The Mile High Club

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  “Do you want to go?” he asked next. I could tell that he was game, as I’d thought he’d be from the start. He was always game, up for a fuck on the balcony or a wild trip to a lonely island. Sasha had said, “So romantic.”

  Who was I to say no?

  But I did say no.

  To myself. I said No fucking way as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. What would I do without a bathroom? Without a mirror? What if I got food in my teeth? How would I floss?

  “You’re superficial,” I told myself, and I agreed wildly with me. Yes, superficial. Yes, I like the soft fluffy towels and the Rembrandt toothpaste and the fabric softener and the scent of Febreeze. I’d choose walking on a treadmill any day over walking on an honest-to-goodness wilderness path. Why couldn’t Sasha have given us a trip to the Four Seasons hotel? Why did she have to want to remake me in her own image? If I were to do the same things to her, I’d flat-iron her frizzy hair, buy her a bikini wax, give her a full-on spa treatment; throw away her butt-ugly shoes.

  A jet to a six-seater to a scooter to a boat to a bike became my mantra. Over the next few days, whenever I caught myself relaxing, that image would find a way into my thoughts, and fresh panic would fill me. How could I go through with the trip? Why would I want to spend my anniversary in a humid hell, where my hair would go back to its natural jungle state and there’d be no place to plug in my iron?

  Adrien didn’t appear to have the same sort of worries at all. He seemed to enjoy the thought of our impending vacation. If anything, he reveled in taunting me.

  “Don’t forget to pack the netting,” he said, and while I thought he meant French Net, he really meant mosquito net. What do you bring to a place with no power? There’d be no coffee brewing. No hair-dryer. No stereo. I like my accessories. I like to sit on the floor of the bathroom and dry my hair while reading fashion magazines. I am a city mouse. I’ve never wanted to be a country mouse. But what had started as a notion for our anniversary—“You’ll love it,” Sasha said, “You need it”—had turned into something of a challenge.

  “Let’s go through the list together,” Adrien offered, “and I’ll spank you for any item you’ve left out of the bags.”

  That was more my speed, and I draped myself over his lap as he lifted the paddle, punishing me for the shortsightedness on my part to have forgotten pills to disinfect the water and extra matches so we could light our own fires.

  The paddle cut the air, landing with a stinging blow on my tender cheeks as Adrien chuckled at my failures: failure to accept that we were going to a jungle, that running out of hairspray would be the least of our worries.

  He spanked me with the same fierce determination with which he approaches every project, and soon I was beyond wet, forgetting why he was slapping my ass with the paddle and wanting only for him to stop so he could fuck me.

  But when he pushed me off his lap, he didn’t do what I hoped. Instead, he spread out the contents of my suitcase on the floor. And then he couldn’t control the laughter. My pretty sundresses, my strappy sandals, my contact lenses: all were shoved into a heap as Adrien repacked for me.

  A humid sensation settled over my shoulders, weighing me down when I looked back into my bag: beige, bland, boring. The suitcase could have been packed by Sasha.

  “Do you have everything you need?” my sister asked the night before our departure. She and Jarred had invited us to their favorite vegan restaurant.

  “I think so,” I lied, worried stiff.

  “Remember the citronella candles,” Sasha said knowingly.

  “And mosquito repellent,” her husband advised over our after-dinner chais. I noticed they were both still scratching their many different bites. Sasha had a welt on her shoulder the size of a silver dollar. “Spider bite,” she said with what I sensed was pride. I wore my own welts under the short pleated skirt. Ones Adrien had given me.

  I’d rather be paddled, I thought, than paddle a boat.

  Would I even survive?

  A jet to a plane to a scooter to a boat to a bike.

  “This will be good for you,” Sasha said, and I wondered why all the things I dislike seem to have that stamp on them: tofu, wheatgrass juice, flaxseed; things that Sasha lives for. I looked at the welt on her arm and shuddered.

