Long flight

I was flying cross country last week. In an effort to be gracious with my employer and minimize my time out of the office, I opted to take a red eye because if I could sleep for 7 hours flying vs. wasting an entire day sitting on a plane all the better. I also opted to drive further west and take a flight out of LA so I could just do one connection instead of the double I would have had to take otherwise.

The flight was delayed leaving, only by about 45 minutes, giving me the rare opportunity to sit around in my departing terminal and study the people I was going to be flying with. There was a young family with three fussy, over-tired children ranging in age from about 2 to 7, there were the professional business travelers with their functional and well used computer bags and small, efficient carry-ons, and there were the vacationers with their excited, escapist enthusiasm - even at 1AM. Then there was the single black man, sitting back toward the row of windows overlooking the tarmac at the end of the long row of seats I had planted myself in the middle of to face the boarding desk. I was struggling to categorize him. He was dressed casually yet with a slight air of arrogance, the expensive watch and gold chains around his neck speaking of luxury but his simple white tee shirt and jeans giving nothing away.

He sat upright, leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, with a look of anticipation and impatience as if he were a vacationer but he traveled with the most expensive looking set of brown leather luggage I'd seen in a long time, though I noted it looked pristine, as if it were brand new or had not been used often. I started making up a story in my mind as I often do, maybe a musician just getting started, going to NY or Chicago or Atlanta for a big meeting that would make or break his future. Someone who had seen local success and enough income from it to make the investment in a few of the status pieces that go along with the life he was pursuing but unable to complete the full image.

As I felt satisfied with my story and looked up, I caught him staring at me smiling. I'd been caught in my studies and immediately took to blushing. He laughed a little and I looked away, only to be drawn back in curiosity. He was still staring at me but his smile was more subtle and I noticed how long his eyelashes were and how warm his brown eyes seemed. I looked away again, trying to recover my composure before boarding was announced.

I couldn't help but think of you. If you'd been with me, you would have laughed with him at my getting caught staring. You would have assumed my studies were of a sexual nature and not the innocent travel purpose game I was playing. I could just imagine you waving him over to heighten my embarrassment and discomfort. Or going over to him and engaging him in conversation to see what opportunities we might have to take advantage of the fantasies that come so easily to us both.

But I was alone and boarding a plane, now with a tight connection because of our delays, and play time was not in the schedule.

I opted for a seat in the very back of the plane. I had checked the upgrade list and knew I wasn't going to get an upgrade and my greatest chance of having an empty middle seat was to take a seat in the back where the seats don't recline and no one wants to sit. I rarely recline my seat anyway. The downside to the back row is the proximity to the bathroom and the traffic that entails but, on a red eye, I was hopefully it would be minimized.

My status allowed me to board early and I made my way to the back of the plane and got myself situated. My noise cancelling headphones, favorite pillow, snobby sparkling water, and the legacy red Delta airlines blanket a gracious flight attendant had allowed me to take long ago in the dead of winter. I plugged in my phone charger, set my rain sounds to playing, and got into sleeping position as the rest of the plane boarded.

I drifted in and out of sleep as the sounds of people grew closer. I'd confirmed I was not only going to have the vacant middle seat but the entire row, sans the one person in the window seat across the aisle from me. The flight attendant nudged me to show her my seat belt at one point since I was buried under my blanket...I was compliantly buckled as always.

I continued to drift in and out of sleep as we taxied to the runway and then waited through the take-off until the wheels were up and our climb had become more gradual and then turned my thoughts to serious sleep, focusing in on the sounds of the rain and thunder in my ears.

I was in that sweet space, right before deep sleep commences, when a loud noice or a jarring movement will trigger that startling alertness from sleep that makes your heart race. As mine did at the jarring movement of someone sitting down in my vacant row of seats.

It was the man from the terminal. He was motioning me to take my headphones off.

"How'd you get the blanket?" He asked, leaning in so he could whisper, in deference to those trying to sleep in front of me.

"I've had it for years." I said.

"Thief huh?" He said.

"I was given permission to steal it." I said.

"Do I know you?" He asked.

I shook my head. "I don't live in LA, I just drove in for the flight." I said.

He nodded and smiled. "Where are you heading?"

"New York. You?"

"Atlanta." He said.

I smiled. I had been right.

"Is that funny?" He asked.

"No, I'd guessed New York, Atlanta, or Chicago." I whispered.

"Yeah, why'd you guess that?" He asked.

