The Flight

This whole trip is likely my biggest fear manifest.

I generally love to travel. I try to spend as few weekends in my apartment as I can in lieu of hopping on a plane for a quick two-day jaunt to any of the union's 48 continental states. But for each of those trips -- and for any trip I've taken anywhere, really -- I'm either traveling with someone, visiting someone or some combination of the two.

However, I've a bucket list to tend to. So, when my social media feeds lit up with rumors of criminally cheap tickets to Tokyo, I knew it was time to stop waiting around for the girlfriend I don't know when or if I'll ever have, or the homies who are all married with kids, to scratch a trip to the Far East off that list. I'm not getting any younger -- my freewheeling 20s are well behind me.

So here I am, alone at O'Hare's international terminal, staring straight ahead at nothing -- a pit in my stomach as I mentally negotiate the gravity of what I'm about to do. My semi-trance is broken only by a woman crossing my line of sight as she ducks in and out of the airline VIP lounge. She's barely five inches above five feet, with caramel complexion; a baby face with high cheekbones and a 90s-Halle-Berry-close cut topped off with black curls.

She's wearing a plum-colored maxi dress, toting a large designer bag, dutifully engaged in a discussion on her phone that I make out through the din of airport traffic noise to be a professional call. She reminds me a great deal of a woman on whom I had a profound crush in college; for that reason, I do a comically poor job of looking at her without looking at her. She must feel the weight of my leering eyes on her, as hers ultimately meet mine as she makes on her way back into the lounge. I turn away quickly and awkward, like a small child.

I glance back, expecting her to be on the other side of the lounge's closed door. Instead, she's staring right back at me, popping a smirk as she slides back through the doors of exclusivity.

********

I hustle on to the 787 Dreamliner, sliding past the first- and business-class folks looking quite comfortable in their pod seating as I eyeball the crushing throng of overhead luggage and babies being fitted in the economy seating for which I'm bound. How inviting the pods look -- if only I had an extra grand or so sitting around for a plane ticket.

My lounge crush sits in one of the center pods; legs crossed, vigorously typing away on her phone. Once again, I gawk -- and bump in front of the large gentleman in front of me. I smile and apologize for my idiocy. I glance back over at her to see her eyes once again fixed on me. Her perfect, pearly smile is cut ear-to-ear. At this juncture, I'm done pretending that our eye contact is accidental.

She darts up from her pod and snatches the iPhone from my clutch -- the suddenness startles me, and my stomach drops to the point that I'm unable to form any verbal response to her actions. She holds the phone to my face to unlock it and starts tapping away, all the time not saying a word. I only break my own silence to apologize to the people I'm holding up behind me.

She passes the phone back to me -- the window of her freshly-entered phone number still illuminated. Rae is her name. She finally breaks her silence.

"You gonna keep me company on iMessage mid-flight, stranger?"

"Yeah...yeah, for sure." I stumble over my words like a bumbling fool.

"Good. Keep your eye on that phone."

I reach my seat, butterflies trying their damnedest to burst out of my stomach as I shove my bookbag under the seat in front of me. Over the next 13 hours, Rae will be my purpose.

********

I try to distract myself with the usual flight accoutrements for the first few hours: music, magazines, Nintendo Switch. But I'm consumed with the thought of Rae. I don't want to text her immediately and come off as desperate. Despite pushing 40, I feel like a fucking schoolchild.

We're well over the Pacific Ocean when my patience reaches its nadir. I hurriedly log back into the plane's rickety Wi-Fi and pull up her contact info to rattle off a text.

"Rae! How you doing up there?" I hesitate for several beats before I hit the "send" button.

Ten seconds...nothing. Twenty...nothing. I'm looking at my phone while trying not to look, failing the whole time to distract myself with the abundance of media I brought for the trip. My senses pop back in me like the zap of a laser: a wave of shame sweeps over me for getting as hype as I have over a woman I didn't know existed a few hours ago.

My eyes blink rapidly and my head cocks to the side, bumping against the closed shade of the window. Just as unconsciousness starts to slip in, the slight double-tap vibration of my Apple Watch startles me awake. It's Rae.

"Hey there. Drifted off to nap."

"No worries...how are things in First Class?"

