TL:DR - Part 1 of a wild affair series of explosive entanglements.

PART 1 - The Flight Home

I [M33] used to travel all the time for work. There was one year I counted I flew over 150,000 miles. Nowadays? Not so much. With family obligations it can be more stressful being away than just being home.

A few weeks ago I ended up taking a short notice 1-day trip to meet with a (big) prospective client a few states over. Pretty simple. Fly in on the red eye, sleep a little, go to meeting, fly back in the evening. Everything was going to plan until I arrived at the airport for my return flight.

Now, I should mention, I’m pretty “no nonsense” when I travel. Only pack the bare essentials, know where I’m going and keep my head down. That applies to in the air time too. I’m 6’2 and like the aisle seat so I can kick my cowboy boots out into the middle and stretch out. Not typically someone you’d guess would make friendly conversation.

After powering through security, I found myself standing there gawking at the big screen in the terminal, watching the takeoff times click off over and over and my flight home being delayed 30 minutes… then an hour… then two. As the valley girls standing near me moaned about how it was literally the worst news they’ve had to deal with in their entire lives, I strolled lazily down to my gate, preparing myself mentally to fingerblast a bunch of notes and emails on the ipad for the next few hours.

Wouldn’t you know, there’s a little airport bar right across from my gate. (Isn’t that always the story?) I don’t drink, but that empty seat beckoned me over. I asked the college-ish aged girl on my right if the seat was taken and dropped my bag and squeezed in. As I swung around to survey my environs, this corporate-chic smokeshow to the left of me made me do a triple take.

As I ordered a club soda from the bartender who very clearly didn’t want to be alive, much less a bartender, he proceeded to grunt and slosh my bubble water onto the bar, and I started studying the girl on my left in earnest.

• Slightly older than me, maybe late 30’s
• Probably has a high-powered sales job
• Drinking a grapefruit topo-chico
• Fit as hell and perfect lips

Hold it together, man!

After a few minutes, the general conversation around me picked up with some innocuous banter and occasional jokes. There were guys on the far ends of the bar around us but I was locked in on my new friend to my left. I listened as the conversation went on and this woman had a sexy brain! You know what I mean? She was pulling punchlines from earlier in the conversation back in at the perfect times. That’s usually my party trick, but I was relishing watching her move ever so slightly in her chair and do her thing.

By the time the bar was closing up (to the bartenders everlasting delight) our conversation had covered the fact that me and smokeshow both had spouses and families, we were both on the same flight, and we both had strong but differing opinions about which topo-chico flavor was superior. (Grapefruit can kick rocks btw)

As the bar crowd began to gather their bags, she was caught up talking with someone else, so I sidled off to the bathroom, betting I’d find her again at the gate, since we still had like 2 hours to wait. my bet paid off

I rejoined her and we sunk into adjoining seats and proceeded to have what I’d call ravenous conversation until it was time to board. Everything was on the table. We were so engrossed in each other we barely noticed when the announcement system in the terminal began running their fire drill tests (which lasted the better part of an hour). We just talked over it, laughing, crying, playful nudges and pats on the arm interspersed throughout.

The moment that would set us off on an entirely new path happened when, as we were talking about men, women and relationships, I blurted out that the sexiest thing a woman can do is take her power, control and passion, and submit that to a man by choice. I don’t know how to explain it, but something inside both of us cracked or melted as we let that hang in the air in total agreement.

It probably didn’t seem like it to her, but I was way out of my turtle shell. I think she was too. By the time our gate attendant made the announcement that it was 1am time to board, she had just finished sharing some real life difficult things. This girl was like a beautiful flower that had been locked away behind tall castle walls. As we stood up I rolled her carryon out from between us with my boot and drew her in for one of those longer than average hugs. Pheromones are real. And she was the perfect height for my chin to rest above her head, drinking her in for a moment.

