Mile High Club Almost

Traveling for work is the best. You gotta love it when your boss, or whomever, pays your airfare, hotel and most importantly, your food and beverage.

New Orleans was our venue that particular year. And seriously? They expected us to accomplish something?

Suffice to say, I was drunk for about four days straight. It was such a party that I would wake up every morning feeling HORRIBLE, but I didn't realize until the end it wasn't completely a hangover.... I was also sick, with what was probably Strep Throat. But somehow, this didn't stop me from going out with my friends and indulging on that last night.

Every year, I find a guy to hook up with at these meetings. We go about our usual work business, but when the night ends, we always end up fucking in like 100 positions. The only thing different about this year, was the guy, and the fact that the sex was so much better then the guy I had chosen the previous year.

I spent a few hours fucking him, despite my sickness. I coughed and hacked through it all, and he must've liked what he was getting despite this, because he didn't stop until about 5am. At 5:30, my wake up call came. I had to get to the airport.

I stumbled out of bed, threw my stuff in a suitcase, and ran out the door, leaving hotty in bed, germinating what was sure to be a good case of strep.

On the plane, all I wanted to do was sleep. My seat was the very back seat on the airplane. The one right next to the bathrooms. At least I had the window seat, so I could lean my aching head against it and sleep. Cough Cough.

As people were boarding, I looked up to see a very hot bald man making his way towards the back of the plane. I remember thinking that it would be just my luck... to get the hot guy today. I never get the hot guy. I always get the fat man who takes up a seat and a half, or the teenager drumming on their lap to the beat of whatever was coming out of their ear bud, nervous leg-syndrome and all. I never get the hot guys, so why should it happen today?

Let me tell you why it would happen today. It would happen today because God hates me, and because I had spent the night boozing and fucking and I didn't even bother with a shower. I don't even think I brushed my teeth. I was probably the equivalent of what I didn't want to sit next to me on flights. But nonetheless, hotty continues on down the aisle until he plops down, right next to me. I hated myself at that moment.

Hotty didn't waste any time. Before he was even buckled in, he reaches over, shakes my hand, and says "Allo... my name is Olivier..." in the sexiest French accent ever. Friggen seriously? Cough Cough!

I nervously shake his hand and tell him my name, and he starts chatting with me, as if it were 3pm and we were having tea. He was a member of the Canadian military (I didn't know they had one) and had just spent a couple of days on leave in New Orleans. I was still drunk, positive I was sending off some sort of out-of-whack pheromones, and insecure because I knew my hair was mussed up, and also because I was snotting all over the place. I gave him some stupid apology about being sick, and giggled like a friggen teenager. I don't think I've ever been less cool.

For a reason I will never understand, he started flirting with me. I couldn't muster up one witty thing to say. Nothing. I kept blowing my red nose, and coughing and all I could do was giggle. I couldn't tell you what he was saying, really, because as soon as we took off, my ears had popped and I lost about 75% of my ability to hear. Not that it mattered what he said. He was so hot that he could have told me that zombies existed and I'd have done nothing more than first believe him, and secondly giggle. Uncool; was I.

By the time we had reached cruising altitude, he had his hand on my thigh. What the hell? I decided to go with it. If I had gotten this far with Olivier without even trying, and looking and smelling like I did, and with snot running out my nose and a blank stare as he spoke to me, I figured I was doing OK. He reached his hand behind my head, pulled me towards him, and planted a firm kiss on what I was sure, was an icky mouth. Cough Cough.

I giggled, and pulled away, and he pushed harder... knowing, I think, that I am submissive. He kept kissing me, and tilted my neck back and started nibbling on my ears. I don't like ear nibbles, and was glad they had popped and that I couldn't hear any slurping sounds. Within a couple of minutes, Olivier asked me if I was a member of the Mile-High Club.

I am not, but like any champion, I aspire for the highest ranking in anything I do. I giggled, of course, and told him "Not yet..." and he put the armrest between us up and pulled me closer. All I did was giggle.

So we made out for a bit. Part of me cared what the people standing in line to go to the bathroom thought. Part of me wondered if the people in the seats around us knew what was going on. But the biggest... the sluttiest part of me didn't care. I was actually considering it.

I broke out in a coughing fit, and my handsome suitor found a flight attendant and got me some water. He probably could have gotten her to find a way to land the plane had he looked at her with the same eyes he was giving me. I was in. Except... cough cough snot snot.

He kept holding my hand and telling me all of the naughty things he wanted to do with me, and I think I was slowly sobering up, because I saw the Crazy that was going on here. We were less than an hour into this flight, and this man was completely talking me into fucking him in a bathroom, of all places. Not that I'm against fucking in bathrooms, but that's another story for another blog. This blog entry belongs to Olivier...

Inside my head, I was thinking the following: How could he even find me slightly attractive at this moment? There were worse things in New Orleans that I could have caught besides strep. This man was way too hot for me. People knew what was going on. It's not like I am on a dry spell and need to get laid, considering the fact that I was still recovering from the past four days of non-stop-debauchery. I wonder if I could get a screwdriver sometime soon? I wonder if 8am is too early to drink? I wonder if the bathroom is too small? I wonder if he'd put his foot in the toilet like Clark Griswold did on National Lampoon's European Vacation....

So you see, all of this is going through my mind, and Olivier the hot Canadian was whispering what I think was probably hot stuff into my clogged ear, with his sexy French accent.

I choked. I'm not sure where it came from, because if you know me, you know that I can muster up some serious sex! But with him, at this moment, all I could do was giggle and say ... "Oh Olivier, I just can't..." giggle giggle... like a God-damn moron!

But he persists, and tells me that he has a long layover in Detroit, and he'd be more than happy to allow me to stay in his room with him at the airport hotel, and he'd nurse me back to health. Well, as much as I wanted to be in the Mile-High Club, you know I wanted to be waited on and taken care of in this moment of weakness and sickness by this gorgeous military man, but still, all I could do was giggle.

The plane landed, and this man has had his hands all over my already soiled body. He had already put that proverbial notch in his belt, and frankly, I was happy for it. But as I was deplaning, I choked. He allowed me to get out ahead of him, and had to wait behind for his bag, and when I got to the end of the jet bridge, I glanced behind me, didn't see him, and bolted.

I'll never really understand why I did this. I ran. I ran like a little girl. I ran from a hot bald guy who wanted to fuck me and give me many orgasms. I know this, because he had told me he would! I ran like a God-damn school girl; chicken piece-of-shit. What the fuck? Who was I, anyway? What happened to Stefanie, and why wasn't she on her knees right this minute?

To this day, I'll never understand what he saw in me to begin with. I'll never understand why I couldn't do it. Running through the airport to escape a beautiful man who wanted to make me feel good is not something I ever thought I'd do. It was as if it wasn't even me. I don't roll like that! And what sucks about it the most is that I know with all of my heart, that I will never get the random hot guy next to me on an airplane again. Stuff like that doesn't happen twice in a lifetime. There is no giggle giggle anymore. Just a "choke choke" and a big ol' WTF?