by Livia Ellis
“You spent two thousand dollars on a dress?” The flight attendant stared at her.
“I’m really not dealing very well with my sister getting married. She's twelve years younger than me. I figured a great dress would help.” The truth, told to a stranger, liberated her from having to continue to lie to herself. “I really need my fantastic dress and my stupidly expensive shoes, or I just might not be able to make it through the next couple of days.”
The look of something close to pity and understanding filled the woman's face. “You're going to need to take your seat,” the flight attendant told her firmly yet gently. “I'll see what I can do about your bag.”
“You really don't understand. I really, really need my bag. How can I get off the plane, run and get my bag in the bar, and get back on?” She smiled hopefully.
“Nothing that won't equal your day ending in a jail cell.” The flight attendant continued to smile. “Please take your seat. I promise I will see what I can do about your bag.”
Henna’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Her bag with her French dress, her Spanish shoes, and her Italian underwear might as well be on Mars. She checked her boarding pass and seat number. Wedged between a man who overflowed his own seat and a chubby woman who shared hers with a small baby rested a middle seat just for her. She knew these people. The woman had verbally abused the gate agent. Together he'd put them on his own version of the naughty step.
“I'm there.” She pointed to the small space that overflowed with books, magazines, and baby paraphernalia. The large man on the aisle glared at her then harrumphed as he hefted his bulk up. The mother with the baby grumbled in her seat as she started to shift the contents from the middle seat.
“I told you we should have just bought a seat for Junior,” the woman with the baby scolded the fat man.
Filled with hope, she smiled and asked, “Do you two want to sit together? I'll take the aisle or the window and you three can sit together?”
“We paid for an aisle and a window,” the woman said firmly. “The middle seat is yours. And don't use the overhead compartment. I have valuables and breakables in there, and I don't want them crushed.”
Henna glared at the woman, reached her hand up, and popped open the overhead compartment.
“I said...” The woman stopped speaking when Henna raised a finger to silence her.
Henna exhaled slowly, not unsure that steam didn't curl out of her nose. “Don't go there. With the day I've had, I'm just done being nice.”
The contents of the nearly empty overhead compartment were shoved to one side with a flick of her hand as she flung her purse into the empty space. A small cheer went up from the passengers around her.
With a purposeful slam, she closed the overhead compartment then took her middle seat, holding on tight to her book. “And just so we're clear, the armrests are mine.”
When the plane reached cruising altitude, the seatbelt sign came off, and the pilot let everyone know they were in for a bumpy ride as they skirted Delores, but soon enough they would have smooth sailing to paradise.
With Len to her right and Cathy and Junior to her left, Henna sat in the middle seat with the book she just couldn't get into as she thought about Eduardo. Why didn’t she get his number? Why? She could have just asked.
After rocking and bumping across the sea for nearly two hours, the ride smoothed and she knew the answer. He’d intimidated her. The control she normally held tight to when picking up a man slipped from her grasp Eduardo’s presence. He’d owned her and the conversation. For once, she wasn't the boss. She’d been dominated. Like picking up a stranger in an airport, it was a day for firsts.
Eden getting married so suddenly had been a bucket of cold water down Henna’s back. At some moment in her life, she’d passed that intangible point that marked the difference between being single and being alone. There was a time between her thirtieth and thirty-third birthday’s in which all of her friends, with the exception of Simon, met someone and got married. They fell like dominoes. One weekend everyone was single. The next they were half of a couple. Six months later, the wedding invitations started to arrive. Recently, she’d been invited to a round of baptisms, briss’, and first birthday parties.
The irrefutable truth was, she had found many men who could have made perfectly fine husbands, but not one of them had lasted. Smart, good looking, professional men who nearly universally married her girlfriends in the end. Each man had been just flawed enough for her to reject. Or if they had been good enough, they hadn’t called her back.
Two notable times she'd been half of a couple. Each time the relationship failed. No matter how hard she worked to make it perfect, no matter how giving and exceptional a girlfriend she'd been, they'd dumped her. What made it even worse was, she'd been replaced both times by women who Simon assured her were not nearly as great, pretty, smart, and accomplished as she was. It was possible friendship swayed his opinion, but she liked to believe he was right.
She’d learned too late that there was no perfect man or relationship. Trying to create the perfect relationship, at least according to Simon, might have been the thing that had been the slow killer those two times she'd had a boyfriend.
As much as it pained her to admit it, her mother had been right. There really was a point at which all of the good men would be taken. Worst part of all, the good men who were left had started dating younger and younger women. The men she worked with who were still single and in her age range, all had girlfriends in their twenties. The hard truth might actually be that her ship had sailed. She hadn’t been on a real date in a year, and the last man she’d slept with had been a twenty-two year old bartender who thought her name was Sheila.
Thinking of Eduardo, with his pretty mouth and deep brown eyes, made her feel desired by a man worthy of her attention once again. It also kept her from thinking about her sister getting married. How did Eden find a husband with the snap of her fingers while she remained single after years of concerted effort and first dates that never went anywhere?
