When Ordinary Isn't Ch. 03

"What else would you like to know?" Eric asked after they climbed into the limo.

She thought to herself for several moments. "Did you come to Orlando in your plane a few weeks ago?"

"No. I flew commercial."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Well, it's not an inexpensive airplane to operate, and it's kinda overly opulent. I don't use it for trips like those. I don't often use it for personal stuff, even though I own it. Flying commercial keeps me steady. Keeps me rooted. Just one of those things, like eating at McDonald's or Panda Express, you know?" he said with her eyes studying his. "But I did fly first class," he added with mock pomp.

"What's the other half of why you didn't want me to know who you are? What would have happened if, the first time you asked me that question, I'd said I knew who you were?"

"That's a mean question."

"Why?"

"Because the answer might hurt your feelings, and I don't want to do that."

"Please. I'm a big girl."

"No, you're not. You're tiny," he said, trying to inject humor. When he noticed she wasn't buying it, he continued, "I would've said it was nice to have met you, and that would have been the end of it."

"Is that so."

"Yes."

"What if I'd lied?"

"I was sure you hadn't," he answered.

"How?"

He thought for a few moments. "Do you remember me telling you a reason I am so cautious is because I've been burned before?"

"Yeah."

"I hope what I'm about to say doesn't sound like I'm stereotyping people. I know most women aren't like this, but over the last few years, I've not dated a single woman, not even one, who didn't have ulterior motives. Keep in mind, the ladies I'd see socially were usually already aware of who I was. I'd meet them at business events or functions or whatever. I'd never date one of my own employees, just ladies in the same circles. And then the shows would start."

"What kind of shows?"

"Strange shows. They'd act like Stepford women, you know? Their motives would begin to show. One woman with whom I'd become, at least I thought, very serious with came right out and said it. 'If you don't give me an allowance, we're through.'

"We were through, alright. I kicked her out of my life so fast it left smoke behind. It ripped me apart. I stopped dating after that."

"That's horrible, Eric," she whispered with genuine tenderness showing in her eyes. "But… how does that tell you I wasn't lying to you?"

"Because I could tell. The signs weren't there. I've been duped enough that I've learned to smell the scent of greed from miles away, and I caught not a single whiff from you. I know that sounds dreadful, but it's the truth. I sensed you were a person who was willing to let her hair down and have fun on equal terms. Like I told you back in Orlando, I could tell you were real . It thrilled me."

"I don't know whether to be offended or pleased," Peggy said.

"Can I choose for you?" he chuckled nervously.

"I'm being serious."

"I know. Sorry. I'll shut up now."

They rode the rest of the way to the airport in silence. Peggy's mind was reeling. She didn't know what to think. She wanted to be pissed off he'd even assume she'd be like the other women he described, but she couldn't. She didn't know who he was. She didn't know he was well-to-do, but he'd told her he liked her, found comfort in her company, and she'd told him the same.

She considered her first impressions of him as being genuine, approachable, yet nervous and unsure around her. Natural. Present. She spent several minutes doubting her senses. She instinctively knew they were keen, because her senses saved lives.

She remembered perceiving him as vulnerable. He was vulnerable. It all made sense as the fog gave way to clarity. His experiences made him necessarily guarded, something she'd felt herself. He said he was walking out on a limb. He'd said on the phone the previous evening how he trusted her. He'd said it a few weeks earlier, too.

She knew she certainly liked Ordinary Eric.

"I'm the guy you met two weeks ago," he'd said, and she believed him.

"I hate all this showy crap." She believed that, too.

As the Benz drove onto the airfield, she asked a simple question.

"Are you really just Ordinary Eric?"

"I swear to you, Peggy, I am. Does it matter that Ordinary Eric owns a jet, a nice ranch, a few Italian suits, and has money?"

"If I asked you to throw all this away, would you?"

"No. Of course not, but I do want to carefully give some of it away. Like $50 million in a few days," he answered calmly. "Besides. I earned it."

His last sentence smacked her in the brain, and it made her feel a little shameful for having asked the question.

"Yeah. You did," she said with a barely masked smile.

"But I have to ask," she continued. "The endowment. The consideration of me to lead the unit. I don't know how to put this, so I'll just say it. Are you doing this because of me? Are you trying to—"

"No. I'd already started ironing it out when I came to Orlando. It was the reason I had to leave when I did. I had meetings and stuff which couldn't be postponed.

