Get Closer by Alyssa Turner

Chapter 1

Chloe

One thousand two hundred and forty-five days. That's how long it had been since I’d had sex. I loved my job, truly I did, and the long hours and stressful deadlines were paying off. They were…but…it had been one thousand two hundred and forty-five days and the last time I’d went that long, I ended up letting pent-up sexual frustration run rampant with a perfect fucking stranger.

Here’s what happened…

“Welcome back, Ms. Pierce. Glad you're joining us today.”

I looked up and responded to the flight attendant’s perky greeting with the congenial smile I used for account execs and their bosses. “Good morning, Mandy. Full house, huh? Bet you’re ready for the weekend.”

I’d flown that Chicago to New York air shuttle so many mornings before, I could use my frequent flyer miles to get to the moon. Mandy and the other regular flight attendants treated me practically like family. Once again, buttoned up in my most conservative of business suits, I was the perfect image of corporate sterility, predictability, reliability. Ugh, what happened to me? Two years as a Transportation Analyst and my life seemed like an endless blur of meetings and data reports. Work had become who I was, not what I did, and I almost didn’t recognize the person in the mirror anymore. That girl, the one who even surprised herself half of the time—I wanted her back.

There was movement in the next seat and I glanced sideways at the reckless looking guy in a tight-fitting skater tee and a sexy buzz cut raising the sun shield on the window. The warm rays hit my face and washed his dirty blond stubble in an amber glow. What a contrast between the two of us, though he looked to be about my age, twenty-six. He removed his sunglasses from his collar and placed them on the tray table along with his cell phone, then flashed a smile when he caught me stealing a glimpse of his bad-boy looks. I smiled back, but immediately returned to my papers.

“May I have your attention, please?” Mandy’s tone hinted we weren’t going to like what she had to say. “LaGuardia is experiencing some difficulties with several of their runways due to bad weather rolling through the New York metro area. We expect about an hour delay on departure.”

Above the loud hiss of the ventilation system, a united sigh of disappointment flooded the cabin and I called the office to let them know I’d be pressed to make the morning staff meeting on time. It seemed everyone was making calls, including my temporary neighbor.

When I finished, I couldn't help but overhear, though he was careful to speak softly. “…keep still. I’ll have a taste of you soon, but not yet. I just want to look at you first.”

I ducked behind my papers and smiled privately to myself, assuming, of course, that he was talking to his girlfriend. The call went on for five minutes or so, making me blush at his words.

Lucky girl, I mused. But it was odd that he didn't seem to say goodbye or end the conversation in any recognizable way. He simply finished with, “…and every last drop of you is delicious.” Then, he ended the call.

I looked away—stared intentionally across the aisle to hide the guilt displayed on my face for eavesdropping. The moisture in my panties was thankfully not as obvious.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, leaning slightly closer with a playful smirk. “I’m not a serial obscene phone caller.” When I turned to him with a frown, he smiled. “Well, not exactly.”

What exactly did that mean?

“I’m Russel. Sorry if that offended you,” he said with a more tempered look on his face. “You flying on business?”

“Yes,” I responded tightly, picking up reading where I left off on my reports. He was cute as hell, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a nut job.

Russel sighed. “Really I don’t bite, what you heard—that was just work. Lots of women are willing to pay good money for a little phone sex to brighten their day.” He looked bashful about it all of a sudden, glancing at the phone sitting on the tray table in front of him. “Thirty bucks a pop. Paid for grad school doing it.”

“Sounds wild,” I said, with a tentative glance.

“Yeah, well, it was big fun when I first started—beat the hell out of waiting tables, I’ll tell you that. But after five years, I’m tired of it.”

“Really?” I was fascinated.

“You do something for long enough it eventually becomes like any other job—same ole, same ole, ya know? I make like fifteen, twenty calls a day sometimes…you know, to my regulars.”

“Ever catch them at a bad time? I mean…it can’t always be convenient to talk like that.”

He laughed. “I do all the talking. ‘Bout the only thing I ever hear them say is ‘excuse me, I’ve got to take this.’”

“Why don’t they call you? Is it always a surprise?” My mouth was open with a wondrous grin, my head shaking slowly as I absorbed what he told me. Never had I heard of such a thing.

