Plane Ride To Heaven

1.

Penelope nodded timidly to the smiling air-stewardess in her neat, ironed red and black suit and followed the long line of passengers down the aisle and to her seat.

She crawled to the window seat and settled down hurriedly, content the others sitting on her row hadn't yet boarded. She stared nostalgically at Athens International Airport—knowing it could very well be the last time she looked at the clear Athenian sky, at the least for a long time.

There were no more passengers walking the aisle and Penelope felt more comfortable stretching her legs and sitting as diagonally as she could, preparing for the three-hour flight.

"Sorry, sorry," she heard a man panting, followed by quick steps on the aisle.

She looked up from the window and saw a long-haired man with scrubby beard and a curly shirt checking rather frantically the seat numbers.

"Hi," he offered her a wide smile and sat on the aisle seat—hastily, she sat straighter up. "Had to have a last cigarette," he chuckled, "and nearly lost the damn flight. Bad habit indeed, huh?"

"I guess," she shrugged, biting the corner of her lips.

The stewardess did her usual routine on the speakers and small screens dropped from the ceiling—indifferently, Penelope followed rather absentmindedly the safety video portraying what passengers ought to do in case of an accident.

As if—she thought quite gravely—we're going to do any of that, if the plane actually crashes.

Slowly, the plane taxied out to the runway; the closer they got to taking off, the deeper her heart sank in her stomach. Farewell Greece, she thought somberly and a sad half smile and half frown twitched her lips, when she was glued to the back of her seat.

"You're leaving for good, huh?" The man leaned closer to her and cleared his throat.

Startled, she turned around; yet, she constantly kept the corner of her eye fixed to the window, taking in all the last images of her hometown.

"How did you know?" She asked him and brushed her long red hair back.

"I was once in your shoes," he shrugged, his smile never diminishing. "I guess, I recognize the sentiments reflected on your facial expression. That's all."

Momentarily, she remained silent—and more carefully examined the man she'd be stuck with for approximately three hours: his worn out black jeans, his grey un-ironed shirt, his scarf, his uncombed hair. And yet, his cheap-looking clothes did not conceal, nor diminish, his lean physique.

However, what got her attention the most was the book resting on his lap:

Keats' Complete Poems

.

"Oh, that?" He followed her gaze, then picked the book up quite proudly. "While I'm not very much into the Romantics," he explained with a shrug, "because, I think they were too sentimentalists and, well,

romantic

, I do love the way Keats idealized melancholy.

"And Byron, too...I mean, how can you

not

respect a drunkard and a pervert? Who went to fight a war that wasn't his just for the thrill?

"All right," he sighed and rubbed his forehead, "that last one didn't present me in a very...positive light, did it?"

"I..." She cleared her throat and allowed herself a moment to glare outside the window—she noticed the vast Athenian metropolis, all the apartment complexes expanding around Acropolis, and was able to see all the way down to Piraeus port and the seaside neighborhoods—somewhere amongst them Glyfada, too, where she had spent her entire life in.

"I talk too much, huh?" He caught his hair in a ponytail. "I do that, sometimes. Other times, I'm the most silent guy you can imagine...you'd much rather prefer I was that right now, don't you?"

"What?" She turned her glare back to him. "No, it's not...sorry. It's just that..."

"Heading for a new life and you're just trying to take all the last moments in," he added.

"Yeah," she nodded, her lips curling wider. "Something like that. It's scary, I guess."

"I suppose."

"Weren't you afraid, when you...you did mention..." She said hesitantly.

"Indeed; six years ago. Of course, it was...bit different. I'm from a tiny town in Tennessee. So, when I flew away from the States I was staring at New York; a place I'd never been in—aside from the time it took me to go from the Central Station to Newark.

"So...but, I do remember how it felt driving to Nashville, leaving my hometown behind for good. I think

that

was when I felt homesick before I even left home—pretty much like you do now."

"It's funny, right? I mean, just three hours ago, I was home with my parents and brother, drinking coffee. And I kept thinking 'Penelope, this is the last coffee you'll have in this kitchen; the last time you'll see your old bedroom for a long time'."

"Penelope?" He grinned. "Quite the beautiful name; and with quite the history."

"Only, in my case," she giggled, "I'm the one doing the traveling."