"But the research director position? Yes. When I got home, the idea hit me. I couldn't stop thinking about how good of a fit you would be."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. But then I felt like an absolute stone-cold moron for a couple of reasons."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because, if I'd have thought of it while I was there, I would have told you and then I wouldn't have been searching for almost two weeks trying to find you. The board has already interviewed at least a half dozen other candidates. You might, in fact, be the last one they talk to for all I know."

"And the other reason?"

"This one is probably more stupid than that." He grinned sheepishly.

"What is it?"

"I didn't know Peggy is a diminutive of Margaret."

She grasped his hand in hers and began laughing. Her laughter unleashed his.

"Thank you for believing in me. At least I hope you do."

That same nervous, searching, earnestly honest expression showed on his face. She took it in her hands and kissed its lips warmly. She tasted him, and he delighted in her.

"I do, because that's Ordinary Eric right there."

"And there's kickass-karting, laser-tag-cheating Peggy right there." He chuckled and stroked her warm thigh.

"Are there going to be other business folks on the flight to Oklahoma?"

"Nope, just you, me, and the host."

"Then it wouldn't be weird if I change into more comfortable clothes before we board your plane?"

"Weird? Hell no. I plan on doing the same thing when we get to the FBO. I don't like wearing a suit any more than I have to."

When the limo deposited them at the terminal, both passengers took their bags inside the building where an agent escorted them to two private rooms. Their comfortable lounge facilities were designed for flight crew members wanting to rest and refresh in privacy as they waited for their passengers to do whatever business they did. Each featured a reclining massage chair, a microwave, a small refrigerator full of bottled water and soft drinks, and a television. Of course, the entire facility, indoors and out, had high-speed wireless internet access available.

Peggy unpacked comfortable garb and began to remove her clothes when she saw an appliance labeled "Hot Towels." She opened the cabinet and steam rose from the enclosure. There were numerous plush, moist towels of various sizes inside.

Holy crap , Peggy thought to herself. These folks think of everything.

She finished disrobing and gave herself a warm, refreshing sponge bath. She let one hand towel cool slightly before employing it to more delicate areas. She deposited the spent linens in the designated bin, then reapplied her deodorant and freshened her makeup. She donned comfortable shorts, and a figure-flattering fitted top. She brushed her teeth, then her hair. She bundled her locks into a bouncy ponytail. She exchanged her heels for sandals.

After carefully rolling up her suit into a tidy parcel and stashing it, she zipped closed the liner of her hard-side and strolled with it to the door.

Eric had just exited his similar room and was walking ahead of her.

"Hey," she whispered.

He stopped and turned toward the voice.

"Have mercy," he said with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. You look… damn. Sorry. I should keep my mouth closed."

Her eyes displayed genuine concern. "Am I underdressed?"

"Hardly. I was just going to say you're really cute, but it'd be rude because you don't like that word."

"I like it when you say it." She smiled sweetly as they resumed walking. "Thank you."

"Hey, Danny?" Eric beckoned the host as they entered the hangar.

He hustled over to the pair. "Yes, Mr. Reiter?"

"Sorry for the short notice, but I won't be needing your services now. Have your dispatcher get you back to Oke City. Thank you for taking such good care of Doctor Foreman this morning."

"No problem, sir," he answered, "and it was my pleasure."

Eric shook his hand and Peggy saw a few green-colored slips of paper exchange palms.

"Monica, we're anxious to get going," he said to the pilot.

"Of course, sir," she acknowledged. "Welcome back, Doctor Foreman. We'll be at Will Rogers about two hours after we depart. We'll leave just as soon as we get our clearance."

"Perfect. We'll settle in," Eric said.

He gestured to the airstairs and Peggy climbed them with Eric following behind, watching what he knew was the most beautiful backside he'd ever seen flex and tighten as the legs underneath it ascended.

After they'd buckled into two seats facing each other, Peggy asked, "Why'd you leave Danny behind?"

"None of the crew work for me directly. They're a contract service. If the service doesn't have a route for him, Danny can hang out in Atlanta and fly back tomorrow, or go home today. Besides, I just tipped him two hundred dollars. Considering the Braves are playing the Rangers tonight, he'll probably go to the game.

