First story in a slowly progressing series.
Njoi.
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Songbird
"Come here, Jenny."
"Yes, Sir."
I still couldn't believe it. Every time that reply came, that meek, obedient breath, I had to pinch myself. "Yes, Sir.", "No, Sir.", "As you wish, Michael.", "Does it please you?", "Did I do good?", whispered, spoken, occasionally shouted, and always with a gleam in her eye, and a tiny smile dancing on her lips. I loved her, there was no doubt about it, she had me wrapped around her delicate finger, my heart in her exquisite palm. And still, the undivided attention, the quiet waiting, the blush of excitement on her face over my calmly spoken command... It was all so strange to me, so utterly alien to everything I had come to know about human nature.
And still I loved it. I couldn't get enough. What had happened to me? When did she rewire my head like that?
-----
I met Jenny two months ago. It was one of those ways that people meet. You know, if you had ten couples in the same room, and asked that question, at least three of them would serve you just about the same kind of story. The kind where the two had to share a cab, got placed in the same train coupe, shared tables at Burger King. That kind. It's not even a remotely interesting one in my case. It started at Heathrow airport, where we bumped into each other in the transit hall, and I mean literally. She was running along in one direction towards one gate, and I was in just as much of a hurry to get to another one. We both had our mind on the flight we were almost about to miss, and our hopeful eyes on a big board on my right that displayed information on delayed take-offs.
The next thing I remember was being body-slammed at 60 Mph by the entire Miami Dolphins. At least, that was my first impression. My second impression was that of a rather petite and very attractive woman falling on top of me. We both fell clumsily to the floor, and as I tried to regain the breath that she knocked out of me, I hissingly apologised for not watching my steps.
"Oh, please don't. It was all me. I'm such an air-head sometimes," came the soft reply. She had the leanest and smoothest voice I had ever heard.
As a matter of fact, it was for the better that I almost got run over by her. I was completely going in the wrong direction. My sense of location wasn't the best to begin with, and with three straight smoky-as-hell Glenfiddich in my brain, I had completely lost it.
"I think we both were kind of obsessed with the departure times, eh?" I assured her. "So it's just as much my fault. Are you ok?" She nodded. "Good, I don't think a lawsuit is the kind of baggage that I want to take with me to Madrid right now," I said with a smile.
"To Madrid? Not flight 212?" she asked me, while she collected herself and the contents of her briefcase from the floor.
"That's the one."
"Well, you just passed it."
"I did?"
"Twenty steps behind you. That's where I'm going."
"Jesus, I'll have to pay more attention to where I'm steering. Thanks for screwing my head back straight. Do we have time?"
"A couple of minutes," she said. "Come on."
As it turned out, fate was not done with the two of us just yet. Not only did we share the same flight, we were booked to sit next to each other. If you ask for the seat next to the emergency exit, your wish, unless already asked for before you, will probably be granted, since they think you have a fear of flying. Now, that's not the case at all for me, I just want the extra feet of leg-space that seat provides.
Jenny however, was. And not only afraid, she was terrified.
"It's a full fledged well documented phobia," she told me. "I take loony-pills every time I go for a longer flight."
"So you're zoned out right now?" I asked.
She shook her head, "Naah, this trip is not that bad. Just an hour or two is no problem." She grabbed the attention of a stewardess and promptly ordered a double whiskey. "Nothing that getting sloshed can't help."
I found myself instantly liking the outgoing, chatty woman. She was a picture to look at, and she had the most disarming wit. And a voice, god damn what a vocal register. During runway taxying we engaged in friendly nonsense chatter, but I could feel in the timbre of her voice that she was getting a bit tense.
"This part sucks," she announced, as we stood on the runway ready to roll off up into the grey English skies.
Then the pilot hit the pedal and a panicked hand clutched my jacket. I could see Jenny grimace in anguish, and I did the only thing I could think of, I laid my free arm around her shoulders and aimed for a friendly, paternal, comforting pat. Jenny didn't care either way, she just reached out and pulled me closer to her, buried her terrified face in my chest and hyperventilated her way through take-off and the first minute of climbing.
-----
From that moment, we were inseparable. And I really mean physically, I don't think there was more than a short moment now and then that our eyes and skin were not in contact. Her magnificent, soft, soothing voice had me hypnotised all through the flight, and my arm around her shoulders, as well as her hand resting on my chest stayed put. It didn't feel weird at all, not too flirty. I know it should have, I'm not the guy who jumps into cuddling with strange women on airplanes. But somehow, Jenny was different. So easy to get along with, so uncomplicated to figure out, and apparently just as willing to flirt like a madman as I found myself being.
And somehow, from that, it just escalated. We shared a cab from the airport, sat in silence and held hands as the dusty midsummer Spain rolled under us, bringing the core of the bustling capital city closer minute by minute. Things just happened, and I never saw anything coming. First there was the hotel. She had not booked any room for the night. Nothing surprising there, it was low season after all. You'd have no real problem finding decent lodging at any time of the day, at least not if you had the money to pay for something a little bit more comfortable than the simplest resort hotel.