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“It’s not an exchange!”
Elle rolled onto her side. Her hair had dried enough that one of the curls returned to her bangs, but the rest of it was still flattened against the top of her head. I wish I could take a picture. The sigh of sexual beatitude Elle exhaled was enough to imprint itself upon Arianna’s memory.
“It could be,” Elle teased. “I wouldn’t mind sending you down there long enough to make more of that hair come out of its tie.”
“Keep dreaming, because I have perfected my hair to the point it will never, ever come undone on accident. We could be thrust into the apocalypse and you might see some strays, but otherwise, perfect.”
“Just like your makeup.”
“That’s one of the first things I’d have to give up in the apocalypse,” Arianna wistfully said. “It’s not like I’d be a flight attendant anymore.”
“You could probably barter for it.”
“That’s it!” Arianna pounced on her girlfriend, who fell onto her back with more laughter in her throat. “You’re not worn out enough! This time, I’m using my fingers!”
“The ones with the pretty red nails?”
Just for that, she was getting two. I’ll show her what these red nails can do. Wouldn’t be the first time… and shouldn’t be the last!
Chapter 20
Arianna was gone by the time Elle got up in the morning. Hazy memories of receiving a kiss on the cheek and promises to see her in LA lingered in the Singaporean twilight, but Elle wasn’t surprised. Arianna seldom spent the night before a shift, since she needed to prepare her apartment for being gone for a few days. Plus all that other stuff she has to do to get ready…
Then again, Elle had never met a woman who got herself so done up in record time. Arianna, like many flight attendants, had a system that allowed them to get up and out the door looking picture-perfect in as little as thirty minutes.
Elle rolled over in her bed, drinking in the morning light. She also had to check out and catch the same flight, but that took less time. She could take her time.
All the more reason to think about Arianna and the way she made a woman feel.
Elle was out the door a couple of hours later, forcing herself to take a quick shower after the marathon the night before. I have no idea how long I’ll have to wait until the next one. Sometimes she was through LAX and in her hotel before she could blink. Other times, she was held up and so sweaty by the time she arrived that one would have thought she was at Woodstock ’69. Moist towelettes on the plane only got her so far.
Even if they were from her girlfriend, whose poker face often cracked when she only had eyes for Elle.
She scrolled through her texts in the elevator, her large carry-on leaning against the wall while her travel bag sagged on top of it. She didn’t even notice when the elevator stopped three floors down and someone in a Royal Asia uniform boarded, another leather bag rolling behind First Officer Lowe.
“Elizabeth,” she greeted.
Elle looked up from her phone. “Good morning. Hope you rested well.”
Riley pressed the door-close button when nobody else was getting on. “You too. I’m sure you were up quite late last night.”
From anyone else, that would have been coy. From Riley? Something was up.
“What do you mean?”
Riley shrugged. “I know you’re dating a local.”
“Do you?”
All pretense dropped from Riley’s shoulders as she swerved her rolling bag into her other hand and pointed her pilot’s hat toward Elle, who was a good few inches taller than her. What she lacks in height she makes up for in personality. Nobody looked at Riley, whether she was in her casual flannel or pressed pilot’s uniform and thought less of her. She was a presence in every room. Especially a tight elevator, where the numbers couldn’t descend quickly enough.
“I know it’s a flight attendant.”
Elle hoped that her companion in the elevator did not sense that sharp intake of breath that gave everything away.
“It’s Arianna, isn’t it?”
They were too close to the ground floor for Elle to take her time answering. Riley was patient, keeping her gaze forward until the doors dinged open and the chaos of a popular hotel lobby at checkout time rang in her eyes. Both Elle and Riley solemnly rolled their luggage out of the elevator, Elle surreptitiously forcing Riley behind a large fig tree growing in an ornate planter big enough to obscure both women having a tiff.
