Page 27 of Forever Flustered

“Maybe you should go to the clinic for some pain reliever?” Banshee offered because the man couldn’t keep his mouth shut. No, this guy had zero self-preservation skills and would sing like a canary if the enemy ever captured him. How Banshee had security clearance at all or made it this far was a mystery – possibly a miracle – to him and several others. Even Bradford wasn’t a fan of this guy during closed-door meetings with officials.

Good idea…

Bad idea!

Shhh, Brain…

Do not stand up right now…

You have to say something… now!

“I appreciate the suggestion,” he said tightly, hoping no one could pick up just exactly how much distress he was in right now. Time seemed to tick by as everyone sat there, watching him… and waiting. “What?”

“No offense, Boss-man,” Banshee began again, his voice worried. “You need someone to walk you down to the clinic – or should we get a medic? You’re not looking so good.”

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you need ten minutes alone - with a roll of toilet paper and air freshener.”

This guy, I swear…

“You sure about that? You’ve got this weird, pinched look and your face is redder than usual…” Banshee continued as he and two other guys stood up from their seats worriedly, taking a step in his direction.

Crap!

Eli hurriedly locked his screen by mashing three keys – and missed. His display screen turned on its side on the monitor. The email was still there, still taunting him…but he had to turn his head to the left to read it now – or anyone else who walked over to him.

Dang it! He mashed the keys again… and again, flipping the email displayed on the screen upside down before the monitor finally shut off – and he had zero clue how to correct it.

Problem for another time…

Good luck with fixing that…

Shut up, Brain…

“I need coffee – and aspirin,” Eli announced, getting to his feet. “Are you guys almost done? Good. Perfect. You study those flight models a little longer, and I’ll return so we can discuss it. Sound good? I’m glad we’re in agreement… bye,” he rushed out without waiting for anyone to respond – bolting the ten feet toward the conference room door. As he escaped into the almost-empty hallway, he heard Banshee’s voice once more.

“Show of hands, boys - anyone else think the boss is looking at ‘nudies’ on his computer?”

Eli closed his eyes in defeat and slammed the back of his head against the wall in frustration – probably a little too hard, if he was honest. Ouch…that really hurt. Now, he really could use that aspirin - and a break. He really didn’t want to know how many guys raised a hand to Banshee’s candid question – and reading the last bit of Maureen’s email would have to wait. Her distractions were giving him fits… and thoughts he shouldn’t be having.

That evening, exhausted and tense, Eli walked into his office and locked the door behind him so he could have a few moments alone to read Maureen’s email once again – fully. Taking a seat, he unlocked his computer and was grateful that a casual mention about how he’d screwed up his display led to a brief instruction on how to correct it… and it worked. For a moment, he let his mind wander back to that day, both standing there off in the distance on the landing strip, talking. He imagined her speaking to him, reading that email to him. Daydreams and fantasizing about a better place, the ‘what ifs’ of his imagination, those silent thoughts had gotten him through some darker moments of his life… and he let his mind soar. He could see her eyes, that flare of interest and flicker of humor as she teased him.

“Oh man…” he breathed, letting his eyes float across the screen as his mind continued to delve along a path he had no business dreaming of – and then, in his mind, she touched him.

He imagined her putting her palm on his chest, looking up at him with those bold, hazel eyes that seemed so intense, so bright. He liked that she didn’t wear much makeup, that she felt almost approachable in his mind, and maybe that was why she felt so dangerous to him.

“Eli…” she whispered up to him – and his insides turned to mush as he closed his eyes, letting that fantasy take shape and run wild. “You know you want me to touch you, to hold you…”

He swallowed, unable even in his dreams to let go and relax.

“Would it be so wrong to let someone hold you?” she whispered to him in his dreams. Maureen was a dream-like siren, beckoning to him, teasing him down a path of nightmarish self-destruction – one that he longed to race down recklessly… and couldn’t.

He couldn’t follow his brother’s path.

Marriage, civilian life, even considering leaving the safety of the Air Force - none of it was possible. Then there was the issue of dealing with his parents. He had to work, to pay for their care, and no one else was available to handle the burdens that he’d tackled – ones he had long ago chosen to accept. He was wrapped up tightly in a snare of his own making, and the tighter he fought those bonds, the more captive he became. He was a prisoner in a cell of his own choosing.

“Psp-psp-psp,” his dream-Maureen whispered seductively. He imagined her tracing the shell of his ear, her finger caressing a path down his chin, and pausing almost over his lips. In his mind, her eyes were inviting him to give in, in the sweetest way possible. “Come and get me, my little kitten with the lovely gray eyes… I’m waiting.”