Flying Together

This is what I'm daydreaming about . . .

I board the plane, figuring that I'm going to have a boring couple of hours on the flight back home after a nice and much-needed vacation. I'm headed back to work on a plane which will undoubtedly have a combination of small seats and large passengers. I get on the plane, pack my stuff away and start reading a book, hoping to be the lucky guy who somehow booked a seat without anyone sitting next to me!

But, as I'm reading a book, I hear the flight attendant near me directing someone to the seat number next to mine. I sigh and look up, expecting to see an overweight man or a woman with a crying baby in her arms . . .

. . . and instead, I'm shocked by a rather unexpected, breathtaking sight.

She was a brunette, a little shorter than I am, with long hair coming down and gently curling just around her shoulders. She wore a form-fitting red sweater and tight blue jeans, showing off her curves but in an innocent sort of way. Her bust was, I think, a D size or so, perfectly shaped and accentuated by her flat stomach and thin, feminine arms with a purse on her shoulder and a rolling suitcase in her hand. She had a tight butt that she obviously worked hard at the gym to get – simply to die for – atop long, slender legs outfitted with cute casual sneakers.

She might have been Hispanic, Middle Eastern or Indian, I couldn't tell, her skin was just a shade lighter than my own tan skin. Her eyes were a fiery orange-brown, the most noticeable part of her beautiful face, and she was already drawing looks from across the aisles from all the guys (and jealous looks from some of those guys' girlfriends and wives) as she walked in my direction. And the great thing about it was – she wasn't even trying.

As she struggled to put up her heavy suitcase, she ensnared me with a "hello" from her soft voice, which sounded like the gently flowing rivulets of a small stony brook.

I stumbled to get up and let her in to her window seat while I pulled up her suitcase and stowed it up in the luggage compartment, a bit of my Southern chivalry kicking in. She flashed me a killer smile, and as she stepped by me, she placed her hand on my shoulder for balance and her breasts brushed gently and unintentionally past my chest . . .