Vaginal and oral sex at bussines trip
I work for one of the country's major auditing firms as an auditor. Companies traded on the stock exchange are required by law to permit annual audits of their books by a so-called "independent" entity to make sure no funny business is going on with financial transactions or inventories. It's a living and not a bad one, for now. Most young accountants with their eyes on future six-figure incomes make their starts doing what I do. I make fifty-five thousand a year but I work my ass off for it, sometimes putting in seventy-hour weeks, rarely putting in less than fifty. It's the rat race at its finest, I won't deny that, but this job does have a few perks to it, one of them being the fact that I'm often required to fly to other cities to examine the books in a client's branch office.
About once every two months or so a team of two of us, usually, but sometimes as many as six board an airplane and fly off to some other part of the country. Our clients always put us up in one of the finest hotels where we're going, with private rooms, room service and bar tabs, top of the line rental cars and, often as not, some sort of entertainment package for our off-time as well. I look forward to these trips for several reasons. For one, they get me out of the day-to-day grind for awhile. They also allow me to see other parts of the country that I never would otherwise have bothered to visit (after all, who in the hell would ever go to Indianapolis unless they were sent there?). And since I'm single, it's nice to sample the nightlife of a strange town. Usually, with a little effort, I manage to get myself laid while on these trips and, let me tell you, it's nice to have a brief sexual encounter with a woman who you'll never see again after you return home.
A few weeks ago one of these trips popped up unexpectedly. Usually we know about them a few months in advance but this time one of our pharmaceutical company clients needed a quick audit for a pending merger. We completed the in-town work in two days but needed to fly to St. Louis to complete the rest. Right away this trip was shaping up to be somewhat of a bummer for me. For one, I'd been to St. Louis before and (no offense to those who live there) it was not one of my favorite cities to spend time in. Also, I was to be teamed with Mark Riley who is perhaps my least favorite co-worker. He is a crude, obnoxious asshole with a host of disgusting habits. I often wondered just how he'd managed to get past our firm's interview board for hiring, that group of senior auditors and managers who were conservative enough to consider Rush Limbaugh to be a flaming left-winger.
Another problem was the flight. Our firm has friendly agreements with several airlines and usually we're given premium seats on morning flights to wherever we're going. This time, however, with the short notice of the trip, all they were able to give us was a flight that left the airport at 8:30 PM and arrived in St. Louis, thanks to the time zone changes, at 2:25 AM. This would not have been so bad except for the fact that we were expected to show up promptly at nine that morning to begin work. Oh well, the firm didn't give a rat's ass if we were fatigued or not; as long as we got our work done and told the clients what they wanted to hear. Such is the life of a junior auditor.
At eight that night, Mark and I, having already checked our bags, boarded the aircraft and went to our assigned seats. We carried our laptop computers and stored them in the overhead bins like good sheep. As other passengers found their seats around us I listened to my partner making crude comments on what he would like to do with every attractive woman (and more than one of the unattractive women) that walked past us. I ignored his words the best I could, though I could not ignore his body odor, which was drifting over me in waves. Apparently Mark had thought it unnecessary to take a shower before flying tonight. I sighed, feeling a headache coming on and bracing myself for an unpleasant flight.
A ray of hope appeared when they sealed up the plane. I looked around and noted that the aircraft was only about two-thirds full. Empty seats were everywhere. Surely the flight crew wouldn't mind if I relocated myself once we were airborne. I could sit blissfully alone, breathe fresh air, have a few beers, and catch up on some work that needed to be done on the computer.
"Ohhh God," Mark muttered beside me as a female flight attendant picked up the microphone in front of us to begin the pre-flight announcement. "Would you look at that bitch? Man, I'd love to bend her over her coffee maker and slam her until her ass bled."
I ignored his comment, not even offering a grunt in reply but I couldn't help but agree that his basic assessment of the attendant was correct. She was a shorthaired brunette with a pretty face. She filled out her red uniform nicely. Her waist was trim, her breasts were alluring in their firmness, and her legs, clad in standard pantyhose, were nicely shaped. I'd always been a leg-man and nothing got my motor running like a nice set clad in pantyhose and peeking out beneath a skirt. I looked at her face again, finding it strangely familiar. I had the impression I'd seen her somewhere before, but I couldn't put my finger on just where. Maybe on another flight? It was possible, I supposed, but that didn't feel right. Oh well, it didn't really matter, did it?
