Free Game of Love by Ara Grigorian

kicked herself for being so transparent.
    “I have a few special people in my life. But I think you’re asking if I have someone special-special.”
    “I feel like I’m in grade school again. Do you like her, or like her-like her? Yes, are you in a relationship with someone?”
    “No.”
    “Too busy?”
    Andre nodded. “With my schedule, it’s a non-starter.”
    “Rather sad our lives, no?”
    “You too? I considered picking up a tabloid to learn about your love life, but thought better of it.”
    “Argh! Those parasitic magazines. Everyday there’s new rubbish about me.”
    “Did you see today’s headlines? Seems like you don’t need to worry about winning a Grand Slam after all. You’re quitting tennis.”
    “I’m what?”
    “Also, you’re a complete mess and are escaping the country because of your depression.”
    “Unreal.” She wanted to break something.
    “So… is there someone in your life that helps you maintain sanity?”
    “I prefer insanity. Makes for much better headlines.”
    The plane jolted violently for a few seconds. A patch of turbulence. Gemma squeezed her temples and fanned her face, suddenly feeling warm. “Shit! I forgot to take my airsickness medication.” She fussed through her bag and found two pills. “I’m supposed to take them one hour before the flight. I’ll be a basket case now.” What if she puked in front of him?
Dear Lord.
    “Here,” he said, “give me your wrist.”
    She studied him, then at his inviting hand. “What are you going to do?”
    “Trust me.”
    Trust?
That was difficult for her to hand out. She scanned his hand to his eyes, calm and in control. She hesitantly offered her hand.
    “Close your eyes and relax,” he said. With both hands, he applied light pressure at different points on her hand and wrist. “Your eyes,” he said. “Close them.”
    She did.
    “Take a deep breath in, then release slowly,” he said, as he expertly touched and squeezed. “There are a couple of pressure points–nerves–that once excited, will bring equilibrium back and eliminate nausea.”
    She pictured his face, listened to his voice, and focused on his touch, which drove her weak with pleasure. His touch traveled from her palm to each finger as he gently, but firmly, massaged her hand. A stirring sensation sparked in her navel. Not nausea. Raw pleasure. After a few minutes, the lightheadedness disappeared and the nausea vanished, replaced with glee.
    “I feel much better now,” she said once she opened her eyes.
    “Good.” He did not release her hand. “By the way, what I just fed you was a bunch of crap. I had no idea what I was doing. I just wanted to touch you some more.”
    She broke into a belly laugh. Gemma knew then she was in trouble.

    After he returned from the restroom, Andre found Gemma fast asleep. She seemed innocent, powerful, perfect. He had often wondered if anyone could truly understand what he went through during his youth. Without a doubt he knew Gemma got it. She got him and his world. Not even his best friends completely understood.
    He glanced toward the partition separating first and business class. A few times during the flight, he had felt the unsettling feeling of being watched. He thought it may have been Stella, but she had been asleep most of the flight. He wondered if it had been Roger, snooping. He hoped not, because if he had seen Andre with Gemma, life would get more complicated at work.
    Whatever it was, most of the passengers were out now. He opened his blanket and gently placed it across Gemma’s body, then lowered her seat to flat. She stirred, but did not wake. He reclined his chair and turned toward her. He was tempted to make a noise, so she’d wake up and they could talk some more. Instead he thought of this woman, trapped in a world she had not created. He understood that situation all too well.
    She shifted, now facing him. Strands of hair covered her face. Gently, he brushed her hair back. His fingers grazed