The flight was quick. It took a while to get over his presence, but I'm a professional. It made no real difference to my performance. I liked his body, but once that first thrill was gone, it was too much exposure too soon. I wasn't sure I was going to call him. But maybe I was.
Being a flight attendant is interesting. It's a challenging job. There is flexibility, human beings to anticipate and handle, and the constant effort required to keep a smooth appearance when turbulence is in the picture. Making it look good was hard work, but rewarding.
I get hit on a lot. Every single day. It's easy to ignore people who are ugly, or boring, or rude, but at some point you meet a lot of really attractive, really interesting, really potent men. Even then they aren't all going to be what I want. I used to be concerned about how I was perceived, not wanting to be "easy", but I think its stupid to worry about stuff like that. I have learned that opportunities are not frequent, and don't last. If I wait too long my passengers disappear. I want to enjoy myself, and I don't think there needs to be a ten day delay before I do something I enjoy.
I don't care if I'm judged. I judge too. It's fine. I did some groceries in New York, and cleaned my apartment. I had a view of central park from the west, and I loved sitting on my balcony with a smoke and a coffee. The apartment was a gift from Mike. My ex. He was Russian, possessive and generous. I didn't miss him , but he set a standard that had spoiled me. If a man couldn't do certain things for me easily...I wasn't likely to get interested in him, or stay interested very long.
On the other hand, if a man could take care of himself, help me with things in my life, teach me something, and stretch me out? There were not many men like that in the world. When I met them I took no prisoners getting what I wanted.
I'm not looking for a husband. I don't have time, and I like the variety. I'm not looking for a boyfriend. I love learning, and I like what I gain by observing driven men and how they operate. I have also found that some of them really know how to satisfy a woman. If they want to. When they want to they really put the work in. I don't mind that at all.
My phone kept ringing all day. It was Kenneth. He'd left flowers, cards and a bunch of notes. I had some time to think on the plane, and our experience left me feeling some type of way. I think he wanted me. I think he'd had fun. I don't think he really saw me as special. I like being seen as special. I don't like having to ask for that. I'm not used to it. I like my agency. I like my choices.
Rich guys were always a challenge, but Kenneth was too observant and too generous to allow half ass shit like bringing Paul in willy nilly.
All this principle is easy when you're sweaty from cleaning your house out. It's harder when you've been drinking, or smoking, or tired. He was persistent.
"Kenneth."
"You realize I know where you are, right?"
"Stalker"
"Your word. I prefer attentive."
"Fuck you want?"
"Tasha I miss you."
"You don't miss me. You wan't something. What do you want?"
"Your extra time and your kiss?"
