The Mile High Club by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Author:Rachel Kramer Bussel
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2010-09-15T03:00:00+00:00

AISLE SEAT

Stan Kent

I’d decided to burn up all the frequent-flyer miles that I’d accumulated over the years of jetting here and there and splurge on a business class seat to Rome for a long weekend in the Eternal City. After some frustrating ordeals dealing with airline websites and operators protected from human contact by a maze of phone options, I was able to score a seat on an Alitalia 747 from Los Angeles to Rome. The only problem was that I couldn’t get a window seat. I don’t like aisle seats because it never fails that just after I’ve fallen asleep the person next to me decides to go to the bathroom, and even in the relative spaciousness of business class, it still disturbs my hard-fought-for slumber, and then there’s no way I can get back to sleep. I wind up staying up all night reading or writing or watching some movies I really don’t want to watch.

At check-in, I tried to negotiate a window seat but the plane was full, so I resigned myself to hoping that the person next to me wouldn’t have a small bladder. I enjoyed several glasses of champagne in the lounge and another couple of welcoming drinks onboard as the plane filled up. I was feeling pretty happy and relaxed as the trickle of passengers slowed and the time of departure neared. I began to entertain the hope that the person destined to occupy what would have been my window seat was going to be a no-show, and I would enjoy a truly relaxed flight to begin my Roman holiday, when seconds before they shut the door, in she breezed.

“Scusi,” she said as she slid between me and the seat in front of me, her crisp Chanel-suited pussy only a few inches from my face. “No problem,” I responded, and I really meant it. She didn’t smile, and I did my best not to stare at her shapely legs as she stepped over me. She looked like a young Sophia Loren; she could have easily passed for a Fellini diva, and looked well heeled enough to relish La Dolce Vita. I was going to introduce myself, but upon taking her seat, she turned her wide-brimmed black floppy hatted-head to the window and stared at the airport runway scene through dark, large glasses that obscured most of a very pretty but pale face.

I regarded her from behind the cover of the in-flight magazine, my eyes peering over the pages in what I hoped was not too obvious of a breathtaken stare. The suit was definitely Chanel or some other haute-couture house—black cashmere with large cream buttons. She had crossed her legs and the skirt had risen up her thigh. The stockings were black and silky, and I knew they were stockings because the darker band at the top was playing peekaboo with her hemline. Her shoes were patent black stilettos, the red soles giving away the fact that they were Louboutins. She was the kind

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.