Matchmaker 09: September

"I can't."

"Yes... you... can," she said, hitting each word hard. "You put your calculator down and go do something fun. It's really not that hard."

"But it is. You don't understand."

"No, I probably don't, but that's because you won't explain it to me."

I banked the plane over and rode an updraft to gain some additional altitude. "My family, especially my father and grandfather, have high expectations."

"Well, that's your first problem. You're a grown man. Why do you give a shit what your father or grandfather thinks?"

"You don't care what your parents think about you?"

"Of course I do, but if their expectations are unreasonable, then fuck them. We're still a family, and I still love my mom and dad, and they still love me, even if we disagree on certain things."

"Like what?"

"Like I should be a good little Chinese girl, get married, be subservient to my husband, and start having babies. Well fuck that," she said forcefully. "If Mom wants to kowtow to Dad, good for her, but I'm not doing it, and if they don't like it, that's tough."

I could hear the annoyance in her voice. "So you and your family don't get along?"

"I didn't say that. I said my parents, especially my dad, don't agree with my lifestyle. They think I'm too bold, to forward to... American."

"What do your mom and dad do?"

"Dad teaches computer science at the University of Hawaii and Mom stays home and brings him his slippers."

"And you don't approve?"

"I didn't say that either. They seem happy, and Mom doesn't seem to have any desire to change, so who am I to judge? All I'm saying is that lifestyle isn't for me. The day I want to stay home and bring my husband his pipe and slippers while popping out babies is the day I hope someone shoots me. Look, even though they don't approve of how I live my life, and I don't understand how Mom can be happy in her role, and even though we sometimes fight about it, we still love each other." She paused a moment, and though I couldn't see her, I could practically hear her brain working. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

"What?"

"Trying to change the subject."

I sighed. She might be petite, but once she got her teeth into something, she clearly wouldn't let it go. "I kind of have the same problem," I began. "It's not that my family doesn't approve of me, it's just that they expect so... much. I feel like nothing I do is ever good enough."

"Good enough? You said you're sitting on a billion-dollar idea. Not just an idea, but a working product. I assume your wing works since we're not splattered all over the ground. What more do they want from you?" I started to speak but she began again. "If what you've done already isn't good enough for them, then that's their problem, not yours."

"Yes, but all it is now is a prototype."

"So what? You said in a couple of months you'll be flying all over the place doing whatever it is you're going to do. That's why you said you wanted to take this vacation now, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay, so it's Tuesday. You do your thing for another day or two, then you're done for a month or so. I don't understand why you're being so uptight. Last week I was bouncing off the damn walls I was so excited."

"Yes, but..."

"But what?"

I was silent for a long moment. "But it seems like with everything going on, I should be focused on the task, not out having fun."

"If you believe that, then why in the hell did you even schedule this?" I didn't want to admit to her how I felt. After a moment of silence she thumped the back of my seat, the vibration of her blow pulling me out of my head. "Why am I here? Why aren't you sitting in some motel room somewhere hunched over a computer until your eyes look like poached eggs?"

"I don't know."

"I don't know either," she said softly. "Look, you seem like a nice guy, but if you want me to go home, I'll—"

"No," I interrupted. "No. I want you to stay."

"Why? If all you're going to do is worry about work, then what's the point?"

"I don't want you to go. I don't want to think about work anymore, okay?" I said, my voice rising with my frustration. "I'm tired of it all! I'm tired of being pushed and pushed and pushed. I'm sick of worrying that if I make a mistake everything is going to come crashing down, wondering if there's something I overlooked, some detail I've missed. I'm sick of it all!" I paused, trying to reel in the rage boiling up inside me.

"So, why don't you walk away?"

"Right," I muttered.

"I'm serious. If you really feel that way, just walk away. I was serious when I said you were a smart guy. Go get a regular job and enjoy life, or sell your patent, or whatever it is that people do, and go buy an island somewhere."

"Then what would I do?"

"Jesus Christ, Roger! Is that all you think about? You'd be rich enough to do any damn thing you want!" I didn't say anything, my thoughts in turmoil. After another moment of silence, she continued, her voice softer. "Listen, I have an idea. You strike me as a guy that enjoys a challenge. Here's a challenge for you. Why don't you try enjoying yourself for once?"

