The Big Time Pt. 02

"Thanks." He opened up the lock box and handed Michael a stack of bills. "Is that enough? Wait, LA is an expensive town." Then he gave him another large stack of bills.

"Um, Dad, this is a lot of cash," said Michael holding two handfuls of hundred dollar bills.

"Ahhhh keep it. It's not like we're poor. Anything for my boy," said his father.

Michael quickly flipped through the bills and counted them. "Okay, dad. This is exactly $5200. You'll have every penny back when I come back home." Michael wrote the amount in his father's organizer. "I'll give you a call when I get to LA. Thanks, dad."

His father was already asleep again. Michael quietly left the den and went up to his bedroom. He began packed a large duffel bag and called a taxi service. Twenty minutes later he was on his way to the airport.

5:15 pm. Bethesda International Airport.

Michael walked up to the ticket counter for United Airlines, wallet in hand. He stashed $2000 in his bag, $1000 in his wallet and the rest of the cash in his shoes. The unpleasant looking attendant looked at him, bored.

"Hi. I need a ticket to LAX, the earliest flight that I can make right now," he said.

The man tapped the keyboard for a few moments. "There's one at 5:45, with a transfer in Chicago. The price is $833.13."

Michael flinched when he heard the price. Well, it wasn't getting any cheaper. "Fine. I'll take it."

"Credit?" asked the attendant.

Michael coughed. "Cash." The attendant looked at him suspiciously. Annoyed, Michael said, "Look, just do your job okay." He then counted out the bills and handed him the cash. The attendant gave him a ticket and 45 minutes later, Michael was on his way out of Maryland.

6:43 pm. O'Hare International Airport. Chicago, Illinois.

Michael was standing at the service desk in terminal A. "What do you mean? I have my ticket right here."

"I'm sorry sir. But this flight was overbooked and your seat has become unavailable."

"Unavailable!? I paid eight hundred fucking dollars for this ticket and my seat is unavailable!?" yelled Michael.

"Sir, please lower your voice. You're causing a disturbance," said the attendant.

"Just find me a seat that's flying out tonight," said Michael.

"I'm trying sir." The attendant tapped her keyboard for a few moments. "There's one at 9:00."

"AM or PM?" said Michael sarcastically.

"PM, sir. It IS first class however." She held the ticket out to Michael as he glared at her. "There will be no extra charge, sir."

He snatched the ticket from her. "Well, thank god for that," he said. "How many airlines have to go out of business before you figure this shit out?"

"Hopefully not this one," said the attendant. "Thank you for your patience, sir."

Michael left the counter and headed towards the pay phones. He tried calling Thomas, but no one answered. Tired and annoyed, Michael decided to just sit and wait at the gate area. He set his watch to wake him up in two hours and then he went to sleep.

8:45 pm.

Michael opened his eyes with a start as his watch started beeping. He glanced around and made sure he still had his bag. Then he got up and headed towards the entrance to the plane. There was no line as he gave the attendant his ticket and ID and entered the umbilical.

The stewardess greeted him warmly as she pointed him towards the first class section. As he passed through the curtain, she eyed his ratty duffle bag suspiciously. Michael put his bag in the overhead compartment and sat in his seat next to the aisle. He rubbed his eyes as he noticed that there was no one else in the first class cabin. Then he marveled at the acres of leg room he had and the big, comfortable leather chair he was sitting in. This was definitely the way to travel.

A few minutes later the stewardess closed the entrance to the plane and Michael moved over to the window seat. The stewardess came by and offered him a pre-flight drink and reading material. He waved off the magazine and asked for a whiskey. She carded him and then poured his drink. He sipped some down and then leaned his head back and closed his eyes, still groggy from his nap. The captain walked out of the cockpit and told the stewardess to open the door. He looked rather annoyed.

"Um, sir, isn't that against regulations?"

"Just do it, some lady is throwing a fit out there and apparently she has some sort of pull around here."

The stewardess opened the door. A woman with long, dark, curly hair entered the plane. She was wearing tight low rider jeans, a t-shirt and a jeans coat. She barely acknowledged the stewardess and headed straight into the first class cabin and stood in the aisle, overlooking Michael.

"Hey! You're in my seat," she said.

"There's a dozen empty seats up here, does it really matter?" said Michael, not looking at her.

"Yes. And if you don't get in your seat, I'm gonna drag your butt out and toss you back in coach where you sooo obviously belong."

Michael deftly moved back into his seat next to the aisle. "There, I'm back in my seat. Happy?" said Michael, finally looking up at the woman who single-handedly delayed the flight. She grinned.

