A hypnic jerk is a wild way to wake up on a plane. One moment you're dozing and the next you are free-falling in space. I've had that sensation many times, mostly in college when I fell asleep in the library only to wake up and fling my books across the room. But when my subconsciousness already knows I am thirty-thousand feet in the air, that split-second sensation of falling nearly heart-attack inducing.
I looked around an immediately made eye contact with a flight attendant with a tray of waters. She raised an eyebrow and nodded at the tray but I shook my head politely. If anyone else noticed my flailing while waking, they sure didn't let on. I looked at my watch, it was still on west coast time but I figured we had two hours left before landing in New England after sunrise.
After assuring myself I wasn't falling for certain, I stood and stretched. A few seat-back screens were on lending their low light to the muted blue track lighting in the ceiling but otherwise it was extremely dark. My neighbors across the aisle looked like seasoned retired travelers with matching neck pillows and eye covers. I looked at Lisa who was in the seat next to me. She also had a neck pillow, was leaning into the window, but had pulled her legs up to her as she was clutching the airline-supplied blanket to her chest. Her position seemed to push her pillowy chest higher and I pondered that briefly before heading to the lavatory.
The light in the bathroom was harsh by contrast to the cabin and after finishing I stared at myself in the greenish light. What a fucking week.
Last Friday a student had come to my office with some bizarre attempt to blackmail me with video of the time I fucked a different (now) former student in my own living room. Then this very girl with the silly fake name essentially dry humped me.
I thought about that moment a lot over the last few days. I thought of how her pussy had looked when she had flashed me while sitting on my desk and then how wet and aroused she seemed when she spread her lips to further tease me. I realized I was getting hard and thought briefly about a quick wank in the airplane bathroom.
What has broken in my brain? I was living a pretty mild mannered life up til last summer. One that I was proud of. But now suddenly I'm doing things that might ruin my marriage and maybe lose me my job and yet I was still aroused just by thinking about it.
Julia... fucking hell.
Sylvia had told me just to tell her. I had thought seeing Sylvia would help me get to the bottom of this blackmail scheme since I recognized her signature on one of the forms. But had left the bar with more questions about who my wife might be. Clearly Sylvia had been caught with someone herself but rather than deal with it, she just left for the west coast. Why? It made me wonder who else was part of it? Did she have an affair with my wife Julia? Was she protecting her? Or was Julia the blackmailer?
Fucking hell.
I studied my features, trying to see myself fresh. Was I handsome? I seemed to get two college girls turned on some at least. What is middle-age anyway? It had seemed a horrible symbol of a life dwindling when I wad in my twenties. Then thirty happened and it still seemed far away, but by forty I enjoyed making jokes to the students about how they didn't know anything for being so young. Now I was pushing fifty so am I still middle aged? Or did it come and go already? Was it the halfway point to when my dad passed? He was almost my granddad's age when he died so it seemed reasonable to assume that was going to be my lifespan. If that was the case I had passed that a few years ago.
I still thought of myself as young at least. Although honestly other than stretching being harder and my kids birthdays flying by, I felt like I was thirty-ish. The biggest difference was I could see large swaths of gray in my beard when I didn't shave. I pulled my hair back and saw some silver. What did that student call me? A silver fox? Ugh.
I straightened up and rubbed the circulation back into my face. I was going to have to tell Julia, Sylvia was right about that. The shame was heavy--especially with this newfound insatiable horny-ness.
I made my way back to my seat, there was some light turbulence so I ran my hands along the overhead bins. Lisa was gone, she must have taken the opportunity of me being up to go herself. I sat down but didn't clasp the belt since she would be back soon.
She was quite beautiful really. Looked like she took care to look nice even tho she clearly was in traveling-not-dressing-up mode. I overheard my cousin giving my sister fashion advice once that a woman with class will spend money on her accessories so she can look put together even in sweats. Lisa's blond hair seemed to shimmer and seemed pretty well put together even in a hoodie. She also seemed grounded as an adult in my brief conversation with her after the drink cart came around--a VP at a large bank, single parent. I closed my eyes and tried to picture her to distract myself from my anxiety about my situation.
I had arrived early to the gate from drinks with Sylvia, still a little buzzy from all the cocktails. Even though I didn't have a choice seat on this late notice, my flying status allowed me to board first.
