Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Eleanor
Roadmaps being responsible for someone else’s feelings is suffocating.
“If he does something that gives you the ick the first night, then you aren’t compatible,” the woman adds.
I scrunch up my nose, sinking back in my seat to get away from the memory of last night.
“What did he do?” the guy asks with a slow smile. “Leave the toilet seat up?”
“Instant ditch,” the woman agrees.
“Leave his socks on?”
The woman shudders.
“No. He didn’t have socks. He was wearing boots with no socks. Who does that?”
“That invites chafing,” the guy agrees. “No one likes chafing.”
“He tried to stay the night.”
“That’s a bad thing?” the woman asks as she squints at me.
Another face appears from in front of me. A guy in his fifties, if the silver on his temples is anything to go by. “Women don’t want us to stay? Tell me, I’m curious if that’s where I went wrong in my latest encounter.”
“Depends,” I say. “He wanted to stay and delighted in telling me it was so I could have the great honor of making him breakfast in the morning.”
“Oh yeah, that’s a red flag,” the woman agrees, curling her nose at the thought.
“He should have offered to make you breakfast,” the older guy says.
I shake my head. “As an alternative, he offered to feed me his cum for breakfast.”
The three passengers blink at me, and we all burst out laughing.
The woman wipes away a stray tear leaking down her cheek.
“I despair of these idiots who think that’s appropriate and attractive behavior,” the guy next to me adds as his chuckles die away.
I grab my bright pink silicone friend sitting on the top of my open bag. “Luckily for me, and womankind, rechargeable no-nonsense friends don’t need any breakfast and are always here to pick up the slack.”
The guy across from me actually blushes. The one in front snorts, and the woman across from him says, “Amen, sister.”
The flight attendant appears with a trolley of refreshments, a wide smirk on his face. Oh, he definitely listened to that conversation. “Thirsty?” he asks.
“Parched,” the woman declares, making us all laugh again as I stuff my electronic friend back in my bag.
I pull out my phone, opening the chat thread with Gail.
Ellie
I did it.
Gail
Context please.
Ellie
I had an honest conversation, an intimate one.
Gail
Where?
Ellie
On the plane.
Gail
About what?
Ellie
Sex. The guy next to me kept persisting in a conversation, so I gave in and conversed.
Gail
About sex?
Ellie
Yes. For the record, he also thought your instruction was to go have sex.
I smile as I imagine her muttering about me finding the one and only other person on the planet to take her instructions as literally as me.
Gail
*Face palm emoji* What was his take on it?
Ellie
Well, the woman in front of him joined in. She said find someone I have a spark with, then work on it to make the sex good.
Gail
Sound advice, but only when you are open enough to actually have an orgasm in front of another person.
I glance at the woman with the sleek bob who seems to have her personal shit together.
Ellie
Perhaps I need to get to know someone before the physical act?
Gail
Now you are getting it.
Ellie
The guy in front of me said it was poor form to demand breakfast and offer semen in payment.
And they all agreed…
Gail
Let me get this straight. You held a group sex therapy session in first class on a morning flight from Cali to Chicago?
I frown at the glaring sun peeking through the window.
Ellie
Would it have been better on an evening flight?
Gail
Not the point.
Ellie
Look at me excelling! Aren’t you proud of me?
Gail
Eternally.
Ellie
Then I call this a success! I’m ready for my next task.
Gail
I will think about it for our next scheduled session.
Scheduled sessions are for clients, I am both a client and a friend. She knows this, so I don’t know why she continues to try to put boundaries up when the whole premise of her therapy is to break them down.
Ellie
You do that. Perhaps I could start a club?
Gail
No.
Ellie
But
Gail
No.
Ellie
I finished the conversation by showing off my vibrator.
Gail
…
Gail
…
Gail
…
Oh boy.
Gail
To all three strangers?
Ellie
And the flight attendant.
Gail
Four strangers and your vibrator?
I glance at my pink friend sitting innocently in my bag.
Ellie
It was clean.
Gail
Glorious news.
Ellie
A dirty vibrator would be unseemly.
Gail
Agreed. The unwashed element would make a conversation, including a show and tell about your favorite vibrator, unseemly.
Ellie
You made it italic. You are being sarcastic.
Gail
No shit.
The attendant appears with a tray of goodies.
Ellie
Oh, snacks are here! I’ll call you later with an update.
Gail
Or you could wait until our scheduled session tomorrow?
Nice try, Gail.
Ellie
You’re right, I could.
Gail
But you won’t.
Ellie
Right again. It’s like you are inside of my mind. Must be a psychologist thing.
I stuff my phone in my bag and zip it up as I settle in for the remainder of the flight. The strangers around me hook into their online lives, conducting business and making money. I zone out, focusing on my iPad as I create a new identity for another woman who needs to hide from a man that believes he owns her and has the right to do whatever he wants to her. Her body. Her mind. Her heart—all his to play with, to hurt, to bruise, to break. Typically, these abusers have one thing in common: they live under the false notion that their women are too weak to run, to break free and live without them.
Newsflash: they are waiting for the right moment, and the right people, to show them their hidden strength. Honor is putting together an amazing network of people across the country, a supportive community who don’t judge, don’t push, don’t ask questions. Their silent power is in the security and safety these survivors crave to flourish. Perhaps if this had existed years ago, my mother wouldn’t have fallen afoul of Jonathan Carver. His predatory nature wouldn’t have woven a spell over her and trapped her in a terrifying cult breeding children, both boys and girls, into a sex ring spanning the globe.
A facial recognition pop-up alert appears in the corner of my tablet. Which lackey has Jonathan sent into the world today? I click it open and my breath catches as I stare at the man who takes center stage in all my nightmares. He’s in Miami, and there’s only one place he will go. My heart thuds against my ribs as a smile curves my lips. The devil himself has emerged from Hell, and I’m the avenging angel he should fear.