Los Angeles Longing – by Nicole Sanchez
LOS ANGELES LONGING
BY NICOLE SANCHEZ
The flight to Los Angeles is a familiar one, or it would be if I was flying commercial as was originally planned.
After a six-hour flight, I would be fighting my way through the crowds at LAX, hoping and praying that there would be a cab that I wouldn’t need to wait an hour for or I’d be able to get a PickMeUp! without a surcharge.
No, this time, instead of fighting my way through the masses to my seat in basic economy, I got a seat on a private jet, complete with a real life flight attendant who is there to make sure I had everything I need.
I’m not alone on this flight, at least. A flight for one person is the dumbest thing ever, and the environmental impact of just one of these flights is astronomical.
I have such strong hate for being part of the problem created by a wealthy class that would have their own escape hatches while the rest of the world suffers.
So I get to experience the luxury of this private jet, all because I kissed a random stranger at a bar, and he turned out to be a billionaire who needs a date to his sister’s wedding in a few months.
I can’t decide if it was the best luck or terrible luck, because now I feel like I’m living a lie.
Lying to my sister about what is happening with Parker, lying to myself about the impact he has on me because this is just meant to be a financial arrangement.
A financial arrangement with a deadline that ends after the wedding, even if I can’t get him out of my head.
And when I get to LAX, darling Jacoby is waiting in the black car that came to pick me up with a large box and several garment bags. I’ll hold back any sass I have about this change until I see Parker.
I don’t know what to expect from this…date? I don’t even really know what to call all these fancy events at this point. The waters keep getting muddled with Parker, and I don’t know what I should do.
That’s not even a little true. I know what I should do.
I should hold firm and tell him that as long as he is paying me to attend these events with him, and he is paying me to be his fake girlfriend, then there shouldn’t be anything physical between us.
The occasional touches to sell that we’re a couple should be enough, but they don’t seem to be.
Every time he touches me, I crave more of him, and I know that I can’t.
I’m the one who set the boundary, even if he isn’t the best at following it.
He marches right up to that boundary and nudges it with his toe until it moves entirely in his favor.
I hate how much I love it, how much he’s pushing me.
It makes him sound like a right dick, but I know that if I truly said stop, he would. The problem is that I haven’t wanted to, and I think he knows that. I mean, I think I moaned his name when I came while we were masturbating together in Shanghai.
As my thoughts stray to all the dirty things I want to do with Parker, Jacoby choses that moment to clear his throat, reminding me that I’m not alone.
Immediately, my cheeks heat and I shoo away the images in my mind. What happened in Shanghai was a one-off. And if you want to be technical about it, getting fingered during a gala makes it a two-off, but there will be no three-peat.
Not as long as Parker is paying me to be his date.
A hand on my shoulder shakes me awake and I sit up abruptly, confused about where I am. The room is in complete darkness, except for the stupid night-light casting shadows on the face of the man in my room.
I’m not scared.
I recognize the slope of his nose, the scent of his aftershave or whatever it is he uses to make himself smell nice.
“I’m sorry to wake you.” His voice is low but not quite a whisper.
The corners of my lips turn up. “Then why did you?”
Slowly, I sit up and stretch my neck. As soon as I got to the hotel room, I crashed. You would think that the private jet wouldn’t have left me feeling so exhausted, but it doesn’t change that I had a full workday before changing time zones.
“Because Jacoby mentioned you didn’t eat on the plane, and I wanted to put food in you.”
“That’s not the only thing you could put in me.” I must still be half asleep when the words escape my mouth, but I don’t claw them back or even try to. His eyebrows hit his hairline. “You know, like booze.”
He leans forward and places a kiss on my cheek, except he does an excellent job of pretending to misjudge the distance and his lips brush the corner of my mouth.
“I’m sure that’s what you meant. The good news is LA has no shortage of restaurants or booze.”
I want his lips not just on the corner of my mouth but to cover it.
As much as I keep telling him that we can’t, the thought of his mouth against mine, his body against mine, has invaded my mind.
It’s almost all I can think of. I’m working longer hours because my brain keeps wandering to Parker and how it felt when he came on my belly, and what it felt like when I came on his fingers.
It’s distracting, to say the least.
