It was my first flight...and to say I was scared is the understatement of the millennium. The monstrous plane eased up to the loading area...my stomach began to quiver...I'm only 18 years old...way too young to die...(gulp)
Hey...I'm a serviceman...what do I have to be scared of? I've been trained to kill, no?...Ok not really kill...more like trained to train civilian graphics designers working for the US Government...contractors they called them...
But I digress...
We'll be boarding in an hour...whew!
Wish I was somewhere else...*whistle...damn...mouth's dry...
I saw a coffee machine and decided if I'm gonna die, I'll have one last cup of coffee...if anyone can call this swill coffee...
I eased into a lounge chair next to an attractive blond woman...I smiled...she smiled...she went back to her book...something by Anne Rice...I slowly sipped the hot liquid...letting it ease down my parched throat...
OOPS! DAMN!...spilled the damn coffee in my lap...SHIT! And no fuckin' hanky...oh god I'm wet...silly friggin' cups...ain't worth a shit!
"Here...I have a small box of tissues...take as many as you want" she cooed...
"Thank you, ma'am...you're very kind... Clumsy of me...".
"You did a pretty good job of spilling that coffee on your mmm...lap...how does it feel?"
"Wet" I replied..."But it'll dry...nice air conditioning in the terminal...hope the plane is air conditioned..." I'm sure it is...here...you missed a spot...right there..."...she smiled and looked straight into my eyes as she reached down with a tissue and patted my lap...oh boy! She continues patting...and I begin to notice that she's off the mark a tad...more like she's patting closer to my half-hard penis...oh, my...
"Do you think that'll do the trick?"...again that smile. I smiled back..."Oh yes...thanks .and I looked into her eyes too...half closed like she was in a quasi-trance...and it looks like she can't take her eyes off my crotch...which by this time is beginning to stir... She squirmed in her seat...bending toward me slightly to allow my hungry eyes access to her cleavage...which was ample...
"Where are you from, soldier?"...
Philadelphia, ma'am...and I squirmed...
"Don't be so formal...my name's Sylvia...what's yours?" she cooed...
"Danny...I'm on my first flight...a little scared...heh heh...*gulp...". Don't be scared Danny...you'll love flying... My husband was a pilot...died in a plane crash three years ago over a Cincinnatti airport..."...she mused wistfully...
"Oh I'm sorry" I offered...trying to console her in my own awkward way...
"Oh it's no big loss to me...I know that sounds terrible...but he was on the way to Bermuda with his...hmmm...secretary? He was 46 years old...she was 22...Bastard!...oh I'm sorry Danny...didn't mean to dump on you...I don't have that many friends who care to listen to my woes...they're too busy with their own husbands meanderings...*sigh"