  The night we were leaving, Adrien drove us to the airport in our little convertible, parking as close to the runway as we could get. I didn’t question why he hadn’t driven us to long-term parking, didn’t ask him what he was doing when he set his seat all the way back. Somehow, I simply knew he wanted me to climb on top of him.

  I pulled up my traveling dress, the one that the catalog had promised would not wrinkle no matter how many times the fabric was torqued and twisted. My plan had been to change to jeans before the trip in the six-seater. I lost my panties in our wheel well and pushed my way on top of Adrien’s cock.

  He gripped me, pulling me down on him hard, then lifting me back up. As always, his cock took me away with the feeling of being split open by him, of being connected to him in the most primal way. We didn’t need to leave the city to find ourselves. We were right here. I thought of our best-laid plans, the plane to the plane to the scooter—and then the roar of a jet overhead made me stop thinking. My hair stood up on the back of my neck. Goose bumps prickled my skin.

  This was by far the loudest sound I’d ever heard, a throb that seemed to start within me and radiate out to my toes, to the tips of my straight-ironed hair. As the plane took off overhead, Adrien fucked me faster, lifting me up in the air with the power of his thrusts. I could tell that he was groaning, but I couldn’t hear a sound except the roar of the plane. And I realized that I don’t ever want total quiet. I don’t need darkness. Lights at the end of a runway are among my favorite sights. Landing at SFO thrills me—the sight of the city spread out twinkling on the ground, like glittering multicolored jewels on a party dress.

  “Fuck me,” Adrien mouthed. I could see his lips move, but I couldn’t hear a word. I pounded my body against his and fucked him just as hard as he was taking me, slammed my body to his.

  The next jet took off overhead as I found my stride.

  He worked me until we were both covered with a sheen of sweat. We came together as another engine shook the ground around us. I saw in his eyes that he never had planned on making me go through with the trip. He’d simply gotten the mileage out of going along with the game.

  Maybe next time we’ll make the plane—the big plane to the little plane to the scooter to the boat to the bike. But tonight, we just watched the jets take off as Adrien ripped our tickets into tiny pieces and let the confetti flutter off in the breeze.

  FLIGHTS OF FANCY

  Geneva King

  Morning, Cheryl.”

  “Aubrey!” Cheryl hugged her longtime friend and copilot. “Today is the day! Aren’t you excited?” She kissed a trail down Aubrey’s cheeks.

  Aubrey laughed and wiggled free from Cheryl’s embrace. “I’ve been looking forward to this all year.”

  The two pilots settled into their seats. Cheryl prepared the plane while Aubrey flipped through the passenger list.

  “Marjorie and Cynthia…Tom and Eliza…Jane came back. I’ll be glad to see her again.”

  “Did Toni make it? I know she was wavering for a while.”

  Aubrey scanned the list. “I don’t see her name. Didn’t she just have a baby?” Her eyebrows furrowed.

  Cheryl caught the look and reached over to stroke her cheek. “What? Your ex signed up?”

  Aubrey shook her head. “God, don’t joke about that. Do you know Eric and Linda Brown?”

  When the attendant announced boarding, Linda grabbed her husband’s hand and pulled him into the line.

  To his credit, he didn’t protest the rough treatment. It had been his lack of attention that had made the last thirteen hours of her life pure misery. Give men a simple task and they manage to screw it up every time.

  Luckily, with a little finagling, she’d manag
ed to secure tickets on the next flight to Florida at no extra cost. The clerk had seemed quite reluctant, something about a luxury trip, but once Linda had assured the girl and her manager that she’d go through as many channels as possible to make their lives a living hell, they’d wisely given in.

  It was one more reason she didn’t fly on small airlines. They weren’t professional enough. Even now, the line was moving entirely too slowly. The woman taking tickets seemed to know everyone in line and found it necessary to hug and chat with each passenger going through.

  Linda felt Eric start to fidget. She kicked his ankle. “Just remember, this was your idea.”

  He sighed. “I heard it was a good airline.”

  Linda snorted. “From who? Roger?”