“They know approximately when I’ll call, but not exactly. It’s more impulsive that way—makes them feel chased after…desired, I guess.”

“Hmm,” I said with an ironic chuckle.

“What’s funny?”

“I was sitting here thinking about how my corporate career was suffocating the life out of me, and secretly envying you.”

“Envying me?” He cocked his head to the side with real interest.

“You seemed like such a rebel. Now I know you’re just a slave to the system like I am.”

He laughed with me. “A corporate slave and a phone whore, what a pair.”

I held out my hand. “I’m Chloe.”

“Great to meet you, Chloe.” His smile was genuine, as sexy as his softly creased hazel eyes and broad cheekbones.

“Do you ever meet these women in person?” It would’ve been a shame if they had no idea how ridiculously hot he was.

“No, only phone sex. Never the real deal with my clients.” He laughed again. “Anyway, I get way more action on the phone than I can handle, believe me.” He scratched his chin and gazed at me for a moment before exploring the reading material stashed in the seat pocket in front of him.

I could say that I didn’t know what possessed me. It would be easy to claim temporary insanity or a bipolar episode, PMS, or an out-of-body experience. Anything would be easier than admitting the truth. I simply wanted to do something outrageous for a change. I felt a surge of adrenaline sting me and I looked around, noting the passengers across the aisle were busy with their own magazines or dozing off.

Impulsively, I eased closer to him with a secretive whisper. “How about some fresh inspiration?” Logic wasn’t in control. Ambition didn’t have a say in my actions. It wasn’t a career move—just a downright crazy idea, and completely irresistible given the circumstances of my present state of mind.

He looked confused, and I placed my hand under the tray table and onto his thigh to clarify my meaning.

“Why don't you make another one of your calls?”

A quick flick of his finger and he pressed send, searching my face for a clue of what was to come of this. My hand crept further under the tray and into his crotch. Soon enough, his trepidation gave way to eager compliance as his words started to flow like heavy molasses. “You come home to find me in your bed. I’ve been stroking myself for half-an-hour already, waiting for you.”

I sent my fingertips in search of the outline of his cock, tracing the edges through his soft broken-in jeans.

“My dick is like steel, because I’m thinking about those beautiful legs wrapped around my waist.”

I relished the way his cock was definitely growing hard, pressing against the denim and thrilling me with the whole concept of getting him hot while he went to work on his client.

He continued, “You look so damn sexy standing there watching me. I can’t wait to have you.” Surely she was on the other end envisioning his words. While he spoke, he looked directly into my eyes, hardly blinking and taking slow, deep breaths between sentences. “Let’s see if you’re as anxious as I am.”

He unzipped his jeans, allowing me stealthy access to his thickening shaft beneath the cover of the small plastic table. Through that amazingly convenient opening in his briefs, I took him, warm and firm in my concealed grip. Placing the phone to my ear, he gave me a chance to hear her moan softly. No doubt she was acting on her own impulses somewhere in the world and ready to see how far Russel would take her today. I pictured her rubbing her clit in her office perhaps, with the door closed; her mind placing him between her legs. The vision rushed through me with a blast of heat to my core.

“Pull down your panties and turn around. You’ve made me wait long enough,” he growled softly, the low rumble of his voice like a tiger’s purr.

Every word on his lips had me aching a little more inside. Every stroke of my hand enticed a more ragged breath from his chest. I’d started to squirm in my seat when Mandy appeared at my side, standing in the aisle. My busy hand froze inside Russel’s pants and he turned towards the window, muffling his conversation behind his palm.

“Can I get you anything? You’re coffee with two creams, right?” Mandy asked. But when her eyes found the trail of my arm leading to Russel’s lap and her gaze traveled back to my blushing face, she had another idea. “How about a blanket?” she offered with a wink and reached to open the stowage hatch above our seats. “It’s chilly in here—might want to cover up.”

“Thanks,” I breathed. She continued down the aisle and flashed me a firecracker grin over her shoulder.

Russel gave me an inquisitive look and I shook my head in reassurance that everything was cool.

The blanket was a score, allowing me to flick his button loose and pull his cock out of his pants entirely. I only wished I could see it. The smooth skin slid easy in my hand with a thick head that wanted my attention. Licking my lips, I imagined them wrapped around it and suddenly remembered how much I liked having a cock in my mouth.

