Rick boarded the first leg of his flight back to Houston, Texas at a quarter to five in the evening on Monday, the day after the Indianapolis 500. The Indianapolis International Airport was swarming with exuberant Indy 500 fans from all over the world preparing for their journey home. It was easy to spot race fans, for most were now donning 500 T-shirts, hats and various other articles of clothing or accessory souvenirs they had purchased at the Speedway the day before. Rick took his seat in the emergency exit row of the Boeing 737-700 series aircraft, directly over the starboard wing. Standing nearly six foot four inches tall with a toned, muscular frame of nearly two hundred and thirty pounds, Rick was a formidable man and was immensely grateful for the extra leg room that the emergency exit row seat by the window afforded him. Unlike previous years, the seat beside him was not occupied by his wife, or rather now, his ex-wife, Wendy. Rick and Wendy had spent six very turbulent years together in marital hell. Though Rick loved Wendy deeply; probably much more than she loved him, he could no longer endure Wendy's emotional distance and unavailability. Their sex life, if you could even call it that had become extremely stale and passionless and Wendy was virtually incapable of intimacy. Finally by last July, Rick no longer had the emotional stamina to continue enduring their miserable existence any further. So, for the first time in his life, Rick had come to the "Greatest Spectacle in Racing" by himself; and even though he had been surrounded by nearly five hundred thousand people on race day, he still felt utterly alone.
Rick's flight took off from Indianapolis exactly on-time at five-fifteen pm Eastern Time bound for Nashville. Rick would have about a two and a half hour lay over at the Nashville Airport before his connecting flight to Houston Hobby Airport departed at five after eight. The flying time from Indianapolis to Nashville was about an hour and ten minutes, but this evening, it seemed agonizingly longer due to the individual that faith had selected to seat next to Rick. When she first sat down, Rick had high hopes of a very pleasant flight, for the young lady was gorgeous. But, no sooner did Rick smile and say hello to her, did he get a face full of breath that reeked of vodka. Even though Rick had not had a drink of alcohol in nearly twelve years, he had no difficultly in associating with people, particularly women who still partook of the grapes; especially if she was this attractive. But this young lady's attractiveness fled the moment she opened her mouth, and then never shut it the entire duration of the flight. After the tenth or so time of explaining why the Indianapolis Motor Speedway was known as the Old Brickyard, was because the entire race track itself had once been made completely of bricks, Rick would have much preferred opening the emergency exit door at thirty-eight thousand feet and stepping out on the wing for a breath of no air than continue to talk to her. The landing gear brushed the Nashville tarmac at five-twenty pm central time and thanks to the grace of too much Smirnoff vodka, Rick's polluted seating companion had fallen silent in a passed out slumber. Once the aircraft came to a stop at the gate, Rick picked up his carry-on, squeezed past Sleeping Beauty in the middle seat and deplaned.
As Rick strode out of the jet way and into the airport terminal, he observed the large body of people already lining up to board the continuation of the flight he was leaving. He pitied the poor soul who would be taking over his seat. Continuing out of the boarding area and into the main corridor of the concourse, Rick checked the flight arrival and departure monitors to find out where his connecting flight would be gated. Being that departure time was still well over two hours away, he soon discovered that his flight wasn't even posted yet. Checking his watch, Rick's focus immediately turned to finding the location of the nearest restroom. Heading up the concourse with his carry-on bag slung over his shoulder, Rick's eyes surveyed the hoards of bustling holiday weekend travelers moving up and down the concourse. As a bartender by profession, Rick loved watching people and had a keen ear for honing in and eavesdropping on discussions from a distance. With a sudden break in the flow of human traffic along the concourse, Rick spotted the men's room about fifty feet ahead and to the left.
As his eyes returned front and center, Rick found himself directly in the on coming path of a woman in a pilot's uniform; their eyes met as they approached each other. She was half Rick's height at the least, probably around five foot six possibly seven; her hair was dark brown, long and wavy as it draped down to just above the tops of her shoulder blades. Her face was narrow with high cheek bones, an adorable button nose and her eyes were a crystal clear shade of sky blue. Her skin was a very faint shade of egg shell pink, smooth and creamy. Her neck was long, lean and sleek; accentuated by the navy blue crossover tie around it. Her arms too were long and lean, appearing like beautiful willow branches draping down out of her short sleeve uniform shirt. Her hands were a touch on the boney side, but a loose fitting golden watch beautified her slender wrist and the fire red fingernails on the tips of her long fingers made her hands appear sinfully sexy. She wasn't a hard body by any means, but it was wonderfully proportional to her height and weight and the navy blue slacks of her uniform made her overall figure appear deliciously voluptuous. Her breasts appeared, at least to Rick's eye, to be a perfectly scrumptious pair of C-cups under her bright white uniform shirt, and the navy blue patch on each of her shoulders proudly showed off the four white rank bars of a Captain.
Rick's eyes remained locked on this woman, almost captivated by her; and unless he was kidding himself, she seemed equally captured by him too. As they drew nearer to each other, she altered her course just slightly out of Rick's direct path, pulling her bags and catalog case behind her, but never once taking her eyes off him. Her pouting lips, covered in a dark crimson lipstick opened and she beamed a pristine white and sparkling smile at Rick.
"Good evening." She said in a soft and sensual voice. "Been to the race, I see."
"Yeah. How'd you know? Rick asked.
"Your T-shirt." She said, almost giggling.
"Oh. Yeah." Rick said.