It was kinda a crap seat. Well, I hated being stuck by the window since I liked to move around, so that made it crap. While it wasn't first class, it at least was in the extra legroom row. I idly watched all the other people come down the aisle. A harried looking family of three tiny boys with the mom who looked about halfway to a fourth kid came down. I thought they must really want a girl.
Surprisingly, the dad plopped down next to me. That's rough I thought. Traveling with kids on a red eye was ballsy, especially if the parents were going to be split up.
The traffic in the aisle dwindled down and I realized the dad had never settled in, he still had his bag on his lap and kept looking behind him down the aisle. Sure enough after a few more minutes he stood up and went to the back. Then this lovely scented woman slid into the seat with the controlled ease of an athlete and sighed heavily.
"Did you switch to be nice or to get away?" I asked.
She laughed. "Did you see those boys? They are going to be holy terrors. I jumped up so fast when she asked if I was flying alone, I bonked my head on the overhead."
I laughed with her. "I flew solo once with my boys. It was a lot."
"I did a few times with my daughter too. It was just always just us so we got good at it."
"How old?"
"Now she's freshman out here, I was just visiting her for spring break."
"Oh nice. My oldest just started high school."
I thought for a moment how young this woman looked and said the quiet part out loud. "You and your daughter must be mistaken for sisters." I hadn't meant that to sound flirty, she really did look not a day over thirty but as it crossed my lips I realized it sounded like a horrible pickup line.
However, if she thought it was silly, she didn't show it. She looked right at me and blushed a little while chuckling. "Thanks, but yeah, I had her young."
She pulled out her laptop and a cord and fumbled around for the outlet between our seats.
She studied the cord snaking around and said, "sorry, I feel like I'm blocking you in. I normally get window seats and don't have to worry about someone crawling past."
"You want to switch seats? I got this last minute and didn't get to pick a seat."
"You wouldn't mind?"
"Not at all, I prefer the aisle."
"That would be really kind of you then."
"I'm Eric by the way." I said as she stood up to let me slide out."
"Lisa. And you're sure you don't mind? I sleep better in the window."
I laughed. "Totally fine."
Standing next to her in the aisle as we adjusted our bags, I was nearly a full head taller than she was. She was slimmish and I was able to breath in her perfume again which was captivating. Nothing cheap at all about her scent.
We settled into the seats, she quickly dove into her laptop, and I tried to catch some sleep before the drink cart came around after takeoff.
......
"Eric?"
I hadn't seen her come in since I was studying the waitress at the next table; but my old friend Sylvia was standing next to the table, backlit from the lights from the dance floor. I stood up and opened my arms.
"God it's good to see you! I'm so happy you were around!"
She returned the embrace and sat down. I hadn't seen her in several months, and also was not used to seeing her look so elegant since her normal attire was better suited for welding. However, typical of someone who worked in a museum, she was well-adorned in flowing black and in the low light of the table I could see well crafted make-up that didn't hide her age but rather celebrated it.
"I sure wasn't expecting your call, let alone you showing up on the other side of the country for a drink." She said with a hint of laughter as she caught the attention of the waitress. "Is this spring break for you?"
"This is some place." I said looking around, nodding to her question.
"It used to be the pool for the hotel above us. But some old Hollywood set designer bought it and themed it out." She studied me. "Dancing, live jazz floating on a boat...indoor rain. It's been one of my favorite spots since I moved here." She was laughing with how ridiculous it sounded but I had to admit, this placed seemed pretty cool.
The waitress returned with a tall glass of white wine and I tried not to stare at her this time. We clinked glasses and shared the long gaze of old friends.
"So how is life after academia?" I asked.
"Love it." She said a little flatly as she sipped. Then after a moment, "being a curator still feels like teaching, I just don't have to deal with students who don't like their grades."
We both laughed, students would brazenly accuse teachers of any sort of bias these days via email if they felt slighted. All of us had been called all sorts of things at one point or another.
"Is that why you left?"
Her eyes darkened a touch and she looked at me evenly.
"Something like that."
"I never thought you would leave. Julia was really upset. I was upset."
She looked away and chuckled. "You were one of my biggest supporters there Eric, I always appreciated that."
I sipped my drink and studied her. "Then why? You could have told me." Getting right to the point of my visit.
She looked at me darkly. "Tell you what, Eric?"
Sylvia studied her wine glass for a long time.
