On the flight from New York to Dublin something happened. Rarely the opportunity rose that I was sitting next to a woman so beautiful that you were licking your lips in anticipation.
Introducing myself while stowing away my luggage, she smiled softly. Her name was Rachel and she just visited her family somewhere in the interior of the Irish archipelago.
Her legs were stuck in high heeled neutral pumps. something I noticed the moment she entered the airport. The fact that my chair had been assigned next to her was no coincidence at all.
Usually I arrive about an hour prior to boarding, so I could watch with whom I would be flying. Just some habit I picked up working as a security enforcer.
Upon grazing through the check-in lines, I noticed that she was getting annoyed due to waiting in line for half an hour. The gorgeous lady passed slowly through her lane, this making her more anxious. She sighed deeply when she finally arrived at the desk.
When she booked her flight, she only showed her credit card, and pointed at the small suitcase she was about to check in. There were some arguments, one very loud, but barely understandable at my position. You heard her voice vaguely, demanding a single seat row, as the ground stewardess pointed out that such an option was not possible. It almost turned ugly, but her colleague stepped in to confirm her answer. She caved, and got her ticket and briskly walked away with her light trolley.
The moment when I checked in at that desk, was all about flirting like a Casanova to find out which row she was booked on. The young lady skillfully dodged any of the questions that were asked.
But she had a pensive look in her eyes for a moment. She glanced left and right of her station to verify that her colleagues were busy working and then punched some information into the system. She handed my passport back with the ticket and smiled faintly.
"Have a very nice flight sir."
She said it in a sultry voice. I took the boarding papers and left, looking back a bit.
Yes, she looked after me and smiled again before she focused again on the next customer.
Boarding with this airline was as quiet and efficient as always. I did not choose by chance for Aer Lingus, because yes you still want a certain level of service on a flight. The cheaper carriers in the air treat you like being on a train or bus for short distances, but once it comes to intercontinental flying you want a little class.
After my bag was stowed away in the overhead compartment, I nodded briefly to the flight attendant who was helpfully assisting the passengers in business class.
Her name was Niamh according to her name tag, but the Irish word meant 'Nie-ef', a kind of corruption of Eve, I thought.
She looked beautiful, slim waist, wide hips, good chest party and stylish half long blond hair that hung over her shoulders.
But what struck me was her mischievous smile she threw me. Her uniform fitted her like a glove and her hips lured my sight away from me below to her black pumps.
I noticed briefly that her heels were well above the standard 3 inch height. Keenly I watched her, but suddenly realized that I was working on another mission.
First to know for my readers, I'm always out to investigate anything that moves around me. How did that happen you might ask?
Some friends said to me that I am sometimes maniacally busy with details about the here and now. A control freak in extreme said on those last persons.
"Laugh and guzzle some more!" That is what my friends shouted to me in unison, after I had done an extremely thorough explanation to them about the viscosity of beer in an unwashed glass.
And the character changes about flavor as it is cooked at a high temperature. They ridiculed me for years, so I kept to myself mostly, drinking my whisky.
"Excuse me?" an acrimonious shout in front of me. My thoughts that were lost for a moment remembering a cheerful bacchanal with lots and lots of nice Old Bushmills whisky.
"Hello?"
As I was now rudely disturbed by a firm hand on my shoulder attached to the supermodel next to me with the credit card.
"Yes?" I murmured delightfull, catching her attention. She indicated clearly she wanted to stand up, and grab something from her suitcase.
"I need to stand for a moment." She tried to get up over me. Forcefully I pulled her back down, tearing her arm quite strongly.
'What the...", she gasped. I put my finger to my mouth and hissed.
"Shhht."
The sound gasped from my mouth. Her face lighted up in milliseconds, a reddish colour exploding around her eyes. I felt the temperature rising and knew my next move would determine the outcome of my intervention.
"I am sorry, but the attendants are closing the doors. You getting your stuff will delay the procedures, and I really want to take-off on time", I blurted out.
Her facial expressions were fascination, from surprise, to flat-out rage, frustration, ending in a mean looking grin, until the reddish colour slowly dissipated from her face and she let out a deep sigh. She bit her lips too, I noticed.
"Thank you", I said to her, and adjusted my chair upright. In business class the legg room is fine. For me it is, as I am built normal size.
But the leggy woman next to me was not comfortable with her situation. She clearly stated at check-in that she wanted to sit alone, and then I showed up.
I invaded her personal space, was apparently obnoxious, rude and loud. In a way I felt sorry for her, but not that much. Rachel looked gorgeous, almost regally.
It crossed my mind that this was meaning a lot of stuff in her life was handed to her on a silver platter. A real thoroughbred of alluring standing.
For normal people life is a daily struggle, but she had this uncommon natural arrogance about her, reserved for privileged people, who assume you just get up and move by one look at you.
Me defying all these conventions by grabbing her and putting her back in her chair somehow triggered a whole kind of different emotion in her. I had seen it before, and was fully aware about the effect it had on women like her.
After the flight attendants did their safety-routine and started walking down the aisles to check our seatbelts, I slowly asked Niamh if she would serve drinks once we were airborne to ease my nerves.
She smiled broadly and looked with a small disdain in her face at Rachel who quickly nodded too. She then passed us and continued on her control check.
And up we went in a few minutes, my ears popping painful because of the change in air pressure. This was always causing a small headache for five agonizing minutes until my body worked out the difference.
And as soon as the plane levelled out, Niamh came up to us and asked what we wished to drink. I ordered whisky as usual and Rachel chose Wodka.