"So, is your Ulysses gonna wait for you back home, even if it takes twenty years?"

"No, I...never really had a

Ulysses

." She lowered her gaze—it was rather comforting opening up to a stranger, knowing she'd never see him again. Somehow, she felt more at ease discussing personal matters and issues with the stranger than she ever did with her family and/or closest friends.

"Okay," he scratched his chin—a cold shiver traversed her spine, when she felt deep in her bones his investigative glance scanning her. "Sorry, it's just...hard to believe. I mean..." He cleared his throat. "I'd just expected you'd have the same amount of suitors as Homer's Penelope...considering you're...

"Ah, screw it. It was my horrible way of saying you're too beautiful to be single. I'm bad at this, ain't I?"

"No, it was..." She laughed, when he laughed. "Yeah, maybe it wasn't the

best

attempt for a compliment."

"It might qualify for

worst

, though," he snorted, still laughing. "Which, at least, is better than simply mediocre...right?"

"I don' know." Her face turned a gentle shade of red, when she snorted quite loudly.

"That was good," he laughed even harder.

"So," she said after a few deep breaths, "what

did

you do after Nashville? Headed straight for New York, or..."

"No," he shook his head. "Spent a year in Nashville; to be honest, I'd like to say I tried to make it into the music scene, but...I mostly spent my time in dives, drinking smooth Tennessee whiskey."

"You're a musician?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Poet," he sighed. "Well, I did write poetry on bar napkins anyway; there was a bartender who'd sometimes give me a drink on the house, if I handed her a couple of my 'napkin poems'.

"In hindsight, I think she liked

me

and not my poetry."

"And then?"

"Then, I moved around a bit more; tried my luck in Memphis, with the same results. Then, I decided it was time to try new states. Lived in Louisiana, Mississippi, three months in Florida...stuck to the South mostly.

"Guess, it felt like home back then."

"So, how did you end up in Europe?"

"Was inspired by Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and all the other writers, who lived in Paris back in the '20s. Naturally, then, Paris was my first stop. Well," he frowned, "it's a whole different beast than it was back in their time. Spent a few weeks at

Shakespeare and Company

—lived there for free, acted the janitor while reading a lot, and also doing some writing.

"But, I got tired of Paris. Moved to Britain—stayed in London for a grand five days, before I got overwhelmed by its size and insanity. Traveled around a bit, all the way up to Scotland, and all around Ireland.

"Wanted to check Aran Islands Synge wrote about; yet, nothing really inspired me. Maybe, I was too accustomed of my hometown and the way of life I grew up with, that I just couldn't acclimate to a different lifestyle.

"At any rate, after Britain, I decided to give Southern Europe a shot; Portugal, Spain, Italy, Southern France...finally, Greece. Loved the people, their hospitality and carefree attitude, but...too much shit going around."

"So, now, you're giving Scandinavia a shot?"

"Yup," he nodded. "Time to experience the true welfare experience. I mean, the state pays college students, simply because they're studying! That's gotta be something.

"So, what takes

you

up there?"

"Work," she said. "Things aren't that easy in Greece and...well, when I got a job offer in Copenhagen, I just couldn't say no, you know? Besides, they did mention something about paying for a MBA, too, so...that's something I wanted to do anyway, and..."

"Sounds great," he nodded.

"Must sound very dull to you," she rebuked. "I mean, you're in the midst of a journey around the globe, it's..."

"Not as fascinating as it sounds; sure, I've seen many places, but...I've also slept on many park benches. And I've done a lot of menial jobs, just to buy a plane ticket to escape those same menial jobs.

"I'm not a rich, carefree traveler; unfortunately. But, to each their own. I mean, I can't really see myself settling down anytime soon." With a shrug, he slithered to the middle seat sporting a wide, warm smile.

She tucked her hair behind her ears and lowered her gaze. It had been a long while since she had felt this way—this sudden flame that lit up in her heart, forcing her to battle the blushing she felt spreading across her face like wildfire.

"So," he asked in a mellow, low voice, "how does it feel? Moving away from home."

"Terrifying," she giggled girlishly. "I...don't know; it's exciting, certainly.

Exhilarating

. But, it's also...quite overwhelming and...yeah,

terrifying

."

