Flying High

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  He was dressed in jeans today and a university T-shirt, good college sophomore that he was. He was a full head taller than I was. His hair was light brown, tinged with flecks of blond from the sun. I could see the smooth muscles of his tanned upper arms under his short sleeves. He held me firmly, looking down at my face.

  “Not today. There’s no time,” I replied. “My other student will be here any minute.” He was grinding against me lightly through his jeans. I could already feel myself getting wet.

  “You scheduled someone else for the same time?” he asked, incredulous. “For today?”

  “I’m sorry,” I told him. “There was no way around it.” That might not have been the truth, exactly. The scheduling hadn’t been so unavoidable, but he would never know the difference. I shrugged.

  I could sense some frustration in his stance as he stood there. He was hungry for me and cocky, full of youthful energy. I stared back at him firmly. In a slow, even tone I asked him my three usual questions.

  “Do you want me?”

  He nodded, grinning.

  I ran a fingernail lightly up the front of his chest. “Do you trust me?” I said.

  “Yes,” he replied, as always, leaning a little closer.

  “Are you going to do what I say?”

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  I tilted my head. “Well, then today you’re going to have to share your lesson. That’s all there is to it.”

  Gently, he released my hips. With a sigh, he turned around to lean up against the wall next to me. He took out a pack of cigarettes from his hip pocket and shook them in my direction.

  “Want one?” he asked.

  “No. Are you crazy?”

  He looked puzzled. I gestured around the building. “Jet fuel,” I reminded him. God, he was adorable. I leaned in to offer him a kiss. He drank it in, hands reaching up to hold the sides of my face. I hooked my thumbs into the band of his jeans. For a moment, I considered pulling them off, just canceling the lesson right then and there and letting him take me against the wall exactly like this.

  The squeaks of a heavy metal door opening at the other end of the hangar brought us back to ourselves. We broke away from one another, adjusting our clothes. We heard footsteps crossing the concrete floor. A figure finally rounded the nearest plane and faced us.

  The first thing that always struck me about Eric was his eyes, and I was sure Justin was noticing the same thing. They were the lightest blue, almost a gray color. The effect was striking against those jet black eyelashes and dark hair.

  I wondered if he knew he was beautiful. I had told him before, but I wondered if he knew it inside, if he radiated this sexiness deliberately. Eric always loved to be flattered. He loved to be teased. He endured whole lessons with me that were nothing but temptation, revealing more and more and more of my skin, until finally I would give him what he really came to learn. He was always the pupil, always eager to please.

  “Am I on time?” he asked. “The professor went a little over today.”

  I assured him that he was.

  I introduced the two of them, and they shook hands, chatting briefly about their majors and life at the university. All of their lessons so far at the flight school had been here on the ground. They each knew that today would be their first flight, but were surprised to learn that the other was in the same situation.

  “So we’re both new to this, then?” Eric asked.

  I nodded. Justin gave me a look, wondering what I could be up to.

  I clapped my hands together once. “Well,” I said. “Looks like it’s time we got on our way.”

  Preparations for the flight didn’t take long, really. I talked them through everything. That day, I had reserved one of the largest single-engine Cessnas. It was a spacious four-seater. Most only had two.

  I walked once around the plane with them, showing them what to check for. Eric ran his hand along its length as we strolled, caught up in the aesthetics of the machine, I guess; the clean lines. I only watched Eric, and smiled to myself as I caught Justin eyeing him too.

  We grabbed three headsets off of the rack and headed to the plane with the keys. I tossed them to Eric. “You fly first,” I insisted. He nodded, climbing into the pilot’s seat. I took the copilot position beside him, with identical controls. Justin sat in one of the two rear seats. We put on our headsets and I motioned to Eric to start the plane.

  It whirred to a start with an incredible noise, relaxing into a loud, mellow humming. The engine under us moved with the same sexy body-shaking vibration of a motorcycle, but at a higher pitch. It was a strange sensation because the headsets allowed us to feel the noise with our bodies more than we actually heard it.

