Elevated
By Garnett Gibson
Part 2: How Flying Should Be
Our story so far: Selena, a flight attendant who once idolized the aesthetics of mid-century flying, now finds herself rundown and regretful of her career choice. On a particularly bad morning, she meets Andre, a handsome and mysterious passenger, who sympathizes with her plight. Shortly after the plane takes off, Selena and the rest of the passengers appear to be transported to the 1960's, where a full-fledged orgy is taking place on the transformed plane.
* * *
"Are you feeling better?" Andre asked Selena.
She almost laughed. Here she was, sandwiched between a couple who not even an hour earlier had yelled in her face, now trying to bring her to orgasm as if it were their life's goal. No one was demanding anything from her. The plane smelled amazing, looked amazing. Everyone in it was happy and spread out and carefree.
Of course she felt better. "Yes, but..." She turned back to Glenn's wife, who was gently withdrawing her hand. Selena whimpered.
"You can continue with them," Andre said. "Unless you'd like to come with me."
"Come with you?" she asked, squinting through her pleasure-haze.
He gave a tight smile, and broke eye contact. "Or whatever you'd like. I don't want to be presumptuous."
She blinked, and remembered their light flirting in the van and in the airport. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, and through everything that had happened on the plane, the last thing on her mind had been the handsome passenger and whether or not he might be interested in her.
"This is all for me," she said as her brain caught up.
His entire stance relaxed and he laughed. "Yes."
Selena looked at Glenn, then at his wife. Both of them smiled at her, warm and welcoming. Smiles she didn't even know they were capable of before this plane had taken off.
"Go on," said Glenn, as if the conversation taking place was entirely coherent and normal.
She stood, and Andre held out his hand for her to take, which she was especially grateful for once she realized her legs were shaking. Glenn's wife might not have made her cum, but she'd done a number on her pussy.
"Who are you?" she breathed to Andre. The revelry around them continued, and Glenn's attention turned to his wife. But once Selena was in Andre's arms, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.
"I'm just a man. Really," he said, as if he couldn't quite believe it himself. "This is just something I can do. I can manipulate reality and people's perceptions and opinions of it."
She could ask him how he got that power, how long he'd had it, but that somehow seemed entirely unimportant. "It makes you tired," she said, tracing the lines at the corners of his eyes. "Doesn't it?"
He nodded.
"So, this is all real?"
"For now," he said. "I think I can keep it up until we land in Boston."
"And then what?"
He waved his hand around the lounge. "And then everyone will just remember a very nice, pleasant plane ride. Nothing strange or out of the ordinary. Maybe a lingering daydream."
"What about me?" She grabbed his shoulders. "I don't want to forget."
"You won't," he said. "Not if you don't want to. I can let you remember. I built this world around you, and the subject always gets to remember, if they choose. You can change your mind, though. I thought maybe you might not want to remember. I thought you might be too disturbed. I would have stopped it if you seemed too frightened, but I was able to take it away so easily." He stroked her neck with his thumb, and his voice got low as he roamed his gaze down her body. "That was a good sign."
"But why? What does all this do?"
He looked up, seeming amused. "I use it as a sort of...therapy. To help people live out fantasies, or other scenarios. I admit I don't normally use it to quite this extent." He looked around and chuckled. "Or with this much debauchery. But it's been a lot of fun to watch it all unfold. I thought it would be particularly nice for you to get some release from the couple that snapped at you in line."
Selena looked back at them. They were all over each other, clothes torn asunder, fucking like newlyweds who'd been celibate until the wedding night.
"Do you want to be out here?" he asked. "Or do you want to go somewhere more private?"
It was, she had to admit, the most appealing invitation to the mile-high club she'd ever received.
"Assuming you transformed the lavatories too," she said, "let's go somewhere more private."
He grinned, slipped an arm around her waist, and led her to the bathroom door.
It was small, though not as small as it had been before his powers manipulated it. Instead of hard plastic and metal, the walls were a pink plush, the countertop gray marble. It smelled wonderful, like freshly-sprayed lavender with a hint of pear. She inhaled, first the air, and then Andre's scent from his chest. Just smelling his humanity, his sweat and skin, let her feel more grounded in this world. "God," she said. "I thought I was hallucinating. Or that I died. Or time traveled."
"Oh, no." He chuckled. He ran his fingers along her hair, and seemed to be considering taking it out of the tight updo. "There are plenty of places I think sometimes that would be fun to visit, if I could. I can't, but if I could, it probably wouldn't be a good idea, anyway. Even in the nicest airline, someone who looks like me wouldn't be...well, they wouldn't have been quite welcomed." He rubbed his chin, indicating to his dark skin.
"There wouldn't have been passengers eating me out or giving me back massages either," she said.
He laughed again. "Certainly not as enthusiastically. Or a place to stash everyone's children during the revelry. This is a fantasy. But it's your fantasy, with my embellishments. Did you really like it?"
"I do." She pressed into his chest, pinning him against the door, lifting one leg up like she was Audrey Hepburn. She knew she should be upset that he'd manipulated her emotions along with everything else around them, but somehow she felt as if even if he hadn't, she would have accepted it once she understood what he was doing. "No one's getting hurt?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Not a one."
"But why me?" she asked. "Why do this? Just for me?"
"Just for you." He kissed her, his tongue running along her lips, which parted for him. "A beautiful girl, with a beautiful heart."
"A whiny girl," she mumbled into his neck.
He laughed. "We've all had bad days. We've all had bad jobs. And we all deserve a respite from it. I was just in a position to give you one that was a little more...comprehensive than normal." His eyes ran over her outfit. "You look gorgeous in that uniform."
She turned to the mirror, admiring how good he'd made her look, though her body underneath her new clothes was the same. "I feel gorgeous," she said, aware that in the actual 1960's, the outfit she was wearing wouldn't have been nearly this comfortable. Her scalp would probably have been bleeding from all the pins keeping her hairdo up. Her ankles would have been swollen from the heels. Her chest would have been constricted from the bra. If her getup would have inspired any behavior from passengers back then, it would not have been to warmly invite her for a drink, but to pinch her ass and call her crude names.
But in Andre's arms, it was so easy to forget that. She would have obviously never expected anyone to do anything like this for her. No one else could do anything like this for her. But no one could have even come close to the effort, the care, the passion.
She undid the buttons on her perfectly-fitting blouse, exposing a white lacy bra to him that she definitely hadn't been wearing that morning. He took the cue, rubbing his hands along her breasts, inhaling with satisfaction. She stretched her head back. "How am I supposed to go back to how it was before?" she asked. "I know I said I didn't want to forget, but maybe that's not a good idea. How can I handle it, knowing I had this perfect moment?"