"Monica has flown this plane for as long as I've owned it. She had just retired from an airline. She'd been flying 737s for the previous twenty-plus years and earned her type rating for the Citation. I always ask for Danny and Monica because I like familiarity. Very seldom has anyone else taken their spots."

"That doesn't answer my question. Why'd you kick him off?"

"Because he'd be sitting here in the cabin."

"Why is that a problem?"

"I want to… well… I want to be alone with you."

"Oh," she said before pausing for a few moments.

"God, Eric, this is all so incredible," she said, stretching her back then nestling more deeply into her comfortable seat.

"Isn't it?" he said without an ounce of ego. "This is the best part."

He elevated his voice and called out, "Captain, we're all set back here!"

"Roger, sir," she replied.

The plane started moving less than a minute later.

Peggy smiled widely, then glued her face to the window to watch as the Citation barreled down the runway reaching 115 knots when it left the pavement. It leapt like a rocket into the air.

"Incredible," Peggy said with a broad smile.

She turned, looking at Eric. He was watching the moving map on an LCD screen he had removed from its compartment.

"How's your foot, by the way?" she asked.

"All better. I took the stitches out last night," he said as he stood from his seat and stepped to the galley. He drew closed the lightweight door between them and the flight deck.

"You? You didn't !" she barked.

"Why not? A gorgeous surgeon told me they could come out in two weeks, so I took them out."

She glowered. "A medical practitioner should have done it."

"Why should I have to pay for that in either time or money? I clipped 'em with snips and they popped right out. Took me less than a minute."

"Jeez. You own a million-dollar jet, and you're worried about a seventy-five-dollar office visit. Any bleeding or oozing?" she asked.

"No." He chuckled. "And this plane was closer to twenty million."

"Let me have a look," Peggy prompted.

"We're in Georgia. You're not licensed here."

She unbuckled her seat belt and scooched forward. "Come on, big guy, let me make sure you didn't leave a knot in a suture track."

He dutifully did as instructed. He slipped off his loafer and propped his foot on her armrest.

She studied it for a few moments. She could smell on his skin the same light citrus fragrance which scented the hot towels she'd used. His foot was clean and tidy. She suspected he was nice and tidy all over.

"Yeah, okay," she observed, examining the minuscule scar and pinholes left by the sutures. She smiled. "You did alright."

"Good to know," he said, watching her closely.

Instead of tickling his foot like she had before, she brought it to rest on her thigh and slowly began to massage it.

"Any tenderness?"

"No. None at all," he said with a relaxed smile and sigh.

"Good," she said, but she didn't stop. Eric was no stranger to pedicures, but the way she was massaging his foot and calf felt better than at any salon, because it was her. It was Peggy.

"Does this feel nice?" she asked after several minutes of comforting caresses.

"Yeah. Absolutely."

"Give me the other one," she said and smiled.

He repositioned and placed his unshod foot where the other had been. She began to massage it just as thoroughly. After a few moments, she stopped, slipped off a sandal, and propped her foot on his thigh with a grin.

"How could someone who spends the majority of her day on her feet have such pretty ones?" he asked, firmly kneading into its arch and between its toes.

"Same as you, probably."

He grinned. "Did you just say I have pretty feet?"

"Yeah. You do." She chuckled softly.

She slowly repositioned the foot she was massaging and placed it between her legs. She massaged his toes as she slipped slightly forward in her seat until the sole of his foot was nestled into her crotch.

His eyes widened. "Peggy—"

"Does the crew ever open that door?" she asked, rubbing her body against hist foot.

"Not until the plane is on approach or if it's on fire," he said as she pushed his heel very gently into her.

She moved the foot he was massaging and probed his body with her toes, feeling a pronounced mass of firm flesh underneath cloth. He sighed deeply when she stroked it and moved his pelvis in reflex.

"Well, Ordinary Eric, I definitely smell smoke."

"You've told me my foot is in perfect health." He grinned lasciviously. "How's your taillight?"

She nudged his foot away and slowly stood from her seat. Watching over her shoulder, she turned away from him and bent, hardly subtly, at her hips. Just as he'd done the prior time, his eyes widened, his brows rose, and the corners of his lips curled.

