Love Expectations (Season 1 of Nata and Phillip's Romance) ✔️

26. 'This better be a joke'

Phillip

What the actual fuck happened yesterday? I squeeze the armrest and peer into the window of the plane. I should have jerked off yesterday before seeing her, but when I planned to arrive in time for her presentation, I didn't expect to get to sex right after. I had dinner reservations. I was going to take her to my club for a drink or two. I check my watch again. No message from Nata, but no Nata either. We still have fifteen minutes till takeoff, and the attendants will get her luggage on board in less than five, but she was supposed to be here already. I send another text to Nata.

Me: ETA?

No dancing dots. Nothing. Is this what being ghosted feels like? My knee bounces up and down faster than the pulse in my temples. I wash my hand over my face in an attempt to relax my features. I've had one-night stands before. What happened yesterday was above and beyond. She just left. No 'see you later'. No 'thank you'.

She stormed out of my hotel room like another minute in my proximity would result in a chemical burn. I'm not contagious. I've shown her my STI results, and after the contact we did have, however mechanical, she can't pretend she would've caught anything I have no matter how fast she ran. I lean forward, unable to find a comfortable position in the wide, luxurious leather seat that's more comfortable than US internal first-class. My phone buzzes.

Nata: 5 mins

Finally, a reply. I exhale and recline, assuming a relaxed pose even though on the inside I'm anything but. My palms are sweaty. My collar is too tight. I loosen my tie. The only texts she's replied to since she ran out of my room yesterday were the ones that dealt with her flying back with me. The questions about what happened and why she didn't stay got the "we'll talk in person later" canned response.

Now it's later and in person. Whatever the f happened last night was nowhere near what I imagined when I agreed to the deal. I knew we were not going to date, but the fuck and run situation was not it either.

Why was she so afraid to actually enjoy herself? What did her ex do to her to make her hate sex this much? Because don't understand what other reason she had for putting as little satisfaction as possible into the act. Do I need to revisit my college days and have a conversation with him that involves fists as well as words to make it clear he's off the table? He won't get to hurt her anymore.

The expression on Nata's face as she climbed off me was that of hurt, not pleasure. No way she got off yesterday. Not like I haven't given women vaginal orgasms before, but I don't have a magical dick that guarantees happy endings. My fingers and tongue are where the guaranteed orgasms reside. Without the use of those, she hasn't just given me a handicap; she ensured I can't satisfy her. And that's not going to work for me. Never did. I'm not planning on starting now. Sex is a team sport. Anger burns a hole in my throat as if I swallowed a cigarette butt. I take a calming breath and count to five.

My teeth squeak I'm grinding them so hard. I've waited the whole day to have a civilized conversation with her about the situation. Our ability to discuss things rationally and in a friendly way is one of the many reasons the deal is better than any relationship I had before. I tap my shoe on the wall of the plane, surprised it doesn't shake in response to my mood. I bite my lip and take several long breaths. We are reasonable adults. We will talk it out. I've been to therapy for enough years to steer our conversation. I slide the fancy coffee to the spot at the table across from me and look out of my plane's window. Technically VdH owns the plane, but it's at my disposal unless Dad has something.

"Welcome aboard," Chloe, the flight attendant working today, says with her usual cheer.

I move my head to face the plane's entrance.