Текст книги "Both of Her"

Автор книги: Kathy Coopmans

Соавторы: Alisa Mullen
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

The sound of my mother’s voice brings me out of my thoughts. It also reminds me of how much I miss them. “You better come see us before it gets to hot down here,” her sunshine voice begging.

“I will, mom, I promise. I have to go now. I need to walk to my gate. I wanted to touch base with you in case you tried to call. I’ll be in business meetings all weekend.” I lie.

“Good luck. We’re proud of you,” she coos.

“Are you?” I ask my glass of wine before downing the rest of it.

First class has many perks, however today my perks are not perky at all. I’m stuck next to a woman who is crocheting a fucking sweater. Good god, please choke me now, and not in the sexual way I love so much either. In spite of the fact I have a blanket wrapped around me and I’m sipping on a delicious hot cup of coffee with baileys in it, I’m stuck next to Grandma Jones go on and on about her dog and the sweater she’s making to help keep him warm in the snow.

Now don’t get me wrong, I adore pets. I would love to have one of my own. A big yellow lab, to be precise, to cuddle up with at night, to keep my feet warm when I crawl in bed by myself. But there again comes in my selfishness comes in. I would never be able to have a dog for the mere fact I will never give up being an escort.

THREE

I have a maid that comes to my high rise apartment every few days, but there’s something absolutely breathtaking about a penthouse suite at a luxury hotel. Everything is crisp, vivid, and obviously fresh. I walk in as a marketing professional and once I’ve seen the four rooms of pure wealth, I feel like a woman. A real woman with needs, wants, and the man, Heath, or whomever I’m set up with, to take care of me. Just me.

“Has he scheduled my spa time for the morning?” I briskly ask the maître d’.

“Yes, Ms. Westwood. Your massage begins at 9 a.m. sharp, followed by the complete spa package. It’s the best for our best.” He smiles softly with a nod.

I pull out some cash to tip him and he refuses. “He has already secured my extra personal tips for you. Please, here is my direct extension that reaches me twenty-four hours a day. I am at your service for anything you need, Miss.”

I smile at Heath’s generosity and his forethought. I already like him so much.

“That sounds simply divine,” I say with a little flair of my pretend southern charm. I only lived in Jacksonville until I was eighteen, so I don’t really have an accent, but when I get into character, it comes naturally to me. How perfect is that.

“Now, before I let you off the hook for the rest of the evening, be a dear and call up some cheese and vegetable spread. I am simply famished after that long travel. If you don’t mind, please have Heath…” I clear my throat. “Please have Mr. Landon call me at his earliest convenience.”

I don’t have my client’s phone numbers and they don’t have mine. I keep all that nitty gritty stuff up to Carl. I made the mistake once of giving my phone number to a man who was delayed by a severe weather storm in San Diego. I was going to meet him in Phoenix, but he was days late so, I just sat around the hotel with my hand down my pants, charging direct movies, and expensive champagne to his hotel bill. When he called a week later to reschedule the date, I had a bad feeling that I shouldn’t have given my number out. Six weeks later and about sixty stalking phone calls for him to get his money’s worth from what I spent in Phoenix, I had to change my number. I was a fool. I try to tell the men I prefer not to know their numbers in case I enjoy how much they pleasure me, as I tend to be a bit stalker-ish when I’ve enjoyed myself. That appeases them somewhat, but still – I think most of them would prefer if I did keep them in my call log. No such luck for them. Repeat dates are very rare and when they are permitted, it has to take place in a different city. I don’t ever want to feel like I am doing the same man twice.

“Of course, Miss Westwood.”

“Oh, please, call me Lucia.” I wave him away and head for the bubble bath I know is already set up for me. These men must hang on every demand Carl gives them.

Thirty minutes later, as my fingers begin to prune, the phone begins to ring right as someone begins knocking at the hotel door.

“Gees. I suppose I should have specified,” I say to myself, as I roll my eyes at my lack of forethought.

I throw the white, silk robe over my drenched body as I tip toe across the bathroom for the bedroom phone. Just as it starts to ring once again, I pick it up with a flourish.

“Hello,” I say demurely.

“Lucia,” a deep, throaty voice comes over the line and instant goosebumps attack my soaked skin.

“Heath,” I purr. “Would you hold on for just a minute, love? I believe room service is at the door with my late night snacks.”

