Flight Companion

But then the plane sat and didn't move, just like in the morning. Lori and me waited squashed together. Finally the captain came back on and apologized. Delay after all. The storm was still going strong. I felt powerless again. Lori and I said little to each other. We just sat there, making occasional bad jokes about the delay.

Bored and looking for distraction from the tension, I let my mind wander. I had been well-behaved all morning after my one unplanned glimpse, but now I was thinking about it again. It had been nice to see a little bit of Lori's body. Now in my frustrated boredom, I began to wonder what Lori looked like with all her clothes off.

I felt ashamed, but it was the one thing that seemed to take my mind off this latest stress. I had seen enough of her to make some guesses. She had a slim body, with small but probably firm breasts, and a nicely shaped ass in her jeans. I wondered what kind of underwear she had. I felt bad for thinking such things. But I didn't want to stop either. There she was, right beside me, our bodies touching. I couldn'tnot think about her.

I closed my eyes and started to concentrate systematically on what Lori - right beside me - looked like naked. First I thought about those small, pert tits. I pictured the glowing headlights of her nipples and areolae - nice and natural. Then I shifted down, thinking of her naked skin flowing down to her pussy. Surely she was a natural bush...not a woman who shaved bare. I spent a while just thinking about Lori's pussy. Then about what she looked like from behind. That ass but also just her smooth natural hips...everything about her. I felt pathetic. But also less stressed. I opened my eyes again. I actually did feel a little better. But more pathetic than ever about my insecurities and obsessions.

Still nothing happened. We must have sat for at least a half-hour. It felt much longer and the naked thoughts were no longer helping. I was getting agitated. Lori began talking again, out of nervousness I think, about random things - the weather, her boots, anything. I didn't say much in reply. The conversation was stilted, wandering, and aimless. But then, suddenly, she reached over and touched my hand.

"This is a crazy day," she said. "But I hope you don't mind me saying that I'm glad to have someone to get me through it."

I smiled back. "Me too." I realized she meant what she said. But it was surely just an innocent thought and almost unconscious touch for her. While I was thinking about her pussy.

It just seemed so easy to do so. I liked Lori a lot. I thought she was an interesting, neat person. But she was also a woman and I am deeply, totally fascinated by women. With or without their clothes on. All my thoughts were bundled together. At least I wasn't thinking about Road Warriors anymore.

More time passed. And finally the announcement: Flight delayed indefinitely. Back into the terminal.

We walked up the gateway, defeated.

We were both very disappointed. I tried not to show it but Lori almost seemed in tears. "Isn't this ever going to end?" Again, I had no answer. I felt useless again.

The flight was delayed, not cancelled. So there was still a chance. We were supposed to stay by the gate. But I turned to Lori. "Want to stay or get away from all this?"

Her voice was so small and quiet it was almost a whisper. "Get away."

If I was a Road Warrior, I could have taken her to a decent lounge with soft chairs and hot food where someone would let us know when our flight was leaving. Instead, we found a two-person bench in the terminal, as far away as we could get while still allowing us to keep an eye on the gate. I phoned and updated my clients. Then I texted my wife rather than calling.

After the horrid cramping of the plane, the open space and relative privacy of the bench revived us a bit. I didn't sit too close to Lori, figuring she wanted some room after being trapped in a plane again. But she was restless and shifting around, and soon we were slightly touching again. I don't know if she even noticed. But I did.

Her confidence returned again. We were talking very easily now, after spending the day together and our shared ordeals. We had talked a little about our families before. Now we shared more. We talked about our spouses and kids - nothing too deep, but more than we would say if we hadn't already spent several hours together.

I learned more about her husband. He sounded like a decent, grounded guy, with manly hobbies like woodworking and obsessive lawn care. She laughed a little and said their lawn was the best on their block. I don't really care too much about stuff like that. It sounded like he was happy and content in his job and life; not pathetically obsessed with Road Warriors like me.

I confessed I didn't have a home workshop. She smiled, in a sort of funny way I hadn't seen before. "Do you think you should?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I guess it just seems to be something most guys like me have and should enjoy. Getting their minds off work and stuff."

