Page 58 of The Facilitator: Part 2
“I will hold you to that,” hesaid.
“I expect you to.” I smiled as I sat back and sipped on mydrink.
A half hour later, when the only noise was the aircraft engine and the snores of a fellow Upper Class passenger, I wrapped my hand around Mackenzie’s cock and massaged. It was wanton and took me back to the early days of our relationship when risk-taking was the norm. A slight sharp intake of breath was the only indicator he was about to come. I pulled his shirt up his stomach a little and aimed clear of his trousers and the blanket. He closed his eyes as I milked his cock for all that it would giveme.
“Can we get banned from an airline?” I asked after he’d cleaned himselfup.
“Not when paying the kind of money these seats cost,” hereplied.
He took up my hand and yet again, he told me how much he lovedme.
We both slept for a little while, the lull of the plane, the dimmed lights, champagne, and our excitement wore usout.
The grogginess I felt while refreshing my makeup and changing back into my clothes seemed to be matched by Mackenzie’s. I would have thought he’d adjust to long flights a lot easier than I had, but as he placed his arm around my shoulders to escort me from the plane, I wondered if it was to steady himself as well asme.
My habit of always sitting directly behind a driver in a strange car for security went out the window as we were shown to our vehicle. Driving on the wrong side of the road wasn’t alien, I’d visited many countries over the years; perhaps it was the bright morning sunshine or the unbelievable heat and humidity that had me disorientated. Our driver seemed to know Mackenzie, and although he did introduce me, I stayed out of their conversation. I was mesmerised by his accent and more so by the way Mackenzie’s changed. He’d always had a little Southern drawl to his voice but it seemed moreprominent.
“Are you okay?” Mackenzie asked, noticing my quietness Iguessed.
“I’m just listening to your accent change,” Ireplied.
He chuckled. “I guess it gets more prominent when I’mhome.”
I noticed the smile as he looked out the window and the deep breath he took in with a slow release. It dawned on me, as much as he’d refer to our house in London as home, it wasn’t with the same loving tones to his voice or with the same smile and relaxation to his face as when he said the word while in the U.S. I felt a pang of sadness that I quickly wavedaway.
We pulled through a gate in a wall and I gasped at the sight in front of me. A long, straight drive was outlined with a row of trees in perfect formation on either side. Beyond the trees was white stock fencing and horses grazing. Tails were swishing against the flies. The house at the end of the drive was impressive. The building was wood-clad, with the sweeping veranda I’d imagined. Although in the wrong state, the house could have stepped from the pages ofGone with theWind.
“What a wonderful house,” I said, as the car came to ahalt.
Mrs. Collingsworth was helped down the veranda steps to greetus.
“Ma’am,” the driver said as he held out his hand tome.
“Mrs. Collingsworth…” Istarted.
She waved her hands in the air. “Vivienne. It’s Vivienne, we are family now, Lauren,” she said, pulling me into anembrace.
“You have the most amazing house,” Isaid.
“I am so very lucky. My grandfather built it and I’ve lived here my whole life. I can’t imagine ever leaving, in fact, I’ll make a point to show you exactly where I intend to be buried with mymomma.”
I laughed, not sure if she was joking ornot.
“Ah, Mackenzie. Let me look at you. You look tired. Are you tired?” she said, as she studied him, holding him at arm’s-length.
“The flight is too long, that’s all,” hereplied.
“Lauren!” Iheard.
Gabriella came running from around the side of the house. Although it had only been a few days, she threw herself at me, and we both tumbled to the groundlaughing.
“Oh, my God, girls, get up, will you?” Being chastised by Mrs. Collingsworth took me back twenty oddyears.
We giggled as we were helped to our feet and while we brushed dust from our clothes. Gabriella had clearly been riding, or doing something with the horses, she smelled of them. She looked so different. Her hair was pulled back into a plait, she wore no makeup and her cheeks were rosy, her lips pink, and she sported a smattering of freckles over her nose that had, previously, been covered withfoundation.
We walked arm in arm into the house while our suitcases were collected from the car. Mrs. Collingsworth had an army of staff who bustled around, offering drinks and snacks, and checking if I had anyallergies.
I felt arms wrap around my waist as I stood at the veranda, sipping on a glass of water I’d poured from a jug on thetable.
