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Before: Number 27


Nick

After Ashley hung up, I really needed to... you know, unwind. I glanced at the door of the waiting room I was occupying and was just about to start when the door bumped open and a young-ish couple walked in. I pulled my blanket up around me.

"Oh. Hey. Sorry," the guy said, looking at me. The woman looked pale with worry. "Did we wake you up?" he asked.

"No," I replied.

"Sorry," he said. They stood there awkwardly for a moment. I waited, hoping they'd leave. They waited, evidently hoping I'd ask them not to. It was sort of an inpasse. Finally, the guy said, "Mind if we join you?"

"I was just leaving," I lied, and I picked up my duffle bag from the couch - which I'd been using as a pillow - and the blanket. I yanked my phone cord out of the wall. "Have a good night," I said. I kept the blanket carefully wrapped around me. After all, I was sporting a tent.

I walked quickly. There had to be a men's room somewhere around here. Clutching the blanket around me, my mid-region throbbing, I hurried down the sterile-smelling hallway after another, searching for the restrooms. It took me about three minutes to locate one, which, when you're running around in a hospital with a blanket pulled around you like you're a patient from the ding-dong-wing playing Batman or something is a long ass time. I saw it from way down the hallway.

"Yes," I hissed, excited. I hurried toward it. Just as I was about fifteen feet away, a janitor with a big yellow bucket and a mop came whistling down a merging hallway. I stopped short as the guy wheeled his bucket over to the men's room, dropped a wet floor sign, and hitched the door open. "Fuck," I whispered.

I continued down the hallway until I came to the second bathroom. I hurried in and chose a stall, dropped my blanket.

My phone vibed.

I pulled it out. A text from Ashley.

wait til ur in boston ;) itll be more fun and u wont get carpal tunnel

Damn it.

For just a moment, I thought about doing it anyways. She'd never know, I thought. Except she would know because I'd feel guilty and I have this weird thing where my eye twitches just a little when I feel guilty. And if she ever asked me randomly I'd tell her because I'm a stupid bastard like that. Then she'd have an excuse not to do number 27. And I didn't know what Number 27 was but I knew I sure as hell didn't wanna miss doing it with Ashley. That was for damn sure.

ok I texted back.

I shoved the phone back into my pocket.

"Fuck," I whispered. I gathered my blanket up off the floor and pulled it back around me. I shrugged my duffle bag onot my shoulder. Now I had to find a new waiting room to sleep in, too, on top of all of it all.

It took me a good hour to find an unoccupied, private waiting room with a couch like the one I'd had before. But I finally located one. I pulled the door closed behind me and crawled onto the couch, pulling my blanket up around me. I snuggled my head into my duffle bag's softness and plugged my phone into the wall. I used the Southwest app to book a flight to Boston for the next morning and texted a screen cap of my itinerary to Ashley.

pick me up?

She sent back a winking face.

I hoped that meant yes.

I fell asleep and dreamed many dirty, dirty, dirty dreams about what Number 27 could possibly be.




Ashley

People were turning as I walked through the airport. I just knew they were. I held my jacket closed, but I just knew they were somehow seeing through the jacket somehow. Somehow they knew.

I'd left Zoey with Patrick at the apartment. I'd told him Nick was coming home and we were going to dinner and would be back around nine. I felt nervous leaving her - this was, after all, the first time I'd left her - but if Nick and I were gonna do Number 27, it was gonna be at a hotel.

So I'd gotten ready.

Luckily, my jacket was long enough that it covered me.

I'd gone to Victoria's Secret at the mall on the way to the airport. And it'd taken some digging but I'd managed to find something that worked even with the just-had-a-baby extra weight I was carrying. It was a lacy, frilly, pink contraption of a thing that wrapped around me and pushed my boobs up real nice-like. I'd spent a good ten minutes analyzing how I looked in the fitting room before buying it. A bustier they called it. Fucking Uncomfortable is what I'd call it. But I knew Nick would call it sexy as all hell, so I did it for Nick. The thing is the stupid bustier wasn't exactly designed to be worn under anything.

So. I had on my long rain jacket that hung about two inches above my knees and a pair of high heels and under that... the bustier and sheer underwear it came with.

I prayed I was just being paranoid and nobody could really tell what I was wearing under the jacket. But man my paranoia was strong.

I stood at the gate where Nick had told me to meet him. I held up a sign that said Number 27 and waited.

When he came around the corner, his eyes landed on me and he grinned. His duffle bag was flung over his shoulder, his own jacket hung over his arm. He walked quickly over to me. "Hey 27," he said, and he leaned in and pulled me into himself, wrapping his arms around me. I clearly felt the buldging shape of him pressing against me. I laughed into his ear, "I listened," he whispered, "Though I gotta say it was really tough. I had to hold my jacket on my lap the whole flight."

"Then you probably won't need to hear that I'm not wearing any clothes under this jacket to turn you on then?" I whispered.

He tensed. "Fuck," he whispered. "Is that Number 27? Meet me at the airport in nothing but lingerie and a jacket?"

I shook my head, "It's just a bonus."

"Let's go."

He grabbed my hand and, holding the jacket in front of him, he led the way back across the airport to the doors, where a bay of taxis awaited. He climbed into one and I followed. "A hotel," he said to the driver, "Any hotel. It doesn't matter."

"Sir?"

"A nice hotel. One with room service."

"Yes sir." The cabbie pulled away from the curb.

"Close by," Nick added.

"Yes sir."

Nick turned to me. "So...nothing else?" he fingered the buttons on the jacket.

"You'll have to be surprised," I said thickly.

Nick swallowed. "Mmm," he leaned forward and kissed my neck. The cabbie glanced back in his rearview mirror. I cared, but in a way I didn't. I let Nick keep kissing me, and I tried to push everything else out of my mind - all my worries about Chris, about leaving Zoey for the first time - everything except Nick's mouth on my skin.

I closed my eyes. "I love you," I said.

Nick's hands slid across my thigh where the jacket had slipped up during the process of climbing in. His fingers showered sparks of good feelings throughout every nerve in my body. His hand started to slip under the jacket, but I caught it. "Aht-ah," I whispered. Even as I said it, my body screamed at me for stopping him. "Not yet. No peeking."

Nick was breathing heavy. My own chest was heaving. I wondered if the stupid bustier thing would be able to keep my boobs in if I gasped too hard. I prayed for no wardrobe malfunctions. Nick's mouth met mine and he kissed me long and hard and I leaned into the door of the cab.

Suddenly it came to a stop, "We are here," said the cabbie.

Nick threw a hundred dollar bill at him and we went inside the hotel.