His booty call ✔️ (under editing )

28.

"An Airport?" my squeaky voice comes out as a disappointment.

Quinn casts me a quick look and picks up a six-pack of beer before getting out of the car. I follow his action, pick my frozen yogurt, which he bought begrudgingly and get out.

I look around the deserted area with dirt and the fence that separates the airport and us. Can't deny we have a great view of the runway. But I can't picture Quinn enjoying plane spotting.

He sits on the hood of the car and I do the same.

"What is so great about this?" I ask.

"I just love seeing a big powerful machine float in the air. " He sighs.

I give an inward groan, "Men and Machines."

"That should be on a T-shirt, M&M." He says.

I give him a toothy grin.

He opens a beer. He hands it to me and picks up another one. I watch him take a gulp.

I swing mine and take a sip too.

"What is your dream destination?" He all of a sudden asks.

Some noise hinders my immediate response. I turn to its origin. It is a 747 taking off. I watch how it is the only thing on the runway. The way it moves before it is off the ground. With its wings spread apart and its nicely shaped flamboyant body. It eludes power. The feeling is just magnificent. I understand why Quinn loves watching planes.

It flies over us and I lean back to get a better view of it. The last time I was on a plane I was eight years old. A year before my dear father died. He had promised me a trip to Paris as soon as I was twelve.

"Paris," I say softly.

"How cliché." Quinn huffs.

"Did you just say Cliché? Are you some closet 'softie'?" I knit my eyebrows to meet the surprise.

"Would that turn you off? " He dares me by moving dangerously close.

"A little," I utter and take a big swing of my beer.

"Too bad. My greatest fantasy has always been to fuck here." He caresses the hood of his car. "- as the planes fly over."

I feel my pants get soaked. The fantasy is so hot. He fulfilled mine when he went down on me. It is only fair if I fulfill his. I shake my head to clear the thought.

I change the topic, "And where is your dream destination?"

He shrugs, "I have been to every part of the world."

"Which was your favorite?" I pick the second can of beer.

He leans back until he is completely laying down.

"Bali." The book; Eat, Pray, Love, is what comes to mind when he mentions Bali. "And maybe Congo. Other than the clashes. The country is very rich in resources." He adds.

His phone rings and prays it is not Panda. That will just ruin everything.

"Hi, Buddy?" He starts to video chat. It is the sad boy I saw at the Gala. It is quite late for him to be awake.

"Can't sleep." He groggily states.

"I will sing you to sleep. Just lay down and put your phone beside you." Quinn instructs.

After some minutes he starts to sing unfamiliar kid songs. He has patience. He repeats the song repeatedly until soft snores are heard. Who is this guy? I have never known him to be such patient or like kids. And the plot thickens to Quinn mysteries.