For those of you who weren't happy with where I left this short story, I've decided to let it ramble on a little further…
Izayoi sat on the edge of the big fluffy bed, stroking the girl's forehead and smoothing the blue satin bedcovers over her baby bump. After what felt like forever, Kagome heard her sigh, and the sound of her footsteps crossing the floor. Finally, the door clicked shut as she left the room.
The air in the room was full of the scent of potpourri. Kagome pretended to be asleep for a good ten minutes more, breathing through her mouth to keep from sneezing, before she allowed her eyes to pop open. It was no secret that Izayoi had wanted to take Kagome from her mother from the time she first set eyes on her. It was at a company picnic. Kagome was less than a year old, and her mother had left her propped up in a lounge chair while she went off to flirt and enjoy the festivities.
Sometimes Izayoi's tendency to smother drove her a little crazy. She was somewhat more comfortable with her real mother's benign neglect. She hoped that she would be able to achieve a happy medium when her baby… pup was finally born, she thought, quickly making the bed and pulling the nightgown Izayoi had dressed her in over her head. The thing had to be made out of an acre of muslin and trimmed with a mile-and-a-half of hand-made antique lace. After changing back into her work dress, she did her best to fold the voluminous nightgown and left it on the edge of the bed.
Fortunately, she had been placed in a guest room on the ground floor of the mansion. Shoes in hand, she managed to climb through the room's large window, dropping the remaining three feet to the ground outside with ease.
She didn't think for more than a moment about going back to Taisho's Corporate Offices, even though she was only a 15-minute walk from downtown. If she wanted to pick up her car, she'd have to go back into Inu Taisho's office for her purse and car keys. She cringed, imagining the gossip that was no doubt sweeping through the corporate offices after the way she had left work. There was no way she was going to walk the gauntlet past her mother and all of the other office employees whom she had known since childhood.
It didn't bother her in the least that she didn't have the cell phone that she was supposed to carry "at all times", or that Sesshomaru's farmhouse was several miles out in the country. A month ago she had traded her pumps with their three-inch heels in for a pair of comfortable Dansko clogs. They clacked cheerfully as she strode down the sidewalk on her way to the house she had called home since she and Sesshomaru got married.
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Jakotsu stood at the entrance to the passenger quarters. He checked out his makeup in the dark, reflective cover of the compartment that housed the fire extinguisher. He had been waiting there, ready to jump into action, for most of the flight. He was not, as the pilot Bankotsu accused, ogling the passenger, or as the co-pilot Houjo called it, drooling over him. He simply wanted to make sure he was available to meet Lord Sex-Shomaru's every need.
The demon, even looking less than fresh dressed in wrinkled slacks and dress shirt, his tie hanging loose around the collar, was definitely worthy of ogling and even drooling over. Lacking his usual air of perfection, Sexy, err, Sesshy, appeared much more approachable than he usually did. Jak gathered his courage, feeling his heart pound harder in his chest, and walked "casually" past his passenger. He made his way over to the galley area, and prepared to mix up a batch of his special creation, the Demonic Bloody Mary.
He laid out his ingredients and equipment with care on a pristine white bar towel. Chilled pitcher and glasses, ice cold Loosa tomato juice, Lea and Perrins sauce, fresh California lemons, lemon juicer, and the Inu Taisho's private stock vodka, manufactured by a demon tribe that made its home in a very remote area of Siberia. What made it extra good was a generous sprinkle of celery seed he ground fresh in his battery-powered spice mill. Inu Taisho himself had told him that dog demons love the taste of Worcestershire Sauce and celery seed.
First, he prepared two Virgin Marys for Bank and Houjo. He sashayed past Sesshomaru on his way to the cockpit, knowing he looked good in his pressed, immaculately tailored flight suit. There were plenty of big brass zippers, set in at 45-degree angles, and about a thousand pockets, details that took the uniform out of the realm of the prosaic, and into the sublime. As a final touch, he always accessorized with jaunty, vintage scarves, a nod to the costumes worn by commercial airline stewardesses of the sixties and seventies.
Sesshomaru pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger when the whine of the spice mill assaulted his delicate auditory canals. He knew his father got a lot of humor out of encouraging Jakotsu in his "air hostess" fantasies. He loved filling the corporate jet with a group of stodgy old fogies, and setting Jak loose on them. Adding to the young man's entertainment value was the intense crush he harbored for both of the Inu Taisho's sons. Sesshomaru was just grateful that Jak was shy around him. He was not so reserved in the company of InuYasha, and made a glorious spectacle of himself every time the younger sibling flew.
He was surprised when Jak brushed against the fabric of his trouser leg on his return trip to the galley. Momentarily, Jak presented him with a Bloody Mary in a chilled glass.
Excited was not an adequate word to describe how Sesshomaru was feeling, knowing he would soon be back in Connecticut with his little wife. It made him feel young and playful and even magnanimous. Deciding to play with his little fanboy just this once, he quirked a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "No celery stalk?"