"Boring, actually. Wish you were up here to keep me company. "

"Haha. I think an air marshal might swoop in and put me in airplane jail like 'Con Air' or something!"

Bah. Why did I send that dumb shit?

"LOL! Well, lemme ask you this...are u interested in knowing me better? We got hours to go."

"What do you propose, Rae?"

"Just come when I call for u. And I WILL call."

"Call for me?"

"Just stay awake, okay? Or get a nap in right now. Get some rest. Just be awake when it gets dark in here."

"Sure. Wanna tell me what's on your mind, though?"

She goes dark. Leaving my mind racing a hundred miles an hour.

********

My phone reads 3 a.m., but I have no idea what time zone we're in. We're floating somewhere over the infinite abyss that is the Pacific Ocean. The hum of folks interacting in the cockpit has died out; all around me, people sleep or try their damedest given their accommodations. My seat light is one of the only still on as I work through Kiese Laymon's latest tome with bleary eyes.

My very loose focus on the book is shattered as Rae saunters by my seat. She slides something on my tray underneath my book without stopping as she heads to the restroom at the rear of the plane. She doesn't need to come to the restrooms in economy, especially because the plane's passengers are almost all asleep, so it's clear she came back for me.

I know what I'm touching immediately as my fingers reach under the book: the lace of panties. They're black and intricate, at once making my stomach drop and the blood rush below my belt. After about four minutes, she exits the bathroom and strolls back past my seat, leaning into my ear.

"My pod. Three minutes." She walks away.

It takes me nearly a minute after she walks to the other side of the curtain to process the gravity of what's happening here. What does Rae have planned? What will it involve on a plane full of people?

Clock is ticking. I rush to the bathroom to use every bit of the remaining time she gave me to prepare myself for....what? Get my breath tight; get my mind right. I leave the bathroom and walk toward the first-class curtain, anxiously rubbing my hands on the sides of my pants. I know it's forbidden for us coach-ticket plebs to cross that threshold, but just about everyone is asleep in their pods. There's not a flight attendant to be found.

I shuffle down the aisle quietly, surveying the sleeping souls on either side of me enjoying the benefit of their considerably more comfortable accommodations. The pods are laid out in rows of three, with aisles on both sides; only one of the pods has a faint light emanating from it.

The light is meant as a beacon for me. I walk over to see Rae glancing back up at me with a smile. A blanket covers her legs. I freeze with inaction -- only my eyes seem to work as they dart on either side of me as I wonder what I should be doing next. There's also the secondary concern that an attendant will wake up and banish me back to economy.

"Well, get down here before someone sees you lurking!" she whisper-yells to me with a smirk. I kneel down and she grabs my shirt, pulling me to my knees and planting her plump lips against mine with closed eyes. The immediacy; the aggressiveness -- I succumb to it immediately.

"I wanted to kiss those lips the moment I saw them. Do people tell you that you have nice lips?"

"From time to time, I guess."

"Well, you very much do. Thank you for coming. I wasn't sure if you would stay awake for me."

"How could I not? Look at you."

"Yeah? What do you like about me?"

"I...I don't even know where to begin."

"Well, let me give you somewhere to start.

She slides her left leg out from under the blanket, revealing a red heel that I'd not seen before under her maxi-dress, unless she just recently put them on. It's also the first time I am seeing her bare leg; brown, smooth and glistening even in the lowest of light. She runs the tip of her right index finger gently down the middle of my two closed lips and gently strokes my beard. As she strokes, she uses her left hand to grab my hand and push it up her exposed leg, closing her eyes. The warmth of her exhale of pleasure brushes against my cheek.

"Yo...wait, what do you want me to do? There are people all around us!" I whisper with fear.

"I want you to show me what those big, beautiful lips of yours can do. Are you down?" She smiles.

I nervously glance on either side through the darkness, wondering what the hell she's thinking. And what I'm thinking to even consider this. Rae switches off the light that served as my beacon; we're now cloaked in complete darkness. I choose in the moment to commit to this journey, the public be damned.

I start just above her kneecap, creating a trail of kisses in a zagging line up her thigh, making sure to dedicate special attention to her inner thigh. When I reach the tender interior of her leg, I incorporate my tongue and am rewarded with vocal feedback -- ever so faint under the plane's engines but audible nonetheless.

