Escaping Reality

changes. You’ll likely be the last on the
    plane.”
    “Thanks,” I say, feeling awkward. “I’ll just go sit.” Definitely flustered,
    I turn away from the counter. Ignoring the few vacant seats, I head to the
    window and settle my bags on the floor beside me. Leaning against the
    steel handrail on the glass, I position myself to see everyone around me to
    be sure I’m prepared for any problem before it’s on me. And that’s when
    the room falls away, when my gaze collides with his.
    He is sitting in a seat that faces me, one row between us, his features
    handsomely carved, his dark hair a thick, rumpled finger temptation. He’s
    dressed in faded jeans and a dark blue t-shirt, but he could just as easily be
    wearing a finely fitted suit and tie. He is older than me, maybe thirty, but
    there is a worldliness, a sense of control and confidence, about him that
    reaches beyond years. He is money, power, and sex, and while I cannot
    make out the color of his eyes, I don’t need to. All that matters is that he is
    one hundred percent focused on me, and me on him.
    A moment ago I was alone in a crowd and suddenly, I’m with him. As
    if the space between us is nothing. I tell myself to look away, that everyone
    is a potential threat, but I just…can’t.
    His eyes narrow the tiniest bit, and then his lips curve ever so slightly
    and I am certain I see satisfaction slide over his face. He knows I cannot
    look away. I’ve become his newest conquest, of which I am certain he has
    many, and I’ve embarrassingly done so without one single moan of
    pleasure in the process.
    “Inviting our first-class guests to board now,” a female voice says
    over the intercom.
    I blink and my new, hmmm, whatever he is, pushes to his feet and
    slides a duffle onto his shoulder. His eyes hold mine, a hint of something in
    them I can’t quite make out. Challenge, I think. Challenge? What kind of
    challenge? I don’t have time to figure it out. He turns away, and just like
    that I’m alone again.

Chapter Two

    Everyone has boarded the plane but me. I am alone in the gate area
    aside from a few airline personnel, and I feel vulnerable and exposed with
    no crowd to hide me. I’m already thinking through my options for the
    evening if I don’t make this flight, when my new name is called. “Your lucky
    day, Ms. Bensen,” the attendant says as I approach the counter. “You’ve
    been bumped to first class.”
    I blink in surprise, and not just at the oddity of being called Ms.
    Bensen. “Are you sure?
    First class?”
    “That’s right.”
    “How much extra?” I ask, unsure of how much money I have on the
    card I’ve been given, unable to use my personal savings for fear of being
    tracked. I’m not even sure the little bit my extra holiday jobs allowed me
    would cover it.
    “No cost to you,” she assures me, smiling and motioning to my ticket.
    “Let me fix your paperwork so you can hurry along before they seal the
    doors and you still miss your flight.”
    “Yes,” I say quickly. “Thank you.”
    I rush down the walkway to my flight, and despite my relief at scoring
    a seat, the realness of leaving New York punches me in the gut. Everything
    I’ve come to know as my world is here and I haven’t felt this helpless
    since…a long time ago. I can’t think about what happened. I don’t think
    about it. That’s when the nightmares start, and so does the fear. This isn’t
    the time to let the terror control me. I have no idea what I will face in the
    next few hours and days.
    “Welcome aboard,” a flight attendant says cheerfully as I reach the
    plane, and somehow I muster a half-smile before making my way to row
    seven, where there are only two seats. My aisle assignment is empty as
    expected, and—impossibly, after they’ve told me the airline was
    overbooked—the one by the window also appears empty. Hope that I
    might be alone is dashed when I note the bag stored beneath the seat,
    which tells me my companion is nearby. I sigh. It would suit me just fine to
    slip into my leather seat and shut my eyes before whoever it is returns, but
    alas, that’s simply not an option. I have luggage to store and a file to study.
    With a shrug, I let the oversized bag hanging from my shoulder fall
    into my intended seat, then push the handle down on my new roller
    suitcase. Grimacing, I discover the bin above me is full. Apparently nothing
    is going to be easy tonight. Pushing to my toes, I try to adjust some bags