His voice was full of hushed gravel for this woman; words camouflaged by the whooshing of air pouring from the overhead vents. “You like it when I stick my finger in your ass, don’t you? Fuck that sweet pussy and stroke that tight little asshole of yours, is that what you want?”

He shared the phone with me again and I heard her say that she was going to come, the unmistakable hum of her favorite toy in the background.

I increased my pace on his cock, pretending to be interested in watching the baggage trucks on the tarmac through his window. His lips quivered and his words were shaky, and I couldn’t stop smiling over the entire scene—so very, very unprofessional. And then it was over, the call ending much like the other, with her satisfaction no doubt laced between the words on his tongue and her proficient self-service. He placed his hand on top of mine and put down the phone.

Russel looked me over, swallowing hard and steadying his breathing. I followed as his tongue made a brief appearance against his bright teeth. He held absolutely still, and then he leaned into my ear.

“Your turn to get some work done now, beautiful.” He blew the words into my hair and sent a shiver over my skin.

Giddy over the prospect, I gathered my papers into a neat pile on my tray and picked up a pen. Russel made sure the blanket was suitably arranged.

From that moment on, a profitability report would never make me sigh with boredom again. He snuck a hand below the blanket and encouraged my legs apart. My gray rayon skirt retreated to my thighs, and a simple adjustment in my chair allowed it to curl practically around my waist. Satisfied, Russel tapped on the papers, prodding me to get to work.

Revenue per square foot quarter up by four and one-quarter percent. I made my first notation on the chart, though my writing meandered into illegibility when Russel guided his fingers under the lacey waistband of my panties.

“Your boss will be upset with you if you show up unprepared,” he chided, finding the slippery swell of my clit between his two digits and tugging upward on it gently.

I pressed my lips together and tried to keep writing, challenging myself to concentrate.

“You’re a good little worker bee for the hive, aren’t you?” he breathed, tickling my earlobe with his tongue. I nodded, and let a tiny whimper escape my lips. Russel curled one of those fingers, and without hesitation, slid into me. My back straightened as I bit back a moan.

“The captain has turned on the fasten-your-seatbelt sign. Please turn off all electronic devices and place your trays and seats back in the upright position as we prepare for takeoff.”

Mandy and the others started their check of the cabin, and I was forced to sacrifice the cover our tray tables afforded us. Only the blanket and my stack of papers now disguised the curious position of his hand.

“This is going to be a long, slow ride, Chloe. You think you can handle it?” Russel asked, holding his place in my panties while his finger moved like time standing painfully still.

Handle an hour and a half of wishing he could bend me over in this aisle? I wasn’t sure.“Guess we’re about to find out,”I replied, finding his cock under the blanket bobbing freely against my hand. “I can see you’re enjoying yourself.”

He smiled and nodded, settling back into his seat with his eyes closed. Then he nodded again when he sent his finger slowly into the slick river pooling around it.

I was high on his touch, the slow churn of lust swallowing me whole. Russel worked his middle finger in a circle and wound me up until I was ready to pop—never had I been so wet, so drowned in need. Many thoughts passed through my hazy mind; like how gloriously insane it was to have a perfect stranger soaking his fingers with my juices and the desperate hope that he wouldn’t stop. But mostly, I thought about landing and rushing that man to the nearest restroom.

Russel kept me dangling on the edge of orgasm the entire flight, slowing his slippery maneuvers to a stop when I started to shake, and creeping back into motion once I’d steadied under his hand.

“This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time, Chloe,” he said to me on my third threat to overflow.

“Me too,” I panted, “but if you think this is fun…”

“We’ll be landing soon. I have a connecting flight to Miami I’m supposed to catch in twenty minutes.”

“I’m expected at a conference table in an hour.”

The plane bucked as it met with the ground.

“You could call in sick,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“And you could catch another flight. What’s in Miami, anyway?”

“An interview for a real job in civil engineering.”

“Go figure.”

“I wish I could have you, even for a few minutes,” he whispered directly in my ear.

“A few minutes wouldn’t do us justice, we both know that.”

There was a long pause while I weighed my options and he seemed to be doing the same. As the plane came to a halt and the fasten-your-seatbelt sign went dark, each of us picked up our cell phones.