"It's just what I do, to waste time. I make up stories for people." I added.

"What's my story?" He asked.

"Music? Locally big, looking to go bigger?" I asked.

"DJ." He said, eyes wide in surprise.

"Close." I said, smiling.

"Damn close. You travel a lot?" He asked.

"For work." I said.

"I hate flying." He said. Then he popped up and left, heading back to the front of the plane.

I worked to resituate my blanket and get comfortable again when I felt someone sitting again and saw he was back. With his things.

"Do you mind?" He asked.

I shook my head.

"I don't know how anyone sleeps on these things." He said.

I smiled. "I do."

He smiled back. "Want me to let you sleep?" He whispered.

"Not necessarily." I said, unable to restrain myself and my intrigue.

We did small talk for a bit, talking about our work and music, movie, and reading preferences feigning casual interest as we both took opportunities to examine each other more closely. He talked with his hands, displaying just how large they were. His nails were subtly manicured and his forearms were sinewy and spoke of strength. I resented his lose fitting pants for the camouflage they provided.

I caught him checking out my cleavage at one point, though instead of being embarrassed and turning away, he just smiled at me and resumed the more appropriate eye contact for conversing with a stranger. It's not like I minded, I dressed to invite it. While I always opted for comfort when flying, the heather grey jersey dress I was wearing could have just as easily been sold as a nightgown. I'd worn a sweater over top of it in anticipation of the air conditioning on board but it still left a generous view of my breasts, especially with the assistance of the black lace bra I was wearing.

"So, is that an engagement ring?" He asked me, taking the liberty to grab my wrist, causing my heart to race and my skin to come alive with anticipation.

"A promise ring. We don't necessarily believe in marriage." I said.

"But you've got a man then?"

"Yes."

"He know you pick-up other men in your travels?" He asked.

"First of all, you came to me." I said.

"It felt like a visual invite." He said quickly.

"Second of all, my man would be disappointed if I didn't come home with some such story to share." I said, challenging his skeptical gaze.

"I'd be pissed if my woman ever..." He started.

"Which is why he doesn't have anything to worry about. Most men aren't into being the guy I go home to." I said.

He nodded his head. "I've heard about that, one of my friends does this guys wife. He's a cuck or something right?"

I smiled. "Mine isn't a cuck. He doesn't do it because he gets off on some inferiority complex. Actually for him it's the opposite, it's a form of confidence that reads like a bit of arrogance."

"Either way I think it's pretty fucked up but, to each their own." He said.

That seemed to end the discussion, he was playing with the screen in the headrest of the seat in front of him, pulling up the information about our flight, we still had another four hours.

I adjusted my blanket and rested my head against the window. My eyes felt weighted down, I couldn't keep them from closing.

"So you fuck other men or just flirt?" He asked, having slide over into the middle seat and leaning over to ask me the question quietly.

"It depends." I said.

"What does it depend on?"

"Timing, attraction." I said. "It's unfortunate timing." I added when he didn't say anything. "At least for my part."

"No, I'm fucking attracted, believe me." He said.

I held his eyes and reached out, intent on learning what those pants had been hiding. He was rock hard and as I ran my hand up and down along the length of him, I could feel both the length and the girth. I closed my eyes in frustrated want.

"Shit baby, you can't do that." He said, leaning up against my ear, taking the liberty of running his tongue along the side of it and pinching my earlobe between his teeth.

I bit back a moan and tilted my neck, inviting his exploration. His mouth causing my juices to flow in anticipation of what was impossible. Our antics were quickly interrupted when I noticed someone coming up the aisle toward the bathroom and quickly pulled my hand away from his crotch and he sat up a bit, taking the liberty of wrapping his arm around my shoulders and kissing me softly on the mouth.

"God, I want you." I said, breathlessly.

"How far from LA are you?" He asked.

"Three hours." I said as he kissed me again.

"That's nothin'." He said, reaching up and grabbing my breast, causing me to bite my lip hard.

The man left the bathroom but was soon followed by another woman. I was growing frustrated.

"Why don't you go into the bathroom after she leaves and take off your underwear for me." He said, kissing me again, refusing to give me his tongue despite my persistent invitations.

"Because I'm not wearing any." I said.

He reached down and ran his hand up my thigh under the blanket and I spread my legs in welcome. His hand felt so gentle but I knew there was a strength and power behind it that I wanted to feel unleashed on my body.

As he slid his finger down, my abundant wetness confirmed what he already knew, that I wanted whatever he could give me within the confines of my blanket.

