Page 39 of Damaged

The blue veins tracing the back of it, like rivers on a map of the world. The sharp knuckles and large, strong fingers. If the world were reversed and women were as weird as men, there would be hand fetishes, not feet.

At least with hands I see the appeal.

A foot can’t wrap around my throat. It can’t go between my legs and play with my clit and drive me wild. Well… there’s probablysomeguy with feet that can do that, but my point is it wouldn’t be hot.

James’s touch wasn’t exactly sexual. It was possessive. Protective.

However, I didn’t feel like he held on to me just because he was afraid for my well-being. There was a message in his touch as well—during this trip, I answered to him.

Ibelongedto him, and I didn’t want it any other way. It’s amazing what you can say without a single word.

We haven’t taken off yet. Apparently, there was some mix-up at the chartering company, and we have the wrong size plane. James is pissed but not raising hell about it.

“The one time my jet is getting upgraded, they fuck up the charter.” He shakes his head.

I’ve spent my entire life crammed into economy class, so I have a hard time not giving him crap. “What’s wrong with this plane? You don’t have enough room to do Pilates?”

He shoots me a death stare, which makes me wish I hadn’t said anything. But I wasn’t being cute. I was just giving the rich guy the reality check he needed.

Someone’s got to do it.

There is plenty of room. There are six seats—three seats of two across the aisle from one another. And then a couch in the back. The chairs are rich, creamy leather. They’re like sitting in La-Z-Boys.

James takes the couch so he can use the full-size coffee table that’s bolted to the floor as a work desk, and I sit in a recliner.

It may not be a red-eye flight, but I think I’ll get just as much sleep. As excited as I am to be on a chartered jet, I say no to the coffee and pull out my eye mask.

I hardly got three hours of sleep last night, and I plan to catch up.

James is seated behind me, and the bathroom is in the back of the plane. Unless he goes to speak to the pilot, he won’t see me if I start drooling with my mouth agape.

No one sleeps pretty on planes.

It’s not long after takeoff that I feel myself already drifting off. The supple leather hugs every inch of me. The small jet’s engines are a softer hum than on a commercial flight. Everything feels smoother, safer. I listen to the hum and the click of typing as James works several feet behind me. And at some point, I fall asleep.

I wake up with a literal jolt. The plane does one of those gut-wrenching drops from turbulence. I throw my eye mask off and get my bearings. Then I look at my phone for the time. It’s beenfour hours. I open my window shade to see the ocean miles below.

We’re still over the Atlantic.

If it wasn’t for the turbulence, I would’ve woken up soon anyway. I have to pee. I look over my shoulder to see James sitting on the leather couch bent over the coffee table, typing. He’s still working. He’s still not wearing a seat belt from what I can see, although the single sign in the ceiling is now illuminated.

The plane gives another little jolt. It’s not as strong as the first one that woke me up. I unbuckle my seat belt and go to the back bathroom.

I give James a tight smile as I pass him but don’t look him in the eye. The bathroom isn’t any bigger than the ones on commercial flights, but it’s not covered in piss and bits of toilet paper and there’s wood paneling and real porcelain.

I’m in paradise.

There’s another bout of turbulence while I sit on the toilet. I have to grip the vanity for support. I wait for a break in the turbulence, but it’s stronger now than when I first stood up.

I hear the captain come over the intercom. “Make sure you’re in your seats with your seat belts fastened. We’ve got about twenty minutes of rough air. The flights preceding ours have radioed to say it gets pretty damn bumpy.”

Shit. I wipe quickly and hike my pants up. I wash my hands in all of three seconds and open the door. But when I take a step out, I become weightless.

Every part of me except my stomach feels like it’s pulled in the opposite direction as I fly towards the ceiling.

It feels like I hang there for a second before I fall back down on my butt.

“James!” I shout in fear.

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