As soon as Will confirmed he couldn’t send anyone to Vancouver, I knew I was going. I’d sleep even less than usual if I didn’t. I arranged a revised manifest, made my calls, packed, and met them on the plane already set to leave that night.
My hope had been that she’d take the plane, I’d slip on with her, and we’d have three solid hours to sort ourselves out. Her fears about what other people thought were well-founded but meaningless. They’d think what they would. She needed to know that what we had was bigger than them and that any concerns she had about being dumped were unfounded. Sexually, she and I needed hard limits. Our discussion had to include how much control she actually exerted when we were alone. I’d gone too far with her without properly setting limits and explaining kinks she had no experience with. In my delight over her, I’d been irresponsible.
I still wasn’t sure how to convince her without touching her. But I felt as though she was slipping away, and I couldn’t let that happen.
I’d gone through immigration and carried my own bags. Security was non-existent. It was my own plane after all, and everyone at the airport knew me. I told them not to hassle my two passengers, and they joked about my habit of bringing women on planes and sending them back without me. I looked forward to the jokes changing. The prospect of keeping Monica was more exciting than bedding a hundred women. I rejected the offer of a ride to the plane. My legs worked, and I didn’t want to announce myself so loudly.
Monica and Darren had gotten through immigration in record time, apparently, and they were already stepping up into the cabin. They were inside and out of sight before I reached the stairs. My pilots, Jacques and Petra, had been married seven years and still held hands as they waited for me.
“Jacques,” I said.
“Jon. We’re scheduled to wait for you. Two days,” Jacques said.
Petra chimed in. “We might have to bounce back for a doctor’s appointment.”
“Well, I think you’re going to have to come back and do a pickup anyway. I’ll text you the names for the manifest when I have them.” I looked them both over. They seemed nervous. “Something you want to tell me?”
Petra smirked.
“No,” Jacques said. “Come on. We have a schedule to keep.”
I stepped onto the plane behind the pilots.