The hotel next to the airport would do just fine, since close was the only credential that interested us. We strode through the sliding glass doors with our carry-ons, looking like the quintessential odd couple—grit and grace. I’d feigned a stomach virus and Russel rescheduled for the late afternoon. The next few hours we would be off the grid, working on our impulses and nothing else.

With condoms purchased at the lobby convenience shop in hand, he’d hardly swiped the keycard before I blurted, “Can you believe we’re doing this?”

“Not really.”

In the room, with the noonday sun breaking past the tacky green drapes, neither of us knew where to touch first, to taste first. He reached for the buttons on my blouse, rubbing the highest one between his thumb and his finger. I started with the buttons at the bottom and met him halfway. His mouth lingered over my moistened lips; his tongue calling for a playmate with teasing licks. One hand released my blouse, and it fell from my shoulders to the floor. The other cupped the back of my head as he worked my tongue into a frenzy. I tore at his t-shirt, dying to feel his skin against mine in the cool recycled air.

Russel broke free from my lips to rid himself of his clothes, shedding his shirt and hastily peeling his fitted jeans from his lean thighs. His cock sprung forward, looking as delicious as I imagined, and I wanted nothing more but to suck the hell out of it.

With bunched denim still constraining his calves, I took him to the back of my throat causing him to waver off balance. He curled his fingers into my hair and tangled them among my flat-ironed tresses tightly enough to make me gasp. I filled my mouth with him, bumping my tonsils with his cock and tasting his pre-cum every time. I didn’t know his last name, but I thought it should be Stover, for how sweet he tasted.

“Damn, that feels good.”

Just because I was a little out of practice was no reason to start slacking. In that polyester laden hotel room, I was on vacation from the life that awaited me in my briefcase. Hair a tousled mess around a greedy mouth, Russel seemed to like my wild alter ego, growling his appreciation. I liked the way he looked at me.

“So good, Chloe.”

He pulled my head forward with each stroke, and I was beginning to ache beyond patience for a fucking of another kind. My wandering fingers didn’t go unnoticed.

“You want some of this, don’t you?”

I answered by retreating to the bed, fussing with the zipper on my skirt.

“No, leave it on,” he grinned as he stepped out of his shoes and pants. “Come over here, to the chair.”

Topless, I met him at the plush armchair by the window. He parted the drapes, revealing the bustling street below full of mid-morning travelers, mostly in business attire. As he rushed my skirt up over my ass and pulled the soaking strip of black lace askew, I climbed onto the seat cushion, holding steady to the chair back. I don’t think I’ve been as pleased by anything in a long time.

It wasn’t the way he grabbed my hips or how easily he slipped inside, though both sensations made me coo like a baby. I’d spotted a woman in basic gray wool trousers and a black overcoat, toting her laptop and quick-stepping it to the terminal with her nose in her phone. The glee of being here instead of there turned my coos into howls of triumph. Russel rode my screams to their highest pitch, having me grip the worn velvet cushion with white knuckles, and then claw at the drapes as he pressed me harder, encouraging me against the cool glass with my breasts on full display for anyone who chanced a glance at our second-story window.

Standing now in the seat with me, in relentless pursuit, he grabbed one of my thighs and leveraged it high against his upward thrusts, nudging at my orgasm with his deep strokes. I called out his name, because truly it was the only thing I could think of in the delirium of my sensory overload. Nothing else mattered, no reports, no meetings—just the tingles of delight that this beautiful man without a last name was gunning into my cunt. Sounds of my satisfaction dropped off my lips in short, bursting sighs until he bottomed out inside me.

“Can I call you?” I sauntered over to him nude, with his scent awash on me, and tucked my card into his front pocket.

“I hope you do.” He clutched my wrist and brought my fingers to his mouth for one last taste of our sex. “On the house, of course.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes with playful exaggeration, “That’s generous of you, Russel.”

He stood in the doorway, hesitating.

“You’re going to miss your flight,” I uttered with regret for the words.

He tapped on the door frame a few times and inhaled deeply in a knowing sigh.

Rising on tiptoe, I stretched to reach his lips and he met them with sweet intensity, dizzying me again, instantly.

“Goodbye, Chloe.”

“Bye, Russel.”

As I closed the door behind him, my phone vibrated on the night table across the room.

“Oh yes, I feel much better now…Four p.m. meeting? I’ll be there.”