I run my left hand under the blanket and Rae's dress, which is still hiding her other leg; I run both hands around each thigh and dig my fingertips in as a reminder to her that I am, indeed, present for her. I'm rewarded with a slight jolt of her frame that runs through my fingers. I put my nose between her legs as they're still covered by fabric; the layers of which fail to hide the scent that demonstrates unequivocally that she's also present for me.

At this juncture, we're just two people being intimate on an airplane, demonstrating a level of affection that might get us reprimanded but wouldn't quite pass for public indecency. But, considering this whole trip is about taking risks and creating new experiences, there's no better time to start than right now. Rae is a captive audience and she's wet for me. Why let a plane full of sentient humans stop me now?

*********

I throw the blanket to the cockpit floor and slide her dress up her hips. The panties she dropped off at my seat were extras -- she's wearing a faint pink, but similarly-laced, thong. Even in the low light, I can make out the wet print that our activities have beget. I gently run the tip of my tongue up and down her panties, making out the scent of her wetness as it blends with her perfume. I make them wetter still as I run the tip of my tongue up and down them with ever-increasing pressure.

I slide her panties to the side, revealing a thin tuft of brown hair, manicured in something of an inverted triangle. The exposure causes her to reflexively push her pelvis toward me, her ass rising out of her pod seat. I cuff her bottom with my right hand and keep her panties pulled to the side with my left fingers. I push my lips and nose into her -- her hairs tickling my nose as I take her in.

As I move my face in a circular motion -- her wetness sticking to my mustache and beard -- Rae heaves, reaches down and grabs my hair, wrapping her fingers in my curls. The hair grab motivates me to focus even more intently on the task at hand: pulling her clit in my mouth with and pushing it gently against the roof of my mouth with the tip of my tongue.

Fortunately, the engines of the plane shield both the sucking noises I make as I give her clit every bit the attention it deserves, as well as Rae's approving vocal feedback. She tastes delightful, but she is not yet giving me what I seek. I stay the course as her vocal moans get ever louder, proving that there's indeed a risk of her not being able to conceal our little dalliance. As my tongue finds its rhythm, her breaths grow stronger.

She thrusts her pelvis into my mouth in a manner that might suffocate me if I don't pull my own neck back. I refuse to give her the satisfaction of relief as the essence of her orgasm leaks into my mouth. She finally pushes my head away from her -- her way of begging for sweet mercy. I can't help but imagine how vocal she would be in an environment without restraint.

Breathing heavily, Rae stares directly in my eyes for a few moments that feel interminable, as if she's trying to process exactly what just happened. She reaches under her dress, pulls her soaked panties down her legs and over her heels, kicking them under her pod. She cracks a smile and breaks her silence.

"Come up here. Off your knees."

Rae and I both stand up. She directs me to sit down at the pod in her place. As I sit down, she reaches down to unzip my pants, which for several minutes has concealed a dick anxious to burst through the metal of the fly. She gently massages the wet tip of my dick with her thumb and forefinger before placing the moisture on her tongue, eyes locked with mine as she smiles. I completely forget for just a moment that I'm on an airplane with hundreds of passengers, any of whom could be watching all of this.

She turns away from me, pulls up her maxi dress and drapes it across my lap as she eases myself inside of her, in reverse cowgirl. Her tightness grips at my shaft; she spends several seconds working herself to the bottom. My surprise at such a move quickly evaporates as she envelops me whole, and I disappear in her thighs. In a fell swoop, she reaches down for the blanket and drapes it over our waists. She delights in pushing me back in the pod as she settles in a steady, circular gyration, which she breaks intermittently to slowly and methodically bounce on my lap.

As I recline in the pod, she consciously squeezes my dick with the inner thighs of a woman who never skips Leg Day. She reaches down to glide her fingertips over the wetness we produce and licks her fingers before leaning all the way back and placing her cheek to mine. She runs her fingers through my hair again; her heavy breathing in my left ear nearly cancels out the plane's engines. Her arch doesn't slow her grind; the modified position causes her to thrust up to the very tip of my dick, introducing the looming threat of falling out of her pussy.

