A Productive Conversation

I had been working for a year straight. Our little California startup was blitz-scaling, trying to achieve a dominant position in a new business niche before the competition could get off the ground. At the same time we needed to become profitable before we ran out of seed money. We couldn't waste a minute. It was rewarding but exhausting. Every day was 12 hours. I rarely had time to take in my laundry, but then, no one else did either, so we all smelled the same.

The pay was generous because I was essential to the technology, but the pace made it stressful. Any social life was out of the question, which was particularly annoying because I had to watch the cute girl next door go through any number of obnoxious boyfriends. I was seriously considering a different career -- perhaps pig farming, or porn. Just kidding, but I'd had enough.

I told my buddy Mike, the president, that I needed 10 days off or I'd leave. Besides being my boss, Mike was 6'4", handsome, ripped and intimidating, but to me he was Mikey from third grade and my best friend. He said I was a traitor, which I expected. But I told him that I'd be thinking about the company every minute I was away. Neither of us believed me, but he had to let me go.

I couldn't wait. I scanned the web for last-minute, away-from-it-all deals and found a great one: A resort on Tahiti with water activities and French food. Booking a flight last-minute was expensive, but I went overnight coach in a middle seat and got a pretty good deal. I had one day to pack. I took a bathing suit, a toothbrush, and not much else. I wouldn't be trying to impress anyone.

The plane was filling up and my hopes rose as the seats in my row remained empty. It seemed remotely possible I could raise the armrests and sleep. But then a couple of frumpy women in sweats ran down the aisle. The smaller one stopped and glared at me, so I jumped up and moved out of the row to clear the way. The taller one -- I'd say 5'9" at least - took the window seat. She had narrow hips but might be well-endowed. My imagination stirred. The smaller one, wearing extra-baggy sweats and rumpled hair tied up in a knot, continued to glare at me. She looked pissed.

"You know when we booked one day ahead, we assumed no one would take the middle seat at the very last minute. Especially for a 10 hour flight," she said sourly. "Who does that?" Charming.

"Someone with no options," I said. "But I'll take the aisle if you want to sit together." She seemed slightly mollified and said OK with only the slightest of eye-rolls, so I let her in first and then crammed my 6'2" frame into the aisle seat. My knees hit the seat in front and now I couldn't spread my legs without mashing the new arrival or obstructing the aisle, so I sat bolt upright. This was going to be 10 hours of hell.

The door closed and the plane started to roll. They had made it by minutes.

The girls spent about 15 minutes organizing themselves and grousing about travel. Finally the near one turned to me and said, "The alarm didn't go off. And the traffic..."

I said, "That always happens on vacation" or something equally inspired, and she said "Life is hell" and then went back to ignoring me. She was bitchy, but I had decided she actually had a great face, so I said everything would be better in Tahiti. Then they went back to sorting and arranging. Apparently their entire life was in their carry-ons.

We didn't talk more. It would be a long flight.

****

We were over the ocean and drinks were being served. I'd been propped up on the armrests, dozing uncomfortably. The flight attendant reached our row and I groggily ordered a rum drink to get mellow. Sourpuss got a double vodka. When mine arrived I reached across with my right hand and then brought my arm back to the armrest between us with one smooth motion which she intercepted violently with her elbow. Half my drink ended in my lap.

"Oh no!" she said. I may have detected a lack of sincerity. Maybe she just wanted me to find another seat.

I said "A modern classic. Two elbows, one armrest. Big airlines are right up there with big cable, big oil, big pharma, big banks...." But she was already offering her tiny drinks napkin. I grabbed it abruptly and dried myself. Was that a grin on her roommate's face?

Finally I said, "That's on me. I was hogging the armrest. I just need somewhere to put my elbow."

She said we should develop a system. My kind of girl! She said, "I'll take the very back. You with the gorilla arms can take the front." Hmmm.

"I'll try not to poke you in the ribs," I replied, although actually my elbow was now near something much softer. Even if she wasn't going to be friendly, there's no harm in window shopping.

She said grimly she could use a little human contact. I didn't follow up because my replacement drink arrived and I very carefully took it left-handed. She smiled triumphantly and took most of the armrest.

