Night Flight & Romance

Charles was not looking forward to yet another European trip on his own. He was a seasoned enough traveler that he sometimes groused that he might as well be doing business in Cleveland or St. Louis for all the enjoyment he got when he was traveling this way. The languages might be different, but businessmen and business meetings have a tendency to blur together after awhile, even when doing deals that interested him. After all, as wonderful as Paris and London and Geneva can be with the right companion, business travel alone had become somewhat dispiriting. How much enjoyment was there to be had in solo dining, sightseeing and theatre, not to mention the too-quiet hotel room and much too large expanse of the King-sized beds? Charles was too fastidious and personally reticent to resort to paid companionship or tawdry pick-ups on the road or at home. Divorced and unattached, he resigned himself to taking some sort of pleasure in doing tidy, tight deals, efficiently. His batting average of profitable deals was exceptional, and he was recognized, both within his firm, and within the business community, as a man to be reckoned with. Unlike the men who were known to be all talk, or all hat and no cattle, Charles was a man of few words, incisive observation, and exceptional execution. Respected by everyone, envied by many, particularly those less talented, Charles had carved out a niche of distinction. Only lately had its solitariness begun to chafe at him.

This trip, as usual, Charles was traveling Business Class on a foreign-flagged carrier, overnight. He enjoyed observing the other passengers, entertaining himself by playing a little game with himself, imagining who they were and what they did in "real life".

As soon as the plane loaded passengers, he noticed her. The flight was barely 1/3 full, but she would have stood out in a crowd in any case. It was unusual to see a woman traveling alone in Business Class, not as a spouse or part of the teams of investment bankers and venture capital people that most often made up these passenger lists. She was tall, well-dressed, and adjectives like handsome and striking came to his mind rather than conventionally pretty. It was impossible to tell if she was American or European. Charles had yet to hear her speak, and her carriage and demeanor seemed indicative of a Swedish or Nordic background. Cheekbones like hers would look as good at 75 as they did at, oh, 35, he guessed.

Charles also noticed, to his chagrin, that this woman was being treated exceptionally well by the flight crew. Unobtrusively, but clearly, she warranted special treatment. She had been greeted, and given the sort of attentive reception beyond that given to First Class passengers. In turn, she had greeted the crew, so he surmised she must be a regular, and a person well-liked.

He smiled to himself, as he noticed her long legs and shiny dark hair, and wondered what her story was.

After the plane took off, and not long into the flight, Charles noticed that she had walked up to the front and was visiting with the senior stewardess. He decided to kill some time and satisfy his curiosity and rose to join them, with the ostensible excuse of getting a drink and stretching his long legs.

Charles addressed the senior stewardess, and carefully avoided making his interest in the other woman obvious. He stood and watched and listened, collected his drink and unobtrusively joined in the conversation. He introduced himself, and was introduced to, Melissa. She was, he now learned, an American, a Treasury specialist, traveling to call on some of her trading counterparts in London, with some holiday time tacked on. She traveled this route often, and had, in fact, become friendly with the crew. She explained that as a businesswoman traveling alone she had learned that it was prudent, as well as enjoyable, to make a habit of befriending a few key people. Treating the service staff, flight crews, concierges at the finer hotels, and even a couple of bartenders at exclusive locales well, insured that she was treated well, sometimes protected from unwanted attentions, and often the recipient of surprising benefits. Because her friendship was genuine, she often found herself the lucky recipient of last-minute unclaimed theatre tickets to West End shows, or invitations to private parties in far off cities. She found companionship and enjoyment with others far preferable to Room Service alone on a tray in her Suite. She often got to enjoy her travels much more for these companions, finding out where the good off-the-beaten track restaurants and shopping treasures were, the secluded beaches, the non-touristy places that made her trips special.

With the cabin lights dimmed for the movie, and the flight buttoned up for the night, Charles has resigned himself to a boring transatlantic crossing. He was delighted to find a congenial conversationalist, one with a charming laugh and a sparkle in her eyes that had started a small flame of desire to come to life. The senior stewardess, no dummy, observed her friend Melissa, and decided that she might do a little matchmaking on this flight. She and Melissa had been friends for a couple of years now, and had shared tales of their respective romantic woes, so Susan was confident that a little flirtation was just what the doctor ordered for our girl. She looked at her watch and said, "I have to go up to the flight deck to brief the Captain. Let me treat you two to a drink. The upstairs lounge in unoccupied, if you want to go up and make yourselves comfortable, I'll join you in a bit."

Charles was inwardly pleased at this turn of events, as he had been wondering how to get Melissa alone and learn more about this unusual woman. He deftly took a small tray, two glasses, ice and brandy, and smiled at Melissa. "Let's go upstairs. I know it is much more comfortable than these seats, and we can pass the time much more enjoyably together." Melissa smiled in return, and led him up the circular staircase to the First Class Lounge. Charles was happy to enjoy the view of Melissa's shapely ass and legs as she climbed the staircase ahead of him. "Lady's First", he grinned.

