UNITED AIRLINES FLIGHT 2069 FROM DENVER TO
SAN FRANCISCO
Now here it is four years later and Gretta has moved in with me. She’s been here for a few months and she’s started to settle in. I find it ironic that I’m sitting in coach on a flight returning to San Francisco as I take this story up. After all, our story started with us both on a flight between Las Vegas and Chicago stuck in Denver and here I am with my head in the clouds again.
As usual the passengers are jammed into row after row of seats that do little to accommodate personal space or even comfort. Happily for me I’m jammed in next to a twenty-year old muffin wearing perhaps the worlds shortest skirt, really more of a wide belt, operating a laptop with an earphone plugged into her ear playing music so loud I can almost make out the lyrics. She hasn’t said two words since we took off but what she lacks in companionship she more than makes for in ascetics.
There is something about sitting in the brightly lit cabin of an aircraft cutting through the air at thirty thousand feel that helps me to relax. As we rose over the blue majesty of the Rocky Mountains, I reclined my seat, took a sip from the drink in front of me and thought about the changes Gretta and I had both undergone in the intervening four years.
Gretta arrived, unpacked and moved in without incident. The first night she nearly walked in while Sandy, my girlfriend and I were doing the nasty thing over the phone, but aside from that we’ve managed the last couple of months more or less without incident. Well…almost without incident.
She has grown and is more desirable looking than ever. True to our word, neither of us has ever mentioned our stay at the hotel four years ago. The existence of this secret has caused us to grow closer in a strange sort of way. I sometimes think that she really doesn’t remember, but…I know better.
During the day it’s that way with me too. It is late at night when I’m alone in bed that I sometimes allow myself the luxury of remembering. I’ve been doing that more and more frequently of late and now that Sandy has entered into my life, well she’s confused the issue a little bit and that has also become a concern for me.
Gretta spent the last four years finishing her education and when she moved in the first change I noticed was she now had a direction in life.
She had always had a penchant for the logical and mathematical end of education. In graduate school, it had all come together unexpectedly when she discovered the striking similarity between calculus and certain computer program and software languages. Although she had envisioned tenure and advancement as a research fellow, her talent and ambition took her into software design. Now she lives with me, her brother in a conspicuously luxurious apartment towering over San Francisco.
You’d think with her talent, intelligence and knock-out good looks she’d be besieged by serious suitors or at least interesting dates. This has not been the case, at least up until now. In school as an undergraduate she had little time for the social activities most students immerse themselves in. Her field of study was dry, to say the least. She left the great issues for others to debate. There is no debate about calculus and applied physics, except in the most theoretical sense. For the most part, math just is.
Now that she’s moved in and we’ve settled down I find I’m more confused then ever about her chaste and very solitary lifestyle. I see her leaving in the morning, so lovely she takes my breath away. As a rule she wears a dark blue short skirt and vested suit with a white no-nonsense blouse. Her long white-blonde hair is usually done up in an elaborate French braid which reaches nearly to her waist, even after she has plaited it. I still haven’t seen it unbraided, but it must reach damn near half way down her legs when it’s loose. She breezes by with a sunny smile, a scent of shampoo and soap and the sound of her pantyhose rasping as she walks out the door and I just want to lay down and die for her.
I would like to say I’ve overcome my obsession with my sister, but that would be a lie. I have managed to conceal it very well and I’m very careful not to reveal our secret even with an unguarded glance. But the obsession is there.
It’s not like I’m hard up for sex. My current girlfriend, Sandra sees to that.
Sandy is that one in a million girl that every guy dreams about, but never meets. I’m not just talking about looks, which are beyond belief; Sandy defies description. She is short, petite, with dark brown eyes and jet-black hair. When I say short, I mean just about five-foot tall. Her skin is milk white, soft and clear. Her body is perfect with wide hips and breasts large enough to draw stares but proportionate and firm enough to need no supportive undergarment. You can tell that she will be that way until she’s old and gray. Unlike many women; gravity is her friend.
Now I suppose if I just liked beautiful women that would be enough to keep me in hog heaven. The fact is, she could be as ugly as a busted blister and I’d still love her. The reason is simple, she’s more perverted than I am and she’s really smart.
When I say really smart, I’m not talking about smart enough to meet the parents or discuss current events. I’m talking about doing the New York Times crossword in ink. When she writes a letter to the editor, it gets published, when she talks people listen. They’d listen if she had leprosy and about three teeth left in her mouth. You can imagine the presence she commands looking like she does. She takes people’s breath away. She’s not a trophy, she’s a treasure.
Did I mention she’s even more perverted than I am?
More perverted than I am? Now you might be asking yourself, exactly what does he mean by that?
The first time I met Sandy was at a coffee shop. She was dating a friend of mine. Surprisingly, he’s still a friend. We sat a while and talked. Actually, he talked. I was thunderstruck by Sandy. I’m afraid I gawked. That’s not entirely accurate, I gaped, I stammered and I blushed. Eventually I croaked something out like, “You are umm, certainly quite a woman Sandy”. At the same time I managed to spill coffee on my shirt while knocking a fork onto the floor.
My friend laughed and said, “Don’t feel too bad, Sandy tends to have an effect on people”
We all shook hands and went our separate ways walking back to work. About a block from the coffee shop, I heard small footsteps overtaking me and looked down to see Sandra by my side catching up to me. She took my arm and said, “I’m glad I met you, I’m sure we’re going to be very good friends.” She then offered me a firm dry handshake and turned to scurry off to her job. I nearly came in my pants.
A few days later, I had almost forgotten the incident. It was late in the evening and I was lying in my bed flipping through the TV channels waiting for the sandman to sweep me off to the zone when the phone by the side of the bed rang. I picked it up and said hello.
“Hello yourself” Sandra’s unmistakable voice came back.
“Sandra?”
“The boy has a memory, this is a good sign.”
“Well, um what are you doing?”
There was a moments silence before she said “David, there are quite a few things you’re going to have to learn about me. The first thing is that you should never ask me a rhetorical question, I don’t believe in them and I always tell the absolute truth.”
“Won’t you get drummed out of the girl club for doing that?”
“I never fit in, they all hate me, besides I’d never want to belong to an organization that’d have me for a member.”
“Was it Will Rogers who said that?”
