Olivia
I must have been dreaming. There was absolutely no way that what I was seeing was real. Actually, a lot of things that just happened to me didn't seem real whatsoever. A few days ago, after the whole comfort food party that Ben Oviatt threw for us, I had an email in my inbox about my next story. I honestly hoped I was finally getting a political story, but when I opened the email, well, I was blown away.
"Norway!?" I internally screamed, not wanting to disturb any of my fellow reporters. I closed and opened the email over and over again, not believing anything, but it stayed the same. I was going to Norway for a story. I was going to experience my first time traveling out of the country!
So many things had happened during my time here in OVT, and I hadn't even reached my first month yet. It was crazy; absolutely ridiculous. It took a turn for the even-crazier when I learned I was flying on the company's private jet.
As I arrived at the private jet terminal, I was greeted by a nice man in a uniform offering to take my bags for me.
"Good morning, Miss Taylor. Allow me to assist you with that," he said so kindly. I was starting to feel a bit hesitant to let him touch my hand-me-down suitcase. I should have gone shopping for some half-way decent looking luggage.
"Th-Thanks," I said as he whisked away my ragged-looking purple suitcase. I was pretty sure one of my zippers was broken because I had to drag it along with my nails. I hoped he didn't try to pull out the handle all the way because it was definitely going to come off.
Good thing I decided to dress up today, but I still had the mindset to dress comfortably. I didn't want to be on a flight wearing work clothes, so I opted for a comfortable yet stylish pair of jeans with a simple white T-shirt. I had a cardigan in my carry-on bag if I got cold. Hey, while none of them may be branded, at least I knew I could carry the look and blend in if I was confident enough.
OK, girl. Forget about the luggage, forget about the clothes. Focus. It was easy to get distracted though, as a friendly woman led me to the private jet lounge, and it was one of the most ridiculously extravagant lounges I had ever seen.
"Please, sit back and relax while waiting," she said in the coolest voice I had ever heard. I swore, if she wanted to do voice work for luxury brands, she would fit in well.
Man, everything about this place was top shelf. Looking around, I spotted a white piano. What kind of people just left a grand piano like that out in the open? I mean, I would attempt to tickle the ivories, but I only knew how to play, "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star", and I was not up for embarrassing myself even more after showing my luggage. Not to mention the open bar, the fancy snacks, and the absolutely plush seats for me to relax on. On one side of the lounge was a panoramic window, showing all the flights coming in and out of JFK airport. There was also a really fancy vintage car that was parked outside, and I presumed that it was the car that was going to take me to the private jet.
A private jet. I just remembered again that I was about to board a private jet. Who the heck was I?
It came in a blur after that, but I just found myself seated in the vintage car as it drove me out onto the runway. In the distance, I could see the private jet I was going to get onto as we approached it. A different nice man opened the door for me and helped me out and led me to the stairway leading to the entrance of the plane. It wasn't a lot of steps, but each one had my mind racing. I just realized… I had never been on a private plane before, and of course, that was the perfect time for my brain to overthink and remember all the news stories about smaller planes suddenly crash landing.
"Welcome, Miss Taylor. Please sit back and relax as we await for the last passenger," the very well-dressed flight attendant greeted me as she gestured the way in.
Upon entering the private jet, I was greeted with a sleek, modern bar and lounge area. The bartender nodded at me, welcoming me to the flight, and I was just utterly at a loss for words. Beyond the bar and lounge area was the executive seating. On one side, it looked like two white loveseats separated by a contemporary wood table, and on the other was more or less the same thing, but instead it was four separate single-seater chairs. There were a couple of more doors down the hallway after the seating area, and of course, at the very end was the cabin.
I was feeling very overwhelmed, so I decided to take a seat and try to process all of this. I was aware that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I should make the most out of it, but on the other hand, I was beginning to be deathly terrified of flying—or maybe it was just my anxiety.
