Chet gave Eric's hand a squeeze then popped the trunk remotely. "My pleasure, young man. Donna would've been a puddle of tears saying goodbye—no need for her to try to drive like that. And don't worry; we'll keep tabs on her while you're gone."
Eric nodded and said goodbye, pulling his luggage out of the trunk and slamming it closed. With a final wave to Chet, he headed inside. Ari Stein had booked him a nonstop flight to Orlando in first class; the Steins' chauffeur would pick him up for the two-hour drive to the coast.
Eric checked his larger bag and proceeded through security. The week before Thanksgiving, traffic had not yet picked up, so there wasn't much of a line.
"Where are you headed, handsome?" a feminine voice asked from behind him.
Eric turned to face a tall woman, drop-dead gorgeous, perhaps twenty years older than he was, maybe more. Briefly, his eyes took it all in—the platinum hair, no doubt dyed for effect, the designer pantsuit and stiletto heels, the expensive jewelry, sunglasses, the ample cleavage showing through the V-neckline. The woman could easily have been a movie star. Face job, probably; boob job, too. "I-I'm going to Orlando," he said, adding out of courtesy, "how about you?"
The woman tilted her sunglasses up with a hairband effect, revealing unusual violet eyes fringed by thick black lashes. "Orlando as well," she said with a throaty chuckle. She held out her boarding pass, obviously wanting to compare it with his. He flashed his. "Well, what do you know?"
Eric smiled. "Looks like we're sitting together." He cleared his throat. "My wife won't be joining me until Christmas," he said. "Are you married too?" The last thing he wanted to do was give the wrong impression. He didn't usually enjoy chitchat, but he also didn't want to pass the entire flight in awkward silence.
"I'm Erika with a K," she said with a toothy smile. "Not currently married. Maybe one of these days, I'll try it again. For the time being, I'm free as a bird… the line's moving."
As he caught up in line, he said over his shoulder, "My name's Eric with a C, by the way."
"We are just one coincidence after another, aren't we, darling?"
Can you say "cougar"? It was Eric's turn to show his ID and boarding pass to the TSA agent. As he put his shoes back on, Erika sat down beside him and wriggled her feet into her high heels.
"As soon as we're on the plane, these babies are coming off again," she purred.
Eric was not accustomed to being flirted with; he certainly didn't want to flirt back. Just then, he felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket. "Excuse me," he said and pulled his carry-on with him to a more private space to answer the call.
"I am miserable already," Donna said. From the background noise, Eric could tell she was at the office. "How will I survive until Christmas?"
"I miss you too, babe," he said. They talked about the drive with Chet and about Donna's plans to eat at the Hendersons' for Thanksgiving.
"I know you've got to go, babe," Donna said. "I hope you have someone interesting to talk to on the plane."
Eric cleared his throat. "Actually, I've already met her."
Silence, then, "And?"
Eric laughed out loud, causing a few passers-by to turn their heads. "And she's twenty years older than I am, and I love my wife." No need to tell her what she looks like or seems to be interested in.
Donna giggled at the other end. Eric could picture her in his mind, so bubbly and blonde—so different from the way she acted as soon as she entered the red room as his Domme. He sat down in a nearby seat to cover his excitement. Odd. I never felt like this with Jessica. Just thinking about Donna does it, just hearing her voice.
"I'm glad she's older," Donna said. "I want you to have a good time, but I'm definitely okay with you not traveling to Florida with some twenty-something who wants to join the Mile-High Club."
"What's the Mile-High Club?"
"You are adorable, you know that?" Donna explained what she'd assumed anyone their age knew: The Mile-High Club was slang for people who had sex aboard an airplane.
Judging from the vibes he'd picked up from Erika, that was probably well within the realm of possibility despite the age difference. No need to mention it, however. Eric spoke quietly so that no one around him could hear. "The only woman I want to have sex with is my wife," he said. "Any—"
Donna chimed in to complete the phrase with him. "Time. Any place. Any way. Only you." It was their private mantra.
A crisp voice over the airport's intercom interrupted the call. When the message ended, Eric said goodbye. "I'll call you tonight, babe. Love you!"
As he walked to his gate, he saw that Erika was seated beside a distinguished looking gentleman, engaged in an animated conversation. She really is attractive, Eric thought. And they made an attractive couple. Better you than me, buddy. Better you than me.
When they got on the plane, however, Erika was obviously thrilled to see him again. She pointed to her naked, pedicured feet. "See? I told you. Have to let the toes breathe now and then."
Before Eric could comment, the gentleman from the waiting area made his presence known in the aisle beside them with a little grunt. "Excuse me," he said in an accented baritone. "I say, chap, would you mind switching seats with me so that the lady and I could continue our conversation?"
Eric looked at Erika, whose face was unreadable, at least to him. She bit her glossy red lips as her eyes moved past Eric to the other man. Eric took that as a signal. "Of course not, sir," he said, rising from the aisle seat. "Where's your seat?"
A few minutes later, Eric settled back into the window seat. There was no