She switched her thoughts back to Eduardo. Destiny did not exist. But if it could, just for once, she wanted it to bring Eduardo back to her. Eduardo and her carry-on. She needed her fabulous dress. Wearing her fabulous dress would automatically make her feel good no matter how much she wanted to feel sorry for herself on her sister’s wedding day.
Len and Cathy passed Junior over her once again. Either they possessed no sense of boundaries or they wanted to annoy her. Passing the baby back and forth seemed like some kind of bizarre fertility rite and she’d had enough. For two hours, she’d sat between them. When she’d refused her snack, Len had taken it. When she’d gotten up to use the lavatory the first time, he’d acted as if she expected him to give up a kidney.
As the baby was passed, leaving a trail of biscuit crumbs in her lap, she needed to get up. With a flick of her fingers, the seat-belt came undone. Len, in the aisle seat, barred her way to freedom. Standing and looking down at him wasn’t enough of a hint. Smiling and gesturing to the aisle didn’t do it either. Instead of moving, he filled in a word on his crossword puzzle and ignored her. If she had to straddle him and climb over him, she would.
“Can you please let me out?” she asked as nicely as possible.
His eyes flicked up at her then back at his crossword puzzle. A large and suffering sigh escaped him as his eyes rolled up to look at her. “You are just on my last nerve. You’ve elbowed me since you sat down and now you want to get up every two minutes.”
“This is only the second time I’ve gotten up.”
“You’re one of those little bladder people that drinks a lot of water. I can tell by looking at you.”
“Please let me out.”
“You’re not going to keep getting up and down are you?” He lifted the bulk of his stomach and unlatched his belt. She had brief and disturbing vision of his wife having to push his belly out of the way in order to have sex with him. Quickly as she could, she envisioned wha
t Eduardo might look like under his clothes and smiled. Much better.
“Yes. I have a tiny bladder and I like to hydrate. Would you like to trade seats?” Hope rose inside her as she slipped past Len.
“We paid for an aisle and a window seat,” Cathy reminded her. “I told the gate agent very firmly, that we needed the center seat to be kept free. Ask the stewardess to move you, if you’re so unhappy.”
Henna looked up and down the plane. “There are no free seats.”
“Then make yourself useful.” Cathy pulled a baby bottle out from the bag she stowed under Henna’s feet. “Have someone heat this up.”
Henna stared at the offered bottle. “Give me the aisle seat and I’ll do it.”
“Clearly you do not have children.” Cathy shook the bottle at her. “Otherwise you’d be a little more understanding and helpful. People are just not nice to people with children. We’re treated like third class citizens, especially when we travel.”
“Aisle or you can do it yourself.”
“Never mind.” Cathy reached up and pressed the call button.
Henna popped open the overhead compartment, snatched her purse, turned away from the trio and walked to the front where the lavatories, the prep area, and the psychological curtain separating the huddled masses in coach from the privileged few in business and first.
A flight attendant worked busily preparing trays with fresh fruit and linen napkins. Not for coach. “Can I help you?” the woman asked with a smile.
“Umm…not really. I’m just standing up for a minute.”
“You’re between those people with the baby,” the flight attendant said.
“Yes.”
“Wine? Beer? Scotch?”
She laughed. “I’m fine.”
The flight attendant who threatened her with jail time appeared from beyond the mental barrier to business class. She looked up from the paper in her hands. “Dr. Hirsch?”
“Yes,” Henna said. “That’s me.”
The attendant with the fruit tray disappeared to the front.
“Your bag was found by a man working in the sports bar. It’ll be forwarded to you tomorrow. For now, it’s locked up. You’ll have your dress and your shoes for your sister’s wedding.”
Henna’s hand covered her mouth. “Oh, my god!” She hugged the flight attendant briefly. “Thank you. That’s so nice of you. I didn’t think I’d ever see it again.” Destiny had come through for her. Maybe she could be convinced that supernatural forces worked in her life.
“Honestly, it was nothing,” the attendant said. “From what I was told, someone from the sports bar in the terminal had followed you to the gate with it, but the door was already closed. Once the door is closed, we might as well be up in the air.”
“I can’t believe this,” she said. “I really can’t. Can you ask to have the person who found it leave their number or email address so I can thank them?”
“Sure,” the woman said. “Not a problem. I can’t guarantee they will, but you never know. You got your bag back. Maybe things are starting to look up.”
“I’ve had the worst day. It started out bad, got a bit better, and then turned horrible again. You’ve restored my belief that people aren’t really out to get me. I don’t even mind being stuck between that pair with the baby anymore.”
The attendant laughed. “Them!”
“I don’t care anymore. I’m going to have my dress.” Hopefully. She'd start getting the names of people and contact numbers of the people in the chain of custody for her bag. Then she could be certain that if it did disappear again, she'd know who had it last and how to find them.
“You were late boarding, so you missed the circus. We had to kick them out of first class. The woman went to look if there were empty seats, found that it's nearly empty, and decided she'd just give herself an upgrade.”
