The Flautist. Part Eleven

The plane touched down smoothly.

Kate, tired and sleepy, slowly began to collect her things. Modern aviation seemed like magic, a few hours ago she was in Brussels, the day before she was piloting the plane, and now - home, change, go to work.

In the taxi she tried to recall the events of the last 24 hours, but blushed and, embarrassed, offered the driver her best chit-chat. The unpredictable weather, traffic jams and the cost of living were sure to make for a heated conversation.

The door closed behind her. The suitcase stood in the middle of the corridor, forgotten. Shoes left on the floor pointed the way to the bathroom, accompanied by a jumper and a skirt. The blonde enjoyed the warm, slow, relaxing shower. Step by step, she allowed herself to fall into the realm of fresh memories. She could almost feel a tiny hand touching her neck, running smoothly over the curves of her breasts, caressing her stomach, going . . .

Kate felt cold. She would never take a long shower, no matter how hot the water. She quickly dried herself with a towel and went to her bedroom, naked. She picked up her mobile phone, and what a pleasant surprise! Her class had been cancelled for the day. Kate dropped onto the bed and closed her eyes.

***

Jo took over.

Flying may be easy, but landing, ah, that is where the art resides. It takes a master to land in one piece. Jo was a wonder. It was the most beautiful touchdown Kate had ever seen.

The girls pushed the plane back into the hangar. Jo had to do some paperwork and half an hour later they were on their way back to Brussels.

"That was fantastic, Jo. This flying and all. Exploring the area, learning things, floating in the air. Like we were dancing."

Jo pretended to be preoccupied, watching something in the mirror. She tried to be polite, after all, what was the point of lecturing Kate, whom she might never see again. But as a pilot with several dozen exams under her belt, with hundreds of questions based on carefully misleading wording, she simply could not stand the phrase 'floating in the air'. Balloons float. Aeroplanes fly.

She offered Kate her number 5 smile, reserved for the public at air shows, and said:

"Yes, I like that comparison. Dancing together in the air."

"Do you dance often?"

"I fly. I do it by numbers and I like it. I seldom have the opportunity to spend a leisurely morning in an aeroplane like today."

"No, I mean . . . it's very interesting and all that, but I meant: do you actually dance?"

"Not much. For me, dancing is something very sensual. I cannot dance with just any person. When I dance, it is special and it means something."

Jo signalled her turn and changed the street.

"I hardly ever dance."

"You'll find someone, I'm sure."

"Hm? Oh, yeah, one day, maybe. I'm married to my planes, really."

Kate tried to find words. Jo did not seem upset or sad. She was direct and honest, and . . .

"Would you dance with me tonight, Kate? Just this once?"

Well, that was unexpected. Those words, spoken by anyone else, would have contained a hint, a promise . . . But Jo? Did she just mean: dance?

"Sure, I'd love to."

"What time do you leave?"

"I have to be at Brussels airport at 4.30 in the morning. It's not worth going to bed."

"Hm, unless you have something to do in that bed."

Jo scratched her nose.

"I mean, are you done in Brussels? Or have any plans?"

"Not much. I mean, I'm done with work."

"Can I plan your day then? Well, it's getting late, so as soon as we get there, we can go out for a bite. Then we will go to your hotel and you will pack and leave. I'll take you to my place, we'll leave your suitcase there and I'll show you around the city. I am sure I can show you little things that tourists rarely see. Then . . ."

Kate closed her eyes.

"Then . . . ?"

"We'll go back to my place. I'll buy you a toothbrush, you'll pack yourself, leaving only the things you'll be wearing tomorrow. I will drive you to the airport."

"Thank you! But I'm going to need my pyjamas anyway . . ."

"Kit-Kat, I was hoping you wouldn't need any until tomorrow morning."

"Jo wants to dance and Piglet's hungry?"

"I want to eat my Kit-Kat, every bit of her . . ."

***

Well, it might be cold in the morning, so a jumper is needed, and jeans are the best option for travelling. Some socks, trainers . . . Good. Kate packed the dirty clothes, closed the suitcase and headed for the shower. She took it quickly, tied up her hair and went into the room to put her pendant back on. This was her habit, dictated by the experience of losing something so dear to her on one of her artistic journeys. From then on she never took off her rings, bracelets or pendants. In fact, she rarely wore rings or bracelets, but she did like her tiny gold chain with a little Svarovsky crystal hanging from it.

"May I?"

Jo stood at the door, naked, drying her hair with a towel. That was certainly a little thing in Brussels that the average tourist didn't see.

"I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable. I can see you are ready."

Jo looked at Kate, who was applying a drop of perfume to her wrists and the side of her neck.

"Can you undo your hair?"

"If you like," Kate said, loosening her hair. "You know, I read that in Japan, tied hair is sexier."

"Is it?"

"The bare neck drives them crazy, apparently. I was hoping it would work in Brussels too."

Jo laughed.

"I'll give you a bare neck if I can get my hands on it. In the meantime, I love your pendant, it accentuates your neck and cleavage and that drives me crazy."

Kate approached Jo.

"Let me enhance that feeling even more."

"Come."