As she mechanically droned through the various safety features and emergency measures, and as she pointed out the emergency exits, her eyes passed over my face, continued on for a second, and then returned, locking gazes with me. She stared at me for a moment, seeming to study my face. A hint of a smile touched her mouth as she chattered. Finally her eyes moved on.
"That cunt was starin' at me!" Mark barked beside me. "Did you see that? Shit on Jesus. I might be addin' me another entry into the mile-high club tonight."
I'd already gotten the run-down on Mark's alleged sexual trysts onboard previous aircraft. Mark was one of those guys who had a pussy story for every occasion, each more fabulous and unbelievable than the last. He'd fucked on airplanes, in elevators, in the bedding department of Macy's, on a train, in a car, in a hot-air balloon, in his cubby at work, at the dentist's office. He even claimed to have fucked on the observation platform of the Empire State Building that last time he'd been to New York. I believed his tales about as much as I believed in Santa Claus.
"Damn, she's a hottie," he said, shaking his head. He turned to me. "I ever tell you about the time I fucked this cunt and her daughter at the same time?"
While he droned on about his imaginary conquest, the flight attendant wrapped up her lecture and took her seat. The plane taxied out to the runway and shortly we were roaring into the sky, leaving Seattle behind us. I didn't even look out the window at the view. That would have involved putting my head closer to Mark and his BO than was prudent.
The second the seat belt lights dinged off, I unbuckled myself and stood up. "Listen Mark," I said, not bothering to sound sincere. "I'm gonna go find myself another seat so I can spread out and get some work done."
He nodded wisely. "Good idea," he said. "I got some work to do, too."
His work, I knew, would be playing Grand Theft Auto on his laptop but that was not my concern. I reached up, retrieved my laptop, and headed down the aisle toward the rear of the plane. Near the tail I struck gold-an entire row of unoccupied seats. I looked for belongings that would indicate an occupant off at the bathroom and saw nothing. I planted myself at the window seat and unfolded the tray before me, unzipping my computer case and beginning to set up. Five minutes later I was lost in a boring maze of financial figures and inventory items.
"Can I get you anything to drink?" a pleasant female voice asked beside me some time later.
I looked up and saw the attendant who had given the pre-flight announcement; the one who had looked familiar to me. Up close I was struck once again both by her attractiveness and her familiarity. "Sure," I answered, offering her a weary smile. "I'll take a Heineken."
She reached into her cart and withdrew one of the green cans while I reached for my money clip. "Do you need a glass?"
"No," I answered, knowing that the 'glass' would actually be a plastic cup. "The can is fine. This isn't exactly a social occasion."
She smiled, looking into my face again as she named the price. While I dug out the proper amount I could sense that she was debating whether or not to say something. Finally, she asked, "I don't suppose that your name is Jeff Ratling?"
I blinked. "As a matter of fact, it is," I told her. "Do we know each other?"
Her smile widened. "I thought it was you," she said warmly. "You went to Jefferson High School in Bellevue, didn't you?"
That rang a bell. She was someone I'd gone to high school with. "Yes," I said, peering into her face to try to get a name to go with the face. Finally it came. "You're Christy..." The last name wouldn't come. It was something common, like Brown or Smith or White.
"Wilson," she provided. "You do remember me. Although it's not Wilson anymore, it's Perkins."
"Ahhh," I said, fully remembering her now. Back in high school she had been one of the elite. Yearbook committee, Future Republicans club, Spirit squad, that sort of thing. Though she hadn't been prom queen she had been a close friend with the girl who had been. She had naturally been in all of the college prep classes, as had I. I, however, had not been one of the elite. I'd been painfully shy back in high school, not even going on an official date until after graduation. I'd watched her and her friends, the cream of high school society, drift through those four years and had been jealous of them. I'd gotten over it of course, as I had my shyness, and gone on with my life. Christy, I remembered, now that she'd provided me with a last name, had dated another one of the elite named David Perkins, an outgoing, personable soul who had been a baseball player. He'd gotten a scholarship to UCLA, I remembered, a baseball scholarship. I couldn't help but feel a strong surge of gloating at the fact that I was a semi-successful accountant on my way up the ladder while a member of the elite, who wouldn't have given me the time of day back in school, was working as a flight attendant. "You must've married David Perkins then."