  I pointed out the appropriate dials and lights, going through the checklist with both of them. Justin crouched in the tight aisle between us, watching as we worked. At last we were ready. I signaled to Justin to have a seat and we all buckled ourselves in.

  Takeoff was up to Eric, and he executed it perfectly. As we left the ground, he shot me a breathtaking smile from the pilot’s seat, reminding me how much I wanted to have him again. I reached out and stroked him tenderly on the cheek. He touched my thigh briefly in a warm familiar gesture. I wondered what Justin would make of our little exchange, and glanced back at him. He raised an amused eyebrow and grinned. “Good,” I thought. “At least no jealousy.”

  “All right,” I explained through the headset, having to speak up a little to be heard over the noise. “Here’s the plan. We’re going to take a simple course. Just a long easy arc out over the ocean.” I pulled out a chart, tracing some coordinates for them with my finger. “Should take about an hour give or take.”

  I corrected his course a couple of times, but could see he was getting the hang of it. He was quick to follow whatever instructions I gave. “Check your altimeter,” I said gently. “We want to stay far above the water.” We could all feel the motion as he pulled up. At that moment, I leaned over to kiss him. As always, I could feel the powerful passion behind it. I felt his tongue in my mouth, smooth but insistent. I loved the exhilarating feel of disorientation I felt in the pit of my stomach as the plane inclined.

  “Hey, hey. Who’s flying up there?” Justin interjected, giving Eric a playful nudge on the shoulder.

  We pulled away from one another. I held Eric’s eyes with mine and licked my lips. “Delicious,” I purred. I turned to Justin then. Leaning into the aisle, I unbuckled my safety belt and kissed him. He kissed me back hard on the mouth, reaching up to knead my breast with his hand through my shirt. I moved away and settled back into my chair, collecting myself.

  They both knew the questions. “Do you want me?” I asked.

  “Yes,” they both answered. From his expression, it was obvious Eric couldn’t believe this was happening here, with someone else so close by. He looked cautiously into the backseat.

  “Do you trust me?” I asked.

  “Yes,” replied Justin quietly. Eric looked from one to the other of us, a little confused. I held his chin with my hand, turning his face gently toward me. I repeated the question.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Are you going to do what I say?”

  They both answered sincerely. “Yes.”

  “Good,” I said. I gestured at the panel. “Flip that switch and give me control.” He did.

  “Now give each other a kiss,” I said. I looked straight ahead as I said this, as if it was a minor, offhand demand. I gripped the controls, and waited for a response. I watched the small choppy waves passing far below us. For several agonizing moments, there was nothing. I heard no sound at all. They were either looking each other over, or sitting quietly on their own, stunned.

  Finally, I heard the sound of a seat belt being unbuckled in the back as Justin crawled forward in the narrow aisle. I heard the same from the seat beside me. I looked toward them as Justin touched Eric’s shoulder lightly and looked intently into his blue-gray eyes. Eric stared back, only glancing a
t me briefly for approval before Justin covered his mouth with his own.

  I was startled by how different their kiss seemed. Everything seemed harder, rougher. They gripped one another’s shoulders and made low mannish sounds. It seemed more forbidden and more full of emotion. They pulled each other closer, moving their muscled bodies together. I felt my clit pulse gently as I watched them. I shifted in my seat.

  I looked down at the chart in my lap. I felt like we’d crossed some kind of meridian, finding ourselves in an unknown place. I thought of the maps from ancient sailing vessels, of uncharted territories marked with pictures of churning seas and tentacles and sleek scales, scratched with perfect penmanship by elaborate quills. But this wasn’t new land we were charting. It was open sky, completely unreachable by everyone else. We could do as we pleased here. Now that they had kissed, we had completed the circle. This place wouldn’t let us go, desire pulling us in closer like an abyss, a black hole. It was our own Bermuda Triangle and it had claimed the three of us.

  After a few minutes, they stopped. They still clung to one another, breathing hard.

  “Take off each other’s shirts,” I told them.

