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First Class Flight

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Villanelle was shown to her cabin by a pretty air steward in red lipstick that intentionally matched her smart, red outfit. When the woman was showing her how to use the functions around her seat, Villanelle gazed at the back of her neck. Her hair was pulled into a perfectly uniform bun. Villanelle resisted reaching over just a couple of inches to knock the little red hat off her head. Would she laugh? Or think her strange? Maybe in the next six hours that it would take them to fly from Moscow to London they would be on hat-tipping terms. Villanelle smiled and thanked her in Russian as the girl left. The girl looked shy and tired, maybe she’d have to find a different flight attendant to flirt with.

She sat in her arm chair, closed the cabin door with the button to her right and got straight to work: lots of planning goes into murdering highly protected people! In the next six hours she would need an elaborate plan of how to kill yet another rich, old man. How boring they are, not to mention everyone wants them dead! After half an hour sitting at her macbook, she had as much information she could find about him. Now was the fun part: planning how she would do it. He worked for a fashion company, so surely death by clothes would be well suited to him. Her mind wandered…

There was a knock at the cabin door. First Class, she thought to herself, where’s the privacy? Nevertheless, she was bored and so she said a patient ‘yes’ to signal for the steward to enter. This girl was different from the last. Older, and her hair was red, but the kind of red that really clashed with her hat. Villanelle sat taller in her chair and leaned forward, keen. In Russian, the woman offered her menus and held out a clipboard to which she could pick a slot for using the plane’s in-flight shower. Villanelle loved showering on planes. You were usually only allowed five minutes of water time but the excitement of showering thirty thousand feet above the ground was something she probably ought to be over by now.
“Do you speak English?” Villanelle asked, making eye contact with the steward.
“Yes, mam,” she said with a nod, her smart posture never faltering.
Villanelle really didn’t like to speak Russian. The girl was pretty, but Villanelle couldn’t help thinking of Eve and the possibility of seeing her in London so she booked a shower for closer to landing and dismissed her.
“I do not want to be disturbed,” she said quickly as the door slid closed behind the hostess.

What is getting into you? She asked herself. She usually loved charming the girls on her plane journeys in their pretty little skirts. Relaxing in her seat, she lay back and slipped her headphones back in. Taylor swift was still playing,
“I know Heaven’s a thing, I go there when you touch me, honey, Hell is when I fight with you.”
Eve, Eve, Eve. Where was she now? It would be almost 8 AM in England. Villanelle entertained herself with the thought of Eve warm in bed snoozing her alarm. She pulled the blanket from beside her over herself and imagined Eve’s arms around her and hair tumbling over her face. Does she snore? Is she a morning person? Villanelle had a pang of jealousy in her gut at the thought of Niko knowing things about Eve that she didn’t. One day, she thought, as she rolled over in her cabin bed. Villanelle fell asleep listening to Taylor Swift’s album ‘Lover’, peacefully thinking about being in bed with her.

A knock on her cabin door woke her. The red head stood holding a bag of toiletries and a towel. Villanelle was uncomfortable that this woman had seen her sleeping but let her show her to the shower room anyway. Usually, she would have flirted and got the girl to come into the bathroom with her, but Villanelle had been dreaming of Eve and wanted to savour herself for her.
“Thirty minutes, you’re allowed,” the girl said in her thick Russian accent, smiling as she shut the door on Villanelle who locked it behind her and took off her leggings. She peeled off her sports bra and looked at the Gym Shark logo.
“Rawr!” she growled at it, “boo!”. She stuck her tongue out at it’s stillness and threw her clothes carelessly to the floor.
The shower felt good on her clammy, air plane skin. On the sink, she had left her phone playing ‘Lover’ again.
“Cat and mouse for a month or two or three,
Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe.”
“Taylor, you are mocking me,” she spoke aloud. When would Eve finally act on her feelings? It had to come from Eve, it had to. Back in school when she had seduced Anna, she had to make sure Anna was the one to make the first move. She liked having that effect on women. Who wouldn’t?
She turned to face the water, letting it run into her open mouth and imagining it was Eve’s hot liquid gushing onto her body. What she wouldn’t give to spend the night between that woman’s thighs!
“Pass me the soap, baby,” she said aloud, her eyes closed tight. If she tried hard enough, she could imagine Eve there with her. She squeezed out too much shower gel and smothered herself in it, pretending her own hands were Eve’s hands. How would Eve touch her? Would she be tentative at first and then rough with passion? Or the other way round?
The five minute timer began to flash, pulling her away from her thoughts.
She rinsed off the soap and stepped out into the cold. The towel she wrapped around her was soft and white. Villanelle was sad to think Eve would no longer be in bed asleep under her warm duvet. What would she be doing now? On her lunch break at work, most likely. Would Eve sit in the office and eat at her desk? Or would she be eating alone on a park bench?
“You will never eat alone when you are with me,” she breathed quietly as she started to moisturise her legs, “I don’t want you to be lonely.”
Her thoughts of Eve were driving her wild. Konstantin was right, of course she was a distraction! But her pretty hair… She was the most beautiful distraction.

The flight landed at Heathrow Airport early in the afternoon. Villanelle excitedly followed the directions Konstantin had given her to the hotel. She looked around her like a tourist, wide-eyed at the possibility of bumping into Eve in the street. Sure, London was big, but it was still possible. Her hotel suite was very nice. Konstantin knew her well enough now to pick her the grandest, most ornate rooms. She threw herself backwards onto the bed, smiling that Eve was surely in a ten mile radius of her.
“Where are you Eve?” She spoke into the empty room, “are you thinking of me?”.