MILE HIGH CLUB_(2)

For about the twentieth time, I looked down the aisle to see why we were not departing. To my surprise, coming down the aisle towards me, was an attractive dark haired woman. Behind her I noticed the hostess closing the front door. I though she looked Brazilian, dark hair, olive complexion and wearing a dark blue dress that was buttoned right down the front. The dress was fitting at the top, where it was stitched in patterns with light blue cotton; highlighting her breasts, and then flaring out over her hips, down to her ankles.
I had just spent a few days in Milan on company business, and had boarded a British Airways flight for London, departing Milan at 7:50 p.m. The flight was not that full, so I asked for a row of seats to myself, as it had been a tough set of meetings and I wanted to catch some sleep, even though the flight was not all that long.
Because I was rather late to the check-in, I was informed that the only free row was down near the back. As I walked down the aisle, I noted that the rows towards the back of the plane all only had one or two persons in them, so plenty of people had the same idea as I did. When I got to my seat, I found that I was in the second to last row – the row behind me was empty, I guessed it had been left free for the stewardesses to place their bags etc.
My seat was the aisle seat (I always ask for that) and I sat myself down, expecting to move over and spread out once the plane was in the air. I was one of the last to board, so I glanced down the aisle, watching the final passengers for anyone that may have been placed in my row.
When there had been no passengers boarding for 10 minutes or more, I started wondering what the delay was. That is until I saw Miss Brazil hit the aisle. As she walked towards me I couldn’t help but wish I had not asked for a row to myself, as she really was a very attractive lady. Then she came right down to the back, right beside me, looked at her ticket and exclaimed that she was sitting in the window seat of my row. I did not complain, but leapt up, helped her get her travel bag into the overhead locker and ushered her past me.
Once she was seated and had her handbag under the seat in front, I leaned across and spoke.
“You only just made the flight.”
“Yes, the bus from Verona to the airport was held up. It was a long ride getting here.” She answered.
I thought she sounded very nervous and thought to myself, that she looked a bit stressed out.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I’m going home to visit my family in Argentina.” She replied.
Ah! I thought, not Miss Brazil after all, she must have been Miss Argentina.
I would have left her alone then, as I find most passengers just want to have their own space when flying. But she struck up a conversation and although nervous, seemed to want my companionship. In the next five minutes I found out that her name was Senalda, but that her friends called her “Sena”. She was thirty two and she was married to an Italian guy in Verona, she had lived there for five years and been back home for monthly visits twice in those five years. This time she was going back for 2 months. I also found out she absolutely hated flying, in her words – it terrified her. She spoke English really well, with the sexiest accent, as you can imagine with that Latin blood.
In response to her questions, I told her that I was from New Zealand, had spent a few days in Milan on business and was visiting friends in London before travelling back home. I also mentioned to her that I was at least 20 years older than her, which she wouldn’t believe. No one ever picks my age, but it is always nice when people argue that you must be much younger.
As the engines started up, Sena leaned over and asked if I would sit by her, as she was scared. So I lifted the arm rest, undid my belt and slid across into the centre seat. I was expecting the airhostess sat in the rear galley to jump up and tell me off, they usually do, but they were already all buckled in somewhere behind in the galley and could not see me. I looked to see what the guy in the row opposite ours was thinking, but noted he was a very large man and already had his eyes closed, with his head on a pillow up against his window.
Sena seemed very keen to keep talking; I expect that her fear was driving her to be so talkative. It certainly was not upsetting me; I am always keen to entertain a pretty woman. I proceeded to tell Sena that I had been an aircraft engineer and had my private pilot’s license and there was absolutely nothing to be afraid of. However I quickly noted by the panic stricken look on her face, that whatever I said, I was not going to alleviate her fear by telling her it was OK. I was at a bit of a loss as to what to do to help her. So I told her a couple of funny jokes and had her laughing, albeit nervous laughter.
Then the aircraft bumped back, as the Tug moved the plane from the gate.
“Will you hold my hand?” She exclaimed.
Before I could even move to comply, she reached over and wrenched my hand over her side of the armrest and gripped it in her lap with both hands. I swivelled around to look at her, and found myself looking into the eyes of one very frightened lady. I shifted my right hand onto her leg, with absolutely no intention other than to comfort her and let her know I was calm and everything was going to be alright.
But her reaction was quite the opposite of what I expected. Her legs parted slightly and she looked pleadingly into my eyes.
That slight of movement from Sena, the slightest opening movement of her legs, was enough. It told me that even though she was terrified, or probably because of it, she needed comforting. Just to be sure, I leant over and whispered in her ear.
“Would you like me to take your mind of everything?”
I think she was too scared to talk, she just nodded at me. I moved my hand a little higher, pushed down, taking the dress in between her legs and stroked the material up and down just above the knee. I felt my fingers on the buttons, so slipped them through the buttons and stroked the bare flesh of her inner thigh.
I don’t think Sena had really comprehended what my idea of comforting was, She nervously looked around to see who was watching. I could not believe she was going along with this. I guessed she was just wanting comfort and not really thinking too far ahead, about where things may lead to. About this time they dimmed the lights for take-off, with an announcement that you could turn your reading light on if you wanted to read.
I leaned over to her again. “The hostesses are all buckled in and won’t get up until we are airborne. And the guy opposite seems to be fast asleep, so relax and I will watch to see no one is looking.”
She didn’t relax, but she didn’t stop me moving my hand higher either. I couldn’t believe my luck, and thought “what the Fuck – I may as well go for the sky”. So I slipped my hand out from between her legs and opened the two buttons in her lap. She gave me a bit of a worried look (that is on top of the look of terror that was still deeply set in her eyes), so I gave her my best smile and told her it would be OK and I would keep a lookout. Sena leant forward and grabbed the blanket from the floor and pulled it up onto her knees.