I was sitting gleefully in my room, laying on my bed, slightly buzzed from the vodka I'd snuck into the house, listening to Tool's "Lateralus". For the moment, everything was perfect.
For the moment...
"Son, let's get moving!" my dad called. "We can't miss the plane, you know," my mother chimed in, her asinine voice ripping through my ears like nails, impaling my cochlea and stabbing my brain. I got up somewhat upset and turned off my stereo. I headed out into the living room where the voices originated, ready to endure the menial logic that emanated from my parents. "Alright," my mom started, catching sight of me, "let's get moving."
"Uh, mom, I-"
"Not now, Max."
"Seriously, mom-"
"I'm hearing voices I shouldn't be hearing, Max."
"Maybe you should get a psychologist to look into that."
My mother didn't like that remark too much. She narrowed her eyes a tad and simply headed out in front for the car. My father followed her like an obedient dog; it really angered me how much of a wuss he was and how he allowed her to manipulate him. Since my early youth, I've been able to see through her meaningless facades, and that's probably why she doesn't like me too much. However, I really wasn't in too much of a position to be upset. For my eighteenth birthday, they were taking me to Paris. Not that I gave a shit about Paris, or France in general, it was just a nice gesture on their part. I left the house and locked the door behind me, entering the car thereafter.
The ride to the airport was nothing more than an hour of them talking about how much their jobs sucked and how beautiful Paris would be. My mother managed to slip in one of those ever classic "now when we get back, you're going to college and blah blah blah."
We arrived at the airport roughly ten minutes before our flight left. This gave up enough time to double check everything, get in the terminal, and get on the goddamn plane. Once we did get on the plane, my mother insisted that we sit in the back so we'd be close to the first class section. What exactly this accomplished I had no clue, but whatever rocks your boat, right? Of course, bickering ensued over the window seat, and I quietly sank into the aisle seat. 'Fuck, this is going to be a loooong flight', I told myself.
As I was about to place my face sadly in my hands, I looked up and happened to see a gorgeous woman, who happened to be a stewardess, who happened to be working on this flight, who happened to be looking right at me. She immediately turned her gaze elsewhere, but her looking at me really turned me on. She had dirty blonde hair with opaque brown eyes, a perfectly feminine facial structure, and a tight little body that fit snugly into that cute looking flight attendant outfit. Her impeccable tits looked as though they wanted to burst out of her shirt. Those pouty lips of hers had me throbbing; just imagining them locked on my rod almost made me explode in my pants. Then her luscious ass, defined and accented by that navy blue skirt, made me want to walk up behind her and hump the fuck out of her.
I tried to draw my attention away. I looked at my parents who were no help, my mom sitting triumphantly in the window seat and my father silently fuming next to me. For fuck's sake, it's only a seat! Then again, what do I know. I haven't been married. Hell, I haven't even had sex. I guess relationships decay into that. This is why I never want to get married.
"Anything to drink?"
I looked up and my heart stopped momentarily. It was my woman. Immediately my other began barking at her how we wanted two beers and a coke. With that, she walked away to get what my evil, controling mom told her to get. In the middle of the aisle, though, she stopped. She looked right back at me, saw me looking at her, and blushed. Then she hurriedly went back on her route to get us drinks. I smiled broadly; I couldn't help it. This beautiful woman seemed to like me, and you can't go wrong with that. I sat there day dreaming about her until she returned. She handed my parents their drinks and they started to argue. She handed me my coke. "Would you like anything else?" she asked me. "Peanuts, perhaps?"
I pondered this. "Why, yes I would, please."