I met his glance, unashamed, giving further assurance. His kiss then was what I'd been craving. His tongue exploring my mouth as his hand worked to inconspicuously explore between my legs. His lips were so full and his kiss was commanding, like a strong dance partner moving you through new and unfamiliar steps with ease and confidence.

The bathroom door opened and he paused in his attention and smiled at me. "You're a little slut aren't you?" He whispered.

"Under the right circumstances." I said, leaning in to steal another kiss from him.

With a clear moment, he leaned toward me more and pulled my leg over his just enough to give him complete access to me.

"Slouch down a bit." He said as he rubbed my clit.

"That's it." He said, sliding two fingers inside of me with ease.

I gasped and quickly stifled the cry that naturally came up my throat. I could tell this was going to be difficult.

He stared down at me as he began working my pussy with expert intent. Sliding his fingers in and out of me as he rubbed my clit hard and fast.

I bit my lip. Hard. Biting back the moans that would normally announce my approaching orgasm and finding a brief opening to warn him, "I'm going to cum." I whispered.

He didn't change his pace but continued on persistently until I was trembling under the strain of my silence and the throbbing of my clit.

I quickly reached under the blanket and grabbed his wrist to slow his hand. My overly sensitive clit was electrified and keeping quiet was becoming increasingly difficult.

He smiled in satisfaction and brought his hand up and out from underneath the blanket, leaning back a bit to block my face from the aisle as he brought his fingers to my lips and I hoped to taste my sweetness and clean it from his fingers.

"That was so fucking hot." He said.

"Are going to let me return the favor?" I asked.

He smiled. "When you come to see me in LA or let me come out to your place." He said.

I shared at him in stunned disappointment.

"I'm not about to get arrested for indecent exposure." He said with a laugh as he absently hand his fingers back and forth across the top of my cleavage.

"What's your name?" I asked, always behind on pleasantries of that kind.

"JP."

"That's not a name." I said.

"Jamal but everyone calls me JP."

I introduced myself and began rubbing his cock through his shorts again.

"Not gonna happen baby." He said, despite how hard he was.

"Couldn't we go in the bathroom?" I suggested.

"Yeah, as much as it would be cool to join the mile high club, I'm not gonna risk it with you baby." He said, kissing me deeply once more. "But I am going to go in alone and join it with my hand."

As he slid out of the aisle I reveled in the sticky dampness between my legs, unmoved to clean it away. I wanted to save it for you. I wanted you there with me to convince him to give me what I wanted. I felt frustrated and the moment felt so incomplete. I could imagine the disappointment on your face when I brought the story to an end with nothing more than an unreciprocated hand job.

When he came out of the bathroom, he stood at the end of the row and motioned me out to let him slide in toward the window.

I obliged, hoping he'd had a change of heart.

He leaned into the corner made by the seat and the wall of the plane and grabbed my pillow from the back of the seat in front of him and laid it on his lap. "Get some rest baby." He said, patting the pillow.

I couldn't erase my disappointment but I was in fact tired and so I rested my head on the pillow and laid awkwardly across the row of seats with the middle seatbelt open as large as it would go to allow my position.

He rubbed my back despite the excitement of the situation and the arguments I was crafting in my mind to try and get what I wanted. The soothing pattern of his warm hand across my back was lulling me into the sleep my body was also craving and before I knew it, sleep had won the battle.

I was startled awake by the overhead announcement from the pilot.

"Ladies and gentleman, sorry for the interruption, we're going to need to delay our approach for a bit. There are thunderstorms near the airport in Detroit. The forecast indicates the they should pass in the next thirty minutes but if we get delayed longer, we may have to make a quick stop in Ann Arbor to refuel."

"What time is it?" I asked him.

"Five ten." He said.

"No way I'm making my connection." I said.

"What time was your flight?" He asked.

"5:30." I said.

"Well, they can't get out either I bet."

"I'm sure but the chances of them being there by the time we get cleared and in the queue is pretty slim. And I think the next flight for me isn't until like 10 pm. What about you?" I asked.

"Mine is at 6:15."

"I'm sure there are a ton of flights from Detroit to Atlanta even if you miss it." I said.

"You're probably right." He said, pulling me toward him and kissing me. "But if I miss it, maybe it would be fun to hang around Detroit with you for the day. Let you return the favor."

I smiled. "I haven't wished for a missed flight like this in a long time."

*** Intermission ***

To be continued...