"Funny."

"I'm serious. What have you got left to do today, work related?"

I shrugged. "Nothing."

"Then do something for me."

"Okay, what?"

"Don't think about work again. Take me to dinner, a movie, anything, I don't care. Just be with me. Enjoy the rest of the day and don't think about anything but enjoying yourself. Will you do that?"

"Yes."

"Promise?"

A smile tugged at my lips. "Promise."

"Good. Starting right now, you're off the clock. It's just you and me in this airplane. Later, we'll go do something fun. Then tomorrow, at two, you can go flying again and show off this fancy-dancy airplane of yours. But until then, I want to be wooed. Can you woo me?"

"I can try."

"Then do. I want you to put as much effort into having fun as you have building this plane."

"Okay."

"Good. I'm going to hold you to that."

"I'm sure you will."

"If I see you starting to fade out on me, I'll kick your ass."

"Really?"

"You bet. You might be bigger, but I'm feistier."

"Of that, there is no question."

She snickered. "Who knows, you might decide you enjoy having fun."

I had a sinking feeling from the guilt I always carried with me when I began thinking about not striving for a goal. "Yeah," I murmured.

"Roger, you know it's okay to have fun, right? Everyone needs a break now and then."

"Maybe."

"No maybe. I'd be stark raving mad if I didn't take vacations once in a while. It sounds like from talking to you, you're on that path. You need to step off it before it's too late."

"Maybe."

I heard her sigh. "Okay, look, you made me a promise. I intend for you to keep it. So why don't we have a little fun, right now, and you show me what this wonder plane will do?"

I smiled. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Positive."

My smile grew. "Okay, but I'm going to remind you that you asked for it," I said before I snapped the plane into a hard diving bank, her scream broadening my smile.

I swam up out of the darkness of sleep and sighed, a small smile playing at my lips as I snuggled in, warm and comfortable in Roger's bed.

Yesterday had been a rollercoaster of a day. Roger had surprised me during his presentation with how full of energy he was, but after the reveal of the Peregrine, he'd pulled back into his shell and the walls he built around himself went up again.

We'd gone flying, and we'd talked. That was when I realized he was so damned twisted up and carrying so much baggage, it was a wonder he could function at all. All he could think about was exceling, of being better than anyone else and proving his worth. He'd broken out of his shell briefly as he threw the plane around the sky and did some loop-d-loos, but unfortunately, as we approached the ground, I could sense the walls reforming. During the flight he'd scared the shit out of and exhilarated me at the same time. I kept getting these glances of the man he could be, if he'd just let that man inside him out to breathe.

Once we were out of the plane, and my legs started working again, I threw myself into his arms. He caught me, and after a pause, he finally kissed me. I pulled him into the kiss, opening my mouth in invitation, and cracks appeared in the walls. Just as the kiss started getting heated and our tongues began to dance, a group of glider enthusiasts approached. He put me down, and just like that, the walls went back up.

I wanted to scream in frustration. I could knock the walls down, but he always built them again. He'd spent almost an hour talking to the six men and one woman as they clustered around. He was friendly and open, just like he was with me, but that stoic reserve was back and all the life seemed to have drained out of him. I didn't understand anything they said, but everyone was eager to help, and I walked with the group as Roger enlisted their aid to push the Peregrine back into the hangar.

After he'd answered all their questions, he'd taken me to dinner. Most guys loved to talk about themselves, but Roger spent the entire evening trying to turn the conversation back to me. I refused to play that game, and every time he tried to deflect the topic, I grabbed the conversation by the ears and hauled it back on track. After dinner, we strolled along in Settler's Park, walking to the top of a hill to gaze at the setting sun.

We stayed until the sun was well down, the approaching darkness chasing away the other hikers to leave us alone. It was a perfect place and opportunity for a kiss. Before I could drop a hint, Roger pulled me to him, and his lips found mine. His kiss was warm, deep, and thrilling, especially when I pressed myself to him and felt his hardness.