Her face soured a little. "Yeah," she nodded. "I did. It didn't last too long. He played a year at UCLA and then got picked up by the Dodgers farm team. He hurt his knee the first year and wasn't able to play anymore. Things went downhill from there. We got divorced but I haven't bothered changing my name back."
"No kidding?" I asked, suppressing a smile as I cracked open my beer. "What's he doing these days?"
She shook her head sadly. "He drives a garbage truck for the City of Tacoma."
"No shit?" I couldn't help but blurt, letting a laugh escape. Mr. All-American baseball was driving a garbage truck. It was beautiful.
"Well," she offered cynically. "You know how it is?"
"I guess so," I agreed, sipping my beer. "How long have you worked for the airline?"
"Since the divorce," she told me. "We had to move to Spokane before I could finish college so I didn't quite get my degree." She brightened. "I'm still working on it, though. Should have it by late next year and then I can get out of here."
"What's your major?" I asked.
"Accounting," she told me. "I figure that's a good way to get ahead and I have a knack for numbers. How about you? What are you doing these days?"
"Well," I told her, "believe it or not, I'm an accountant."
"Really?"
I nodded. "An auditor. I work for Brentman-Barry. That's why I'm on the flight tonight. We're going to do the books for one of our clients that has an office in St. Louis."
"Wow," she said. "That's amazing. Listen, do you mind if I come back and talk to you after I finish my drink service? I'd love to get some advice from you since you're in the same field I'm going into."
"Sure," I said, happily. She was, after all, an attractive woman and I was always on the lookout for one of those. Maybe something would develop out of this. "I'll give you the whole run-down on the rough and tumble world of corporate auditing."
She smiled. "Then it's a date," she said, moving off down the aisle with her drink cart.
As she moved away I wondered if maybe this trip wouldn't be such a bummer after all.
She came back about twenty minutes later, sitting in the seat next to me. Her skirt rode up a little as she did this, revealing about half of her thighs to me. They were nice to visualize and I wondered how they would feel. She noticed me looking at her and smiled as I reluctantly turned my gaze away. Our conversation was innocent at first. I told her what the accounting business was like and gave her some pointers on future employment. She seemed interested in what I had to say. After about ten minutes, she stood up again.
"I'd better go do my rounds now," she told me, easing back out into the aisle. "Give me a ring if you need anything." She paused, her gaze drilling into me. "You know how to push the right button don't you?"
I chuckled, catching her flirtatious remark quite well. "Oh yes," I assured her. "I'm very adept at pushing the right button. In fact, I've been told that I push the button extremely well."
"That's good to know," she told me, smiling. With that she sauntered off toward the front of the plane. I watched her ass as she retreated. It was a nice one.
For the next ninety minutes or so we didn't speak much. I continued with my work but found myself unable to concentrate so I eventually packed up my laptop and stowed it away. I alternated between flipping through the in-flight magazine and staring out the window toward the occasional passing lights of some city below. Christy came by twice to get me new cans of beer, each time offering me warm smiles and idle chitchat with an occasional flirtatious remark thrown in. I could tell she wanted me to ask her out; she'd made a point of finding out that I lived in Seattle and telling me that she did also. I figured I probably would before the flight was over. After all, I could fulfill two fantasies at once if I succeeded in laying her; she had been the object of several jack-off fantasies back in high school and she was now a flight attendant, which I often envisioned boffing these days. I wondered if I could get her to wear her attendant outfit if a relationship developed to that point?
My musings were interrupted by her return. She gave me a knowing smile as she sat, uninvited, in the seat next to me once again. She looked as if she knew exactly what I'd been thinking. Hell, she probably did. We picked up our conversation. She reminisced about the good old days of high school fondly. I nodded politely through this. My memories of this time period weren't so fond.
"You were so shy back in school," she told me, scrunching down in the seat a bit, which served to expose a little more of her thighs to my interested gaze. "What happened to you? You seem so outgoing now."
I shrugged, tearing my eyes away from her legs and looking into her brown eyes. "I don't know. Nothing dramatic. I guess in college I just figured out that girls weren't the mysterious entities I used to think they were. Once I started dating regularly it was like a dam broke, I was unstoppable." I chuckled. "I guess I became something of a slut."
She laughed. "A slut huh? And what about now?"
"Oh, I've mellowed out some since then. Not that I'm celibate or anything."
"I certainly hope not," she answered, smiling saucily.
"So," I said, after gathering my thoughts together in the wake of her last statement. "What's your schedule like? Do you stay over in St. Louis?"