Rick stopped suddenly in the middle of the concourse and looked down at his T-shirt. He hadn't bought an Indy 500 T-shirt since he was a kid, but this years' was of a design that he just couldn't pass up. As the verbal exchange passed between them, neither Rick nor the lovely lady pilot had stopped moving until her comment about his being at the race grounded him to a surprised halt. At that instant, Rick caught a heavenly fragrance of sweet peach and vanilla off of her as she passed by. He quickly looked behind him to see the lovely lady pilot continuing on down the concourse. He had only a split second to check out the backside of her body before he realized that she was glancing back over her shoulder at him. Their eyes met one more time and the lovely lady pilot turned her head quickly away. Rick could have sworn that he saw her blush. Turning away from her and looking forward again, Rick shook his head and ran a hand through his thick sandy blonde hair. Exhaling deeply, he continued on to the men's room, all the while, images of that captivating lady captain dancing in his mind; not to mention the delightful smell of her to go with them. Stepping up to the urinal and unbuttoning his Levi 501 blue jeans, Rick was suddenly surprised to find his cock was rock hard.
Holding his nearly seven and a half inch rod in his hand, Rick closed his eyes and focused on mental images of his previous flights' seat companion as she vomited in the air sickness bag. He remembered the awful stench that filled the air, as well as the gagging and phlegm-filled coughing and he could feel himself begin to limp. But suddenly, the lovely lady pilot again appeared in his mind as her delicious scent of sweet peach and vanilla filled his nose, and his cock was immediately blue steel again. Really having to pee, Rick glanced cautiously to his right and caught a glimpse of a morbidly obese man in a cowboy hat with a beet red face, sunglasses, breathing heavily and his clothing all being two sizes too small for his immense body, reeking of cigar smoke and beer. The man belched, farted and then spit a disgusting wad of chew into the urinal before him. Rick's cock instantly fell limp and the urine flowed freely and warmly. Once business was taken care of, Rick washed his hands, ran a brush through his hair, slung the strap of his carry-on over his shoulder and headed out of the men's room. With his mind returning once more to the lovely lady pilot, Rick came out of the men's room and spun quick to his left. Instantly, the sweet aroma of sweet peach and vanilla flooded his nostrils and in a blurry whirlwind of activity, his arms reflexively went up and his hands where suddenly filled with the softness of a woman's arms.
Getting his bearings now, Rick found his hands firmly wrapped around the triceps of the lovely lady pilot. He had instinctively thrown his arms up as the fast moving blur of a person materialized out of nowhere directly in front of him as he exited the men's room. Exhaling deeply, Rick's eyes once again met the crystal clear sky blue eyes of the lovely lady pilot.
"Oh my God." She said. "I am so sorry."
"No, it was my fault." Rick chuckled. "My mind was a million miles away. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." She said. "You?"
"Never better." Rick replied.
Rick was again captivated deeply by her eyes and just couldn't break free of them.
"Good." She said. "Then can I have my arms back?"
It took a few more milliseconds, but her request finally filtered into his mind and Rick suddenly realized that his hands where still holding her arms.
"Oh!" Rick blurted. "I'm sorry."
Rick released her and took a step back, repositioning the strap of his carry-on bag on his shoulder.
"Not a problem." She said as she smiled. "Not a problem at all."
The lovely lady pilot took hold of her wheeled flight case and luggage then proceeded on toward the ladies room just ahead. Rick's head swiveled around and followed her with his eyes running slowly up and down her body. As she rounded the entrance into the ladies room, her head turned back toward him and their eyes met once again. Rick felt his face flush, but he smiled none the less. As she disappeared around the corner, she smiled too. Rick continued on down the concourse and his mind churned wildly with questions: Hadn't she been going in the opposite direction? Wasn't there another ladies room in the direction she was going? Did she intentionally come back this way, hoping to find me? As that last question passed through his mind, Rick felt his cock stiffen and he couldn't help but smirk as his heart thumped with excitement. He had caught her eye as much as she had caught his. Apparently even more so.
Rick re-checked the flight departure monitor and saw that his connecting flight to Houston; number 2351 was now listed, still on-time and departing out of Gate C-23. With still plenty of time to kill, Rick strolled casually down the concourse until he reached Gate 23, then turned on his heal and began strolling back up the concourse just to people watch. Rick then caught the enticing aroma of food being cooked and saw that he was passing the food court. Having not eaten since early that morning, and having been so intrigued by the lovely lady pilot, Rick had forgotten how hungry he was until just now. Rick quickly scanned the court, found what appealed to him and entered the five person deep line to order. When it came down to just two people left to order before him, Rick suddenly caught another enticing and all too familiar aroma: Sweet peach and vanilla. Rick felt his stomach fill with excited butterflies and his heartbeat accelerate like the field of Indy cars going from yellow back to green.
"So, who won the race this year?" The lovely lady pilot asked.
Rick turned slowly to find her standing directly behind him in the line with her hand resting on the raised handle of her flight case and luggage.
"Okay, are you stalking me or what?" Rick asked sarcastically.
They both laughed then Rick extended his hand.
"I'm Rick."
"Lisa."
They shook hands and Rick's much larger hand almost completely encased hers. Her skin was incredibly soft but her grip was firm.
"No, I'm not stalking you." Lisa said.
"Damn!" Rick replied.
They both laughed again as they slowly let go of each other's hand.
"So, you heading back home?" Lisa asked.