I almost wished he was a little grabbier, but as the kiss dissolved, I could sense the walls going up again. Not wanting to lose the moment, I grabbed his hand and tugged him along behind me as we hurried down the path to the parking lot. By the time we reached the bottom, we were using the lights on our phones to help light the way.

As we settled into his SUV, I demanded ice cream, not because I particularly wanted ice cream, but because getting ice cream by its very definition was something fun to do. Not only did I get ice cream, but he also bought me an animal from a balloon artist strolling around tying elaborate creations for tips.

By the time we'd finished our ice cream it was getting late, and I carried my balloon lion with me to the car. He'd broken out of his shell over ice cream and seemed to be enjoying himself as we licked our cones, but as we approached the house, he became quiet again. I almost sighed in frustration. It was two steps forward, two steps back, but after today, I had an inkling that Mr. Roger Bentley might be worth the effort.

It was almost eleven when we entered the cabin and trudged up the steps to our bedrooms, Leo still in my arm. "I had a good time," I said as I paused in my door.

He smiled down at me. "So did I."

"Did you?"

He nodded. "The best time I've had in a long time."

I smiled and murmured, "There's more where that came from... if you'd just take it."

His face crumbled. "I know."

I waited, wanting him to kiss me good night. He held my gaze before he touched me on the cheek, his caress gossamer light. It was the most loving touch he'd made yet. "You're so beautiful."

I melted inside but said nothing as I closed my eyes and tipped my face into his hand, a tiny smile forming on my lips. A moment later, his other hand cupped my face as he bent, drawing me into a kiss. The kiss was the best one yet. I'd wondered if he was the thirty-year-old virgin? I now knew he wasn't. It took some experience to kiss a woman like that.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding my lion by one ear as I pulled him into the kiss. He picked me up, holding me to his body as his kiss deepened, our tongues engaged in an erotic dance. I wrapped my legs around his waist as the kiss became passionate, then heated. He turned, carrying me across the hall to his bedroom and placed me gently in the center of the bed, following me down and kissing me like I'd rarely been kissed before.

Finally!

No words were spoken. None were needed, and I was afraid of breaking the mood. We slowly undressed each other... and my God, was Roger sexy. My desires rapidly spooled up as our lips explored each other's bodies. I doubted there was a woman alive that didn't fantasize about fucking the hot, nerdy guy, and I was getting the chance.

Roger fucked me for hours. He was absolutely insatiable, filling two condoms before we discussed their necessity while licking and kissing each other as he recharged. After mutual assurances, we decided they weren't, and he filled me with his essence twice more before the night was over. He was perfectly sized, filling me like I'd never been filled before, but not so large as to hurt when he was fucking me deep and hard, his plunges in deep, penetrating positions taking me to the edge of pain and the peak of pleasure. His fucking was as intense as when he did anything else, and he'd sent me flying time and time again, this time without the use of his airplane.

I groaned and stretched. I was a little tender from the fucking, but I'd gladly do it all again, my aching womanhood be damned.

"Morning," he murmured, unmoving, his voice thick and slow with sleep.

"Morning," I purred, my eyes closed as my smile spread. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Relaxed."

My smile spread even more. I was feeling pretty relaxed myself. "We're going flying today?"

He nodded slowly. "If you want."

"I do."

He stretched with a groan, his arms and legs stiff with fingers and toes splayed. "Okay, but before you commit to that, you need to know that today I'm going to be pushing the performance envelope of the plane. It's going to be much more violent than yesterday."

I felt a chill. "It's not dangerous, is it?"

"Not excessively so, no, but if you're not used to it, it could make you sick."

"Like puke?"

"Yeah, like puke. I'd just as soon you not puke in my plane, if that's okay with you."

I thought about it for a long moment. "I don't get motion sick, but maybe I should take a Dramamine or something before we go up."

He nodded. "I'll get you some plastic bags, just in case."

"You're worrying me now."

He chuckled quietly. "I just want you to know what you're getting into."

I thought for a moment. "I still want to go, if I can."

"Okay. It's bananas for breakfast then."

"Why? Do they help prevent motion sickness?"

He rolled over and pinned me to the bed as he watched my eyes, a smile playing at his lips. "No. They taste the same going down as they do coming up."