Built like a classy bar on board an ocean liner, the lounge was all dark wood, a baby grand piano to the side, and quartets of extra large leather Captain's chairs arranged in tasteful seclusion. A backgammon board was set up at one; a chess set at another. Grown up music was playing, a selection of soft jazz, blues, and occasional dance tunes. Altogether a delightful ambiance for getting to know someone who had stirred a longing for more, a connection, tentative now, but…. Who knows, Charles mused? He admitted to himself that erotic fantasies of taking her on one of the leather banquettes had leapt into his mind, and scheming to at least enjoy a slow dance with Melissa was part of his thinking now.

They sat, and with an ease that belied the newness of their acquaintance, they talked, and laughed, and sipped brandy from their hand-warmed snifters. Melissa enjoyed watching Charles, his strong face and serious eyes, broad shoulders and strong hands. Her own thoughts imagined how those

hands would span her waist, or cup her round breasts. Whew!, she thought to herself. It has been WAY too long since I have enjoyed the company of a handsome, eligible man! His dark coloring appealed to her, as did his strong mouth and long legs.

Strangely, the hours passed quickly. The attraction Charles felt was growing, and he couldn't help feeling it was mutual. There was no overt talking of romance or sex or seduction, but at some level of communication, Man and Woman were very aware of each other. He watched the curve of her full lips as she talked and laughed, and noted the fullness of her breasts. This was no Social x-ray with breasts and hips like a pre-adolescent boy, this was a WOMAN, with tits and ass and the whole box of toys, Charles laughed to himself. What I would give to be the boy with that toybox!

He noticed that she smelled fabulous, wearing an unusual scent that was definite, yet not cloying. He complimented her on it, and she told him it was something called Bois des Iles, by Chanel. It was only available at the flagship store in Paris, was one of the older, original perfumes, and had been a gift from a grateful client.

Charles, for once in his life, was uncertain how to proceed. He was aware that all too soon this flight would be over. He knew, without question, that he wanted to see her again, and soon. As much as he was tingling with base animal hormones, he had a feeling that whatever was cooking between them had the potential to be profoundly more significant than a simple tumble into bed. This was not a woman to be trifled with, and she turned him on in ways he wanted to explore more. Physically, she was just right for his 6 ft 2 in. frame. No wisp of a girl, she had curves and hollows that would give a man hours of healthy pleasure. She made him laugh, and they had a surprising congruity of thought, socially and politically, intellectually curious, nothing pedestrian about this girl. He knew he was unlikely to be bored, in or out of bed, he laughed to himself.

Melissa, for her part, was basking in the warmth of his attention, his quiet but clear attraction, and the awakening of a sizzle that had for far too long lain dormant in her body and mind. She too was hesitant as to how to proceed. This was a serious man, and she was not one for casual flings or meaningless sex just to scratch an itch. But she sure was feeling the urge to scratch, she observed to herself, wryly.

This man was temptation, just within her reach. No schedule set in stone, Melissa had a few tentative meetings to firm up upon arrival, and an invitation to visit a friend's beach house in the Balearacs over the weekend. She had no one to answer to but herself, and found the possibilities and the desires spinning in her mind.

Too soon, the lights came up, and the dull chores of landing and collecting luggage and Customs and Immigration had to be dealt with.

She decided that the best thing to do was to just give him her business card, and said, "Charles, please look me up when you get back to the States. I have enjoyed tonight and would enjoy seeing you again."

In the ensuing hubbub of deplaning, Charles lost sight of Melissa. She had rushed off, not wanting there to be any awkwardness now that the strangely intimate interlude of their overnight flight was over.

Charles resolved, as he tramped along the jetway, that he would call Melissa as soon as he returned. He was a little disappointed in himself that he had not, somehow, seized an opportunity tonight that seemed so special, laden with possibility and desire. He felt an ache that was more than just unsatisfied lust in his groin.

As he trudged along, lugging his briefcase and overnighter, Charles was surprised to hear the clacking of high heels on the tiles and a woman, calling his name. He turned. It was Susan, the senior stewardess.

"Charles, I'm so glad I caught you. I have never done this before, but I just have a feeling about you two. My friend Melissa and I have a date to meet for dinner tonight. She is staying at Brown's Hotel, Room 351. I think you should surprise her instead. She is expecting me at 8 PM".

Miracle! Charles thanked Susan, and moved on with a new spring in his step and a thrill at how this unexpected dinner might end up. The rest of the day passed interminably slowly, as he sorted himself out at the firm's Corporate Apartment, made some phone calls, arranged his schedule for the next couple of days and counted the minutes.

At the appointed hour, Charles arrived at Brown's, a lovely, small old hotel. He knocked on the door, and was surprised that it popped open, having been set just on the latch. In he walked, to a small, charmingly appointed Suite. He heard water running, and a blow-dryer, and Melissa calling out, "Come on in Susan, I'm running late, I fell asleep and am just out of the shower. Please make us both a drink and I'll be out in a jiffy."

Charles could see the door to the bathroom was ½ way open, steam wafting out into the room, and with it

the smell of a clean, floral scent. He could see Melissa moving back and forth, fluffing her long hair, with a large, luxurious towel wrapped around her body, toga-style.