She was still making that funny smile. "But you like your work, don't you?" she asked. "You're not a clock-watcher waiting for five o'clock to roll around every day. You like to get stuff done - to achieve."

"Yes," I agreed.

She continued. "But you could never be a Road Warrior. You're too normal. You're not a total workaholic who's never home and thinks about nothing but work."

I said I didn't think so.

"Then I think it's all good," said Lori. "I think it's good to be a little bit ambitious. Life shouldn't always be exactly the same every day. Like it is for some people." She was quiet after that. We were looking straight ahead again - away from each other

It felt so good talking to Lori. Despite her surface anxieties, she seemed very happy and content with life. She was so grounded and normal, while I was struggling to keep up an appearance of calm, hiding the bundle of nerves and anxieties inside. But she was slowly breaking through that, letting the anxiety drain out.

Knowing more about her spouse, I talked a bit about my own wife. I didn't mention things like the flak I got for neglecting the lawn, so that she complained it was embarrassing for her to talk to the neighbors. Lori just listened and said little. Though she mentioned again how much time her husband spent on their lawn, week after week.

The afternoon was wearing on. I checked in at the gate occasionally, but nothing changed. I began to worry we would be here for the night. I pictured myself spending a night in an airport terminal with Lori. As much as I liked being with her, that would not be fun for either of us.

I knew there was a hotel right beside us - practically inside the terminal. On one of my walks to the gate away from Lori, I looked up the number on my phone and called to inquire about a room...or rather two rooms. Yes, they had a few, at a scarily high rate. I could make a reservation, but it would be nonrefundable after six o'clock. It was now close to five. I decided not to risk the cost, even though my company would probably cover it even if I didn't need it. I knew Lori didn't have that option. And our plane was probably still going to leave eventually. The clerk asked if I was a member of their Exclusive World Priority Club, since it allowed free cancellation up to midnight. No, I was not. I was not a Road Warrior.

I went back to Lori but didn't mention the call. A little while later she decided to walk around a bit herself, while I stayed with our things. Watching her step away, I had my first real look at her ass. It was...just an ordinary woman's butt, in nondescript jeans. I felt pathetic but kept watching. I almost hoped she would suddenly look back over her shoulder, catching me staring at her and her ass. Thank goodness she didn't.

*****

The clock hit six. Lunch was a long time ago and we were hungry again. The latest word from the gate was the same...be patient. I told the agent this was getting ridiculous, especially since we were not supposed to leave the gate area. She unexpectedly agreed with me and said they would make a terminal-wide announcement when it was time. I was a little skeptical but took her word.

I went back to Lori and asked if she wanted to get some dinner. She agreed. "Not sushi, though. I'm just a beginner." We both laughed.

The terminal had a roadhouse-style restaurant. It was busy with all the delayed flights but we managed to get a booth. I ordered a steak. Lori asked for a club sandwich. I also ordered a beer on draft. Knowing a bit about our religious backgrounds, I wasn't sure if Lori drank, and so I asked her. She said she didn't drink very much but asked if she could have a little of mine.

The beer arrived in a pint glass and I let her sip it first. She smiled as I watched her. I then took a long gulp myself. After the long pointless day, it was great to sit down, have a drink, and look forward to good food. Not to mention sharing it with an attractive and interesting woman.

The waitress was very friendly, and it seemed especially to me. It was impossible not to notice she was also very well-endowed, with a tight, low-cut top that really emphasized her jiggling breasts and otherwise slim body. I honestly tried not to look; not just because I was with Lori, but because I was twice the waitress's age. But when she brought the entrees, she bent down so far right in front of me that it was impossible not to look right down her deep cleavage and - okay - admire her big beautiful tits. It was far more what I had seen earlier in the day with Lori's top, and I was frankly embarrassed by the waitress's display. As soon as she left, Lori started giggling.

I figured it was best to be upfront. "That was pretty obvious," I said.

"It was," said Lori. "She knows how to get big tips." She borrowed my beer again for another sip. Then she picked up her sandwich and continued. "The question is...will it work?"