  I heard the whisper of their hands as they fumbled against the fabric. First Justin’s came off, and then Eric’s was removed. Eric was still seated in the pilot’s chair, Justin in the aisle between us. Their naked chests rose and fell as they panted. As I looked down, I could see that Justin was getting hard.

  “Eric,” I said. They both turned to look at me. I took a piece of heavy black fabric from my pocket. “Put on this blindfold.” Without a word, he took it from my hand and brought it up to his eyes, tying it securely in the back.

  “Now, Eric,” I said. “Put your hands on the controls. I’m going to give you control of the airplane.”

  “But…” He began to protest, but I cut him off.

  “You don’t need to see. You only need to listen to my voice, and do everything I say. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” he whispered. He put his hands on the controls.

  “Good.” I flipped the switch, allowing him to control the plane again. “Now unzip your pants. Pull them down.” He did as I said, keeping one hand on the plane as he lowered his pants halfway down his thighs. He was hardening more each second.

  I turned to the aisle and kissed Justin hard on the mouth. “Justin,” I said. “I want to watch you blow him.”

  Justin smiled. I watched Eric’s dick twitch with excitement as I said this. Slowly, Justin crouched near the pilot’s seat. Beneath the blindfold, Eric allowed this stranger to position his mouth over his naked lap. I heard Eric’s sharp intake of breath as Justin brought his lips to Eric’s cock. He took it into his mouth, moving his lips slowly along the shaft. It was completely hard now.

  I slipped my hands inside the waistband of my pants, testing my pussy. It was soaking. I almost ached I wanted it so badly. I watched the horizon tilt and felt a queasy but strangely pleasant feeling in my belly as the plane moved.

  “Watch your pitch,” I said. “Tilt down a little.” He did as I said. “A little more. There. Perfect.” He obeyed, now holding his hands perfectly still.

  Justin was moving faster now, taking him in completely each time. He used one hand to tug gently on Eric’s balls. The other he used to stroke the shaft with each movement of his mouth. Eric leaned his head back against the seat. I could see his Adam’s apple move up and down with each intake of air. It looked strange and beautiful to me. I reached out and gripped the back of Justin’s head as he moved it faster all the time. At the same time, I continued to push against my clit.

  I could see that Eric was close to coming, so I gripped Justin’s hair and eased him away. I checked several dials again and flipped control of the plane back to me.

  “Eric, you can take your hands off the controls now.” He did. He was eager to continue, every one of his senses heightened. “Get in the aisle,” I said. “Kneel down next to me.”

  Eric shifted himself, moving into the aisle. Obediently, he knelt near me, his blindfolded face touching my armrest. Justin knelt behind him.

  “Eric,” I asked. “Are you going to do what I say?”

  “Yes,”

  “Do you want to come?”

  “God, yes,” he pleaded.

  “Justin, fuck him,” I said simply.

  As soon as I said it, I heard Eric’s sudden intake of breath. He was obviously nervous, but still so excited. Somehow, I enjoyed his fear and uncertainty. I looked into the back. Obviously, Justin enjoyed it too.

  I saw the look of hunger on his face as he began to pull his pants down. His cock was huge and hard. It had been for a while. I reached back, handing him a condom which he quickly put on. As he did this, I removed a small bottle of lube from my pocket and passed it back. Justin rubbed some over his erection, stroking himself several times. Eric leaned forward against my chair, arching his back against Justin, trying to entice him.

  “Is this what you want?” Justin asked, rubbing against him, teasing him.

  I continued to touch myself, plunging my fingers in and out. My strokes were reaching a fevered pitch. “Just do it,” I said.

  At that, Justin pushed into him. He did this ever so slowly, and Eric froze in place. Eric was held. He was shocked. I was sure he was wondering how he could let this man do such a thing to him. Gently, I tilted his head back and gave him a long lingering kiss. I moved my tongue against his. I kissed his lips, his cheeks.