I hear a low rumble of chuckles as I place the phone down on the bed to jog to the room door. Opening it with a flourish, I beckon the maître d’ to the kitchen table and hold up my finger. “Mr. Landon is on the line, so I must chat. Leave the spread and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Getting back to the phone, I can feel the goosebumps start to attack my skin again just thinking of Heath’s luscious voice in my ear once again.

“I’m back,” I moan. “But, I’m a little sad knowing I won’t see you until tomorrow afternoon.” I pretend to pout a little, slightly serious that his voice really makes me want to masturbate. I planned to take the night off and wait for some serious mind-blowing orgasms, but it won’t work. I can’t wait.

“How are you enjoying Savannah, Lucia?” Fuck me solid. His voice is just…it’s just sex. How does he talk to regular people? By that, I mean people he doesn’t want to fuck, because by the way he’s talking to me, I don’t know if I could ever listen to him and not think sex.

“Oh, well, I just arrived about an hour ago, but it’s just as beautiful as I remember,” I reply, looking over to the main room to make sure my little go-to man has left. “Are you thinking about me?” I lower my voice to my purr.

“I am,” he groans back. “Ever since Carl showed me your photo and arranged this, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

He is sweet. Real sweet, but I need dirty.

“What sorts of things are you thinking about, Heath?”

He is silent for a moment and I can hear his breath falter a bit. He probably didn’t think I wanted to talk sex when I asked him to call, but really, what else are we doing here? Does he want a fucking tourist report on Savannah, Georgia? I’ll be lucky if I see more than the eight hundred count sheets all weekend.

“I need to feel those perky breasts of yours. They look eatable in the picture he showed me. You were in a red bikini, and fuck, I’ve wanted to rip off your top and eat them ever since.”

A slow burn begins between my thighs and I start feeling the familiar heat that accompanies my lust. Hello, lust, it’s been days.

“I didn’t get to see the backside of you, but I plan to hold on tight to your ass as you slide between my tits,” I say with the evident heat in my voice.

He goes silent again. Then he coughs.

“Wow, Lucia. Maybe I should try to get a red eye out to you tonight.”

I laugh and immediately I know by the tone of his voice that he just might do that, ruining my pre-game rituals of a good night’s sleep, spa morning, and of course, the jewelry presentation of the weekend.

“Believe me,” I say. “You want me to be fully prepared for you so let’s stick to the plan.”

“Oh, Lucia, I will take you unprepared any day. Believe me.”

And I did. I believe him more than he knows. Most men take me any way they want and I look forward to letting Heath do that very thing.

“See you tomorrow, lover,” I purr before quietly placing the phone on its cradle. I skip toward the dining room and try my hardest to calm my horny.

The next morning, I awake to the beautiful sounds of birds chirping and the ocean’s waves. It is the best part of waking in a hotel this amazing. The alarm clock was set to my favorite sounds of nature, just like Carl knows I like.

I pad into the bathroom and attempt my morning ritual, only to be interrupted by the hotel phone.

“This is your wake up and a reminder for the spa appointment. We have you penciled in with Neil at 9 a.m.” The pen in penciled sounds more like pin and I fight to stifle back my laugh. Lord help me, there’s something about a good ole southern drawl that gets me every damn time.

“I wouldn’t miss it. Thank you so much,” I say, plastering on my best New York slang. I can only imagine if I love their accent, then they must feel the same about mine. I check the notifications on my cell phone and see Carl called. I won’t have time to call him back later, so I opt for a quick call back now. With a smile, I tap on his name.

“Well good morning, love.” Carl sounds out of breath answering his phone.

“Good morning indeed. Did I catch you at a bad time?” I snort loudly. My mind going to places I really don’t want it to go when I think of him being out of breath.

“Never, when it comes to you. Actually, I just walked in the door from my morning run.”

“Ugh. I hate you right now. It’s so damn cold back home, I have to run on my treadmill.” I wait for what’s to come next out of his mouth, because it always does.

“Bitch, please. You live in a sky rise penthouse in downtown Chicago. You never run outside. Who the hell are do you think you’re talking to?” His raspy voice exhales loudly.

“I’ll have you know, I signed up for a 5K this spring. Which will be outside, dickhead.”