"All right," he twitched his lips. "I guess, I never truly felt like that. I mean, sure, I did experience homesickness, but...I suppose, I was ready to leave ever since I turned twelve. I was burning to get out of there."

"Was it...that bad, or..."

"No, no," he shook his head, with a gentle chuckle—yet, momentarily his eyes darkened. "I don't have a heartbreaking backstory about abusive parents, or, being bullied, or anything. Hell, it was a very peaceful town;

nothing

was going on. Aside, perhaps, from some illicit activities, like methamphetamine cooking in the woods.

"But, in general, it was really peaceful; the main problem our two police officers faced were drunk drivers—but, when you've got one bar in the whole town, it's easy to set a roadblock. Especially when the officers hang out in the same bar as the drinkers."

"Sounds...wildly different than life in Athens."

"I noticed. I lived in Athens for—" he momentarily stopped mentally to count, giving a performance while at it "—eight months. One of my longest stays in one place."

"You liked it, then?" She met his warm hazel eyes.

"It was all right," he nodded, staring straight into her green eyes. "I mean, I was able to get a job in a call center, customer support services for English speaking people, so...it paid enough for rent and hoo...food.

"And, of course, it was fascinating walking around downtown, knowing these were the streets all the great ancient writers and philosophers once walked on. I guess, it's the history of the city that kept me for as long as it did. And how cheap life is, when you've got a well-paying job.

"But, I got tired explaining to people how to unlock their iphones. So...here I am. You're looking at me like I'm some sort of a lunatic," he chuckled.

"No, it's..." She shook her head and tucked her hair tighter behind her ear, while clearing her throat as silently as she could. "I've just never met anyone like you; not even remotely close."

"Is that good, or bad? 'Cause I can't tell from..."

"Definitely good," she offered him a bright, and what she hoped to be reassuring, smile. "Most people in my life are...well, like me. Looking for the safety of the routine. A good job, a nice, little apartment; to get married, have children...of course, it's near damn impossible to do that in Greece right now, but...that's what they want.

"No one really wants to leave Greece—most don't, anyway—but, those that can, do. Like...what's the saying? Rats out of a sinking ship?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he guffawed. "You're being harsh, though."

"No, I...don't think so. I mean, I belong to the generation that pays for their parents' grave mistakes. I mean, most people have massive debts, because back when things were virtually good, they kept taking loans out, which the banks issued indiscriminately.

"Now, with the recession, few can still cover the payments and...homes are being repossessed, families are starving, businesses are shutting down on a daily basis...not a very promising future for those staying behind."

"It was like this with most of the Western world, when the recession hit," he shrugged.

"Yeah, but, in the rest of the world things eventually got better—just look at Cyprus that was in an even worse fate, seemingly, than Greece. Now, they're flourishing. Greece was...always in a recession, we just didn't know it. There was no real money; only a plasmatic euphoria, which everyone rode with all their might."

"Don't know much about it, so...I'll have to take your word for it."

"Well, I did study economics, so..." She grinned. "Anyway, now I'm leaving all this behind, I'm..."

"Starting a new life," he added. "Sorry, by the way," he said hastily, "I do tend to complete people's sentences. Innate impatience, I suppose."

"It's okay," she put her hand on his arm. "I...feels as if we're in sync, or something."

The stewardess rolled the cart next to them, breaking their conversation.

"I'll have the white wine," Peter ordered, then produced his wallet to pay for it. Penelope simply took the gratis coffee.

"I do sometimes envy," Peter downed half the pocket-sized bottle in one swig, "the older generations; when smoking was allowed in airplanes and they could enjoy complimentary drinks of

real

proportions. They rolled with much more style back then."

"Times are always a-changing." She had a sip of her steaming coffee, staring into his eyes over the plastic cup.

"I'm still debating with myself if that's a good thing," he leaned closer to her—the soft scent of wine in his breath hit her nostrils.

Without truly understanding what compelled her to do it, she brushed her lips against his, which was more than enough to ignite a stronger fire in both her heart and loins.

She moaned, when his soft hand slithered on the back of her neck, brushing her hair away; with a firm grip, he pulled her closer and kissed her again, sucking on her tongue.

