TWENTY-FIVE
A trip to Bangkok - long in the planning but subject to delays for various reasons - was next on the agenda for Sophia. She was to travel with Eric, a long-term employee of the bank, who had extensive contacts in the region, having lived in Thailand and Brunei for a number of years. Sophia was at the same time pleased to have been entrusted with the responsibility of helping to grow the bank's business in a developing market and a little disappointed that their schedule would allow her little opportunity to explore on her own.
Nonetheless, recalling that Veronique had mentioned a friend of hers who lived in Bangkok, Sophia thought the upcoming trip provided her with the perfect excuse for getting in touch with her old flame. Veronique was pleased to meet up with her protegee again and seemed more content than the last time they had been together. She noted Sophia's conservative style of dress and lack of make-up and knew that their meeting had been arranged with no view towards renewing the romantic aspect of their relationship. Veronique handled that with an internalised Gallic shrug and let Sophia bring the conversation round to the subject for the sake of which she had arranged the meeting.
'Ah, Sukhorn would, I think, be charmed to show you the delights of the city of angels. She herself is a very accomplished businesswoman, with long experience in the hospitality industry.'
Sophia noted there was no mention either of her age or her appearance, which she took as an encouraging sign. Veronique did after all enjoy her little games. Before they parted, the Frenchwoman told Sophia that she would call Sukhorn and see if she would be free to see Sophia in the period she had mentioned. Sophia asked her to give the Thai woman her number so she could get in touch nearer the time. Veronique was half inclined to merely go through the motions for Sophia, given the way she was basically using her, having all but discarded her as a sexual partner, but she knew deep down she wouldn't be able to help herself. The thought of Sophia falling under the seductive spell of Sukhorn and her girls was too great an aphrodisiac for her - vicarious as it might be. And there was always the lingering hope that Sophia would return to her one day - perhaps to tell of her adventures - and the old spark would be rekindled.
As luck would have it, Eric's mother passed away on the eve of their departure and Sophia found herself travelling alone after Eric was given compassionate leave. Sukhorn had called her with a long list of things she just had to do in Bangkok and Sophia had told her that with time limited, a colleague in tow and meetings to attend, they would have to be content with just a quick get-together, perhaps for lunch. Now all that had changed. Sophia messaged her about the change of circumstances and set about studying her itinerary to decide which parts she might be able to bunk off with minimal loss of face to her hosts. Her plan was to stick to the proposed timetable for the first couple of days - when the main events had been scheduled - and then strike off on her own for the remaining three days. There were, after all, only so many temples and reclining Buddhas one could stomach.
First, though, was the hassle of the 11-and-a-half-hour flight to Bangkok. Sophia wasn't a good flyer, even when flying business, as she typically did these days on long-haul journeys. As usual, the flight was delayed beyond its 21:55 scheduled departure time. She was sitting in one of two central seats (of the type sometimes used by couples) and appeared to have the whole space to herself until just before the plane began to taxi, when an American man took the other seat with a cheery, 'Good evening, ma'am!' Sophia wasn't very good at accents, but thought he might hail from Texas. He had that kind of brashness...plus the belt buckle.
'I only hope he doesn't intend to talk the whole time; otherwise, I'll have to put the divider up,' thought Sophia, returning his greeting with less than whole-hearted enthusiasm.
The man, Noah by name, was pushing 50, with pleasant enough features if you like the cowboy sort of look, and grey hair cut short. His hands were large and powerful looking, but well-manicured. He was wearing jeans and a wide leather belt with a huge
buckle featuring a longhorn cow in gold against a silver metal background.
A white cotton shirt, a shoestring necktie adorned with a black onyx clasp and patent leather boots completed the cowboy look. Presumably, he had checked in his ten-gallon hat. Both Sophia and Noah turned down dinner, having eaten before boarding: Sophia an early dinner at home and Noah in the first-class lounge. Sophia thought it odd that someone using the first-class lounge should be sitting in business, but didn't say anything about it. She didn't have to, as the Texan was more than happy to tell her. The airline had managed to double-book and he had been asked to pick up the slack.
'First thing I was going to do when I sat down was send an email to the airline, but somehow I forgot all about it when I found out who I was sitting next to.'
Sophia, who had been waiting for the come-on, gave him five out of ten for the effort. She had heard worse - and better. She thought about saying goodnight, putting up the divider and going to sleep, but other people were being served and it seemed rather early to be turning in. So they continued chatting. Noah was, as his garb suggested, in the cattle business, running the family ranch near Corpus Christi. He was going to Thailand to share his expertise, as the country looked to penetrate regional markets more deeply and was also considering the introduction of new cattle breeds. It was his first time visiting south-east Asia, as, like many Americans, he was not an avid traveller beyond his country's borders. He extended to Sophia the almost obligatory invitation to visit him when she was next in the States.