“I do have a dick, Lucia, and it does have a head,” he shouts into the phone.

“I’m not even going to touch that one, Carl.” We both laugh.

“I’m assuming your accommodations are up to par?” he asks, knowing damn well they are.

“Yes, thank you, but that’s not why I’m calling. I miss you. I thought maybe since I’m here we could meet up before I leave.”

He falters before responding. My shoulders sag, knowing his answer before it leaves his mouth. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I have to leave tonight for a business trip. You know I love you.”

I do know he loves me. I have friends back home, but no one compares to the relationship I have with Carl. We understand each other better than anyone else. We’ve never judged the other’s lifestyle, the things we do, or the people we see. Carl’s father disowned him when he told him he was gay. His mother tried to reason with his father, but he wouldn’t listen. It’s been over twelve years since Carl has spoken to his father. It’s heartless for a parent to not love their child and accept them for who they are. I think of my parents again. How detached I keep them from the second life I lead. There isn’t a doubt in my mind they wouldn’t understand. They might be disappointed in me, but I know they would never cut me out of their lives.

“Carl,” I say with eagerness. “You have to promise me you’ll come and see me soon. You know I won’t be back here for god knows how long.”

“I promise, Lucia. I really am sorry, but I have to go when work calls me. I’ve been trying to get this company to let my firm take over every aspect of their accounting, not just the payroll, for some time now.” He does really sound saddened that we can’t get together.

“It’s alright,” I say. “And Carl, thank you again for everything you do for me. I’m really looking forward to this weekend with Heath.”

“Oh, Lucia. I believe you are in for a real treat with him tonight. I only wish it was me spending the night with him and not you,” he jokes, although knowing him, he more than likely means it.

“I have to go, my massage awaits. I love you. Be safe.”

“Always am. Love you more,” he replies.

I sigh deeply, leaning my head back on the cool black leather couch. My eyes skim across the stunning Savannah historical district out the window. The little I saw of the city on my ride from the airport left me breathless, to say the least. I need a break. I desperately need to see my family and Carl. As I reach forward, taking the last sip of my coffee, I vow to myself, I will schedule a trip to see my parents as well as to see Carl as soon as I get home. Carl would love for a vacation – just the two of us in the Caribbean. Right now, though it’s all about me and all about my needs. I grab my keycard, slide it into my purse, and slip my feel into the only pair of tennis shoes I own. It’s time to get ready for my date.

FOUR

The date preparation was simply divine and now that I am back in my room, I have to say, I’m a bit nervous for the jewelry portion of the evening. I don’t get paid in money, right? Yet, this is the part of the whole process I might feel slightly guilty about because it is diamonds or emeralds or whatever the guy has a fancy for that I am paid in. All my keepsake jewelry is kept in a custom made safe in my dressing room at home. It opens up like a jewelry box and you have to be wearing a pair of shades to take it in at first glance. It’s fucking off the charts stimulating.

Jewelry is my one deal breaker. I find that once the guy has seen a few photos of me and talked with me over the phone the night before, he gets a sense of what he likes on me. I pray they will pick things I’ll wear again. I know the few fuckers that had their secretaries pick the jewelry for them. They were the same few I had to teach to give proper oral.

A knock comes to the door just as I am about to pull the baby blue Valentino off the rod of dresses for me to choose from. I look at the door dumbstruck. The jewelry is here. Oh…fuck. I close my eyes tight and start to chant. “You are not a whore. You like pretty things. You are not a whore. You like pretty things.”

My eyes start to tear up and I shake my head a bit to get my stupid conscience under control. Opening the door, I see an older man in a suit with two women behind him.

Oh fuck, I think to myself. This piece is going to be fucking expensive.

I don’t have a minimum purchase price for their staying with me. I only ask that whatever they choose to give me, the stones are genuine. They can get me a small half carat diamond necklace from Kay Jewelers for ninety nine bucks if they desire. As long as the stones are real, it’s all that matters.

By the look of the three people with tight smiling faces at my suite door, I have a feeling Heath did not go to Kay Jewelers.

“Ms. Westwood, may we come in?”

I don’t remember much after that question. I think I may have fainted. The string of diamonds that now sit on my ankle tells me a little bit about Heath.  I am going to be in for some serious kink tonight if he wants to admire his prize on my foot.