I took some deep breaths to calm my heartbeat down, but it wasn't helping when I knew for a fact who the last passenger the flight attendant mentioned earlier. There was only one person who made sense, who fit the bill. I knew it was going to be none other than—
Ben
I hadn't flown in a while. Basically, I was very satisfied with my life in New York and never found any desire to travel. I felt like I already finished that phase of my life a couple of years ago when I took some time off to quite literally travel the world. But even so, not much has changed since the last time I traveled.
Gerald dropped me off at the private jet terminal.
"Have fun in Norway!" he shouted, as I walked towards the terminal.
I walked with confidence, knowing this place like the back of my hand. It was to the point where even some of the staff had trouble keeping up with me as they pulled my luggage. I went through the same routine, check-in, security, boarding pass, and all that jazz. Honestly, it was just second nature to me. I arrived at the lounge, though I had grown tired of that place about a decade ago, so I just went through the doors and boarded the car that was going to drive me to the jet.
"Hello again, Mr. Oviatt. It's a pleasure to see you fly with us once more. It's been a little while since the last time," the flight attendant greeted me as I jogged up the stairs leading to the entrance of the jet.
"Have you been taking care of my baby?" I asked her, patting the jet with my bare hands. It had been a while since I last saw it, but I made it available to be chartered just so it wasn't cooped up in a hangar somewhere. Birds had to fly, after all.
"Of course, sir," she replied with a smile as she stepped aside to give me more space to walk in. "You're the last passenger to arrive. We will begin takeoff protocols momentarily," she informed me, and a smile found itself on my face.
So, she was already here, huh?
Upon walking inside the bar and lounge area, my ears picked up a very familiar voice.
"I'm sorry, I'm just kind of freaking out. Do you have anything that would maybe calm my nerves?" Olivia asked the bartender, and he immediately nodded and got to work. Her back was in front of me, her hair hanging elegantly down her back in a low ponytail.
I took a seat on the stool on the other side of her.
"Well, any alcoholic beverage is sure to shake off all that tension." I turned my head to look at her with a grin, but she only showed a shocked and confused expression.
"What? You didn't think you were going to fly with Eric, did you?" I asked, strangely feeling a bit cheeky. This was the first time that Olivia and I had the opportunity to sit down and just talk after we… well, fucked in my office.
"Mr. Oviatt," she whispered in awe, probably still processing that I was actually here. "Thank you for inviting me on your private jet," she said, doing the thing again where she magically found her composure.
It astounded me every time she did that. I could clearly see her shakiness and uncertainty, and like a flick of a switch, she would become an entirely different person. I had to admit; it was very sexy.
I asked for my favorite aged whiskey.
"When you're done with your drink, come find me in my back office. We have to talk about your next story," I declared, standing up from the bar and walking toward the rear cabin.
Upon opening my private office, I took in the interior. I hadn't seen it in quite a while, and it made me reminisce about the days when OVT was starting to boom. I was flying around all over the place, and even tens of thousands of feet in the air, I was still neck-deep in work. I ran my hands through the cushioned wooden office chair before sitting down, remembering my late twenties. There were two chairs in front of my bolted down desk, and I just realized that no one had actually ever sat there before.
I had just set my drink down and sat behind the desk when Olivia knocked and peeked her head inside. She walked in with some fruity-looking cocktail that seemed to match her personality perfectly. Sweet, but lethal.
"Hi," she said a little timidly. "Why am I not surprised that you're a whiskey guy?" She took a sip of her own drink and hummed with satisfaction. The sound went straight to my dick.
I shifted in my chair as I gestured toward the seats in front of my desk. She looked uneasy.
"This is your first time flying, isn't it?" I asked.
Olivia shook her head.
"It's my first time flying in a small, private plane, though." She looked at the window. "Not everyone has private jets."
She took a gulp of her cocktail, draining half of it. I fought the urge to round the desk and comfort her.
"Well, I'm happy I can be your first," the words left my mouth before I could think. The air thickened between us and something dark flashed behind Olivia's eyes. I didn't kid myself that I was actually her first, but I couldn't help but remember our first time together.
I cleared my throat and tried to bring the conversation back to something resembling being professional.
