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“I’m your sexy ass.” He nuzzled his face into my neck.
“Mr. Evans?” Mitch knocked at the door of the bathroom. “You will need to take your seat, sir.”
Daimon rested his head on my shoulders and quietly sighed.
“Fine, Mitch, thank you,” he shouted.
“He likes you, you know that, right?” I teased.
“What?” Daimon rose up and looked incredulously at me.
“He wants your sexy fine ass,” I mocked, giving him a chaste kiss.
“You can’t be seriously jealous of my male flight attendant?” he asked, almost smiling.
“No, I'm not jealous. I'm just telling you. He seems to want you.”
“You’re hallucinating. It has to be air deprivation from your first flight.” Daimon reached behind him and took a towel and wiped off his cum from my belly.
“Okay, Daimon, don’t believe me,” I smirked.
He helped me down from the counter and gave me my pants. I got dressed and headed out with Daimon holding my hand. I watched as our fingers intertwined. His strong hand held onto me with such certainly that it made me feel like a fool for letting my past get in the way of my future.
“Daimon,” He turned to me, his marvelous icy blues with his tousled hair. God, he was so beautiful. I used his hand and propelled myself to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in.
“Thank you,” I whispered into his ear. Daimon, slow in reacting, finally hugged me back, holding me tightly as he took in a deep breath.
“Anything for my Addie.”The Layover“Wake up, Addie,” Daimon said softly in my ear.
“Are we there?” I asked, opening my eyes to see the bright sun peering through the oval windows.
“No, we’re not.” Daimon continued to touch my face as he knelt down beside me.
“Then where are we?” I asked, looking up at him.
“We’re in Doha refueling,” he smiled.
“Doha? Are you serious?” I bit my lip to hold back a smile.
“Are you hungry? Do you want to eat?” I nodded in response. “It's probably going to take a few hours, so let's go. But before we do,” he rose up and extended his hand, when Mitch appeared, giving him a carryon bag, “go change.”
“Why?”
“Addie, we're on vacation.” Daimon leaned closer to my ear and whispered, “And I want to see you wearing what I bought you, now go change.” He pushed back a little and smiled at me.
I laughed as I emerged from the bathroom; Daimon had bought me a silk summer dress. It was a pastel red and very bohemian. He even got me tiny Grecian golden sandals.
“Now that's my Addie.” He reached for my hand and intertwined our fingers together. “Come, the car is waiting for us.” He pulled me through the plane right to the air stairs. Daimon kept going but I stopped him. “What, Addie?” The world around me was foreign and strange. The air was thick with heat, the sun hot and low. A gust of air hit me and heavy aromas of exotic smells enticed me. “Come on, Addie.” Daimon tugged at my hand and I followed him.
The black BMW drove us to the main airport where a gentleman opened the door for Daimon and me.
“Mr. Evans.” The man extended his hand leading us inside. I held onto Daimon's hand, letting him lead me as I looked around, completely taken in by everything around me. The airport was small but was filled with people of various cultures that I’d never encountered.
“Mr. Evans, welcome to Onyx Lounge,” a Middle Eastern man welcomed from behind a desk.
“Thank you,” Daimon responded, walking us through the sliding glass doors.
The room was filled with businessmen, some wearing their traditional kaftan and headdress. Their beards were clean and perfectly shaven, creating an air of seriousness. To the other end of the room were travelers, most of whom were British. They sat on red-and-white leather chairs lined up perfectly. Large televisions were placed sparsely around, displaying flight details. Waiters and waitresses walked around asking patrons if they needed anything. Everything was impeccable and clean. “Addie, let's sit here,” Daimon said, pointing to a small area that was a bit more private, cutting us off from the rest of the people. “You like people watching,” Daimon noted as he sat down.
“It’s not people watching; it's just I feel like we’re somewhere completely different, like we're not even part of the same planet. It's absolutely amazing,” I said, completely taken in.
“We’re half way across the world; here it doesn't matter if you’re a New Yorker,” Daimon said, waving over a small waitress. “Two bottles of water, hummus and some tabbouleh,” he said to her. She nodded and left.
“You’ve been here before?” I asked.
“A few times, for business, mostly.”
“Daimon,” cried out a man with a thick British accent. “Holy fucking hell, mate! Haven’t seen you since the merger.” I saw a rather pudgy looking man with a receding hairline holding a glass filled with what I presumed was beer.
