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We end up being escorted back to the airport, ready to fly the only available private plane back to the US. Every hour that passes compounds the stress until we’re about to take off again. I want to try to fly the plane the way I did before, but Aleksander is in such a horrible mood that I don’t even enter the cockpit when he’s ready to take off. I strap myself into one of the seats, wishing I had something to take the edge off of this nightmare situation. I’m not a big drinker, but I could convince myself to drink a bottle of whiskey to myself at this point. I feel like I’ve earned it.
I consider looking through the cabinets for some wine coolers before we take off, but I’m too nervous to even get up out of my seat. I wish there were someone I could talk to about this, someone who isn’t Aleksander. I’m certain that my friends are worried sick about me by now, and I’m tempted to threaten him with legal action if he doesn’t let me leave the second we touch down on American soil. The allure of the thrill was enough to keep me occupied before, but this is all fucking ridiculous.
Now, I just want to go home.
After a few hours, I’m bored out of my mind, and I can’t fall asleep. I decide it’s probably an appropriate time to sneak into the cockpit to talk to Aleksander, maybe try to figure out his next moves so that I can plan ahead.
I knock on the door, and he tells me to come in with some hesitation in his voice.
“Hey, I just figured you would be bored in here and would maybe want some company,” I say as I gingerly step inside.
“Why, because you’re bored? I have enough on my mind, boredom is a luxury,” he replies, turning partially and glancing back with agitated eyes.
“Yeah, well, I guess I was just hoping you would want to talk to me. Yes, I was bored. Is that okay? Do I have your permission to be bored?” I snap.
He sighs heavily, and I can sense the defeat creeping up his spine. “What do you need?”
“I want to know what you think is going to happen when we get back to the states. I’m still at your mercy as far as information, and I’m hoping I’ve shown you that I’m not going to run away from you. I just need to know so that my brain will stop filling in the gaps.”
“You don’t need to know what I’m doing, because I’m going to let you go. I’ll send you home in a taxi when we get to the airport. You can keep everything. You never even need to see me again,” he says.
My heart leaps in my chest from joy. I know it’s not wise to let myself get excited about the prospect of being set free, but it’s the only hope I’ve had for the past few days. I’ve had nothing to hold on to except for these stupid little fantasies, and any suggestion of being released makes me feel like I might have my life back soon.
“Oh, what about your brother though? I’m really sorry that you weren’t able to get to him, Aleksander. I can’t, imagine how devastating this must be,” I reply, placing my hand on his.
He snatches his hand back from me. “Yeah, you probably can’t. Oh, and don’t use that Human Resources language with me either. I’m a real fucking person, you can’t reduce my problems to canned responses.”
I’m taken back, removing my hand from him and feeling somewhat wounded about the rejection. “Well, I was just trying to do what I could to help you understand that I see your pain.”
He laughs, setting me on edge. “Yeah? I don’t need you to give a shit. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut until we get back to the US. Does that sound good?”
“Jesus, you’re kind of a fucking dick, aren’t you? What kind of benefit are you getting from overreacting like this?” I ask, feeling my own temper beginning to flare.
“What? Nothing, but I’m fucking angry and you’re pissing me off, so I’m responding the way I want to. Nothing more than that, stop taking everything personally,” he spits.
“Is this how you talk to women that you’re dating? Because if so, I can see why you don’t have anybody around. I wouldn’t be shocked if it’s been years since one loved you, even. How does that feel?” I say, wondering how much I’m going to regret my word choice as this argument progresses.
“Wow, you must think you know fucking everything about everyone’s lives based on how they treatyou,huh? Maybe you’re just annoying and nosy. For all you know, I could treat my girlfriends like queens. Not you though. You’re not the kind of girl I would ever date,” he replies, turning to face me and looking at me straight on now.
“Well, the fact that you can treat someone like this at all says a hell of a lot more about you than you want it to, I promise. Even if you think you treat other women well, I bet they probably think you’re a dick and just don’t have the balls to stand up to you.”
“Oh, and you do? Is that what you’re about to do? Because we’re on a fucking airplane right now, just in case you’re a little slow on the uptake. I can put this motherfucker into autopilot in ten seconds. I can put your ass in its place here, and there’s nowhere for you to run off to,” he replies, standing up and towering over me with his hands on my shoulders.
I’m intimidated by the gesture, but equally aroused. I feel as if I have some kind of compulsion, like I can’t prevent myself from having inappropriate thoughts about someone even if they’re trying to scare me. Any sane woman would recognize Aleksander for the gigantic douche that he is. Why is my body struggling so hard to comprehend this?
“Oh yeah? Then maybe you should,” I reply, pushing his hands off my shoulders and standing up to him. He’s much taller than me, but I need him to know that he can’t whip me into a subservience by being a dick.
He needs to earn it.
Without any more warning or bickering, he picks me up and storms out of the cockpit with me over his shoulder. I feel like I weigh nothing at all as he places me down on one of the couches in the communal area of the jet.
“Why don’t you just keep running your pretty little mouth? You want to see what happens when you do that? You need to understand how respect works to someone like me,” he growls, leaning over me as I sink into the couch.
I know he’s not bluffing, but I’m so tempted to keep pushing him until he’s angry enough to spank me again. I can still feel the place on my ass where he spanked me the first time, and it’ll hurt like hell for him to do it again. But my body screams for more contact from him, even if all I get is spanked.
He’s holding back – he wants to see how far I’ll go. He already wants to jump all over me. Why do we have to play this game? Why can’t we just give into what we want and fuck each other’s brains out? If he’s going to let me go anyway, this could be the moment that I make this whole stupid encounter worthwhile. I bet he has an amazing dick, and I have no doubts that he knows how to use it. How could a guy like him possibly be inadequate at sex? Might even be the best of my life.
“Has anyone ever told you that being pretty will get you nowhere if you act like a fucking bitch all the time?” he says under his breath, leaning in close to me in order to intimidate me.