Henna laughed. “I've never gotten an upgrade in my life. I'm pretty sure if I paid for one of those seats, I'd be furious if they were moved next to me without having to pay for the privilege.”
“Come with me.” The flight attendant nodded in the direction of business class. Henna followed her through the archway to the better class of service. “I think you need some TLC.”
“No.” Her breath stopped in her lungs. “Really?”
“Really. I’ll go back and let your new friends know we moved you.”
“Please do.” Henna walked behind the woman past the rows of business class seats and then through another curtain to the world of privileged frequent fliers. It could have been just her imagination, but she thought it might have even smelled better. Another first. Two actually. An upgrade and first class. All new experiences weren't bad.
The attendant put her hand on a seat back. “Here. Enjoy the rest of your flight.”
“Oh, I will!” She took the woman’s hand. “Thank you so much.”
“Honestly, we’ve all had bad days. This is just some good karma for me the next time I have one coming my way.”
Henna took her seat next to the window and gazed out at the blue ocean beneath her. Maybe an hour of the flight remained, but she would enjoy every moment of that hour. Just as soon as she used the lavatory.
She walked to the front of the airplane and slipped inside the cavernous first class bathroom. Never before could she conceive of how people could have sex in an airplane toilet. Seeing the size of the first class lavatory cleared up that particular question for her. It was by no means enormous, but there was a lot more room than in the coach lavatories. And it was clean.
“Nice.”
She took all of the time she wanted. She brushed her teeth, did her hair, fixed her lipstick, moisturized, and at last, freshened up her perfume. If there had been a bathtub, she would have used it. Like all good things, her time in the lavatory came to an end when someone knocked on the door.
With a sigh, she gathered her purse and flicked the latch to the side. She looked down at herself for a final check, then up as the door opened and into the face of Eduardo.
“You,” she breathed.
“You have been in here for twenty minutes,” he said. “Are you unwell or just fussing with your hair? I know what women are like.”
“Fussing with my hair.” Her mouth refused to close. “What are you doing here?” First her bag had returned to her, then Eduardo. Destiny refused to be dismissed by her skepticism.
“Destiny. I knew destiny was working in my life today. I knew we would meet again.” He pushed her with his body back into the lavatory. The door closed behind him then he latched it closed. “Do you want me to let you out, or do you want to hear about my fantasy?”
She swallowed hard. “I think I’d like to hear your fantasy.”
“My fantasy,” he moved closer until she was pressed against the wall by his body, “has me meeting a beautiful woman on an airplane then having her seduce me and make me feel like a man.”
“I can do that,” she said. “Mostly. I have no condoms.”
He reached inside his trouser pocket and pulled out a condom. “Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“How much? I don't want to be crude, but I respect the fact that you are a professional and I will pay you for your time. Normally, I would be more discreet about such a thing, but I think we are past that point at this moment.”
She looked at him with his warm eyes filled with heat. “How much?” In those beautiful brown eyes, she was a prostitute. A sexy thrill shimmied up her body. Why not? “Normally, I'm pretty pricy...”
He pulled out his wallet, flipped it open, and offered her five crisp hundred dollar bills.
She added being offered cash for sex to her list of firsts as she held up a refusing hand. Pretending to be an escort was one thing. Taking cash in exchange for sex, just seemed a bridge too far into the fantasy. “But let's call this one mutual gratification and fantasy fulfillment.”
He put the cash and his wallet away. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
Without another word, his hand snuck around her neck under her hair and pulled her mouth against his. His lips roughly opened hers as his tongue plunged into her mouth without hesitation. A squeak of a sigh escaped her, a reminder to breathe before she passed out from the sudden rush of unexpected ardor.
His hand released her neck as his lips moved from hers and down her throat. His hands moved to her hips and rested for a brief moment then slid down her thighs to the hem of her skirt. With a quick move, he inched up the fabric to her waist, leaving her panties exposed. He looped a finger around each side and, with a sharp tug, ripped her panties off, exposing her bare mound. Another first. She looked down for a brief moment as he examined her.
“Nice,” he said as his palm cupped her. “I like this.”
Before she could object to having a pair of fairly pricy panties ripped into a rag, she checked herself. The woman she wanted to be at that moment lived a life filled with panty-ripping adventures in airplane lavatories. That woman would keep her ripped panties as trophies of her sexually charged encounters with dazzling foreign men. When his finger slid between her lips and found her already pounding clit, her panties were the least of her concern. His finger slipped, slid, and swirled around her pussy like a magic wand. Every flick of his finger brought her closer to an orgasm that had been itching to be released since their first encounter in the bar.
“You are already ready for me,” he breathed into her ear. Before she could respond, his mouth took hers again. He grabbed her tightly around her bare hips, pushed her up onto the sink, and then released her. The sink beneath her vibrated from the power of the airplane’s engines in an unexpected and completely invigorating way. She deepened the stretch of her thighs, opening them to draw in the thrum and shimmy of the airplane.