She maintains control by reaching down and using her fingertips as a guide to keep me inside of her -- at once ensuring that the action is not interrupted and engaging more nerves in my shaft, causing me to deliver vocal exhortations that don't take the form of coherent words. Her voice registers only in moans every time she rocks back and her lips graze my ears.

Rae gives me zero indication of what she will do next...I'm her willing tool in the riskiest sexual escapade in which I've ever engaged. She fucks me with the resolve of someone who is used to being in charge. The blanket covers all of our visual transgressions, but our movement tells no lies. Only I know that her gushiness has soaked my underwear, making it cling to my thighs.

I reach under the layers of fabric to rub my right index and middle fingertips gently around her clit as she grinds me. She heaves at the touch, motivating me to run my left palm up her stomach to capture the motion of her deep breathing. As the moments pass and we get deeper into each other -- physically and mentally. Our presence in each other keeps us in a space all our own -- a spotlight of unknown provenance slicing through a blackness with unknown borders. In this space and time, everyone else on the plane disappears. It's a dangerous but exhilarating state of being.

********

Rae tosses the blanket to the floor and engages in a decidedly inelegant turn to face me while I remain inside her. It requires some impressive legwork that would catch more than a few eyes in a cockpit full of conscious passengers.

She leans in, grabs my face with both hands and aggressively tongue-kisses me; she slows her stride riding me ever so briefly to nibble on my bottom lip. We're making true eye contact for the first time since we've started, unlocking a deeper level of intimacy even in the darkness. As she thrusts toward my stomach, I place my left palm under her dress and stretch my fingers across her pelvic bone; my right hand grabs her ass. For the first time, she cedes control to me as I pull her close to me with each thrust. I pull her so close, and move so deeply into her that she jumps in shock, delivering her most audible yelp yet.

The volume takes me out of the moment for just a moment to look around and see if anyone caught us. Indeed, my scan stops at the only light on in first class. Several feet away, a woman who reminds me of a younger Roselyn Sanchez stares at us intently with her hand covering her mouth, like she's witnessing an auto accident. She's draped in a blanket and a man I assume is her partner is completely passed out, head against a pillow on the cockpit. I'm not sure how she sees us through the darkness, but she very clearly can.

"Yo, someone is watching us!" I whisper, breaking Rae's stride.

She holds my face and looks in the direction my eyes are facing. I look at Rae's face, only to see a smirk pop on her face as she discovers our audience of one. She continues riding me; I find myself energized by the rush of fear and excitement connected to someone watching me fuck for the first time. I crack a smile and take her tongue into my mouth as I grab her ass and pull her so I can be as deep inside of her as possible.

"Damn! I see you're enjoying your aud-" I cut her off with a deep thrust that causes her to swallow that second syllable. The new energy surging through Rae's body indicates that she, too, is more aroused at the knowledge that there's at least one pair of eyes trained on us. At once, everything intensifies.

My hands navigate her bare curvature as I push my hand up her bare back and the other around her hip. I'm attuned to every stroke, every grind, every gasp. She pulls her torso as close into mine as physics will allow; grabbing the back of my head and neck and pushing her face into the crook of my neck. She bites my neck and keeps the skin between her teeth, breathing heavily through her nose.

Her entire body pulses in increments. I feel my boxers get warmer and wetter as she comes onto my lap, finally releasing my neck from her teeth. She extends her orgasm by enveloping me in a hug and resting her chin on my shoulder. I hear every fast breath in my left ear. My dick throbs inside of her, aching for resumed movement.

"Mmm...I feel you throbbing inside of me. You want to come inside of me, don't you?"

"More than anything in the world."

Rae steps off of me, quickly drops to her knees and takes me inside of her mouth. She strokes the base of my dick with her right hand and runs her tongue around my tip. The tightness of her mouth rivals the tightness of her pussy.

At this very moment, I realize that I need to maintain my composure so as not to attract attention outside of our friend. I am not conventionally vocal during sex, but clutching the edges of the pod for dear life is all I can do not to vocalize my pleasure. Fortunately, it doesn't take long for me to explode in her mouth. She doesn't do what I expect and immediately snatch me out of her mouth -- instead, she takes in every drop.