She giggled tiredly. "Are you kidding? Did you think this flight stops in St. Louis? We continue on to Chicago and then Boston. I'll stay overnight in Boston and then work the return flight back to Seattle."
"Oh," I said, nodding sadly. She had just shot down my hopes of a little tryst in good old St. Louis. "Well, when's your next free day in Seattle? Maybe we could, you know, get together and have a little dinner or something."
She beamed. "That would be nice," she said. "I get back to Seattle Saturday night and have four days off after that."
"Well how about Saturday then?" I offered. "I'm usually off on weekends."
"Well," she answered doubtfully, "I'm usually a little tired when I get back into town. Sunday maybe?"
"Sunday it is," I proclaimed. "How about dinner at Winslow House?" Winslow house was a romantic restaurant. It was one of my favorite places to take first dates.
"Oooh," she said approvingly, "that sounds nice. I've never been there before. Have you?"
"A long time ago," I told her, which was true if you considered two weeks before to be a long time ago.
We exchanged phone numbers and addresses, made some more idle chitchat for another five minutes or so and then she left to do her rounds again. It was another half-hour before she came back. By now, a good portion of the passengers were either asleep or dozing. The lights had been turned down and I could hear several snores drifting through the air around me.
"Ahhh," she sighed, sinking into the seat. "I like this part of the flight. Everyone's asleep, I can finally sit down and relax. You wouldn't believe how sore your feet get doing this for a living."
"Wait'll you sit at a desk all day," I told her. "Then it'll be your back that's sore all the time." And you'll get hemorrhoids too, I could have added, but I thought it might break the mood to mention that just then. "Too bad you're on duty. I give a great foot massage."
"Screw duty," she said, kicking off her right shoe and planting her foot in my lap, much to my surprise. It landed about mid thigh. "If you can massage like you claim, let's feel it."
I regained my composure quickly and reached down to her foot. I began to rub and knead it firmly through the nylon that covered it, loosening up the muscles and springing a semi-hard-on in the process. I loved the feel of female flesh encased in nylon. Christy sighed as I did this, keeping her eyes peeled down the aisle, probably watching for her supervisor who, I imagined, would most likely frown upon what was taking place.
"You have nice hands," she sighed softly, relaxing more into the seat.
"Thank you," I said, looking up the length of her leg. Due to the position she was in, her legs were spread apart and I was able to see all the way to the junction of her thighs. I could see the white panties she wore through the thin layer of nylon. Though I wasn't seeing any bare flesh, I was seeing a forbidden view. This made my semi spring into a full-blown diamond cutter.
She licked her lips a little and twisted slightly in her chair. This brought the foot in my lap closer to my body so that it was resting against the protrusion of my cock.
"Mmmm," she said, gazing at me. "I guess you really do like to give massages. I do too. Take your hands off and I'll show you."
Blushing, and more than a little aroused, I removed my hands and dropped them to my sides. She began moving her foot back and forth in my crotch, gliding gently over my erection. My breathing quickened as her nylon-clad foot whisked over me. She slid her foot down a little and began running her toes up and down.
"You like this kind of massage?" she asked seductively.
"Oh yeah," I nodded, closing my eyes in rapture.
"Me too," she said. "I'm getting all wet just doing it." She looked around the cabin for a moment, saw nobody paying undue attention to us, and then hiked up her skirt to her waist. She slid her left hand under the top of her pantyhose. I saw it disappear beneath her panties, right into her crotch. She rubbed up and down a few times, sighing as she did so, and then withdrew it. She leaned forward, putting her fingers beneath my nose.
I could smell the scent of her on her fingers. The musty, fresh odor of an aroused pussy. She slid the fingers between my lips and I sucked on them, tasting her nectar. It was tart and very pleasant. My arousal became frantic. I began gliding my hands up and down the silky smoothness of her legs.
Abruptly, she withdrew from me, making me groan my displeasure. She smiled, licking her lips again. "You know," she said quietly, "you've been drinking beer. Don't you have to go to the bathroom?"
I didn't actually. I'd emptied my bladder about fifteen minutes before. But I wasn't a fool either. "Uh, yes," I said, nodding. "I think I do."
"Go to the one at the very back of the plane," she told me. "The left one. It's the nicest bathroom on the whole plane." She winked, standing up. "It might say it's occupied when you get there. That's a little problem it has. Knock first and maybe the door will open."