  He wrenched his arm away. “Julie, actually. Look, just chill out. We’ll get there soon enough!”

  Linda sucked in a deep breath. She honestly had no idea how her parents had survived thirty-nine years of marriage. She’d endured one and was already looking forward to widowhood.

  When they finally reached the ticket stand, Linda mustered up her most disapproving look and held out her ticket.

  The stewardess peered at the couple, then looked at their tickets. “Are you in the right place?”

  Linda bristled. “Of course we are.”

  Eric smiled at her. “We got bumped from an earlier flight.”

  The stewardess looked worried, but tore off the ticket and handed back the stubs. “Enjoy your trip.”

  Linda tossed her hair and marched past the gate. She pulled Eric close. “ ‘Are you sure you’re in the right place?’ Honestly, what’s up with these people?”

  Eric opened his mouth to reply, but Linda was too deep into her tirade to notice.

  “I don’t know where they get their help from. Next year, I’ll take care of the arrangements like I should have done to begin with.”

  Eric grabbed her arm and pulled her off to the side. “Would you stop bitching for one second?”

  Linda stared at his hand.

  He released her. “It’s our first anniversary. We’re supposed to be having a good time.”

  “You’re right. We are. In Florida. Are we in Florida? No, we’re stuck in airport hell!” Linda pushed past him to board the plane.

  A flight attendant greeted them. “Hi, I’m Krista. Welcome aboard.”

  If forced, Linda would admit that the airline wasn’t lying about luxury. The large seats were grouped in twos or threes. Each passenger had plenty of legroom.

  Eric nudged her. “Not bad, huh?”

  Linda pretended she didn’t hear him as she settled in. She wasn’t ready to let him off the hook, no matter how comfortable the accommodations were. And they were; Linda sank into her chair with a tiny sigh. She hadn’t realized how tight her back had become after spending the night on those rigid airport benches.

  Her enjoyment was short-lived. The other passengers came down the aisle, loudly shouting greetings to those around them. Linda popped an eye open to watch the activity around her. Two ladies found seats next to them. The brunette in a short skirt chatted with the passengers behind her, while her partner, a blonde butch, loaded their bags overhead.

  The camaraderie was getting to Linda. “Why do they all know each other?”

  Eric shrugged. “Maybe they’re a tour group.”

  The pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “Welcome everyone to our 2008 retreat! Aubrey and I are so glad to see so many of you back with us. Expected flight time is six hours and twenty-two minutes. We’ll be taking off in a few moments, so just sit back and relax. And people, be patient until the seat belt sign goes off. There will be plenty of time for fun once we get in the air.”

  The other passengers laughed. The couple across the aisle winked at each other.

  Linda turned to her husband. “I guess that explains how they know each other.”

  “Before we start our safety briefing, I have an announcement. Two of our passengers, Eric and Linda Brown, are celebrating their first anniversary with us today! Let’s give them a round of applause.”

  The other passengers clapped and Eric waved his thanks.

  “How the hell did they know about that?” Linda whispered.

  Eric looked pleased. “I told them when you went to the bathroom.” He kissed her forehead. “Happy anniversary.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight.” Linda frowned, but snuggled closer to her husband and kissed his cheek. “Men.”

  She’d hoped to get some sleep once they were in the air, but the other passengers showed no signs of quieting down. She tossed in the seat and sighed loudly, hoping someone would get the hint.

  Instead a twangy voice hit her ears. “Y’all must be new. I don’t remember seeing you here before. I’m Marjorie. Happy anniversary, by the way.”

  Eric thanked her. “First time on this airline.”

  Linda tried to kick him. They wouldn’t be quiet if he encouraged the conversation.

  Eric didn’t seem to get the hint. “So, what’s this retreat about? We were wondering why everyone seemed to know each other.” The woman didn’t immediately answer and Linda caught herself waiting for the reply.

  “So, you didn’t sign up for the trip?”

  “No, we got booted off an earlier flight and the airline put us on this one instead.”

  “Oh.” Marjorie chuckled. “Well, you all will get a real interesting way to celebrate.”

