Page 6 of Where She Belongs
Her brow furrows in concentration. “And there’s sitting. With the seat down, of course, either facing you or away.”
She’s actually mapping this out and I can almost see the diagrams forming in her thought, like that popular meme. “Definitely, but that only counts as one.”
“And then there’s her on the sink, although she’d need to be flexible. Like yoga, flexible.” Andrea brings her hands to her ears. “Knees up here.”
God help me if anyone’s listening. “Yeah.”
“I’d probably cramp.”
I push the image that pops in my head. This is Andrea Martin, my friend. I can’t be thinking of her in those positions. Not at all. “I’ve seen you do yoga,” I say instead. “You’d be fine.”
“And there’s you carrying her in front of you, like this.”
As she mimes cupping someone’s ass, I want to beg her to stop. But I’d take this ridiculousness over her earlier depression any day. “Right.”
“How many is that now?” She looks absolutely serious. “I’ve lost count.”
“I wasn’t counting but I think that’s four.” How can I count when the vision of Andrea—my Andie—is currently occupying my brain? As I trace the rim of my empty glass, I’m grateful for tray tables.
“Does there have to be penetration to be a member of the Mile High Club?”
I shake my head. “I have no idea why you think I’m an expert on it but I don’t think so.”
Her face brightens. “Then what about her sitting down and giving you a blowjob? Or her on the sink and you going down on her? Although that means kneeling on the floor, and I wouldn’t trust how clean that is.” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “But that’s only if you go down on her. I hear not every guy likes that and you might be one of those.”
“What makes you think that I don’t?” I ask, suddenly defensive.
Andrea shrugs. “I don’t know anything about your… interests in the bedroom, Gabe. So I’m just guessing.”
“Well, guess no more, Dr. Martin,” I whisper. “Because I’m into those things.”
“Ooh, you learn something new everyday.”
“I can’t believe it,” I mutter though I can’t help smiling. “You really are imagining me and some stranger... inside the bathroom.”
She cocks her head toward the front of the plane where Valerie is collecting someone’s empty glass. “She’s not exactly a stranger, is she?”
“Excuse me,” a blonde wearing dark glasses interrupts, cocktail in one hand, mini Bacardi in another. “But I couldn’t help overhearing.”
I groan. “Sorry. We’ll keep it down.”
The woman giggles. “Oh no, please don’t. I think you two would make a better pair than him and that flight attendant.” She gives Andrea a thumbs up. “And way to go, girl! Landing such a hot young man.”
“Oh no, we’re just friends,” Andrea protests, but the woman continues, speaking to me this time.
“In fact, if you decide to induct her into the Mile High Club, young man,” she winks, “I’ll keep watch at the door for you.”
“What happened with Courtney? You guys were pretty serious.”
I tear my gaze away from the unwatched movie playing on my screen. It’s been an hour since Andrea’s rundown of the five different sex positions possible inside the airplane bathroom and I guess this is the next topic on the agenda for the rest of the flight. “Six months isn’t exactly serious territory.”
“It’s the longest you were seeing someone,” Andrea says. “But if you’d rather not answer, that’s fine, too.”
I met Courtney Philipps over a year ago when she showed up at my clinic to make an appointment for her boss, Gareth Roman, who’d showed up a month earlier for his appointment as a new patient. The Hollywood bad boy had just bought a ranch outside of Taos and after news of his visit ended up making local headlines, he needed to know if I did house calls.
Six months into our relationship, while attending her friends’ wedding in Tenerife and after a few glasses of sangria, she demanded I tell her I loved her. She also wanted me to commit to something more serious—one that came with a ring.
The request caught me off guard, making me realize I’d never said those words to anyone before—much less to someone I’d been casually seeing for six months. When I refused, she asked me to leave the island. Maybe she was bluffing but I wasn’t about to stay long enough to find out. I was on a flight back to New Mexico the next day.