I’m ready and waiting. He’s not late, but for the first time, I’m early. That almost never happens, because I get fickle with my hair, but from the looks of the dress and jewels he picked for me, I won’t have to worry much about what my hair looks like. I leave it down and slightly curled. It’s classy and I feel beautiful.

The clock reads six and he should have gotten here hours ago. The hotel arranged for a separate room for him to get ready in, and while we are out for dinner, they will bring his things in for him. Butterflies begin fluttering in my stomach and the knowledge that everything is just as it is supposed to be settles into my brain. I am beyond excited for another two days of sex and romance.

The knock comes exactly at six-thirty and I take a deep breath. Holding my head up high, I make sure my cleavage is showing but not to a ridiculous level. I am wearing a very expensive anklet for a reason. If I were a hooker, the money left on the dresser at the end of the night would say everything. Not me. I’m an unconventional escort that enjoys noncommittal sex and lots of lavish things.

The breath leaves my stiffened chest when I open the door to find Heath Landon standing on the other side. He is…well, I am speechless as to what he is. For one thing, he isn’t my type, per se, because he is a man in a category all by himself. Tall with blazing eyes and a pretty smile. Wow. I might be shaking a bit, which is not really normal for me at all.

“Lucia,” he growls out, as he peruses my body from bottom to top. “You are a masterpiece in red. Somehow I knew you would choose the red dress.”

The moment I laid my eyes on this dress, I knew it was the one. With the low cut neckline and the open back, I felt drawn to it. He reaches out to take hold of my hand, gracefully lifting it to place a tender kiss in the center. He’s charming.

“Heath.” My voice feels like it slipped from my mouth. He’s a vision in his black suit, crisp white shirt, and black tie.

“Shall we?” He places my arm through his.

“I hope you don’t mind, I changed our plans slightly.” His declaration is filled with authority. “We won’t be staying here tonight. I acquired us another room for the evening. Then we will go to my place for the remaining of your stay with me.”

I look at him questioningly. “Oh,” I respond, feeling somewhat disappointed. “It’s a good thing I packed lightly then, isn’t it? Let me grab my bag,” I say. I feel his electric gaze on my ass when I turn to retrieve my belongings from the bed. Once again, I’m thankful for the way this form-fitting dress clings to my ass.

“Your bags will be brought down to my car. We’re having dinner at my restaurant across the street.” Taking the handle of my bag from my hand, he trails his index finger up the length of my arm. I feel chills. Those chills dissipate as quickly as they surfaced, and heat replaces them, combining with the need to be laid bare for this unknown man who screams sex. Great sex. More sex, explicit sex, has me wanting to skip dinner, to stay here where we both can gorge out on each other.

   I gasp when he pulls me into his chest, cupping my neck. The pad of his thumb grazes across my lower lip. “In my private dining room. Alone.”

The way he says alone sends a welcoming shiver up my spine. My breast tingle. My pussy aches. “Are you cooking for me too?” I ask, my voice drenched with desire.

“I did,” he answers, pulling the door shut. His hand skims the naked flesh low on my back. We make our way to the elevator in silence. Havoc has webbed its way through my mind on how quickly this route of sexual attraction has taken between us. In the matter of five minutes, I’m ready to let him do anything he wants to me, take me any way he wants, please me anyway he wants.

I sigh when he drops his hand from my back and presses the elevator button. The door opens almost instantly and I reach down to link my hand with his once we enter the elevator. The ride is quick and silent.

The click clack of my matching red Manolo Blahnik shoes echo off the walls of the corridor. I feel beautiful, alive, and adorningly pampered. Which reminds me, I almost forgot. “Thank you for the ankle bracelet. I love it.” I bend my knee slightly so he can see the jewels around the base of my leg.

“You’re welcome,” he hisses almost painfully.

“What?” I say, completely confused.

“Believe me when I tell you this, Lucia. I’ve never seen a pair of legs like yours. For fucks sake, those are long, curved, and painful as hell to look at.”

I swallow.

While this handsome stranger leisurely trails his eyes from the sparkly diamond bracelet wrapped around my ankle, to the top of the side slit on my dress, they become hooded, darker, and dangerously sexy. “Come on before I march us back upstairs, tie you to the bed, and fuck every hole in that sinful body of yours.”

