from around him a second time. I want to resist but I came here for adventure and I want to find out if I still have it in me.
"Just watch me Elizabeth," Aaron says as I struggle to keep my eyes from looking down. With nothing else to do, I watch him. He slides 10 feet to the right and slides back. He then slides another 10 feet to the left and slides back. He does this a few times.
Then he tries running which is kinda funny because he only bounces around. He does a series of backflips as I watch in awe. Then he lies flat like a swimmer and zooms through the air like a bullet, culminating in a series of circuits around me. He comes to a stop in front of me and stands.
"Do you want to try," he asks.
"Yes," I answer, feeling both fearful and eager.
"Just stay calm and everything will be alright. It's a machine. It does whatever you tell it to do. You are in control, OK?" Aaron encourages me as he refastens my helmet. I nod.
"Alright my love, let's see what you can do. Just start with a simple slide," Aaron urges as he slides back. My love. That sparks some joy. Should I start calling him babe? Will he like it? Is this thing listening to my thoughts? Slide over there. Slowly. The jetpack responds immediately. It is listening to my thoughts! You control it with your mind, Aaron's words ring in my head. Can Aaron hear my thoughts now? I wonder. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it!
I slide back and forth a few more times then try all the things I had seen Aaron do. The jetpack responds to my every thought without delay. The fear is gone and replaced by exhilaration. I feel like an old pro and let out a loud whoop. I feel invincible. This must be how superman feels like. But he's fake. I'm real.
I take Aaron's hand and we're soon zipping through the sky together, hooting like children. We spook a pod of dolphins when we swoop down out of the sky singing a rowdy off-key rendition of The Star-Spangled Banner. Aaron has to rein me in from going too far, "Don't wanna run out of fuel in the middle of the ocean."
We rise to 5,000 feet as the sun starts dipping below the horizon. Aaron takes me into his arms as we hover 5,000 feet above the water. "What happens when I take my helmet off?" I ask him.
"The jetpack will float down and land on the nearest solid surface. But you can activate hover mode by pressing that green button on your left glove. The flight systems will keep you still in the same position depending on how far the nearest solid surface is. Since The Fat Duck is directly below us, we can stay up here until we're almost out of fuel." He checks a display on his glove, "That will be in 92 minutes."
"Okay!" I exclaim. I undo my helmet and let it hang from the neck. Then I undo his. I'm deliriously happy, high on adrenaline, and hornier than a mare in heat.
I launch into the kiss with unrestrained hunger as soon as his helmet is out of the way. He kisses me back with similar fervor and we're on, kissing and groping each other with animal intensity. I climax just from the kissing but I still want more. And Aaron is rock hard.
I pull away from the kiss. "Can we do it up here?" I pant.
He lifts his head in thought and then answers, "I think so. But we'll have to keep our helmets on."
"Why?"
"To prevent the flight stabilization system from interfering. And some sexual positions won't be possible because the safety settings override everything, even flyer intentions."
"Which ones are possible?" I ask impatiently as I fumble with my helmet.
"I'll have to bend you over and take you from behind. But your pill. I forgot to give it to you."
"Where is it?"
"My jacket. In the helicopter."
"Then I'll take it after this. Just take me please," I almost yell. I want him so bad. I pull my yoga pants down to around my knees and bend over. I try to find something to hold onto but we're almost a mile up in the air. The jetpack does its thing however and I feel very stable all of a sudden. The cables are a bitch but I manage to work around them. I'm so glad I wore no panties.
Aaron unzips his pants and slides into my soaking cunt in one smooth motion. Tremors tear through my body on first contact and I let out a loud moan. He pulls his cock out and slides it back in again. I moan again. He develops a rhythmic pumping that sends shards of pleasure radiating throughout my body and with no one within earshot, I don't stifle my noises. After I orgasm for the third time, Aaron starts singing:
Just as I am, thy love unknown
Has broken every barrier down;
Now, to be thine, yea, thine alone,
O love of mine, I come, I come!
As he hits the refrain he does indeed come, filling me with his hot seed in quick spurts. It starts leaking out as soon as he pulls out. I see one solitary drop fall and only hope it doesn't land on some poor fellow below. I pull my yoga pants up as the rest slowly snakes down my thighs like a warm caress.
"That was a beautiful song," I say to Aaron as I wrap my arms around him again. "Did you just compose it?"
"No," he kisses me. "Only half the refrain. It's a very famous hymn. 19th century I think. You've never heard of it?"
I shake my head, "Nope. I know what hymns are but I don't know any, not by heart. I sang one at my grandpa's funeral but I can't remember it either."
"That would be Amazing Grace. It's a funeral favorite."
"How do you know so much about hymns?"
He shrugs, "Church every Sunday from the day I was born till the day I left for college. Plus an Episcopalian prep school. I learned a lot of hymns."
"So you're going to church tomorrow?" I tease.
"No. I stopped going when I went to college."
"So you went to church because your parents forced you?"
"Not exactly. My father rarely went and Brandon always found an excuse to skip church. He didn't always succeed but he tried. Christine flat out refused to go when she was 15. It broke mom's heart."
"And you?"
"I've never liked disappointing my mother. I still take her sometimes."
"So you always went?"
"Yes."
"Why not just tell her you're no longer a believer?"
"I don't like arguing theology. I've studied practically every major religion and every guy believes their God is the real one. Religions might be wrong about the origins of the universe but they form the basis for our system of morality and give meaning to the lives of billions of people. They're not entirely useless. It's getting dark. And cold. We need to get back down."
We descend slowly onto the deck of The Fat Duck, arms around each other. The crew is on deck again. 10 people this time. They watch us descend. I need to use the bathroom. I excuse myself as they gather around Aaron.
The boots are too heavy to walk in so I float over to the helicopter and change into my sneakers. I put on Aaron's jacket as well. My sleeveless top is proving quite a liability against the cold evening winds as darkness creeps in. The jacket is way oversized but it's warm, soft, and smells like him. I inhale it and luxuriate in the scent. It feels like he's giving me a warm hug.
One of the men shows me to a bathroom and then runs right back to Aaron, who appears to be in an intense discussion with three other men. I finally relieve myself and find the Plan B pill in his inner pocket but I don't trust the water on this ship so I head back to the helicopter.
I check my cell but I have no service. I check his other jacket pockets out of boredom but find nothing interesting. Cash, cards, and a white handkerchief. I'm about to go out and drag him back when he finally extricates himself.
"What did those guys want?"
"Nothing in particular."
"What do you mean nothing?"
"I'm their boss. The insecure ones were kissing my ass while the ambitious ones were trying to show off their brilliance. It's the kind of thing I have to endure from time to time."
"Did anyone impress you?"
He looks at me, smiles, and strokes my cheek, "They all annoyed me because they kept you waiting. But they're some of my most brilliant people and I have to be nice to them even when I'm annoyed." That brings up a smile that I try to suppress but it breaks out anyway.
"Do you have any water here?" I ask.
"Check the underside of the back seat."
I find an entire case of bottled water there. I beat myself up for this. I'm a spy. I'm supposed to notice things. I take my pill and strap myself in as Aaron conducts the pre-flight checks. He kisses me before takeoff.
I love this man, I think staring at Aaron's face in profile as he banks the helicopter towards Galveston. He notices my gaze, turns, smiles at me, and then turns his focus back to the flashing instrument panel. I make a mental note to see a gynecologist on Monday. An IUD or the pill? I wonder. Maybe I'll find Marjorie working the front desk. That thought brings another smile.