At least that started a conversation, although a rather slow and pro forma one. I told her I was Dave. She was Alexa. Her roommate, by the window, was Nessa. She said Nessa was her bodyguard. I thought she was kidding, although looking at Nessa it seemed possible.

After a few minutes I asked oh-so-cleverly whether she left a bunch of confused smart speakers in her wake, and she said no, confused owners because she knew how to change the cue word. That would be annoying, I thought, just like her airplane manners. But pretty clever.

We small-talked about airlines, in-flight movies, and Tahiti. She asked where I was going and I described the resort, which was a fancy one. They hadn't booked anything. She and her roommate had made their plans as last-minute as I did. They were going find a hotel in Papae'ete when they landed. It was a big town.

Eventually we got around to ourselves. We covered the usual first topics. She was a beginning lawyer who also worked long hours, though not like mine. She did environmental work and she was a real crusader, taking on all kinds of big challenges for a non-profit. I wondered how practical she was being, but she was endlessly idealistic and she turned me into a fan.

She seemed actually interested when I described my role in developing 3D object manipulation software. I explained my flight from work stress and solitude. We went on to stories about family and friends, pet peeves, and why we thought our careers could be meaningful. When she warmed up she was actually pretty amusing.

The sky outside grew darker and we noticed most other talk aboard had quieted, so we did too.

****

Finally I asked why they had booked so late. She started to answer but then, to my surprise, kind of choked up. Holding up a "wait a minute" finger, she hunched over and got out a "sorry, sorry." She sniffled. Her roommate opened one eye, looked over and said "She got dumped twice."

I didn't know exactly what was appropriate, but finally I put my right hand on her back and patted her lightly. Damn, I landed right on a big bra clasp; was that OK? Anyway she didn't shake me off. She gradually recovered her composure. "What she said," she finally snuffled through her fingers.

I waited, still rubbing her back a little. Eventually she sat back. I extricated my hand reluctantly. It was a long time since I had more than a handshake with a girl.

"What is it? I don't understand!" she suddenly burst out. "I loved them both. They were great guys. Then one cheated and the next just said he liked variety!!" She lowered her voice and spoke intensely. "Am I ugly? Am I a witch? Do I have bad taste in men? You tell me! You're a guy." She downed her double vodka in one slurp, sat back with a vengeance and closed her eyes. She looked really distressed.

I thought this over. A few minutes went by ......

"Well, I have answers if you want the unbiased opinion of a random techie. You know we nerds are the ultimate authority on human relationships." She paused but nodded. She still had her eyes closed but she may have grinned a little.

"Well, first, you are so not ugly." I moved her hair back from her face on my side. "I bet you have great hair when your alarm works. Beautiful eyes. A perfect nose." I ran a finger down it. "And really hot lips." I was taking chances with that one, but I honestly felt that way and she seemed to like it. Another minute went by.

"Tell me more." She straightened all the way up, opened her eyes and squared her shoulders. "My ego could use it."

Nessa, eyes closed, said, "Here we go...."

I was out of ideas. I paused ....

She looked right at me and said, "C'mon, hair, eyes, nose, lips, what's next?"

I said "Chin?"

"No," she said, "Idiot. How do you like my boobs?" She said this with a completely straight face, but now I was sure she was struggling with a grin.

I turned toward her and made a show of looking closely at the front of her sweatshirt, a rare opportunity for us gentlemen. It now seemed promising. I suddenly realized she was sticking her boobs out for me. But since I'm so cool, I said, "I dunno. I'd have to see them." Her smile faded.

"Jeez, you techies." she groaned. "Do we have to figure out everything for you?" Like lightning, she grabbed my left hand off my right armrest, smashed it onto her right boob and held it there.

This. Felt. Great. It was more than a handful. I got aroused immediately but I tried to stay cool. In fact, I put on a thoughtful look and felt around under her tit. I realized it stood out a long way out from a slender ribcage. I even judiciously hefted it a little. Her boobs were enormous, probably as big as her friend's, but on a smaller, thinner frame. Being so cool, I tried to say "Well, they are not the problem either," but it came out as a croak. I was flushed, my heart was racing, I was developing a raging hard-on, and now I felt embarrassed. Neither one of us moved. My fingers stopped massaging but she still pinned my motionless hand in place. She was finally grinning at me. She leaned back and sighed a little and said "This is nice. My ego is recovering." Finally a flight attendant approached and I drew back, trailing my fingers over both breasts as I did.

