For Katie, who liked the pinpoint of light and adores wired bras.
* * * * *
The woman beside me was in her early sixties, well-dressed with a good figure, very slim and pious looking. She had spectacles and a sensuous mouth, but the area around her lips was heavily creased and somehow I had a feeling that she had once been a nun, perhaps later leaving the convent and getting married. I don't know, she just had that look . Maybe she resembled some particular nun in the convent school I had attended, but I couldn't remember. She was very reserved and read her book, "Some Tame Gazelle" by Barbara Pym for the first couple of hours of the journey. Later she lent me a magazine and I bought her a drink from the trolley. Then she bought us both a couple of miniatures. We spoke a little of our destination, Thailand, and chatted about previous holidays. She told me then, out of the blue and without any warning, that she had been in the Gambia last year and had paid for sex there.
My drink scalded my throat and I got a fit of coughing and she patted me gently on the back with her dainty wrist and the heel of her hand.
"It was very empowering," she said in her precise voice, turning her rather beautiful grey eyes on me, "as a woman, I mean, to be able to have my pick of such a bunch of beautiful young men."
She went on to tell me that she hoped to have a similar experience in Thailand.
"Although," she said, "I have heard from a friend that the men there, though beautiful, are a little on the small size."
I couldn't quite believe I was hearing this and she sipped daintily at her drink and picked daintily at the knee of her expensive silk shantung skirt.
"I have quite a small clitoris," she said, "and I like cock and plenty of it."
I gulped and spluttered into my drink as she went on to tell me how one of the men she had been with last year, a nineteen year old, had begged and pleaded and threatened to kill himself if she did not bring him back to England with her.
"I told him to go ahead," she said. "I enjoyed the sex, but the idea of living with a man, any man, appals me. I made it quite clear to him that I used him just for sex and that was what he was paid for."
She stared out reflectively at the darkness beyond the wing.
"Perhaps there are stupid women who fall for their lovers."
She told me that she had had a dull marriage, had written an erotic book which made a lot of money when in her forties and, when her husband died, had found herself unexpectedly rich. She said that sex tourism was one of the greatest things that had happened to women in the past twenty years. The stewardesses were bringing around rugs and lights were being turned off and even the dull roar of the engines seemed to have quietened for the night.
When I awoke later she was not in her seat and when she still hadn't come back twenty minutes later I looked back along the aisle. Partly covered by a rug, three rows away, a woman was sitting astride a man's lap and quite obviously having intercourse with him. A lithe, elegant leg was stretched into the aisle and I could just make out a stocking top and see the occasional pinpoint of light reflecting from a steel garter-button as it moved rhythmically in the light from an overhead reading lamp.
Five minutes later she was back in her seat. She was glowing and the smell of sex off her was overpowering, her own musky odour as well as the other powerful scent emanating from her plundered thighs and her panties which must have been sticky with semen. She looked at me and smiled, as though she was reading my mind. I know she must have noticed something when she was telling me about her beautiful young men.
"He was only twenty five," she said. "If you see a young man in the morning who is trying to avoid my eye you will have identified my conqueror,"
She kept throwing me for loops, this woman. Then she said.
"The Thai girls are the sweetest in the world."
So she knew. I stared at her open-mouthed. Then this extraordinary woman surprised me even further than I could have ever expected. She got out of her seat, took me by the hand and led me down the long aisle past the sleeping passengers to the tiny loo at the rear of the plane. She told me to undress and turned to fill the tiny basin with hot water. Then she reached under her skirt and pulled down a minuscule pair of black satin panties and put them to soak in the basin. She undressed quickly, revealing a slim unlined body the colour of fine bone china. I hesitated, but it seemed unmannerly to see her almost nude before me while I was still clothed and I began to unbutton my dress.
"I've had my meal and now I feel like dessert," she said with a smile.
Her breasts were tiny in a wired lace bra and her stockings, which she left on, were clipped to narrow-strapped garters. She rinsed out her panties, wringing the water out of them, then used them to wipe between her legs. Then she sat on the closed toilet lid and invited me to straddle her lap. I rested my chin on her shoulder and felt my breath lifting the tiny greying tendrils of hair on the back of her neck. My breasts rested companionably on hers and she had one arm around my waist. With her free hand she ran her fingernail up and down my clitoris, judging the speed and the degree of moisture so cunningly that I found my lips begin to vibrate like a 'cello string and my arousal was almost instant. I leaned back in an agony of desire, my body arched backwards with the top of my head pressing low down against the partition of the tiny loo while she vibrated me to orgasm with just that simple movement of her finger and fingernail. I came with a thin wail that was drowned in the sound of the plane's engines.
"I'm sorry I don't give head," she said when I slipped off her lap to my knees and gratefully buried my head between her thighs. I had never tasted male semen before and the idea excited me as I lapped the briny nectar from her cunt lips, in ecstasy at the idea that this woman had seduced both a male and a female in the space of less than an hour. I was terrified I would be unable to satisfy her again so soon after her other lover, yet was so aroused myself still that I felt that this was impossible to believe. She lifted her elegant legs over my shoulders and I could feel the sheen of the nylons over her calves rest against my bare back as I knelt in her service on the stained tiles. I felt her garter buttons pressing against my shoulders and even the raised seam on the heels of her stockings which I sensed against the skin of my back, my flesh aching with desire for her, as though the memory of them would remain there for ever.. Then my mistress rewarded me a hundred times over with series of sharp intakes of breath, followed by a low, keening moan that went on and on as she flexed her inner thighs against my ears and lovingly squeezed my head between her elegant legs.
We dressed and returned to our seats. We shared a blanket and I slept with my head on her shoulder, she with her hand resting in my panties and gently masturbating me whenever she drifted up from sleep.