“So, where are we headed and do I need to change into one of the many fabulous outfits you got me?”
Parker leans over me, pressing his body against mine as he turns on the light on the nightstand.
His scent wafts over me, and it’s almost too much.
For a second, it’s not just the light getting turned on as I take a deep breath and my breasts brush against his thigh.
He’s always so bold with me, and I love and hate the way I relish each time he is.
“You do have many fabulous outfits. Jacoby has excellent taste.”
When the light goes on, I wince before I blink away the last of my sleep. That’s when I see Parker isn’t dressed in a suit like I expected. He’s got on a sweater with a half zip at his chest, and I think the man is in jeans .
Maybe I am still dreaming.
“Are you going to go out in that?” I ask, doubt coloring my voice.
He glances down at what he’s wearing. “What’s wrong with this?”
“Nothing, it’s just so…casual.” I drag a finger down his chest only to realize just how forward I’m being.
“I can be casual.” He sounds affronted, and I adore this look on him.
I see so little of him like this. I’ve caught glimpses of it when we went to the Hamptons and in our text conversations, this side of him that shows he’s more than just a stuffy suit.
He has a personality besides being a dreamboat billionaire.
He’s able to laugh and tease. It’s a clue that maybe what I’m feeling is more than just lust, and I’m not sure what to make of that.
While I’m getting glimpses into who Parker is, I don’t have a clue what he’s thinking or feeling.
I have no idea if he’s just attracted to me and enjoys teasing me or if he’s thinking about something more.
Each time that thought crosses my mind, that he could want more from me, I dismiss it.
Yes, we have chemistry and that’s why he chose me to be his fake girlfriend, but he’s worth literal billions, and I’m not.
There’s no way he would want more with me after all this is said and done.
“Prove you can be casual,” I challenge.
“Fine. Do you want to get changed out of what you wore on the plane?”
I look down at my leggings and an old t-shirt that has admittedly seen better days. “I did change,” I pout.
Parker rests his hand on my knee then slides it up my thigh until he gets to my hip. I can feel the ghost of his touch even after it’s passed.
“Then I guess we’re ready to go.”
This time, there is no pretense the way things can be with Parker when it comes to going out to eat. Our last date-like event may have involved a helicopter ride, but it was to get delicious burgers. How can a girl not go weak in the knees for that?
Tonight, we stroll out of our hotel and instead of getting a car, we walk. I don’t know what I expected for a meal, but as we head toward the briney scent of the ocean and I spot what we’re walking toward, I realize I definitely wasn’t expecting food trucks.
“Tell me a little more about what we’re doing in LA?
” I ask, desperate to break the silence of the last few minutes.
I haven’t wanted to say anything, despite the questions burning in my mind, because Parker keeps a grueling walking pace.
And while I might be a New Yorker now, I haven’t always been, so the walk has its challenges.
“We’re attending a birthday party for the granddaughter of an associate. She’s a media darling, and it’s being held at the Getty Villa.”
“London Westmont?” I ask, trying to flex the knowledge that I studied up on while on the flight.
Parker nods as he leads us into the mix of trucks. I’m overwhelmed as I get a whiff of all the different foods that surround us.
“The very one. I'll admit, this date has less than altruistic intentions.”
I pause my reading of the pierogi stand’s menu to look at Parker.
“Tell me more.”
“London has more than once hinted that she would like to…” The pause he takes is long enough for me to jump in.
“Jump on that pogo stick? Ride the cowboy? Lick your lollipop?”
“And more. Her grandfather knows that she can be forward, and he sees it as charming, a girl with a crush. I'm sort of hoping that having you there as a buffer will help put an end to her come-ons.”
I turn back to the stand and focus on the pierogi and kielbasa skewers. I’m tempted by the sampler, which includes their three most popular pierogi flavors. The pierogi of the month is also calling me like a siren. Goat cheese and caramelized onion sounds like a dream.
Parker nudges me, and I look back up at him. “You’re drooling.”
I wrinkle my nose and bump him with my hip. “Blame yourself for taking me to heaven while I’m on an empty stomach.”
“Why didn’t you eat on the flight?”
“Honestly, it was intimidating when I was offered whatever I wanted. I mean, surf and turf on a plane? Who even has that?”