Airplanes
Hurricanes and Innuendoes
I was two and a half hours early to my flight, I was overly eager to make this weekend end, and the quicker I left the faster I could come home. My roommate dropped me off and asked multiple times if I wanted to eat. Answering no, she drove off after kissing my cheek, telling me it wouldn’t be that bad.
I breezed through security, put my boots on and sat down in a bar. The bartender looked at me and smiled. “I’ll be right with you bae,” I smiled at the southern woman and her term of endearment. After 4 years here it still made me smile.
“What would you like honey?” She asked, I responded with a hurricane. It had become one of my favorites that I’d adapted too while living in New Orleans. She started mixing when someone else sat down next to me. “What about you Cher,” she faced the gentleman that had just sat next to me.
“Whatever she’s having.” He laughed as I smiled at him a little judgingly, my eyebrow going up and lightly laughing. “It looks good!” He said defending himself, winking. I think I may have had to wipe the drool off of my face.
“You haven’t had one? Please tell me you don’t live here or not visiting because that is pathetic.” I turned to face him. He was tall and blonde, extremely handsome. He didn’t have a give away accent.
“No, thankfully” he chuckled. “On my way home from Florida. I had work.” The sweet bartender handed us our drinks. “You?” He asked.
This was the friendliest I had been to a stranger in ages. I was 100% positive it was due to the fact that he was so attractive. And he was flirting with me. “It was hard to be friendly when you’re bar hopping on Bourbon St and everyone is plastered.” He smiled. “All I want to do is drink and I can’t do it without creeps from other states getting all up in my shit.” I covered my mouth. That’s the one thing I never lost was my Californian mouth. I might’ve said it with a twang, but it was harsh.
“Where are you headed?” He asked after we had been talking for five more minutes.
“Los Angeles, my older brother is getting married this weekend.” I replied pulling down the leather jacket off my shoulders and into my lap. Just because I lived in the craziest city in the south, with no laws concerning where you were allowed to drink or when I was still a complete lightweight.
“That’s where I’m headed too.” His eyes were bright and shined. “Flight 234?” He asked I pulled out my ticket, and checked, nodding. I was never this way. What the hell was wrong with me, at the point he was cute and I was excited that someone was paying attention to me.
I’m not ugly, at all. I had long brown hair, blue eyes with a few freckles. I had decent boobs; I’ve never been told they were too small; I had actually gotten comments that they were big, from random guys in bars. He was different and everything about him made me want to have my panties on the floor.
“I’m Jeff by the way.” Great, so I know what I’ll be moaning later
“Emily,” I smirked, “Nice to meet you Jeff.”
He paid the bar tab and we walked towards our gate. Sat and talked. We were both single, he had grown up in Canada, I had grown up in Michigan. We both liked beer and he was 6’2” tall. He learned that I ran a museum of history in New Orleans after graduating college in the south.
We boarded the plane and realized we were sitting next to each other. Maybe it was fate, or some sick joke. He made some off hand comment that he had never been inducted into the mile high club. I had mentioned I hadn’t either. I put my headphones in and leaned back as we took off.
I laid my head on his shoulder. “You’re not comfortable, Jeff.” He looked at the top of my head.
“It’s because I’m so ripped, muscles are not conducive for stranger cuddling. “ I laughed at him.
“So what are you made for being so muscular.” I gave him a suggestive look. Just give me that in and I’ll let you do me in the tiny bathroom. Give me the look, head into the bathroom and I’ll be there too.
“I don’t kiss and tell Miss Emily.”
“So the comment about joining the mile high club wasn’t what I thought it was?” That’s when his hand landed on my thigh and his lips was invading my lips.
I breezed through security, put my boots on and sat down in a bar. The bartender looked at me and smiled. “I’ll be right with you bae,” I smiled at the southern woman and her term of endearment. After 4 years here it still made me smile.
“What would you like honey?” She asked, I responded with a hurricane. It had become one of my favorites that I’d adapted too while living in New Orleans. She started mixing when someone else sat down next to me. “What about you Cher,” she faced the gentleman that had just sat next to me.
“Whatever she’s having.” He laughed as I smiled at him a little judgingly, my eyebrow going up and lightly laughing. “It looks good!” He said defending himself, winking. I think I may have had to wipe the drool off of my face.
“You haven’t had one? Please tell me you don’t live here or not visiting because that is pathetic.” I turned to face him. He was tall and blonde, extremely handsome. He didn’t have a give away accent.
“No, thankfully” he chuckled. “On my way home from Florida. I had work.” The sweet bartender handed us our drinks. “You?” He asked.
This was the friendliest I had been to a stranger in ages. I was 100% positive it was due to the fact that he was so attractive. And he was flirting with me. “It was hard to be friendly when you’re bar hopping on Bourbon St and everyone is plastered.” He smiled. “All I want to do is drink and I can’t do it without creeps from other states getting all up in my shit.” I covered my mouth. That’s the one thing I never lost was my Californian mouth. I might’ve said it with a twang, but it was harsh.
“Where are you headed?” He asked after we had been talking for five more minutes.
“Los Angeles, my older brother is getting married this weekend.” I replied pulling down the leather jacket off my shoulders and into my lap. Just because I lived in the craziest city in the south, with no laws concerning where you were allowed to drink or when I was still a complete lightweight.
“That’s where I’m headed too.” His eyes were bright and shined. “Flight 234?” He asked I pulled out my ticket, and checked, nodding. I was never this way. What the hell was wrong with me, at the point he was cute and I was excited that someone was paying attention to me.
I’m not ugly, at all. I had long brown hair, blue eyes with a few freckles. I had decent boobs; I’ve never been told they were too small; I had actually gotten comments that they were big, from random guys in bars. He was different and everything about him made me want to have my panties on the floor.
“I’m Jeff by the way.” Great, so I know what I’ll be moaning later
“Emily,” I smirked, “Nice to meet you Jeff.”
He paid the bar tab and we walked towards our gate. Sat and talked. We were both single, he had grown up in Canada, I had grown up in Michigan. We both liked beer and he was 6’2” tall. He learned that I ran a museum of history in New Orleans after graduating college in the south.
We boarded the plane and realized we were sitting next to each other. Maybe it was fate, or some sick joke. He made some off hand comment that he had never been inducted into the mile high club. I had mentioned I hadn’t either. I put my headphones in and leaned back as we took off.
I laid my head on his shoulder. “You’re not comfortable, Jeff.” He looked at the top of my head.
“It’s because I’m so ripped, muscles are not conducive for stranger cuddling. “ I laughed at him.
“So what are you made for being so muscular.” I gave him a suggestive look. Just give me that in and I’ll let you do me in the tiny bathroom. Give me the look, head into the bathroom and I’ll be there too.
“I don’t kiss and tell Miss Emily.”
“So the comment about joining the mile high club wasn’t what I thought it was?” That’s when his hand landed on my thigh and his lips was invading my lips.
♠ ♠ ♠
hope this doesn't completely suck.