The first time Claire caught him watching her she was sitting at the gate waiting for the long-delayed flight home. Although the man's frequent gazes made her a little uncomfortable, she couldn't help but feel somewhat flattered by the attention. After all, it wasn't often the thirty-something married mother of two got a chance at innocent flirtation with a handsome stranger. It was the stuff of fantasies, but the reality of it made her blush each time their gazes collided.
Adding both to her sense of embarrassment and exhilaration was the fact the she was dressed in more revealing attire than she normally wore in public. At her husband's request, she had agreed to wear a short black skirt and a sheer white blouse over a deeply low-cut white spaghetti-strap bra top. As he so often did for special occasions, he had specifically picked her outfit for the homecoming they would enjoy after her weeklong trip to New York. Suddenly her effort to show off her shapely legs and sensuous cleavage for her husband left her feeling exposed to the probing eyes of the stranger. And although hidden from sight, even the thong panties she wore beneath her skirt left her feeling blatantly bare. She was thankful that at least her husband hadn't requested that she go without any panties at all, as he sometimes did.
Claire was always a nervous flyer, but it was hard for her to distinguish between the nervous excitement from the stranger's stares and the anxiety caused by the pending flight. As the flight delays mounted, Claire shifted uneasily in her seat, tugging pointlessly at her skirt in an attempt to cover more of her long, slender thighs. She tried in vain to concentrate on her novel, but when he moved to the open seat directly across from her, she suddenly found her mind adrift with wanton thoughts of being stalked and taken by the handsome man. Such outlandish fantasies of anonymous sexual encounters were as uncharacteristic for Claire as was the scanty outfit she wore, but she made no attempt to reign in the lustful images that played vividly in her imagination.
The boarding announcement snapped Claire back to reality and vaulted her into the crush of humanity boarding the over-sold flight. She settled into her window seat and opened her book, but spent more time scanning the isles for the stranger than reading. He finally appeared, and their eyes met briefly as he made his way down the narrow isle. Her heart leapt when he stopped at her row and threw his roll-aboard into the overhead bin above her seat. As he took the isle seat next to her he flashed her a sweetly sexy smile and simply said, "hi."
She hadn't noticed that her breathing had intensified and deepened or that her body temperature had risen significantly as she stared through the words on the page of her book and into the fantasy that continued brewing in her mind. She shocked herself at the rampant sexual images flowing vibrantly from the deep, dark recesses of her sexual being. She conceded that the idea of sex with a stranger wasn't an uncommon female fantasy, and even acknowledged that some have occasional fantasies of being taken forcefully. However, the thoughts and feelings welling up inside her were not of some vague faceless unknown man, but were focused entirely on the one sitting right next to her. It made her feel wicked and delighted all at once. She glanced at him frequently out of the corner of her eye and several times caught him checking out her legs, but now she made no attempt to pull down the hem of her skirt, which was now hiked up several inches higher than before. As she stewed in her tawdry thoughts, she actually began to enjoy him gawking at her, and she had to concede the lust that was churning inside her.
The stylish business suit he wore complimented his attractive appearance: average frame – about matching hers – short, neat dark hair and eyes, trendy glasses, and clean-shaven face. She noted his diamond-studded wedding ring and the Wall Street Journal he was reading, and determined that he was probably as wealthy as he was good-looking. She looked desperately for an opportunity to introduce her self and make small talk with him, but he remained buried intently in his paper.
Completely unable to think of anything else besides her seatmate, Claire finally decided, once the seatbelt light was turned off, to take a trip to the restroom. He stood to let her out of her window seat and their eyes locked for the longest time yet. That smile came again, and it melted her further. Once in the restroom, she freshened her make-up and brushed her hair, and then stood staring at herself in the mirror. "Be careful," she told her self out loud. But she quickly retorted her own warning. It's just innocent fantasy. She then unbuttoned two more buttons on her blouse, noting in the mirror how her cleavage was now rather nicely exposed, and how her nipples peered vaguely through the blouse and bra-top. She smiled a naughty smile.
The naughty smile returned when she saw how the stranger's eyes were glued to her chest all the way down the isle. He made no attempt to hide his stares either, even as he stood to let her in. She slipped into her seat, blushing, yet delighted that unbuttoning her shirt had so obviously captured his attention. Feeling emboldened by his renewed interest and the obvious way he peered down her shirt as soon as he sat back down, she quickly interjected some small talk before he could take up his paper again.
"Are you headed home or away?" she asked.
"Home. Thank God." He answered.
"So you been away long?" she asked in an attempt to keep the conversation going.
"Long enough – a week. You?"
"Same here," she said. "I'm so ready to be home too."
"Your husband mind you traveling?" And before she could answer he added. "If I were him I'm not sure I'd let a great looking woman like you out of my sight, much less out of town."
Claire was delighted by the compliment, but felt as if the blush in her face spread all the way down to her toes. "You're kind," she answered modestly.
"No I mean it," he insisted, "You are one gorgeous lady. Your husband is very lucky."
"Well, thank you."
They both felt the sexual tension between them mounting minute by minute through the ensuing flirtatious chat, during which Claire discovered that his name was Michael, that he was a corporate attorney, and that he lived in San Diego with his wife.
After a mediocre chicken dinner and several glasses of wine the cabin lights were dimmed for remainder of the flight west. Claire reclined her seat, and with eyeshades and blanket in place, settled into a light dream-filled snooze, imagining the delightful welcome home her husband would surely have planned for her that night. She anticipated seeing his reaction to her sexy outfit, knowing it would please him just as much as it did Michael. The lusty thoughts of their rampant reunion swirled around in her mind, causing her to gently squeeze her legs together to satisfy her carnal urges. Her hand even occasionally wandered subtly beneath her skirt, her probing fingers hidden by the blanket.
After almost half an hour of playing through naughty thoughts of wild sex with her husband and playing with herself unobtrusively under the blanket, Claire rolled over and peeked at Michael from beneath the edge of the eyeshades to discover him shifting his eyes between the movie and her. She noticed that each time a bright scene in the movie cast a dim glow over the cabin he strained his eyes toward her. Still feigning sleep, Claire "accidentally" allowed the blanket to fall a few inches, giving Michael a better view of her cleavage and breasts. She noticed he was watching the movie less and less and staring at her more and more. She thought at one point she caught him rubbing himself, which caused her to respond in kind. She was already in such a heated state that she fantasized briefly of making herself cum right there as Michael watched her.
Suddenly Claire's fantasy switched from the coming reunion scene with her husband to the here and now – with Michael. She imagined herself inviting Michael to follow her to the restroom, where the two of them would squeeze inside and begin passionately kissing one another. She imagined feeling his hot, strong hands on her full breasts, and without realizing it a gentle moan escaped her lips. Though she couldn't see him, she knew Michael would be watching; yet without hesitation she pulled the blanket back up over her breasts so she could slip her hand beneath it and into her open shirt, emulating his touch. She felt her erect nipples through the thin bra-top and gently massaged them until they burned and ached for more. She tightly pinched and rolled her burning buds between her thumb and forefinger as additional muted moans ensured her seatmate's full attention.