****

"You probably are a witch though," I said.

"What? I thought you were stroking my ego."

"That was something else. My point is that I'm starting to feel a little bewitched. There are good witches and bad ones, though, and you seem to be one of the really good ones so far." Smooth? Corny! Accurate.

She looked grateful, though, or maybe even touched. She looked at me closely before she blinked and closed her eyes. Maybe I was meant to kiss her, but things seemed to be going awfully fast. She opened them and said, "Jeez, this must be a hardcoded problem. When I sexually assault someone I expect a kiss." I kissed her. She kept her eyes closed and settled back into her seat.

****

After a few minutes she said, "You know, rebound relationships aren't good. I'm an expert. I have the data to prove it."

"I wouldn't know. I would need someone to rebound from. I haven't had a girlfriend since I started this project. It's been a year."

"So we're both losers" she said with a grimace and slumped back in her seat. It was hard to argue. We went silent again.

****

"But," she said eventually, "rebound relationships are one thing. Rebound sex is different. You never hear anything bad about rebound sex."

"You may be on to something there. It's always good to have a lawyer to parse the fine print."

"Right," she said, "and the important distinctions are usually in the definitions. That's where a missing comma can crater a deal. You need clear lines. So for example, Rebound Sex can't involve any sentimentality. It's more like acquaintances with benefits."

"So, sex is OK as long as it's pure sex?" I asked. "Should I feel used?"

"Yes. I suggest you take advantage of it."

****

Eventually I recovered my voice. It took some time. "When does this start?"

"Well, at 500 mph we should be out of U.S. territory already."

I didn't track the legal significance. It was getting hard to keep up. "What did you have in mind?" I put a hand on top of her knee in an ambiguous, casually friendly location. "I've never had this exact situation before. Especially in a public conveyance."

She looked around and said maybe we should see if a restroom was free.

"If I went into a modern airplane restroom with this hard-on, I'd injure myself. Maybe we should wait for the lights to go out."

"Don't you know why they give you blankets on airplanes?" she ran her fingers up my thigh, then looked around and retrieved a blanket from the floor. "It's my turn for a grope."

She spread the blanket over us both and looked around again quickly. The dinner cart was coming slowly from the back of the plane. She flipped up our shared armrest, put her hand under the blanket, and said "We are about to take off. Please unfasten your seatbelt and any other belts, buttons or zippers that could restrict movement in flight."

I gulped but complied. After only a second of gentle groping, the blanket was tenting and her hand motions were becoming comically obvious. She stopped and said, "Jeez, is that thing set to explode?"

"Pretty much," I said. "It's been a long time and you're way too hot." We sat for a minute wondering how to proceed. The cart came closer.

She leaned her big left tit against my arm and gave the bump in the blanket a big squeeze. My whole body shivered. "I just love this whole situation," she whispered. "It's so hot!" She squeezed again. I almost came, so I quickly removed her hand. "Hair trigger. Whatever shall we do?" she asked. The cart rolled on.

I said. "Watch out. I haven't been with a girl for a long, long time. I can't be responsible for the results. And I don't want to end up with a wet lap again."

She considered this advice while absent-mindedly squeezing me lightly. She said there were ways of handling that.

****

Tell you what," she said finally. "We're going to do this again on a beach where I can look in your eyes to see how it's going. But for now I'm staying under cover so we don't get arrested. Tuck your right foot underneath you." I complied. She said, "And get me an orange juice," and she jumped down on the floor in front of me, ducked under the blanket, grabbed my cock and started sucking. After about ten seconds of hopeless restraint, I came in her mouth. And came, and came, and came....

My lap stayed dry but I was worried about her. When I had finished she re-surfaced with chipmunk cheeks, pretending she could barely keep her lips together. I cracked up. It was too hilarious. Then so did she, which was a strategic error. She held her hands to her mouth but rivulets of cum escaped through her fingers and down her chin. We started laughing out loud as it drooled down her neck and onto her shirt. She tried to wipe it off but her hands were covered with cum and she only succeeded in spreading it on her cheeks and shirt. I offered her my tiny drinks napkin, but that set her off again.

