Page 43 of What Happens in Dubai

‘Zara?’ she moaned. ‘Go an’ ask that girl to move then!’

‘Ash, no way! She’s probably paid extra for the window seat,’ I whispered. ‘You literally have an aisle separating us. Two foot of space. We’re all practically next to one another.’ I tried to sound positive while Ashley stared back frostily. A brief stand-off ensued as we each waited for the other to back down.

‘OK, fucking fine! I’ll swap!’ I budged by her as a queue was forming from all the commotion. There was no way of winning the argument when Ashley was being so stubborn, but part of me didn’t want her to be alone for the flight, overthinking and worrying about things with Dave.

‘Yay!’ She cheerfully nudged past Raj and grinned across the aisle at me.

Great, I thought,I’ll presumably be stuck next to the worst person on the entire flight, unable to move for the whole journey. Or even worse, a honeymoon couple.I sat down and clipped myself in, preparing for the worst. Oh shit no, I thought as I observed two troublesome twins battle one another down the aisle towards me.Please, God, not the twins,I prayed.

‘Excuse me,’ a solid Highland accent came from behind me. I turned to see an exceptionally tall, bearded man standing shyly, looking down at me.

‘I think you’re stuck with me,’ he said.

Oh, I fucking wish,I thought. My jaw was still gaping as I attempted to stand for the third time before realising, I was seat belted in.

‘Shit, I’m sorry.’ I finally managed to unhook myself and make room for the stranger. ‘I’ll let you in.’

I stepped out of the row while he placed his backpack in the overhead compartment. Across the aisle, Ashley was hanging over Raj for a better view while nodding her head frantically, watching the hunk slam shut the luggage door and take his seat.

Slipping back into my seat right beside him, I watched him expand his seatbelt to make more room for his muscular physique. His hands looked strong and sun-kissed.

Jesus Christ, this cunt was hot. He had dark brown hair, which was ever so slightly thinning at the front, a short, neat beard, and by the looks of his tight grey top, an incredibly athletic physique.

My eyes darted between his sizeable bulge and his empty ring finger, relieved only one was packing.

He spotted me staring and looked slightly flustered. ‘Good holiday?’ he asked while fishing his phone from his pocket.

‘Yes. Well, no. It was work. What about you?’ I responded, feeling my heart hammering harder in my chest.

‘Aye, the same. Work.’ He looked up and squinted at me. ‘I think we’ve met, you know. Were you at Base nightclub the other night?’

I gasped and held my hands to my mouth.

‘Oh my god,yes. Were you there too?’ I hoped he hadn’t seen me leave for some Eiffel Tower action.

‘Yes. Well, I was working – I do private security.’ He shrugged it off, but the thought of him being a bodyguard sent shockwaves to my fanny. ‘I was working for a famous French actor. I’m pretty sure he liked you.’ He snickered and gazed down at his phone.

‘Oh.’ I felt my face flush with warmth. ‘Yes. God, that guy wouldn’t give up. But I left early with my girlfriends,’ I said, trying to sound convincing.

‘I got off early too that night, actually,’ he said.

Aye, thanks to me, pal.I thought.

‘Suppose that’s the perks. I can’t complain about a job that lets me hit the best nightclubs and stare at pretty girls all night long, eh?’ he laughed.

‘I’m Cameron, by the way.’ He was fidgeting with his jeans.

‘Zara,’ I replied. ‘Nice to meet you, Cameron.’

‘Nice to meet youproperly, Zara,’ he said, as I briefly gazed into his warm mysterious eyes.

Chapter Fifteen

Flying back to Glasgow beside the hunk from the Highlands was exhilarating. We giggled clumsily when our arms bumped against one another in the small confined space, and every time we made eye contact, I felt my vagina drizzle with desire.God help the poor cunt sitting on this seat after me,I thought. As we talked, I quickly forgot about my two friends across the aisle. Cameron was from Aviemore, which was way out of my usual Tinder boundary restriction, as it took far too long to travel to from Glasgow. In his early twenties, he had worked as a sniper in the army and retired to Dubai at thirty-two, where he now worked private security for affluent targets. As Cameron described his job in detail, my clit twinged and my imagination raced at the thought of sharing an armrest with my very own Kevin Costner. I couldn’t help but feel safe and protected in his company. Cameron explained how this journey was in fact his connecting flight to Turkey where he was travelling for a holiday.

‘So, do you travel a lot to Dubai then, Zara?’ he asked, offering me one of his sour cream and onion Pringles.

‘No, this was my first time. Eh, no thanks,’ I refused the snack through good manners, although my stomach grumbled with hunger, knowing fine well I could demolish the tube in ten seconds if I had the chance.

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