That Blue Gibson: Another Round

thirty-two

"Oh my god, if this girl bites her fucking lip one more time..."

"Baby, if it's so bad, stop reading it."

"I can't stop!" Liz giggled, "It's so bad it's good, you know? And Al said I needed to read them all. She's gonna quiz me."

Dave only shook his head and returned to his own book, one about the political impact the punk scene had made on DC that she'd found for him. He'd been in the middle of paying for their coffee for the short flight to Ireland when she set four books down on the counter beside him.

"Oh, Fifty Shades. My wife loves these," the clerk chuckled and winked at Dave, "You'll love 'em once she's read them through, mate."

Her legs were stretched across his as she sat sideways in her seat, occasionally reaching over to hold his hand when they weren't turning pages. She'd occasionally huff, roll her eyes, laugh or even gasp at her book until finally she set it down in her lap.

"They just stopped making dinner to have sex on the kitchen floor."

This time, he didn't bother to look up. "So? We've done that."

"Yeah, but she's trying to qualify the phrase 'Put the chicken in the fridge' as sexy."

"Maybe I'm just not saying it right." Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her knuckles turn white as she gripped the binding of the book and looked up at her half smile, "What?"

"Nothing."

Slowly closing his book, he tried to think back through their conversation to figure out what she was getting at but came up empty. "No, really... what?"

"I just think you have a very sexy voice, that's all."

He'd come to that conclusion on his own over a year ago when he figured out that growling just the right words in her ear could practically make her come on demand, but she was getting at something and he was determined to figure out what it was.

"I'm gonna... go... fix my hair," she said slowly, pulling her legs from his lap to stand.

He watched her leave, raising an eyebrow at her when she looked back at him from the rear of the tiny plane and tilted her head to the bathroom door. 

"Goddamnit, Elizabeth," he whispered to himself, settling back into his seat to wait a few minutes before following her.

The early morning flight was full of jaded business travelers and tired American tourists, and he stuck out like sore thumb among all the sensible suits and camera straps, but no one seemed to pay him any attention when he strolled down the aisle of the plane. He was sure the flight attendant knew what he was up to when he gave him a smile and a nod as they passed each other in the aisle, but when the door opened and Liz's garnet ring flashed out to drag him in against her, he found he didn't really care who knew.

Still, he whispered sarcastically at her, "That was subtle, Elizabeth."

"Oh, who cares," she shrugged and reached up to kiss him as if they had time for it.

Spinning her around by the shoulders, he held her still in front of the tiny sink and rolled her leggings down her hips, thinking he'd put up with airports every damn day if that's what she'd wear. "We could have done this on the plane over from the States," he breathed against her ear, watching her reaction in the mirror, "The one that had an actual bed?"

"This is way more fun, David," she whispered back and arched her back enough to press her ass against his shorts. "And you apparently... agree."