She took a quick look at the approaching dinner cart and said again "This is so hot!" She was still holding her hands up and away from herself. I said "To the restroom, I think," and stood up just in time to block the cart from our row. She jumped up, still holding her hands in the air, and ran up the aisle.

The restroom, of course, was busy. I could see her start waiting, facing away from the other people in line and trying to clean up her face, neck and hands with her sweatshirt, which was already awash in cum. Her roommate, who apparently had been watching silently, rummaged in Alexa's backpack and handed me a clean shirt. I also grabbed some napkins and a can of orange juice off the dinner cart and ran up the aisle. She accepted the napkins gratefully. "You owe me an orgasm" she whispered cummily in my ear. "Maybe ten."

I asked whether she wanted chicken or fish.

"I kind of ate already." We laughed together. "But give me that O.J."

****

When she got out of the restroom she had removed her sweatshirt and bra, and was wearing the new the top, which was some light, silky material with spaghetti straps. Her big tits were straining against the fabric, which seemed at least two sizes too small, and her nipples were obvious. They jiggled all the way down the aisle. Everyone stared. Apparently she didn't mind. Maybe she liked it.

When she got to me she glared again mock-sternly and said "I hope we're not going to have this problem again. I like a lot more drum roll." I said not for a while because it was dinner time. She turned to face me and brushed by me sideways as she slid into her seat, giving me a good, slow look down her shirt from, say, an inch away. It stood away from her body a good four inches.

We were both giggling like kids while we ate dinner. We got some looks from across the row but we were too giddy to care. Her roommate seemed to be sleeping.

Eventually the cabin lights were dimmed. She immediately jammed her tit against my arm again and breathed in my ear, "You owe me."

I said, "What about your bodyguard?"

Alexa said they had been besties since high school and they had no secrets. "We're going to have to find a hot guy for her, though." I didn't think that would be a problem.

So I considered the situation. This was so unlike me, or anything I'd ever done. But we were among strangers. The lights were low. We had the blanket. We couldn't get thrown off the plane. I think. Maybe we could get arrested in Tahiti for lascivious carriage or something, but ...in Tahiti, really? I had a debt to pay. She was enthusiastic, which for me is the best aphrodisiac. And although this would never affect my thinking, she was a solid '10'.

"Prepare for take-off," I said.

She untied her sweatpants and slouched down in her seat. I deployed the blanket. I slid some fingertips down her bare stomach. Apparently she had removed her panties in the restroom too. I love a good planner. We kissed and I slid my tongue between her teeth, which seemed to set her off. She grabbed my left hand off the armrest and once again placed it on her boob while we sucked face.

She was already breathing hard and staring at my hand under her drawstring. My fingers were roaming on her lower stomach, and I extended one finger lightly toward her clit. She immediately responded with a hip buck to increase the pressure. This was going to be fun. I did it again and squeezed her tit. She gave a little squeak. "Shhhh," I said, "or you won't get any." She stayed laser-focused on my hand but nodded hard. "I'm serious," I said.

"Hurry, dammit!" she said.

"Hurry with what?" I asked innocently.

She bucked her hips impatiently a few times to answer. "Don't be a jerk!" she said breathily. I pushed my finger a little lower, just running it lightly over her pussy lips.

"We'll do this again on a beach," I said, "but we'll trade the blanket and sweats for a tiny bikini. Alright?"

"Right right, right," she said, "let's go!" And she bucked her hips harder.

So I got started in earnest. She was totally slippery by now. I hooked my middle finger and slid it gently in and out of her. "Harder," she said. I firmed it up and went faster. My elbow was banging her left tit with each stroke. She uttered the occasional low squeak and started bucking in time. I slid deeper. Then I slowed.

"More," she said.

I looked around and told her I wanted to see her tits. I thought this would appeal to her obvious exhibitionist tendencies. She tried to look around too but couldn't see much from her slumped position. She dithered. I stopped. "Hurry!" she said.

"You hurry!" I said.

"Shithead," she said, but she was grinning. She shrugged off the spaghetti straps and peeled down her top. They were huge and springy. She grinned, I grinned, and I resumed my services.