I nodded, speechless, my motor really running now. She headed off toward the rear of the plane.
I gave her a minute and then stood up. My jeans, I saw, were bulging outward noticeably. Embarrassed, I looked around at my fellow passengers. Most of them were asleep. Those who weren't were not paying the least bit of attention to me. I walked quickly toward the tail until I came to the bathroom stalls she mentioned. The left one had the "occupied" light illuminated. I took a quick glance around and knocked softly on the door.
I heard the lock turn and then the door creaked slowly open about halfway. Since the light had gone out when the door lock had been disengaged, I could only make out the silhouette of Christy inside. Her hand reached out and grabbed my shirt, pulling me into the stall. It was cramped in there, forcing us to stand chest to chest, not exactly an unpleasant situation. She shut the door and engaged the lock again, turning on the lights. She was smiling at me, staring into my eyes. She held up her left hand, which was holding her pantyhose and panties. She pushed the crotch of them up against my face, overwhelming me with her scent.
"Do you see what you've done to me?" she whispered. "You've gotten me all wet." Her hand dropped to my crotch and unbuttoned my jeans. Her fingers snaked into my underwear, grasping me, making me groan.
I put my arms around her, pulling her to me, attaching my mouth to hers. Her tongue poked out, seeking mine and we kissed wetly, obscenely. While she continued to fondle me, I allowed my hands to slide down her back to her ass. I pulled up the back of her skirt and placed my palms on her bare cheeks. They were firm and warm. I kneaded them roughly. She seemed to like this, her breathing quickened and her fondling hand began to squeeze harder.
I pulled my crotch back a little, opening up some space between us and then slid my left hand around to the front, gliding it over the soft flesh of her outer and then inner thigh, finally coming to her pussy. I dipped my fingers in, gasping as I felt bare flesh around her soaked vaginal lips. I began to finger-fuck her, putting first one and then two fingers into her body. Her pelvis thrust back at me as I did this. She unlocked her mouth from mine and began sucking and licking my neck, my ears.
She pulled her hand out of my underwear and then pushed my jeans and underwear down, baring my cock. She looked down at it, whistling appreciatively, jacking it a few times before pushing me backward and dropping to her knees before me. She sucked me into her mouth, her hands coming up to grasp my ass cheeks. I was forced to lean back against the wall behind me to keep from falling down. Christy was a great cocksucker. She bobbed up and down, taking my entire length into her mouth, swirling her tongue around, sucking gently. She took one hand off my ass and began to fondle my balls gently. Her mouth made raunchy slurping noises as she blew me and I could feel her drool dribbling down my shaft.
She sucked me for another minute or so and then removed her mouth. She stood up, her face flushed with arousal, her chest heaving with her respiration. She backed up a step and then pulled herself to a sitting position on the sink, opening her legs widely. Her pussy was a work of art. She'd shaved all around the lips, leaving only a rectangular strip of black pubic hair above. Her lips were swollen and puffy, inflamed, nearly dripping with her secretions. Her clit was poking out invitingly. It was perhaps the most beautiful pussy I'd ever seen in the flesh.
I couldn't resist. I grabbed her legs and buried my face between them, plunging my tongue between her lips. Her legs wrapped around my back and she emitted an almost feline squeal when I gently took her clit in my mouth and sucked it like it was a nipple. Her pelvis thrust uncontrollably into my face. Just as I was getting started, I felt her hands in my armpits, pulling me up.
Reluctantly, I stood up, leaving her pussy behind.
"We don't have that much time," she panted. "I need you to fuck me. C'mon, put it in and fuck me. Please?"
I began to move my cock forward and then stopped. "What about," I asked, "you know, protection?"
"I'm on the pill," she said. "And I don't have AIDS or anything. I promise. And I trust you don't either."
I looked at her for a moment. Part of me was saying that I barely knew this woman and to have unprotected sex with her was madness in this day and age. How did I know she was really on the pill? How did I know she really didn't have AIDS? Or gonorrhea? Or syphilis? Or crabs? But that part of me apparently wasn't looking at her engorged, inviting pussy that was only inches away from my straining cock. That part of me lost the battle without even a fight.
I leaned forward and touched the head of my cock to her warm, wet lips. I grabbed her asscheeks while her legs wrapped around my waist. I pulled her to me, sinking all the way to the hilt inside her. She was tight, much tighter than I'd expected. I sighed in ecstasy. There is absolutely nothing in the world that feels better than the first plunge into a wet, tight pussy. And when you're doing it in a forbidden place, like the bathroom of an airliner at 35,000 feet, with sleeping passengers just outside the door, the sensation is tripled.