She boarded first, and I prepared myself to have to throw down with whomever dared sit next to her before I got there. (The flight was half full, so I was only slightly concerned)

I found her in a window seat and proceeded to take the middle seat right next to her. She later told me that caught her off guard. For being so well put together, she had shown moments of shyness, even blushing occasionally throughout that night. Cute.

As we climbed in altitude, her arms and legs slowly started climbing up around me as our conversation continued. She teased me for not showing more interest in the younger girl seated on the other side of me at the bar, which was easy to tolerate with a hand gently resting on her thighs that were draped across my lap.

Time was immaterial. As far as we knew, we were the only two people on the plane, whispering in the dark.

The conversation veered sexual, and her hands snaked around my arm. We discussed likes, dislikes and interesting stories.

I’d been holding back. Sitting on a plane, unable to properly be face to face, kept me from doing what I really wanted to do. (Later on, smoke show would share with me that she had serious thoughts of climbing on top of me right then and there)

The holding back was about to be over.

I was in the middle of explaining a certain “move” I like to do, and I think adjusted in my seat. She went to pull her legs off of my lap and I gently pushed them back down, saying “I’ll move them in a minute”. I said it without thinking, but the look on her face was priceless; an intense mixture of surprise and submission.

I gave her the demonstration after my explanation, grabbing her legs and showing her exactly how I’d position them. Smokeshow was smoldering at that point and I let my fingers linger on her thighs as we held each others gaze.

As we sat back together, side by side, we became handsy like middle schoolers, leaning in, trying to get closer and closer. Whispering and lingering cheek to cheek. Her hot breath on my neck made it difficult to focus on the sweet words dripping out of her mouth.

Our lips grazed. I lingered and pulled away. Her eyes were shooting dagger my way, and I’m pretty sure I remember a groan escape from her mouth.

She was a juicy peach in my hand and I was turning her over and over looking for the best spot to plant my first bite.

I pulled her in with a hand around her back, the other creeping up her thigh, and our tongues finally connected in a sloppy, breathless fury. She rocked against me, matching the pressure I was placing on her lips and letting out little sighs and moans as my hands lightly explored her body.

As we were sucking face like our lips were made for each others, I felt the plane descending. This would all be over soon.

As it turns out, I was dead wrong.

Wheels down. Everything is a blur, but it’s clear that our time in the “airplane bubble of passion” was about to be popped. Big sigh.

We both gathered our things and deplaned in relative silence; thoughts racing 100 miles an hour about how I could get us onto another flight to keep things going. With all the delays, it was 2:30 in the morning as we emerged from the jetway and the terminal was empty save for a few workers.

Being practical adults, we both diverted to the bathrooms separately. I emerged first and waited for her, leaning up against the wall staring at the lockable “family” bathroom I didn’t see before. Alas.

She rejoined me and we began lazily walking towards the exit, only a few hundred yards between us and goodbye. We playfully flirted a bit as we walked, passing a small, dimly lit alcove that housed an empty cupcake vending machine. I joked seriously about wanting to take her over there for a minute. She called me bluff. That moment stretched out for what seemed like an eternity as we locked eyes and I began walking towards the alcove. She followed instinctively, knowing what I wanted.

She set her bag aside and put her back against the wall as I stepped to her, looming over her and, wrapped my large hands around her tiny waist fully for the first time. She grinned sheepishly and tipped her face up to reach mine.

We rocked back and forth against the wall, almost locking lips, then sinking into a full, long kiss as I pushed my waist into hers and ran a hand up behind her head and through her hair. The air around us was filled with small groans and gasps as her body sank into mine.

I eventually release her, pulling my face back to look her in the eyes while my fingers ran slowly across the inside of her waistband, meeting in the middle to pull her off the wall and up against me. We embraced for what might be the last time, before continuing our walk towards the exit escalators; the ache of our window of time together closing resting heavy on us both.

There’s already been a part 2, 3 and 4 to this story, I just haven’t decided whether I want to write about those yet.