  Because Eric did not protest after the first slow thrust, Justin firmly grabbed him by the hips and began to push harder. He closed his eyes as he did this, satisfying himself completely, plunging in over and over again, using him. Eric reached for his cock, jerking off as Justin fucked him. I glanced quickly at the horizon as I pushed into my pussy, curling my fingers forward. I thought of the rough perfect bodies beside me. I came hard and fast, surprising myself a little. I rocked with the force of the pulses I felt, feeling feverish and lightheaded.

  The musty scent of sex filled the small cabin. I sat for a while, breathing quietly and listening to the noises the two of them made together. They sounded rough and primal, free of whatever niceties they reserved for me. They were free to lose themselves here. As I turned sleepily to watch them, I was complete. Eric’s head was near my seat. I reached out to stroke his hair as he braced himself on all fours.

  I imagined Eric’s beautiful eyes shut tight behind his blindfold as he knelt there, enduring and savoring this experience at the same time. I knew just what it was like. Justin had done this to me before. I heard him grunting loudly as he forced his way in. His muscles worked relentlessly as he gripped Eric’s hips.

  I could tell that they were close to coming. Their breathing changed, their movements became more desperate and demanding. Suddenly, Justin pushed in hard, spearing him. The gesture was final and rough. As he shook, he pushed in twice more, then slumped over Eric’s back, his breathing still fast. With that final deep push, Eric came as well. The sight of his come pumping over his fingers excited me even more.

  Afterward, Justin pulled out, resting in the back. Eric removed his blindfold in a motion of pure exhaustion, resting his head against the pilot’s seat. I slumped down in my chair, lazily piloting the plane. The three of us stayed like that for what seemed like ages, motionless and spent. We had no words.

  I felt hypnotized as I watched the shapes of the waves passing below, light winking off of them. I thought again of those ancient maps, of ships lost in far-off uncharted seas, never to return. As I turned the plane a few more degrees, sunlight filled the cabin. I tossed the map to Justin in the backseat. “Let’s find out if you can plot us a course home,” I said, but I only half meant it. Part of me wanted to continue out over the warm ocean, trapped in our own lusty triangle.

  TOP BANANA

  Craig J. Sorensen

  Big, bright yellow planes. Stewardesses dressed like shapely lemons.

  What was it about Hughes Airwest that kept me c
oming back in those early days? I’d always hated the color yellow. Frequent-flyer miles weren’t on the menu. Complimentary drinks and bad airline food were as far as it went.

  Maybe it was that catchy jingle in their ad campaigns. Remember it? Yes, Hughes Airwest flies more places in the west!

  Yes, yes, YES!

  The cliché of the traveling salesman was in mid-morph: days on the road living in crummy motels out of the back of a nine-year-old 1962 Chevy, looking for that next sale. My cigarchomping, bourbon-chugging mentor had just retired to a split-level ranch in The Dalles when I realized that life from the back of a car was not the life for me. Don’t get me wrong. I loved the traveling part, loved the salesman part.

  But this was the age of the jet-setter. Why schlep from town to town, selling commercial kitchen appliances, when the appliance of the new generation was just begging to be sold? No one understood these monoliths. They had flashy lights like Christmas on the side, and crate-loads of attendant gear to facilitate belching of green and white barred paper from a big printer that made the sound of a thousand knuckles cracking.

  For a budding salesman gifted in the hard sell, computers were the stuff dreams were made of. How tough could it be?

  The sun was setting as I mounted the stairs pressed to the fuselage of a big yellow plane on the tarmac of some nameless small city, bound for yet another. Truly, I had lost track. A handful of early successes had given way and my numbers were charting down. The sales of these big computers seemed to cycle hot and cold, and I was never at my best in the cold.

  I was thinking of going back to selling commercial stoves, where grease-splattered diner owners knew the value of a quality stove, where my convincing presentations could amplify that value.

  Tonight the seat of a Boeing 727 would again be my easy chair. I needed to clear my head. I needed a distraction. I’d sampled more than one Layover Lizzie: a stewardess stuck in a podunk city waiting for her next flight. I’d adapted my “fast read” sales pitch to sort out the women interested in such excursions. Make that pitch; if the client doesn’t bite, move on.