"God, Susan, why did you leave me alone all night with that man? What a hunk! That is as close as I have ever come to jumping on a stranger. Not exactly like me to want to join the Mile High Club!". Melissa laughed, and came bouncing out of the bathroom, and face to face with Charles.

"Oh my God!". She blushed and stammered.

Charles handed her one of the two drinks he had made, smiled into her eyes, and said. "I wasn't willing to wait to see you again. I didn't want last night to end."

Then he reached for her, pulled her close, and kissed Melissa, gently, on the lips.

Her body curved to meet his, her free hand naturally seemed to find its way around his neck, and on tiptoe, she leaned into his kiss, tentatively at first, and then with growing heat.

She pulled away for a moment. "This feels like a dream", she said. They both put down their drinks.

"Don't. Don't say anything", said Charles. "This feels right". "Just tell me now if I am wrong, if you want me to go".

"No, Charles. I feel it too. I want you, here, now.", Melissa whispered, and returned to his embrace.

He claimed her with his kiss this time, letting her know that this was just the beginning. He was no longer content to be patient. He grasped her towel and flung it across the room, baring her lush body. She pulled him with her, towards the luxurious four-poster bed.

"Charles, Charles, Charles", she chanted. Her moans and kisses inflaming him. His hands caressing all of her, her hair, her breasts, her lovely round ass.

The room was warm, aided by a small English fireplace fire, and by the rising temperatures as their arousal fed and grew. She stood on tiptoe, seeking his mouth, pressing her body into his questing hands.

Melissa's nipples hardened and rose with his attentions, his licking and kissing and biting. His hand sought her core, and he was flattered and further aroused to find her wet, and ready. He cupped her pussy and touched her, using his middle finger to open her flower.

"Oh my God," Melissa cried out, as she came, simply from the touch of his fingers. She almost fell, and would have, had he not been bearing most of her weight in his arms.

He tore at his own clothes now, not wanting to stop kissing her, licking her, pressing her body with his. Damn, he wrenched off his necktie and shirt, taking just a moment to pull off his soft woolen slacks and cotton boxers, tossing all his clothes off to the side as he came after her now, like an animal, a predator after a particularly tasty morsel. "I have wanted you since the first moment I saw you on the plane,", he growled.

They both fell, together, onto the bed. Charles rose above her, devouring the sight of her, naked, glorious, aroused. This rosy goddess, glowing, welcoming him, needing him, wanting and desiring him.

"Please, Charles, please. Come to me", she whimpered. Charles smiled. " Yes, my dear, I will come to you. But first, let me soothe you." With that, Charles lifted her body, and began a tender assault with his mouth. Licking, sucking, tonguing. Charles was as thorough and adept a lover as he was in everything he did. Melissa cried out, as he drove her to climax after climax. With his mouth and fingers he played her body, like an instrument he was tuning, strumming, preparing for the ultimate performance. She had never in her life been treated to such attention, such time, no rushing, just a relentless assault on her pussy and clit and ass. Charles used his mouth, his fingers, he even used his cock like a toy to stroke her lips, her clit, her openings.... But he withheld the completion and connection she was becoming increasingly desperate for. Over and over and over, he drove Melissa beyond what she had ever experienced, making her cum and cum and cum in waves of desire and passion.

Melissa was drenched now, her body had been moist from the shower, and now was bathed with her own sweet cum, a light sheen of sweat on her torso from the exertions of this glorious coming. She

looked at Charles, loving that this man was taking her to heights she had never even dreamed of. She loved his body, his hands and mouth. The cock that she could touch and hold and stroke but that he had not yet allowed her to fully have.

"MMMMMMM. You know I want it", she said, smiling into his eyes. "And you shall have it, my dear". Charles rose above her again, stroking his thick penis across her magnificent breasts.

"Yes, I shall", Melissa said, as she pressed him down on his back, and this time rose over him, mirroring his previous loving – now licking, kissing, sucking, nibbling his lovely cock. Pressing her body against him, using her breasts and her tongue to tease, to caress, to delight in his prick.

"I need you, Charles", she breathed, "and I have wanted you since the first moment I saw you on the plane". As she finally rose over him and impaled herself on his striving member, she moaned and arched. Now she pleasured him, fucking him, leaning down to press her nipples into his mouth, licking and biting his neck, glorying in riding him. And on and on they fucked, and played, and came. Over and over, until finally, the crescendo.

Melissa, on her knees, taking him all in, being fucked, gloriously, thoroughly, completely, fucked. Charles, grinding into her from behind, holding her hair like a rope, grunting, pounding, balls slapping against her ass, telling her how much he loved fucking her cunt, how great his cock felt in her wet pussy, loving that in this too she matched him, moaning her heat, begging him to fuck her, give her his thick manhood,fucking, and fucking, and finally, both cumming, crying out, spent.

It was the best dinner date Melissa ever had, and one she planned to repeat, many, many times. She smiled as she fell asleep, in her lover's arms. "Charles", she sighed. "Oh, yes, Charles."