Jo led Kate into the living room and sat down on the sofa. Kate sat next to her and touched Jo's face, smiling. Then she gave her a kiss. Then another. Down her neck, her chest, her belly . . . Jo lay back and waited for what would happen next.

"Mhm . . . I love your thighs . . ."

"Oh . . ." Jo waited patiently for Kate to satisfy her hunger. On her way up, Jo grabbed Kate's head and stopped her in the middle, preventing the blonde from going anywhere else . . .

The sun had set long before and the moon was illuminating the scene. The tall body of Kate and the petite one of the brunette contrasted and complemented each other. Jo pushed Kate gently and as the girl fell onto her back the brunette began to kiss her neck, appreciating the scent of the perfume. She put her hands on Kate's chest, enjoying the curves, smiling as she saw the nipples aroused. Kate began to wriggle and squirm.

"Is something wrong?"

"Mhmm . . . No, I like to move. After all, I promised you a dance."

Hands went down her belly, then spread the blonde's legs gently but with authority.

Kate sighed, relaxed, closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment her lover's tiny fingers caressed her groins and moved back up to her breasts. Then they moved quickly down her belly, and Kate felt just one finger go down the middle . . . lower . . . and lower . . . until it stopped just before reaching the magical area.

"Kit-Kat?"

"Yes, Piglet?" moaned Kate.

Her mind was already in another dimension, her anticipation of the pleasure to come pushing her upwards, she felt light, as if she were a feather flying in a light breeze.

"KATE!"

"Wha . . . what?" Kate crash-landed.

"Answer me, this is very important!"

"Please," Jo added after a moment's hesitation.

"Answer you what? I enjoyed . . ."

"Yes, apparently so. Maybe we'll come back to that. The important thing right now is what airport are you leaving from?"

"What? What's what? Brussels?" Kate only felt her sweat and the cold.

"Kate! Concentrate, please. I'm trying to help you. Zaventem?"

"I don't know . . . Are there any other options?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, there is Brussels-Charleroi. Do yourself a favour and check. Now."

Kate got up from the sofa, feeling a little embarrassed and insecure. She walked obediently to her room, disappeared for a moment or two and returned in a bathrobe. Never trusting her devices and internet access, she had her ticket printed. She handed the page to Jo.

"Charleroi! Silly girl!"

"EXCUSE ME?"

"What? No, I am a silly girl, I knew I had forgotten something. Damn it! Zaventem is ten minutes from here, Charleroi over an hour's drive. Practically, we have to go . . . well, in thirty minutes. Come here."

Kate did not move.

"The mood is gone and I can't do it in a hurry. I'll get dressed."

"Kate, I'm sorry, don't be upset. Come here. I'll restore the mood and I hope you enjoy it, however briefly."

Kate tried to make a pouty face, which made Jo even more excited. The brunette untied Kate's belt, spread the lapels of the bathrobe and, still sitting, began to kiss Kate's belly. Jo moved her hands down the blonde's body. The robe fell to the floor.

"You trusted me with your life on the plane today. Can you trust me with your pleasure now?"

Kate nodded, feeling desired again. Her mind did not float away, but the little things Jo did to her drove her out of control, if only for a brief moment, as Jo had promised. The two girls lay in each other's arms, kissing.

"Did I miss my plane?"

"The timer has not gone off yet. Let's enjoy it. It wouldn't last long . . ."

Kate closed her eyes . . . and the alarm went off.

The night drive to the budget airport was uneventful, rather boring. Jo parked her car to accompany Kate inside. Kate dropped her luggage and turned to Jo to say goodbye.

"Well, I guess this is the last time we see each other," Jo said.

"I hope not. Anyway, thank you for a fantastic time and for everything. I loved every second of it."

"I have something to confess, Kate. I really want to tell you because I really like you. And you deserve to know."

"I'm scared now. What is it?"

"Oh, no, nothing important, really. You see, my name is not Josephine."

Kate was surprised. She looked down at Jo's serious face and couldn't help laughing.

"That's a relief. But, wait a minute . . . why? And would you tell me your name in a way that I would believe?"

"You know my name. It's Jo. My dad was a big fan of Raquel Welch, you know, he's really old. Anyway, being a devoted fan, he knew her name was actually Jo Raquel and gave me that name at birth. Nomen non semper omen, apparently"

"Jo, you don't have the stature of Ms. Welch, but you are one of the sexiest women I've ever met. The name worked. But still, why?"

Jo shrugged.

"I wanted to find out if you liked me. If you didn't want to play the game or didn't care, I would have said goodbye at the Ferris wheel. But you called me at the last moment with your solution. I turned and saw it in your face."

"What?"

"I don't know. A hope? Yes, a hope. You really wanted it. You did not want to win the game, you wanted me to stay. And as mistress of the game, I gave you the prize".

"That was wicked, bad, evil, dishonest . . . and that was the biggest prize anyone has ever received for a wrong answer. I am glad it went that way."

"Me too."

The girls shook hands, then hugged, then Kate moved on.

***

The warm yellow light of a street lamp shone on the face of a blonde girl lying naked in bed on soaked sheets. The thin gold chain accentuated the shape of her neck and the small cristal rested on her cleavage. Her mind, as light as a feather, twisted and turned gently in the still air until it gently touched reality.