20 Questions

Chapter 47

Hunter

This flight couldn't possibly last any longer. I feel like I have been in the air for twelve hours. In all actuality, it's been forty-five minutes. The woman next to me has on too much perfume and it's giving me a headache. She is around my age and insists on asking me more questions than a murder trial. She is putting on the charm way too hard and can't get the hint that I'm not interested. Any other time, I would have probably found her attractive and struck up a conversation. Now, I don't have any desire to look at another woman other than my Jenna. I don't want to be rude because that's not who I am, but she's really starting to piss me off. If this flight weren't full, I would have demanded to switch seats after she laid her hand on my leg. I almost grabbed her bony fingers and broke her hand for touching me. No other female will have their hands on me except Jenna for the rest of my life.

"So are you heading to Louisville for business or pleasure," she asks me.

"Both."

"Well, that sounds like a lot of fun," she carries on, batting her eyelashes, but I'm less than interested in her seduction attempts. "Maybe when we get back, we can get a drink together."

"I'm going to meet my fiancée, so no thanks."

"Well, you're not married yet..."

Now I'm really pissed. I shift my body to stare out the window and put my ear buds in. I'm over this conversation. Jenna is so different than any girl I have ever met. She doesn't need to douse herself in overpriced perfume or paint her face with a bunch of makeup. She is the most gorgeous with no makeup and in pajamas. I love her messy hair in the morning and her sweet sleepy smile. I love to watch her walk around in her painted-on jeans and pink painted toenails. She would never hit on a man that was engaged or throw herself at someone. She wouldn't need to. Men are drawn to her because of her confidence, her authenticity and her natural beauty. I fell in love with her on that plane and we never spoke a word to each other. I close my eyes and picture her perfect face. I turn on the Journey playlist because it's her favorite band. I feel closer to her as I listen to the music.

~

I guess I must have dozed off because I am awoken by the pilot's voice. Thank God! I can't wait to get off this damn plane. The woman next to me apparently fell asleep after I rejected her. She wakes up and smiles at me, but it's not that precious sleepy smile Jenna gives me. Her mascara is running under her eyes and her makeup is smeared. She looks like a washed-up Pennywise. She runs her fingers under her eyes, but she isn't any more attractive. I'm relieved when the plane stops moving and I can get the hell out of here. I turn my phone back on and stare at the picture that is my screensaver. It is the photo of us in the forest during our sleigh ride. Jenna's cheeks are pink and she looks angelic. When the flight attendants finally allow us to exit the plane, I jump up to grab my bag. If this bitch doesn't get out of my way, I am going to trample over her.

I practically run through the airport to the baggage claim area and grab my suitcase. I may have taken out a few passengers, but I don't care. I need to get out of here. I have something particularly important to do. I'm glad I decided to bring my truck to the airport so I don't have to wait for a ride. I plan to run to my house first to drop off my luggage, but I don't know where to go from there. I'm not sure how I will track her down, but I will do everything in my power to be reunited with my future wife. I live about thirty minutes from the airport and I am praying that the traffic isn't too bad.

~

Of fucking course, I get stuck in traffic. I swear this must be the construction capital of the world, our state bird being an orange cone. It seems like they are always tearing shit up around here before they even complete the previous project. I pull onto my street and see my house in sight. It does feel good to be home. I pull into the garage and grab my suitcase. The house is the same as I left it, but it just feels like a house. If Jenna were here, it would feel like a home. I put my suitcase on the bed and unload the clothes.

Once I have everything put away, I pull out her letter and place it on my desk. I stare at the smeared numbers and try to decipher it as best as I can. With the last three numbers unrecognizable, there would be too many combinations for me to just start calling and trying. I dig through the desk drawers to find the magnifying glass that I know I shoved in there at some point in time. Of course, it's in the bottom and covered in a thick layer of dust. I wipe it off with my shirt and hold it up to the paper. It doesn't help and I'm back to where I started...with nothing. I start my computer and select the Google tab. I click on the search bar and type in Jenna James. There are thousands of results and most of them showcase Bryson's beloved adult film star. It's going to take me forever to go through all these results, but I'll stay up all night if it means I will find my girl. Knowing I will be searching for a while, I walk into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. I'm exhausted from my long flight and my lack of sleep last night. I know I dozed off on the plane, but it couldn't have been for very long and it wasn't solid rest.

Sleep isn't the same without Jenna. I would find comfort in lying next to her, feeling her warm, soft body next to mine. I would reach over and grab her creamy breasts and see her smile before falling back to sleep. What I wouldn't do to have those beautiful tits in my face right now. I would run my tongue over her luscious nipples, flicking them, sucking gently and seeing her head fall back in pleasure. Then I would push myself inside of her until she lost all control. I wish I could feel how wet she is and warm, so warm. I am turned on just thinking about it, my dick getting harder by the second. I would do anything to feel her right now. I got so spoiled having her whenever I wanted this week. She would never object because she wanted it as much as I did. I loved watching her squirm when I would slide my fingers into her, begging me for more. I sit back down at the computer and jack off, picturing her as I stroke my cock. I try to pretend it's her hand, but I know it's not. It's not the same. I reach my orgasm, but the intensity isn't the same.

I'm two cups of coffee in, but I am no closer to finding her than when I started. Despite all the caffeine, I can barely keep my eyes open. I give up my search for the night. I brush my teeth, get undressed and get into bed. I am asleep within minutes, dreaming of yoga pants and pink pushup bras.