  Linda’s curiosity got the best of her. She opened her eyes and sat up. “Why do you say that?”

  The woman started. “Goodness, I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I was trying.” Linda tried not to sound as bitchy as she felt.

  “My fault. Everyone’s so excited. But I’ll let you get your rest.” She winked. “I bet you lovebirds probably need it.”

  Linda turned to Eric. “You know, that didn’t answer my question.”

  He wrapped his arm around her. “Go to sleep, I know you need it.”

  Linda woke to Eric’s elbow jabbing her repeatedly in the side. “What—”

  He clamped a hand over her mouth. “Be quiet. I want to show you something.”

  She glared, but nodded assent. He pointed to the two women in the row next to them.

  It took her a moment to realize what she was seeing. The girl closest to her lay back against the chair with a blanket across her lap. Linda thought she was sleeping until she noticed her fingers were clenching the armrest. Her partner sat next to her, head snuggled above her chest. One arm disappeared under the blanket. Linda realized it led right between the brunette’s legs.

  Linda removed Eric’s hand and leaned across him to get a closer look. Now that she knew what was happening, she could pick up on the steady movements of the hand under the blanket, the subtle twitches of the girl being pleasured. Her shirt had been unbuttoned and as she arched her back, Linda got an eyeful of her cleavage.

  “What the hell?” she whispered.

  The butch heard her. She looked up and winked at Linda before kissing the top of her girlfriend’s exposed breast. Without breaking eye contact, she tugged the dark shirt to the side and captured a nipple beneath her teeth. The girl groaned and bucked frantically. Her head rolled to the side, but Linda doubted she was aware of anything but the orgasm building up inside of her.

  “Lin, got another one.”

  With a last look at the brunette, she turned her head and peered between the seats. A mop of short blonde hair bobbed up and down in a man’s lap. Her tongue twirled around his fat cock, leaving a shiny trail of saliva down the shaft. The man grunted; his fingers entwined in her hair. As Linda watched, he guided her head down his penis, until her lips made contact with its hairy base.

  A deep cry pulled Linda’s attention to the other side of the plane. Two men sat next to each other. A dark-skinned girl sat astride one, hips bucking frantically as she rode him. The other licked her bare nipples and played with her asshole. She looked at her
husband, but his gaze was fixed on the threesome. His hand caressed the growing bulge in his jeans.

  “Eric.”

  “Hmm?” He didn’t look at her, but rubbed his erection harder as the girl humped her partner more vigorously.

  “Eric!” She grabbed him until he turned to face her. “What the hell are we going to do?”

  He reached for her. “When in Rome…”

  She swatted his hand away. “Stop it. Where’s our stewardess? She’s got to know about this.”

  Eric peered into the aisle. “I could be wrong, but I think that’s her four aisles up. And I think she knows.”

  Linda slumped back in the chair. Every seat on the plane sported people either having sex or watching another couple. Moans came from the row in front; Linda assumed Marjorie must be having her own fun but she didn’t want to look.

  She turned back to the lesbians beside them. The brunette had come. The butch stroked her face, while kissing and whispering to her. Suddenly, Linda felt incredibly left out. Here she was on her anniversary, her first in fact, and not only had she not had sex of any kind, she’d spent most of it fighting with her husband. And over what? A misdirected flight?

  The butch caught her eye and said something to her girlfriend. The brunette glanced at them over her shoulder and smiled.

  Linda averted her eyes, embarrassed to be caught staring at such a personal moment.

  “It’s okay.”

  Linda turned back. “What?”

  “I said it’s okay.” The butch smiled and nipped her girlfriend’s ear. “She likes to be watched.”

  The brunette giggled. “She does, too.” She extended her hand across the aisle. Her blouse was still open and a breast spilled out. “I’m Terri. This is Sue.”

  Eric shook her hand, his eyes never leaving her exposed chest. “Eric and Linda.”

  Terri smiled. “Linda’s a pretty name. It suits you.”