The plane was Sydney, Australia bound. A fifteen hour flight. It was my first time flying on a 747, and as soon as we boarded I was in love. It made the last plane I flew in seem like a folded up soda can. This new, glorious plane though; it was incredible. It had massive seats and, as it turned out, I was sitting right next to the bathroom. God knows I'm going to need that; I planned on getting shit-faced drunk and watching whatever dodgy movie came on my nifty little T.V. screen. I put my carry-on away and sat, watching everyone shuffle onto the plane and struggling to put their bags in their respective carriers.
There's something you should know about me... I'm a people watcher. Planes and airports are the prime people watching facilities. You can check out all sorts of folks. Attractive men, and women, less attractive men and women, families eight strong with 6 screaming children, the flight attendant with some ambiguous sexuality between straight and gay, and then her.
A stunning people-watching specimen. I observed her closely. Probably too closely in retrospect. She waddled onto the plane, smashed between a large man holding nothing but a McDonald's bag, whom I assumed I would be sitting next to, and an even larger woman who I assume was his wife because she was yelling over the girl at the large man. The girl was careful not to come into contact with the large woman's ass, and the large man's stomach. A delicate dance. The large people found their seats and placed themselves there. The girl kept walking towards me.
My heart was pounding. Was it possible that the stars would align and she would sit next to.... nope. She strolled straight past me. "Damn," I thought as I continued to watch people file through the door. A few more cute girls found their spots around.
The thing I love about planes is that everyone is dressed to travel, and I love that look on people. Especially because yoga pants are comfortable, and women love wearing them. I couldn't help but stare as several fit women walked past my isle seat, with their hips swaying in just the best way. It was at that moment someone tapped my shoulder.
I turned to face the person behind me. Oh, Jesus. It was her. Her large, white sweater was pulled down past her ass, covering her tiny shorts, but only just. Her white bra was barely visible through her top; more of an outline than real definition. Her hair, red, was pulled into a lazy pony tail and glasses sat on the end of her nose. My eyes followed the curve of her neck down her collar bone, over her boobs and hips down to her knees. My gaze darted back up to her face. She appeared to be waiting for a response. Oh, shit! She asked me question! I fought desperately for an answer to a question I did not hear.
"I said, can I have the window seat?" she asked, apparently again, and looking slightly more irritated than before.
Sweet Mother of God, she had an Australian accent. As I live and breath...
"Uh-uh, yeah. Sure," I said, probably smoothly, but I don't remember.
I started to get up to let her in, but she was in a rush to get out of the isle and let the growing line of passengers take their seat. She lifted her leg and gently stepped over me, and I attempted to carefully watch her with out her noticing me. I succeeded in getting a small glimmer of her shorts. Black, tight, probably some sort of work out shorts. Whatever it was, it turned me on. As she side stepped to her seat, I also got a hint of the shape of her ass. She was fit, obviously cared about her body, and it had me going.
I crossed my legs to hide the growing tension in my shorts. A shiver ran down my spine. Nearing the end of the line of passengers, the flight attendant told us all that the flight was relatively empty, and we would have space to stretch out in our seats. That was amazing news to me. I looked over to she how the girl was reacting to the news. She only stared out the window, clutching her purse in her lap. I took the opportunity to use the seat between us to place my variety of electronic devices. Really a metaphor for my life, but I digress. I buckled myself back in my seat and felt the plane lurch backward.
The lights from the nighttime runway streaked past her window. She stared at them intensely, seemingly mesmerized; obviously pondering some life event, questions about the universe, or perhaps how good I was in bed. Or maybe not, who knows. Either way, the plane left the ground, and her grip on the arm rest loosened. I day dreamed that she was squeezing my hand instead.
I ran through a thousand different conversations I could start with her, but was having trouble working up the courage to speak. I realized after some time that I was looking directly at her, then looking away, then looking back, then away. Then I realized that she was looking at me, with an eyebrow raised.
"I um... so, what are you doing in Sydney?" I stammered.
"I live there," Her words rolled off her tongue in much the same way rapids roll of rocks. She pulled her glasses off and tucked them into her purse.
"Oh, cool. That makes sense." I knew I had to keep the conversation going. I couldn't keep my mind off her.
"Do you work?" I asked.
"Yeah," She answered lazily.
"What do you do?"
"I'm a legal consultant." Her gaze went back to the window.
"You don't seem to excited about it."
She looked back at me, frowning.
"Sorry," I said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to, like, stir anything up."
"I'm just not looking forward to being home," she seemed sad, and I really, really meant to seem sympathetic, but her cleavage was drawing my gaze directly downward.
"Why?" I tried to retract my question, thinking that it was much to forward.
"I was just feeling restless. I had to go... somewhere. I chose the States." She shrugged.
"Have fun?"
"Too much fun, as it turned out."
"Impossible. Unless.. you got into trouble?"
"Yeah." She looked back out the window.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know why I'm telling you this, but..." She told me a long story, about meeting a bunch of her "Yank friends", her words, at a party in a small college town in the middle of Nowhere, Texas. She got wasted and ended up fucking several of the guys, and girls, at the party.
"How do you mean 'several'?" I asked, leaning toward her.
"I mean, I was sitting on a friend's lap, and someone dared me to make out with her, and we did... she..."
I was staring at her, wide eyed and stunned. My head was only held up by my hand, but eventually I couldn't pay attention to my own body parts any longer and my hand slipped from under my chin and my head slammed forward into my armrest.
It broke her concentration and she stopped her story.
"Anyway... I don't even know why I'm telling you any of this."
"No, no.