Our mouths locked together again as I began to thrust in and out of her. There was no slow build-up to this copulation, I began slamming her immediately. Our pubic bones mashed together as we thrust frantically against each other. I felt her flexing her vaginal muscles rhythmically, squeezing my cock on each in-thrust. In and out I moved, picking up speed, sweat forming on my brow. The rich smell of sex filled the air around us along with the squelchy, squishing sound of cock and pussy in union.
"Oh God," she moaned, her thrusts increasing, her fingernails digging into my back. "Yes," she cried softly, with restraint. "You're making me come. Keep it up."
I redoubled my efforts, picking up the pace. I could feel the tingle of my own approaching orgasm and hoped she would be quick about having hers. She buried her face in the hollow of my shoulder, her body tensing up, her vaginal muscles squeezing me almost painfully. She squealed against my skin as orgasm overtook her.
I was only moments behind her. My own thrusts became erratic and out of control. I squeezed her ass cheeks together and felt waves of pleasure shooting through my body.
"Yes," she panted, kissing my neck again. "Come in me. Come in me."
"Ohhhh," I groaned, feeling the spasms start. It was one of the most powerful orgasms I'd ever experienced. My cock began unloading shot after shot of hot sperm into her gulping pussy. It seemed to go on forever but finally my thrusts slowed down and stopped.
We exchanged a warm tongue kiss as I withdrew myself from her, and then we looked in each other's eyes.
"That was absolutely incredible," she told me breathlessly.
I nodded. "Yeah." Not very profound a statement, I know, but I was on overload.
She swallowed nervously. "I can't believe we actually did that," she said in wonder. "I hope nobody missed me. You better get back to your seat while I clean myself up."
"Okay," I said, reaching down to pull up my pants.
We exchanged a last kiss and then I unlocked the door, easing it open. I expected to see a group of passengers and angry flight attendants outside. Maybe even one of the pilots. Was it illegal to do what we just did? I wasn't sure, but I was fairly certain that Christy had violated an airline rule. But there was nobody there. I stepped into the aisle and the door shut behind me, the "occupied" light coming back on.
I took a deep breath, wondering how I smelled, and then walked as nonchalantly as possible back to my seat. Nobody gave me so much as a glance.
Christy walked by me about five minutes later. Her pantyhose were back in place and she looked perfectly normal to my eyes. She shot me a smile as she passed, but didn't speak to me. About ten minutes after that, she came back, carrying a fresh can of beer in her hands.
"This one's on me," she said, handing it over and sitting down in the seat.
"Thanks," I said, cracking it open, though I knew it was a bad idea to have a beer this late when I had to work tomorrow. It would, however, change the odor of my breath so I wasn't breathing pussy smell on everyone I talked to.
"Listen," she said, seemingly embarrassed now. "I know you probably think I'm a slut."
"Not at all," I answered, though that was exactly what I was thinking, and not in a bad way either.
"I'm not," she continued. "I really don't do things like that. When I date someone I never sleep with them on the first date. I'm usually very respectable."
I nodded, keeping my mouth prudently shut.
"But you see," she said, "what we just did has always been a fantasy of mine." She giggled. "Almost an obsession. I'd never been able to do it before. I didn't want to just pick up a stranger on the airplane and take him to the bathroom. When I saw you on the plane, and when we started to hit it off a little." She shrugged. "I guess I just decided this was a good opportunity. I mean, we were going to go out on a date, we seemed to like each other, and we probably would have ended up sleeping together at some point in the future, right?"
"I suppose we would have," I agreed.
"So what's wrong with just skipping all the slow build-up crap once in a while and just getting right to what we both know is the main purpose of a dating relationship anyway?"
She had me there. "You make a good point," I told her. "I wish all women thought that way."
"So I hope you don't think ill of me," she concluded.
"Not at all."
"And we can still go out on Sunday?"
"You bet."
"Great." She smiled. "I really do think we might hit it off. You know, in more than a sexual way."
We didn't talk much the rest of the flight. I fell asleep shortly after this conversation and didn't wake up until we were descending into St. Louis. As I exited the plane she was standing at the door.
"I hope you enjoyed your flight," she said, her eyes twinkling.
"Oh, I did."
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