***

“That was incredible,” I moan, my stomach beyond stuffed. Heath and I had entered the back of the restaurant, where he led me straight to a private dining room. The quaint, dimly lit room adjoins his office, separated by glass. It’s stunning with dark wood floors, a solid brick wall on one side, while the other wall has four perfectly square windows aligned down the center. It gives off just enough light to embrace the long rectangular table in the middle.

During dinner, Heath told me how he always loved to cook, travel, and enjoy the company of a beautiful woman. Not once did he break the rules of the contract about asking anything personal about me or my life outside of tonight. Nor did he ask me why I do what I do, which surprised me. Most men ask, they wonder why gifts instead of money. The mere mention of money makes me feel like a whore and that’s not what I am. It is never what I want them to perceive me as. I’m a woman with needs. My needs just happen to be materialistic and sexual. I give them the same answer they give me. I’m not into being committed to anyone and the truth that I love nice things. I love the feel of being taken care of, if only for a night or a weekend.

There’s more to Heath then he’s willing to disclose, which is the way it should be. There’s more to me as well. As I sit here and study his profile, the way he holds his wine glass, the way he slouches somewhat in his chair, it appears he is slightly out of his element. This is normally not the type of thing this man does. He’s dark and mysterious in a sexy way. A seed firmly plants itself in the center of my core. This man is used to being in control just as I am. I don’t like giving up control and yet, here I sit with a stranger who has had my very center throbbing for him to take his control and do anything he wants.

“I would love to see your restaurant,” I tell him. He assured me I would, but not then. He explained that we entered thought the back because his guests would acknowledge him if he walked through the restaurant. He didn’t want that to detain us from our time together. Thanking him for that, I remind myself he deserves a much needed reward.

“I’m glad you loved dinner. The Boursin stuffed chicken is my specialty. It’s a favorite dish here, along with my dessert, of course.”

My god, I cannot possibly eat another bite, although, I was not raised to be rude. Especially after he bought me here, cooked for me, gave me this dress, my bracelet, and the delightful shoes.

“And what’s for dessert?” I ask, taking the last sip of my wine. Even though I was beyond full, I knew we would most definitely work off the food later.

“For me, it’s you,” he says rather brusquely.

“Really?” My brows lift. I shift in my seat so my legs are facing him. He has absolutely no idea that I can play at his game and win. I cross my legs. The slit falls open, exposing bare skin all the way up to my thigh. The longer his gaze remains on my legs, the more sexually interesting I know he finds me. He runs his tongue across his top lip.

“Tell me, Lucia. What did you have in mind for the next two days? Because I assure you, it is nothing compared to what I’m actually going to do to you. Take it off,” he demands. His eyes as dark as the night sky glaring through the windows.

“Take what off? This?” My fingers grasp the side zipper. The only sound in the room is the slow seductive wisp of the zipper going down. I loop my fingers under the strap of the dress on one of my shoulders, letting if fall just enough to expose the top of one my breast. Then slowly I do the same to the other side.

“Let it drop.”

I let go without blinking. My naked breasts exposed to him. My nipples are hard, eagerly waiting for his mouth.

“I do recall you tempting me on the phone with those tits of yours, and what great tits they are.” He bends forward enough to trace around both of my nipples with his index finger. I quiver as my arousal intensifies the more he moves in circles, not once touching my nipples.

“Tell me what you want?” I say seductively.

“You, Lucia. I want you.” I feel it and gasp an excruciating painful delight when he pinches both my nipples. “Fuck,” he growls. Sliding his chair back, he grasp ahold of one of my nipples with his mouth while the one hand palms my breast. I arch my back as far as it will go in the chair, clinging to his shoulders as he takes me deep into his mouth. “Do you want me to fuck these beautiful breasts?” he growls, before moving to give my other one the same attention with his mouth.

“Yes,” I pant.

I whimper when he releases his hold on my breast, but instantly delighted when he lifts me up, the red dress falling into a pool around my feet, leaving me bare to him. I’m left with nothing except my shoes and the beautiful bracelet wrapped around my ankle. Heath lays me down on the table. My chest is heaving and my heart pounding. I watch him bend and pick up my dress, placing it across the back of the chair.

“Don’t move.” He’s out of my sight for a moment before returning with a small bottle. His jacket is off and his shirt halfway undone. “Christ, Lucia.” His southern accent becomes more accentuated the more excited he gets. “You’re fucking beautiful. Feel this?”

