Page 23 of Festive Flings

Torture. That’s what I want to say. I spent most of it torturing myself over you. “Yeah, it's been okay. I met up with some old friends, and now I am mopping up for the bigwigs while they eat roast beef with their families.” That gets a small laugh from her at least.

“Rough. Well, I can stay with my sister and work from her office, and then make my way straight to the airport on Tuesday. Unless that’s cancelled too?”

“Copenhagen is still on for now. Unless that changes, I will see you on Tuesday at the airport.” I am cursing myself internally for ending the conversation so abruptly. I hate talking on the phone, although evidently, I’m no better in person either.

This means so much to me that the thought of messing it up is causing me to actually mess it up. Overthinking about it is magnifying every single action I take or dont take. I need to just relax and let Jamie see me for me, as Owen.

“See you Tuesday then. Goodnight, Owen.”

When she ends the call, I shout into the air “Fuck!”

I am not making a good job of this at all. All day Monday, I brood and sulk. I miss her and the little things she does. Before the trip, no other opportunity presents itself to organically talk to Jamie about us in the way that I crave. The waiting is my torture.

Tuesday arrives and the city has started to thaw. I arrive at the airport with plenty of time to spare. I had offered to pick Jamie up, but she told me her brother-in-law was going to drive her.

I wait for her under the information boards. She should be here any moment now. Time continues to tick by with no sign of Jamie. She is cutting it close now. I try to call her, but it goes straight to voicemail again.

She best not miss this trip. Fuck the business side of things; fuck our jobs; I cannot wait another day to see her.

“Sir, it's time to make your way to the departure gates,” the steward who checked me in tells me as she licks her lips and pushes her tits together giving me a view of her deep cleavage.

“Yeah, I know. I’m waiting for someone,” I tell her impatiently. Can’t she take the hint? I am not interested in her.

“On this flight? This flight is fully checked-in, sir.” she tells me as she scans her hand held device to double check. My heart thumps even harder, how did I miss Jamie? She must have arrived here really early.

I rush through to the departure lounge, and my heart starts to beat again when I get a glimpse of Jamie at the makeup counter in duty-free. She is, as I should have guessed, trying to get the best deal on her makeup while she is here. Her arms are overflowing with other things, so I collect a basket and start to take them from her before she properly notices me.

She is startled when she finally realises it is me. “Owen? I mean Mr…”

“Don’t, Jamie, just call me Owen. Please! What is all this stuff, eh? You know they have a duty-free outlet on the way home, right?” I take a stuffed frog backpack filled with lollipops, a tin truck stacked with KitKats and the largest Toblerone I’ve ever seen from her arms.

“It's for the kids… Well, the Toblerone is for me, and I’ll fight anyone who tries to say otherwise. And Billie gave me a list as long as my arm of cosmetics she wants.”

I grin at her as I dramatically pretend to sniff the Toblerone. I quite like Toblerone, too. “I swear to God, Owen, I will choke you if you touch my Toblerone.” There is a glint in her eyes, a twinkle of mischief and laughter. God, I want to scratch beneath the surface and discover the little imp inside her.

It's not just the Toblerone I want to touch. There isn't a single millimetre of this alluring woman I dont want to explore, and as much as I want to fuck her senseless, I also want to make slow, sweet love to her, too. My body and mind are overloaded with the desire to kiss her everywhere, every single nerve. I am in love with her, and I am going to fight for her.

“Owen? Owen… they just announced the final call for our flight. We have to hurry.” Shit, she caught me daydreaming yet again. She quickly pays for all her goods as I bag up everything and then grab her hand and pull her to the departure gate. We have to run for part of the way, and we look at each other, holding hands, running and laughing as we race to make our flight.

“Here they are now, you almost missed this flight, sir. You and your girlfriend have seats next to each other in business class. Straight down to the bottom, turn left, go through the curtain and a member of our crew will be there to assist. Have a safe flight.”

I don’t correct her assumption and Jamie doesn’t either; I like the sound of it, but maybe Jamie is just trying to save time? It's not something worth correcting; it's not like we are going to see her again.

As soon as we are seated and buckled up, the pilot announces we are ready to leave, and the cabin crew give their safety demonstration. As the plane starts to move, Jamie grips my hand again. I forgot. She hates flying. It's another one of the things I found endearing about her.

“Did you manage to book an excursion to the palaces while we are there?” She looks at me with panic-filled wide eyes and shakes her head. “Jamie, just breathe. Everything is going to be okay. I’ve got you, babe.”

Her eyes flash open. There is no hiding her surprise and, more pleasingly, her desire when I call her ‘babe.’ It just slipped out, I didnt even think about it, that is what I naturally want to call her. Though her reaction pleases me, it also confuses me. Could it be that she does want this after all? As soon as we are off this plane, and have some privacy, we are going to talk. I can't take this not knowing anymore.

“Can I get you some refreshments? Champagne, orange juice?” one of the crew asks, breaking our moment far too soon. I want to groan in frustration at her.

“Could I have a cup of tea, please. A drop of milk, no sugar, please.” Jamie’s husky voice breaks my pouting. She’s being offered champagne and the works, and all she wants is a cup of tea. How cute is she?! She makes me smile so much.

“Yes, could we have tea, please. And some biscuits to dip in… right Jamie?” She gives me the most radiant smile, and hope starts to build up inside me. We have a chance; I just need to stoke this fire that is starting to burn slowly between us. It's so precarious that I don't want to suffocate it. I need to go slow so I don’t chase her off again. I can do it slowly; I’ll take ‘slow’ over a ‘no-go' all day long.

The rest of the flight is uneventful, and the car and driver we have arranged is already waiting to take us to our accommodation.

As we enter the hotel lobby my heart sinks when we are greeted by the PA of the associate I am here to meet with. Her name is Saffi and she is looking at me suggestively. She is tall and slender with long blonde hair and big round, surgically enhanced boobs. She is around my age, and she is as forward as the last time we met. I hadn’t given her a second thought since that last time, and I didn’t think she would still be here. “Owen, it's so nice to see you. Maybe I'll see some more of you again later, big boy?” Shit. I look at Jamie who frowns and looks away, her cheeks are red in anger.

The last time I was here, two or three years ago, Saffi and I hooked up and had some fun for the duration of my visit. Now it looks like she is up for round two, and she has made no secret of it in front of Jamie. Jamie’s expression is now closed off, and I wish I could tell what she is thinking.

“This is your PA? She may leave now; Mr. Hansen wants to speak to you alone for today.” She waves her hand dismissively at Jamie, who she then looks up and down with an expression that would suggest she could smell something really bad. I know what the smell is – it’s Saffi’s attitude.

“I will check us both in and leave your luggage in your room, Mr. Matthews. I will leave the key at reception for you. If you don’t need me, I think I will go and explore.” The urge to run after her, to tell her there is nothing between Saffi and I, not now anyway, is overwhelming. However, Jamie refuses to meet my eye, and I have no plausible excuse to delay my meeting.

The bellboy wheels our bags away, and she follows behind him. Before she leaves, I say to her with a strangled voice, “Eh, Jamie? Have a nice time.” My heart sinks when all the warmth and affection on her face from before is replaced with a tight smile.

She turns back to me and murmurs, “Yeah, you too.”

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