"So, have you thought about how you're going to report this? Itwillcome off of your viral roller coaster story, after all," I inquired, doing as much as I could to forget what I recklessly said.
"How many more fluff pieces will I do?" Olivia asked, a hint of disdain in her voice. "I just want to tell a story that matters, you know?" Suddenly, she caught herself, her eyes widening and her back straightening up. "I'm sorry about that, I was just—I mean, I'm happy to have the job, I just…"
Her voice trailed off and a worried expression clouded her eyes.
"You may get your first political story when you improve your reporting style. Just because you went viral and broke records doesn't mean you get to be part of the political team," I answered, leaning back into my chair as a displeased expression started to form on her face. "There's a totally different feel to political reporting."
I had seen that exact same look on a reporter's face a million times before. It didn't matter what business people were in, people didn't like being criticized. They didn't like being dubbed as lacking. If people were given the chance to take a shortcut to the top, almost all of them would take it. People thrived on praise and appreciation, and rejected any form of criticism and judgment.
"Why not?" Olivia asked, her eyes started to fill with a different kind of fire. A violent one, a volatile one. Maybe the alcohol coursing through her veins wasn't helping her, but I doubted it.
"Because while that story performed well, that was more of an indication of luck than skill," I responded, not missing a beat. I knew what I was talking about, and I wasn't going to let anyone think otherwise.
Olivia rolled her eyes and that honestly kind of ticked me off a little bit.
"So you think I'm not a good reporter?"
She triggered another one of my pet peeves, and that was in record time—not even five seconds passed.
I never said that," I clarified, keeping my voice low. I wasn't about to let anyone put words in my mouth.
"You just said it," Olivia rebutted, and I felt the frustration keeping up my back.
"I'm still your boss, Olivia," I warned, feeling my shoulders tightening up and my chest heaving outward. There was this inexplicable feeling bubbling in my stomach, but it wasn't rage. "And one would easily think that your attitude for this simple assessment is enough to indicate that you aren't ready to deal with the real hard stories."
"How would you know? You haven't even given me a chance," Olivia asked—no, demanded to know. Her voice was getting louder as her exasperation was pushing through her limits. "IknowI can handle it! Why don't you ever have faith in me?"
Olivia stood up like a rocket ready to fly. She put both hands on the desk. She was breathing heavily—no, she was fuming.
"I'll put my trust in you once you actually prove that you're more than just that girl who rode a roller coaster," I countered, standing up as well to prevent her from towering over me. I wasn't sure who, but one of us swayed a little closer. Maybe we both did. But our faces were inches apart.
Olivia seemed taken aback for a moment, but then her emotions came blazing back.
"You little—pompous ass little rich boy—"
Before I knew it, her lips were suddenly against mine and I found my hands immediately gripping her ass, remembering how soft and firm it was. Her arms wrapped around my neck as we continued to demand pleasure from each other.
I had never felt so irritated by a woman and yet, so turned on at the same time. Olivia's refusal to back down in an argument was incredibly sexy. My hands on her felt like the most natural thing in the world.
She moaned against my lips and my hand plunged into the front of her jeans, finding her wet and warm, waiting for me. Her head flew back in pleasure. Her hands hastily found the buckle of my belt.
"Mr. Oviatt and Ms. Taylor, this is your pilot speaking. Our flight crew has finished performing their safety check and we will be departing in a few minutes. Please prepare for takeoff," the pilot's voice came out of the speaker. Reluctantly, I took my hand out of her underwear to re-buckle my belt.
Olivia walked backwards once we separated, touching her lips with her shaky hands. "That… that can't keep happening," she said. Though it kind of pained me to say it, I agreed with her. "You're my boss…"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair.
"Why don't you go choose a seat and get buckled," I suggested, sitting back down on my office chair with a million thoughts running through my head. "I'll be out in a minute."
Wordlessly, Olivia exited my office. Another deep sigh escaped my lips as I looked up at the ceiling of the jet. My heart kept beating wildly, still remembering vividly how Olivia's lips felt against mine.
Oh, Ben, what did you get yourself into?