He’s rough when he grabs my hand, placing it on his granite hard cock. Fuck me also. He’s thick. God I hope he uses that blessed cock to fuck me until I join the god damn stars in the sky.

Running my palm up and down his shaft, his breathing becomes heavier and heavier the more I stroke. “Take your pants off, I want to see it.” I instruct him to do exactly as he asked of me. He wastes no time tearing his shirt away from his sculpted body, tossing it on the chair that holds my dress. I hear his shoes hit the floor, before my hand slips away from him, and he undoes his pants. And sweet mother of god, when I see his cock, I’m thankful I’m the one he’s with tonight. I’m the one he’s going to split apart. I’m the one who’s going to ride him. Before he drops his pants to the floor, he pulls a condom out of his pocket.

The sturdy table doesn’t move when he climbs on top of it, his legs straddling my waist. His erection lays on my stomach and I’m not full anymore. The sudden desire to take him into my mouth and taste him has me reaching for his dick. “No,” he demands. Leave them here. Twining our hands together, he stretches them over my head.

I watch in awe when he reaches for the bottle and the smell of coconut plummets the air. Inhaling deeply, I breathe in the refreshing scent.

I squirm. He smirks. “If you don’t touch me, I swear I will touch myself and it will be the biggest turn on you have ever seen, because I’ll spread myself wide, right here on this table, damn it,” I bite out.

“No one is touching themselves but me, Lucia.” His oil covered hand starts to glide up and down his length. Heath gets up on his knees, giving me one hell of a view of his dick. He works himself, making my mouth dry and my tongue heavy. I want him there, in my mouth, between my breast, and mostly, in my hot wet pussy.

“Now, push those gorgeous breast together.” My anxious hands make quick work of doing what I’m told. From the moment he glides his cock between my breasts, to the way his eyes stay glued onto his precise slow thrusting movements, I feel myself ready lose all control. I surrender myself to this sex god. He could ask me to do anything right now and I will gladly do it. “Fuck yeah. Tell me, Lucia, tell me this feels good. Tell me you want my dick in your mouth. In your cunt. In your ass. Tell me,” he grunts, pumping several times. He coats me with the oil, as I feel his fingers plunge into me. I gasp and cry out, my hips bucking off of the table. I’m so transfixed on watching him fuck me, his cock mere inches from my mouth, I didn’t realize he had let go of himself.

“Fuck, come for me, Lucia. You want it. You know you want to come on my fingers before you come all over my cock.”

The sound of my slick heat is all I hear until my orgasm hits me. I thrash my head back and forth, as I climax, I’m harshly flipped over, my orgasm still rippling through me. Gripped by the back of my hair, I fall on my hands and knees. I hear the sound of a condom packet being torn open, a glorious hiss escaping Heath’s mouth, as his thick cock slams into my pussy. I’m clenching my walls, clawing at the shiny surface of the table as my body gives in. He’s fucking me hard. Relentlessly. Powerfully. He’s giving it to me dirty, raw, and savagely good. I haven’t been fucked carnally like this in a long time. I meet each one of his demanding thrusts, welcome him calling my name, until he stops. Glancing back at him, he’s staring at my not quite thoroughly fucked pussy as if it’s a treasure.

“You demand pleasure, Lucia. I’m going to please you with everything I have. Come here.” He beckons me up with his hand. My weak legs barely able to stand when he sets me on the floor. “Up against the glass,” he demands.

“God damn, you are sinfully sexy.” He presses me up against the glass. The cold is welcomed by my overheated skin. “I haven’t even properly kissed you yet.” Slowly, he dips his head, capturing my mouth in his. Our tongues ravishing the taste of each other. He’s smooth everywhere, his tongue, his chest, his face. I can’t keep my hands off of him. I touch every part of him I can reach. He lifts me, my legs wrap around him.

“Fuck me,” I say into his mouth.

“All weekend long, Lucia. I’m going to fuck you all weekend long.”

And he does. He fucks me up against this glass. He fucks me on top of his bar in his restaurant. In his bed and on every available surface in his house. It’s not until he drives me to the airport, do I realize, for the first time in the ten years that I’ve been doing this that I wasn’t the one in control. He was. The entire flight home all I can think about is, why him?