Presented with her perfect backside, he reached slowly forward and palmed her, feeling the heat of her body through the cloth of her shorts. He could feel the elastic at the legs of hidden panties, and traced it with his fingertips over the swells of her butt.

He gave into his desires. He placed his hands at her hips, leaned forward in his seat, and brought her body close to him. The cheeks of his face stroked the cheeks of her beautiful butt and he exhaled audibly.

"God, Eric, I can feel your breath," she said in a sigh.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm misbehaving," he whispered, gently nudging her away from him.

She was jolted by his words. She pivoted to look at him. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. I'm… shit. I…"

She sensed he was struggling to speak. She watched him, studying his expressions and the non-verbal language of his body.

"What is it, Eric? What's wrong?"

"I'm… I… " His eyes studied the floor.

"Tell me, baby. Talk to me."

Baby . He heard it. He knew he heard it. It wasn't a mistake. It wasn't the same tone of voice his prior vacuous relationships used. It sounded tender. It sounded whole. It sounded real. It sounded… Good lord almighty. She  is real! The realization made his mind ring.

"Peggy, I'm scared."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"What are you thinking? Just tell me, okay?"

"I don't know. I just don't know what to think."

She noticed he wouldn't meet her eyes. "Eric, who do you think I am? Do you know me ?"

"I don't know, Peg. This is so unfamiliar." His voice cracked.

She sensed it in her core that his shields were up. His armor was back on in full.

"Baby, look at me," she encouraged.

He didn't.

"Eric, please look at me," she said, palming his face and turning his head upward. "What are you worried about?"

"I'm scared that what I've done… what I've told you… what we're doing right now is changing your impression of me," he said. "I met you, like what, barely two weeks ago? And, in that very first hour, you were so unlike any other woman I'd met in almost forever. You've got me freaking turned inside out. I… I just wasn't prepared for this."

"You'd better believe it's changed my impression of you," she whispered. "But I'm wondering if you are thinking I might be one of those gold-digging stalkers Lance mentioned. Because I swear to you, I'm not, but, right at the moment, I have no way of convincing you otherwise."

"What'd he tell you?" he asked with surprise in his voice.

"Not much. He said he'd leave it for you to explain, and you kinda have. But I'm not like that. All this stuff," she said, waving her hands around, gesturing at the trappings of their surroundings, "yeah, it's pretty freaking cool. It's amazing, and I'm having a blast.

"But… I'm not Cinderella. I'm not Rachel Chu, and you're not Nick Young."

"Wh—what? Who are they?"

"The book. Crazy Rich… never mind." She chuckled lightly.

He looked into her eyes, and she his. She lowered herself to a half-kneel, her knees against the front of his seat, and pulled him toward her to kiss him. She pierced his nervous mouth with her tongue and drew his into her. She blindly found his arm and traced her fingers to its extent, to his hand, and brought it to her chest.

"Feel this?" she asked, knowing her heavy pulse would be evident.

His voice was bashful. "Thump thump?"

"Yeah. Thump thump. That's you. You, Eric. That's so completely you . You don't know me, do you. I'm not Cinderella." She smiled tenderly at him. "Are you sure the crew isn't going to open that door?"

"Yeah."

"Then let me have you."

He stared agape at her. "Now?" he gasped.

"I want to make love to you. For the last two weeks, I've thought of almost nothing else. I've been thinking about what we did, the way you talked to me, the way you complimented me. The way you touched me, the way you wanted me even though I was… yeah. No one has ever made me feel as desirable as you did… as you do . I want to make love to you, Eric. Please?"

"I didn't bring any condoms," he softly said.

"I don't care. I need to feel your skin. Your skin."

"But… back in Orlando, you said—"

"I know what I said. I'm back on the pill, and I trust you."

He knew her statement implied she expected him to tell her if he had any other reasons to need to use a condom. Her trust was genuine, and it wasn't betrayed.

Eric retracted the armrests of his seat. He grabbed Peggy around her waist, twisted her sideways, and pulled her onto his lap, her feet dangling in the aisle. Their mouths met in a deep kiss.

"I can't tell you how bad I want you. You've been in my dreams since you left the resort. You've done something to me," he said, smiling at her.

"It makes me feel so good how you say things like that," she cooed, stroking his cheek with her soft hand, "but I swear, if you don't touch me, I'm going to scream."