Orgasmic Flight to Fiji
by Rebecca Lerwill
© 2008, Rebecca Lerwill
LAX Airport, Terminal 2
He caught her eye at check in.
A family of five stood directly in front of Lucy and was next in line. The noise of three impatient children would have normally distracted her, but her focus was on the tall guy standing with his back to her and talking to someone at the Air New Zealand counter.
His dark green suit was on the expensive side and smartly tailored. It allowed a glimpse of a well-defined triceps as he lifted his jacket up to slip his wallet into the back pocket.
Whew. Long legged and athletic; she thought that it would be a damn shame if he wasn’t on his way to a sunny place where he could be admired by some lucky beach bunnies. For a fleeting moment she let her eyes linger, and when he suddenly turned to collect his luggage their eyes met.
An instant wave rolled through her, not knowing if it was his physique that inflicted it or the feeling of being caught. It took some courage not to avert her eyes which would’ve just proven to him that she’d been staring. Instead, she smiled, a little embarrassed, and hoped the heat on her cheeks was not visible.
“I can help you over here!” The call from the counter brought her back. Surprised, she saw that the family that had been waiting in front of her had already checked in.
After her luggage was placed on the conveyer belt, she collected her passport and walked off. On her way to the departure gate Lucy decided to browse the airport’s shops and she caught herself looking for the handsome suit. He was nowhere in sight and she had to smile to herself. Usually, she was the one who drew attention, not the other way around.
Though she wasn’t very tall, 5’ 8” in heels, she was an avid cyclist and kept herself in great shape. Without anything particular on her mind, she entered the duty free and stopped at an eye-catching, life-sized cutout of a half naked, well-built woman dipped in bronze, advertising the scent of eternal youth.
Lucy took the pink bottle from the display and sprayed a dash in the air to find out what eternal youth could possibly smell like.
Yikes! Sweet as honey and underlined by a musky tone of … molding wood? Well, if that’s what eternal youth was like, she wouldn’t want a piece of it! Appalled, she returned the bottle and took a step back to get away from the overbearing aroma. She wouldn’t want to sit through a ten hour flight with this crap clinging to her clothes. Taking another step, she suddenly bumped into someone standing behind her.
“Oh, excuse me,” she said and turned around to see on whose toes she just stepped. To her surprise, the handsome suit from the check-in counter looked down at her. He must’ve appeared from out of nowhere.
“Pardon me,” he offered in his low voice and then he furrowed his brows. Obviously, he’d caught a whiff of that awful scent she’d just tried. Lucy couldn’t help but laugh. “Isn’t this something? I tried to get away from it.”
He grimaced but didn’t say anything. When she attempted to squeeze by him, he stepped aside and took her lightly by the elbow. It was an innocent gesture. A gesture of a gentleman letting a lady step ahead, but his touch triggered a sensation that gave her a tingle from the base of her spine up to her neck. They left the shop together, and outside she turned around and began to offer an apology for being so careless. She’d stepped with the heel of her boot directly on top of his foot. It must’ve hurt like hell.
It was then that she noticed how he was giving her the once-over. His eyes were an intense bluish gray, bright, and something in them sparkled. It was more than the usual gaze of getting checked out by a stranger. He was more blunt. His eyes displayed the type of longing that usually came with intimacy. The sensation he’d left when he had touched her arm returned and began to spread over her entire body.
He let his eyes linger longer than necessary and finally said in a warm tone, “Apology accepted, but only if you let me buy you a drink.”
His bold gaze seemed to grab her physically. Lucy drew a shallow breath. Taken aback she scanned his face and noticed two irresistible dimples aside his neatly-trimmed, dark goatee. She hesitated for a moment but then she said, “Well, in that case, I don’t really have a choice. Do I?”
“Mark O’Conner. Nice to meet you, Miss…” he offered her his hand and, as if the master of puppets pulled that particular string, she took it. Hers almost disappeared in his.
“Lucy Sarstedt. It’s nice to meet you, too.”
“So…do you have time for a beverage?”
“I…I suppose so.”
“There is a place just around the corner.”
She nodded, trance-like. “That’ll be fine.”
The Blue Bar at LAX was a favorite for traveling business folks to grab a quick bite or a cocktail. Mark let her walk ahead and Lucy chose a quiet spot to share drinks and a conversation. After just a short time, she found herself wrapped up in his easy talk.
“So Lucy, what is it you do? Are you going on business to Australia?”
“No, I’m a chef. I’m going to Sydney to visit a friend of mine.”
Curiously he glanced at her. “A chef, really? You don’t look like a chef at all.”
She smiled. She got that comment a lot. “So? And why is that?”
“You look too… trim to be someone who enjoys cooking.”
“It all depends on the ingredients.” She lectured and added, “I work for a health resort. Sensible cooking comes with the job.”
“I see.” Mark couldn’t help but eye her slender frame. “Looks like you know what you’re doing.”
She sipped her wine and took his flirtatious innuendo. “Yes. Most of the time I know what I’m doing… But tell me, what is it you do, Mark? Mark O’Conner — what is your name, Irish?”
“Scottish. But I’m fourth generation New Yorker. I’m a recruiter.”
Her gaze went straight to his dark, military-style buzz cut. She asked, “Oh, for the army?”
He laughed. “No, college football.”
The conversation quickly became more animated when they found out that they’d booked the same flight and that this trip was both their first to the land down under. Interested, she listened as he talked about his job and she found herself focused on his body language. He seemed very relaxed and gained the waitress’s attention easily. Lucy watched him as he ordered a refill for his beer and a second glass of Pinot Noir for her. Every gesture and every one of his movements radiated authority, but also a
Out of nowhere the question arose in her mind: What would he feel like, holding her?
Uh, oh… never mind that!
To shake off her daydreaming, she focused on her Pinot. It was nice. It had a bite to it and she let it linger to fully enjoy its aroma. She swallowed and let the tip of her tongue slightly glide over her lips. She didn’t mean the way it looked but she liked the way he responded; he wouldn’t let his eyes leave her mouth.
“We have twenty minutes until boarding,” he said. “Would you be interested in sitting together on this flight? I think we both would enjoy our…conversation.”
His words seemed to hum in the air. She took another sip and held his gaze. Instead of thumbing through the Sky Mall magazine she could be chatting with Mr. Sizzle here, all the way to Australia. The choice was hers. Maybe I shouldn’t… she thought but said, “Hm, why not? Yes. I think I would enjoy your company very much.”
A knowing smile deepened those boyish dimples and he suggested, “Shall we? I suppose we need to both be present at the gate to request a seat change.”
With that they gathered their belongings and stood to walk over to the departing gate. She exhaled and noticed that her hand trembled lightly. A strange form of anticipation was crawling over her and it hardened her rosy tips, which lightly brushed against the soft fabric of her silky thin cami. She liked to travel comfortably dressed, and had skipped the bra when she chose her attire that morning.
Had he noticed? Maybe — probably not. After all, in addition she was wearing a knitted sweater jacket, which was loosely knotted together in front and hid her braless, freedom-bouncing boobs.
She decided not to worry about it and thanked the ground personnel, who explained that the plane wasn’t entirely full and that their seat assignment could be changed without a problem.
Mark turned to her. “I guess you were sitting by yourself. You could have stretched out. I hope this won’t change your mind.”
“Not at all,” Lucy said. “I never sleep on planes.”
“Interesting.” He collected both of their carry-on bags and added, “Neither do I.”