I spluttered out a laugh until I realized he was serious. "Now I'm scared."

He smiled before he kissed my neck. "Don't sweat it. It'll be okay. Before we worry about that, how about something else that feels good going down?" he breathed as he began licking and kissing his way down my body.

As he moved lower, the touch of his lips and the caress of his fingers pulling my thoughts away from what would be happening later to what was happening now, and for the next two hours, I didn't give his airplane or our flight another thought.

We sat on the runway, waiting for clearance, the Peregrine's engine whistling softly behind my head. I was firmly strapped into the back seat of the plane, almost painfully so, with four gallon-size Ziploc bags stuffed between my thighs and the edges of the seat. It was a few minutes before two, and the only thing I'd had to eat today, other than Roger, was a banana with a Dramamine chaser. I was pretty sure I wouldn't get sick, but I wasn't taking any chances.

I didn't understand any of the chatter over the radio as Roger talked to someone. All I knew was he'd arranged to 'clear the skies' over the airport for thirty minutes so he could demonstrate his plane. There was a surprisingly large crowd gathered to watch, along with a news crew.

The surge of acceleration as the Peregrine gathered speed brought me back from my thoughts. Like yesterday, the plane seemed to leap into the air. It didn't accelerate as hard as the commercial jet I flew from Hawaii did, but it climbed much more steeply. I watched out my window as the ground fell away, and I noticed the wings had a tight twist in them.

"You ready?" Roger asked as the plane fell silent.

"I think."

"Okay. Make sure your harness is tight. As soon as the engine stows, we're going to go."

"How long is this going to take?" I asked. Even in my own ears, I could hear my nervousness.

"Not long. About ten minutes or so."

I nodded. I could stand anything for ten minutes. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

I smiled to myself as I tugged the harness straps to make sure they were tight. He sounded so much more alive and happy this morning than he had since I arrived, with the exception of the reveal of the Peregrine. I hoped this wasn't an act like that was. I felt upbeat, maybe even a little giddy, after getting pounded last night and again this morning. I heard and felt the soft thumbs and bumps of the engine retracting.

"Hang on, here we go," he said before rolling the plane over into a dive.

For the next eternity he threw me around in the cockpit, the twists and turns of the plane much more violent than yesterday. I tried to watch the wing, but after cracking my forehead against the canopy during a hard turn, I gave that idea up, but not before I'd seen the wing flex and twist, its surface alive with motion.

It took every ounce of self-control I had not to scream as we whooshed low over the ground before he yanked the plane skyward. He held the plane straight up until it completely stopped, before it then rolled over onto a wing and zoomed for the ground again.

I was swallowing convulsively as my stomach protested, but just as I was sure I was going to lose the banana I'd eaten for breakfast, the violent twists and turns stopped and the plane smoothed out.

"Are we done?" I gasped. The last time I felt this bad was the morning following a night out partying with my friends.

"We're done. Now we're going low and slow to demonstrate the lifting ability of the wing. Did you puke?"

"No. I told you I wouldn't."

He snickered. "You don't sound so good."

"I'm good." My stomach was settling, but my words clearly didn't match the tone.

"Should we go again?"

The mere thought was enough to make my stomach flip over and rise into my throat. "If you want. I can handle anything you can dish out."

He snickered again. "You certainly did last night, and again this morning, but I think we're done for now."

I smiled, but it was weak, and I wondered if the television cameras that would be waiting for us would pick up my green tint. For the next few minutes, Roger guided the plane gently around the sky. We were moving so slowly at times it seemed we'd stopped. When the Peregrine touched down with a gentle bump, I was almost back to normal. Now that the flight was over, I seriously jazzed from the experience. I felt like I'd stared death in the face and kicked that asshole right in the balls. As the Peregrine rolled to a stop and tipped onto a wing, I tried to unfasten my harness, but my hands were shaking so badly I struggled.

As Roger opened the canopy, I finally got my harness released. I crawled out of the plane, but there was something wrong with my legs. I was a little wobbly after my first flight, but this was far, far worse. I was certain I'd have fallen had Roger not quickly pulled me to him, holding me snuggly as I hung on him. I wasn't sick at my stomach anymore, but I was clearly messed up.