I smiled sheepishly. "It's tempting," I said. Then I decided to be straightforward. "It's almost like a game - the girl flirts and you reward her, and it all feels fun. But it's not really a healthy game. Especially for her."

Lori looked at me, "So what do you do?"

I looked straight at her and answered truthfully and very directly, "I try to just play it straight and not make her feel she needs to make a living showing her breasts." I have to admit I liked sayingbreasts while looking at Lori.

Lori said nothing but took my beer again. Her sips were becoming more constant but I sure didn't mind. "Tell you what," she said. "When she brings the check, I'll take it and say I'm paying. That will throw her off!"

I was familiar with her sense of humor by now. "That wouldn't be playing it straight either," I said. Lori agreed. It would be separate checks, though I desperately wanted to pay for Lori.

After a while I excused myself to check back at the gate. The crowd of passengers from the afternoon had dissipated. I wondered how many had been smarter that me and found other ways out. Really soon, the staff promised. It was just a case of coordinating the flight crew, plane, gate, takeoff slot, and weather all together. Definitely soon, though. They were sure.

I returned to the restaurant and encountered the jiggling big-breasted waitress. She smiled. "Your wife took care of the bill, so you're all set. Thanks for coming!" She seemed even friendlier. Perhaps it wasn't an act just to get tips.

I rejoined Lori, who was still eating, and scolded her for paying the bill. She replied, "I just wanted to make sure we could leave anytime."

I agreed and mentioned how the waitress seemed just as friendly as before. Then I added how she had said "my wife" had paid the bill. Lori unexpectedly blushed, but quickly recovered.

"It's worse," she said with a snort. "She told me that we were a really cute couple that reminded her of her parents." I joined her in laughing.

Lori was as skeptical as me when I told her about the promises at the gate. "I don't want to be trapped here all night!" she said. I agreed, and wondered if I should mention the hotel. I decided not to, partly because I didn't know what to say or do. We just had to trust the airline.

My beer was gone. Lori had "sipped" at least a third of it. Since we had nowhere to go, I asked her if she wanted to share another. She looked a little sheepish and said yes, so I signaled our friendly waitress. I thought about asking for a second glass but didn't. I liked sharing one glass with Lori, and she didn't say anything. The waitress brought the beer and I paid on the spot. After she left, I gave the beer to Lori first and said, "She's right, you know."

"That we're a cute couple?" Lori kept a straight face.

I blanched. "No, that we probably look like her parents." Lori laughed again and made her tight-lipped smile.

We didn't say anything for a while after that. I pictured what she and I looked like together in the booth.

Finally Lori broke the silence. "I feel bad that we judged her. Saying that she was just flaunting herself for a tip."

I agreed. "Though it is common...and.." I paused, "...kind of works a lot of the time."

Lori looked at me with her tight, wry smile. "The male mindset. All about visual stimulation."

"Not all," I gently protested. "But a lot more than women, I'll admit."

She agreed, "Women do concentrate more on other things."

"Like what?" I asked. I didn't care about the answer. I very much liked talking to Lori. I just couldn't decide if I wanted it to stop. We kept passing the beer back and forth, taking long sips that delayed our replies.

"You're a smart guy," she said. "You must know. Personality. Strong but caring. Not a jerk. A nice guy but not weak. All that stuff." She but took another sip and looked at me. "A little ambition is good too, as long as it's not too aggressive." She was quiet for a second and then added, "Wanting a little more is good." Then she turned the question back on me. "So it's not all visual with guys?"

"You're a smart woman yourself. You know it's not all that."

"True. What would be one other thing?"

I looked back at Lori. "A woman with inner confidence is always attractive," I said. "Even if she doesn't always show it on the outside. It makes a man feel more confident about himself."

Lori didn't say anything but finished off the beer. "Speaking of confidence, let's go see if the airline can give us any." We left in silence. We didn't see the waitress.

*****

It was well after eight. The gate agents had changed and I pressed one for news. Nothing. Now I was getting really worried. I told Lori about my call to the hotel. She asked. "Wouldn't the airline pay for a hotel if we're delayed?" I said I was pretty sure they wouldn't because it was just "weather." But I asked the agent. No, she said rather briskly. I pushed a little. She almost huffed back that the airline couldn't possibly do so every time there was bad weather.

