The Airport, Flying, and Sex, Part Four  

49AK 56M
1074 posts
5/1/2006 12:19 pm

Last Read:
5/5/2006 11:01 pm

The Airport, Flying, and Sex, Part Four

She sat there, tapping her hand on her leg. At first I thought she was looking at me, but I realized it wasn't so much looking at me as looking away from the window. She smiled, and when she saw me look at her, she smiled at me, and her eyes begged for a conversation. She clearly wasn't comfortable, and we hadn't even left the ground yet.

I had been the second person on the plane, and I had settled into my aisle seat, and found one of my electronic gadgets. I entertained myself playing solitaire and was rather engrossed in it when she smiled at me and pointed at the window seat. She said something to me, which I took to be a nondescript pleasantry, and I smiled as I got up and let her into the row, where she sat down.

After a while a flight attendant told the passengers about seatbelts and how the bag won't inflate but oxygen will be flowing, and I looked over at my rowmate, who I hadn't really bothered to take stock of until now. She was blonde, 20-something and very petite. She wore a knit sweater whose neckline plunged for her navel, but came up about four inches short. She wore a bra, whose lace frills poked out from behind the sweater in a few spots. Her breasts were small, but given her size, they were in very nice proportion to the rest of her.

"I hate this part." she said to me. I asked her which part specifically she hated, and she said, "The going up part..." Her voice trailed off as if that was the first item in a long list of parts she didn't like. Her hand tapped her leg a bit more quickly now, and I found myself thinking that this might be one of those cases where if I had been sitting in the middle seat directly next to her, I might have offered her my hand to hold on take-off, only to have every drop of blood squeezed out of it by her death grip.

The plane lumbered down the runway and into the air. I smiled and reassured her as we climbed out. 'Pat, pat, pat' went her hand as the plane made it's completely normal-but-unsettling takeoff sounds, as the landing gear retracted and the pilot adjusted the control surfaces. After a few minutes, and once the flight smoothed out a bit, she seemed to settle down.

She had a magazine on her lap - "Allure". She showed me the cover, with a picture of Meg Ryan, and she asked me, "Isn't she pretty?" I started to answer. I was going to say yes, and how I loved photography, and how hard it is to capture a photo like that, but she interrupted me. She reached down into her bag and pulled out some truffles, and offered me one. "If I have to fly, I need my chocolate." she said.

[This is one of those moments where if you make the wrong choice, the conversation is over. If I don't take the truffle, then she thinks she's imposing on me. By taking it, she knows that I want to keep chatting.]

I happily accepted the chocolate.

She was now relaxed enough to look out the window. It was a clear day, and one could easily see Mt. McKinley out the window. She spent her time alternating her gaze out the window and back at me. I mostly looked in her direction, alternating my gaze between the window and her, and mostly, I am ashamed to admit, a few inches below her eyes. However, one could hardly blame me, since they were begging to be seen, and the sunlight falling on her made them particularly interesting.

We talked the whole flight. She told me about how she had lived here all her life, and unlike most of her peers, she loved it here. She said she worked in my town, and had just been up visiting a friend for the weekend.

The flight was a short one, and before long, we started to descend. The seatbelt light came on, and the gentle commotion of flight attendants clearing the cabin before landing coincided with the sound of flaps being extended and a slightly bumpy ride. I looked at her hand, and it had started its tapping again.

The descent and landing were uneventful, and once we were on the ground and approaching the gate, she seemed to be at ease. She pulled out her phone and called someone. I wished I was fifteen years younger.

I let her off the plane ahead of me, so I could get my bags out of the overhead. I walked out into the terminal and spied her a dozen or so steps ahead of me. She was on her phone, and walking slow, looking out the window of the terminal. She was making plans with someone, as if she had gotten off the plane and not known who would meet her there. I imagined she had slowed down to wait for me, to see if I would offer her a ride somewhere.

I walked by her, and out of the terminal.

Become a member to create a blog