Her fingers got tangled in his long, dark blonde hair, as she thrust her tongue down his throat, hungrily sucking on his lips; her whole body faintly trembled, as she pressed herself against his body, crossing her leg over his, resulting in her skirt lifting quite high.

A loud, demanding cough put an end to their passionate kissing; the old lady sitting on the aisle seat across from them cleared her throat again, more emphatically.

Both panting and with embarrassed smiles, they sat straight up and fixed their clothes.

"You know," she whispered in between her panting, her face having turned scarlet, "I don't normally, I..."

"Me neither," he smiled, as he lifted his glance, searching for hers. "It's just...I don't know."

"Well," she climbed up on him, unable any longer to control her flushing, "I think I'm gonna go to the restroom..."

"All right," he raised his eyebrow, maintaining eye-contact while she briefly grinded against his crotch.

She turned her head and winked at him, as he watched her over the seat—and under the scrutinizing glare of the old lady—entering the cubicle.

It wasn't as easy, or, lucrative, as movies present it—there wasn't a real curtain to pull, nor was it easy not to lock the door. Too many passengers had seen her enter the toilet.

She fixed her hair in the mirror, leaving the door unlocked—if anyone asked, she'd simply say she wanted a quick fix-up and therefore didn't see a reason to lock the door.

A faint gasp escaped her mouth, when he slithered into the toilet and quickly locked the door behind him.

"Hey," she looked down at her sandals.

"Hi," he said confidently; in just a second, they were all over each other, passionately sucking on each other's tongues.

He pulled her up and seated her on the sink; immediately, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer, feeling his engorged erection against her panties.

She pulled his head, while sucking on his tongue, his beard softly tickling her—however, it did not raise in her the need to giggle. On the contrary, the feeling of his thick beard against her soft skin only further intensified the pleasure she derived from the hungry, rough way he sucked on her lips.

She lowered her hands down to his firm ass. He moaned in her mouth, momentarily pulling faintly back and staring deep into her eyes.

She buried her hands underneath his tight jeans and dag her nails in his buttocks. As soon as he unbuttoned his pants, she pulled them, and his boxers, down and giggled softly, when his erect cock jumped up and slapped her inner thigh.

An excited grin brightened her face up, when she looked down and noticed his formidable size; overwhelmed by exhilaration, she wrapped her hand around his dong and slowly stroked.

Her grip tightened, when he sucked on her neck, turning her skin all too wet from the saliva stuck on his beard; they both moaned, struggling to keep their volume down.

She pulled his foreskin back, then rubbed the purple mushroom head of his prick against her inner thigh and on her soaked panties; she bit his earlobe and grinned, when he squirmed.

"Tell me," she whispered heavily in his ear, "you've got..."

"Yup," he replied in a soft whisper.

He kissed her on the lips, then procured his wallet from his jeans—struggling to reach it, as she adamantly refused to let go of his dong. He took a condom out of his wallet with a proud smile.

"I'm not sure if I should be happy or worried you carry condoms with you," she chuckled, while she helped him wear it.

"Benefits of growing up in the backwoods," he shrugged. "When many of your friends become parents while still in high-school, you learn cautiousness.

"However," he added, in between more heated kisses all over her neck and cheeks, "that doesn't mean I go around doing this all the time."

"It's all right, either way, I..." She sucked on his neck and lifted her skirt all the way up to her waist.

He pushed her panties aside and broke their kiss momentarily, just to guide his cock in her wet pussy.

She grunted, when the tip stretched her; slowly, she pulled him deeper in her using her legs, her moans growing heavier.

For a moment, they both remained perfectly still; with her arms around his shoulders she sucked on his tongue, subsequently drowning all incoming moans.

It was enthralling knowing that people

knew

what they were doing—the fear of being caught, hell, even the fear of potential punishment assisted in the insane quickness with which she got all hot and wet.

Slowly, at first, he moved his lower back back and forth—his prick gliding against her inner muscles, stretching her cunt just enough perfectly to accommodate him inside her. Fitting like a glove, he gradually increased the pace, rocking her body hard against the sink and the small mirror above it.

A slight turbulence only aided in heightening their pleasure; the way the counter trembled brought new, unprecedented, waves of pleasure across her mind and spine, rendering her perfectly numb.

She sucked on his tongue wildly, while he pounded her hard, his swinging balls slapping noisily against her wet pussy.