I didn't ask if Road Warriors were treated differently. What would be the point?

We retreated and Lori and I discussed what to do. I called the hotel in the terminal again; yes, they still had a couple of rooms but they remained at the steep price and were non-refundable. I searched travel sites and found other nearby hotels but they weren't much cheaper. Lori agreed we were stuck.

We found our bench again and Lori slumped down. "I'm so tired," she groaned. I sat beside her. She lay her head on my shoulder and then looked up at me. "This okay?" she asked.

"No problem," I said, which was true. More than true. Her head was warm and heavy on me and felt good. But soon I almost forgot she was there, as our conversation wandered. We discussed the artwork in the terminal. Whether airlines used to cover weather delays. It was aimless. We were both so tired and wrung out by now that neither of us had much to say. We certainly weren't up to the smart banter from dinner anymore. We fell into long periods of silence. Lori shifted occasionally but kept resting on my shoulder.

It was nearly ten o'clock when I saw the huffy agent from earlier walking over to us. "I'm sorry," she said. "We just can't do it. The flight is cancelled. You'll have to wait and fly out tomorrow." Lori was so groggy I wasn't sure she understood. But I did and started to get angry.

The agent apologized again though, and seemed to mean it. I realized there was no use venting; she was just the messenger. So I thanked her. She told us we could either stay in the terminal all night, or be back as early as possible next morning.

I was not going to let Lori sleep on a bench in the terminal. I became as frantic as when we got off the first plane that morning and grabbed my phone. I called the airport hotel. They were down to only one room left. Not enough - we needed two. I checked the travel site. The nearest availability was about half a mile down the road and we needed a taxi to get there. I started to type in details to reserve two rooms but it was annoying to do it all on the phone. I decided to call directly, but we also had to figure our way out of the secure area where we had been all day. At least we had all our stuff in our carry-ons.

We found the exit and made our way outside the terminal. It was snowing heavily with a fierce wind full of exhaust fumes. We looked for the taxi stand. It was easy to find, since there was a crowd of tired people and almost no taxis. The snow and wind were blowing in on everyone. It was miserable. Occasionally a single taxi pulled up, took one person and departed. I realized this would take forever.

I managed to connect with the hotel down the road and asked to reserve two rooms. Sorry, they said - none left. I said I had seen two on the website. They told me the data was probably a couple of hours old. So much for technology. I checked the site again, then another. I wasn't very familiar with searching for instant hotel rooms that might or might not actually exist - or ride-sharing sites either. I was getting stressed, with the cold wind biting into us the whole time. Lori was very quiet, just watching me.

I swear that all I wanted to do was get us out of the cold when I turned to Lori and reminded her of the single room in the airport hotel. She nodded and I called back. Yes, it was a recent Road Warrior cancellation and still there. The clerk remembered me from my earlier calls and said he didn't need a credit card to secure it; just come in. We left the line of misery and in a few minutes entered the warm lobby.

*****

The clerk greeted us and already had keycards ready. I blanched at the rate but knew my company would cover it. And I was so weary I didn't sweat any details at this point, though one was certainly on my mind. But I was too embarrassed to ask the clerk what kind of bed or beds were in the room.

Lori opened the door first and we entered. It was a single queen bed, as I had anticipated - but I was ready. "I'll arrange some pillows and blankets on the floor and sleep there," I said. Lori thanked me.

We were chilled and exhausted. I yanked out a chair cushion, took some bed pillows and a duvet blanket from the closet, and made a rough bed. I went into the bathroom and stayed there while Lori undressed and got into the bed. Then I undressed in the dark by the doorway, trying to preserve my suit that I had been wearing all day. Knowing we had to return early, I set the alarm on my phone for five o'clock in the morning, and climbed into my makeshift bed in T-shirt and boxers. I lay there, grateful to be still, and knowing that Lori was now safe and warm in a soft bed and presumably already asleep. It made me feel good inside. Knowing that I had had a part in all that.

But I couldn't fall asleep myself.