Sophia in turn talked about her trip and, despite some misgivings about whether she ought to mention it, said she was lucky that her work colleague had had to pull out of the trip at the last minute, as she would be freer to explore Bangkok.
'I think that calls for a celebration,' said Noah, ordering a bottle of Dom Perignon champagne without even checking if Sophia drank the stuff.
Actually, she didn't like drinking alcohol on flights and resolved to say no when the wine arrived. Her resolution lasted about twenty seconds and soon they were clinking glasses and proposing and seconding various toasts, encompassing family and friends, business partners in Thailand, longhorn cattle and beautiful women. Sophia took the last toast as her cue that it was time to break up the party - especially now that the food was being cleared away and the cabin lights would soon be dimmed - so she excused herself, took her toiletry bag and went to the washroom. When she got back to her seat, she found it in the flat bed position complete with blanket and pillow. Noah sat in his seat with the reading light on.
'I asked the stewardess to prepare your bed for you,' he said simply.
Sophia thought this was a violation of her space and a bit creepy into the bargain, but she didn't want to hurt the man's feelings. Her whole working experience had taught her, if nothing else, how fragile the male ego could be.
'Life's too short,' she thought, perhaps more magnanimous than she would normally have been due to the champagne. She took a swig from her water bottle, put her eye mask on and settled down for some shuteye. After a minute or two, she sensed rather than saw the light going off.
'Wait a minute!' she thought. 'I forgot to put the divider up. He may think I'm sending him a message. If he puts his seat down, we'll virtually be in a double bed.'
Still, she did nothing and tried to get off to sleep. She sensed he was still sitting there, looking at her. She waited for his strong hand to slip over the barrier that was no barrier. She remembered that she'd forgotten to use her blanket. To be honest, she was warm enough in her long-sleeved yoga top and yoga pants, but it would offer her a layer of protection. Or would it? Mightn't a stray hand use it as a cover for its debased activities? Sophia reached down for the blanket, took the plastic off and spread it over her body.
'I'd better stay alert for a minute or two to make sure no one takes advantage of me. Where is that call button, so I can summon a flight attendant if things get out of hand?'
Feeling more restless than ever, Sophia squirmed on the bed.
'I do so wish Peter was here to soothe me and hold me.'
Just then she felt fingers on her blanket just below her breast. She knew she must tell him to stop and summon help. Cabin crew dealt with these types of things on a regular basis, she reckoned, and they would remove the man and handcuff him. Most flights had a security officer travelling incognito, didn't they?
Instead, she did nothing, letting the hand roam at will over the thin blanket, getting close to her private parts on the two extremities of the broad circles it was making across her stomach. If it goes further north, I will scream, she promised herself. The hand reduced the diameter of its circling and Sophia thought she would give it the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps the man wanted his bit of fun (and, okay it was still wrong - very wrong) but they had both had a bit to drink and they were both adults and there was no need to embarrass him and perhaps get him a criminal record into the bargain. The hand had stopped near her belly button. What was it doing? What was it waiting for? Why didn't it move again? She waited a minute and considered using her own hand to guide it back to its own side of the divider. 'No, he might get the wrong idea,' she thought.
The hand pulled the blanket down to her waist before moving north at a slow but steady pace. 'If I don't stop it, very soon it will be on my breast, perhaps massaging it,' Sophia thought. The hand reached her left breast and stopped. 'Well, that's something; at least it hasn't sought out my nipple,' she thought. The hand rose slightly from her breast, leaving just one finger on the mound. 'If it moves a millimetre, I scream,' she told herself. After a few seconds, the finger started to roam about, as if communication with the brain had been short-circuited. Inevitably, this meant that the digit bumped across Sophia's nipple more than once. On no occasion did it stop there, but what the buffeting did mean was that the nipple became bloated and, stiffening against the thin fabric of her bra, caused a discernible dent to appear in her polyester top. And the finger discerned it. And stopped.
Sophia decided that now she must certainly scream out. As she prepared to do so, the finger started to massage her nub through the filmy materials, which offered little protection. Instead of a scream, all Sophia could manage was a sigh. The sigh morphed into a purr. Other fingers joined the first one and together they worked on the nipple until Sophia's arousal spread through her entire body, aching for release. Sensing this, the hand moved off her breast ('Don't go!', cried Sophia to herself) and made landfall on her waist, where the blanket had been bunched up. It gently pulled the blanket back up to her neck, needing two journeys to complete the task. Then it straightened the flimsy covering out, as if it had a passion for neatness.