"Yes. Very happy," said Eliza Dushku. She stepped past Michael, giving him a tantalizing view of her ass just before she sat down. "Whiskey?" she asked, pointing at his drink.

Michael coughed and cleared his throat. "Uh. Yep. Yeah. Whiskey. Yeah."

Eliza licked her lips. "Looks good. Where's that stewardess?" She turned and knelt on the seat, straining to look over the seats and towards the back of the plane. Her breasts just brushed up against the tip of Michael's nose. Michael fought his instincts and pressed his head back into the chair. Eliza snapped her fingers. "Hey, you! Come here." Both stewardesses looked her way and paused. Eliza pointed. "You! Get over here." The close stewardess walked over.

"What would you like ma'am?" asked the stewardess.

"What he's drinking. And did you just call me ma'am?"

"Oh, um, yes I did, ma'am. What would you like me to call you?"

"Oh, no, no, no. That's fine," said Eliza. She crossed her arms and stared at the stewardess, who was beginning to look a bit uncomfortable. Michael jingled the ice in his glass and, with a start the stewardess scurried away to get Eliza's drink. "She needs to learn how to take orders."

Michael sipped his drink. "Maybe if-"

"And so do you," interrupted Eliza. "Especially when a lady asks."

"It's funny you consider yourself one," said Michael. Eliza's mouth opened in surprise. "You would get a lot more mileage if you were just a little more polite." Having worked in the service industry for most of his middle school and high school years, Michael was intimately acquainted with the plight of the waiter, or, in this case, stewardess.

"Yeah, you're probably right. But manners have never been one of my strong points." She gulped down her whiskey. "You know who I am, right?"

"Yeah, I know who you are." Michael thought a moment. "Something tells me that you might have heard of me?"

"Oh really? You've been on TV or something?" said Eliza.

"No, but, uh, you know, um, you and Kirsten Dunst are friends right?" asked Michael nervously.

"Yeah." Eliza was just the tiniest bit disappointed that Michael was asking about Kirsten instead of her. "I'm not telling you where she lives or her number or anything."

"Oh, I know some of that stuff already," said Michael quickly. Eliza raised her eyebrows. "Um, but, you know I'm not a stalker or anything. It was just a very fortunate turn of events that ended with me having her number."

"Okay, whatever you say," said Eliza, pouring the rest of her little bottle of whiskey in her cup.

"Has she said anything about a guy, that uh, you know, she met here in Chicago?" asked Michael.

"No," said Eliza hesitantly.

"Oh, well, I just figured that she may have said something."

"Why would you think that?"

"Girls tend to talk a lot." Eliza looked at him. Michael quickly added, "To each other! To each other! You know, sharing stuff, feelings, whatever."

"Uh huh," said Eliza. "And who is this guy you say she met in Chicago?"

"This guy named Torbin," said Michael.

"Do you always refer to yourself in the third person, Mike?" asked Eliza.

"How'd you know my name?" asked Michael.

"Girls talk a lot, remember?" said Eliza as Michael shook his head at the stupidity of his question. "Of course Kiki talked about you. Well, you and the weekend you guys spent together."

"She talked about the weekend, huh?"

Eliza nodded. "She filled me in on everything."

"Everything?" asked Michael.

"Every. Last. Detail," said Eliza, licking her lips sexily. Michael stared straight ahead and poured his little bottle of whiskey directly into his mouth.

"So tell me, what are you doing here in Chicago?" he asked, still clutching his bottle.

"She said you were a little jittery when she first met you," said Eliza with a smile. "I'm here on business, actually. I met with the director of the movie Kirsten is making. He wants me on board as the antagonist."

"I don't remember that character in the script," said Michael.

"It's being penciled in to give the movie a little more spark. Scripts are revised and polished a lot even during the actual filming."

The stewardess came around to collect the empty bottles and cups as the voice of the captain squawked through the air. Eliza suddenly became silent and looked out the window.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to flight 401, Chicago to Los Angeles. The estimated time of arrival is 11:15 pm, west coast time. Our cruising altitude will be about 33000 feet. There will be a meal service, after which we will turn the lights off for nighttime travel. We are just about to taxi onto the runway. Thank you very much for choosing United Airlines, and we hope you enjoy your flight."

TVs mounted on the ceiling of the aircraft clicked on and went through the usual safety spiel for all the morons who don't know how to buckle a seat belt. The airplane halted for a moment as the final safety checks were conducted. Michael looked over at Eliza. She was gripping the left arm rest tightly while her right hand was in her lap, clenching and unclenching. He could see the color drain out of her face.

When the plane jolted forward as the pilot throttled up, Eliza jumped a little in her seat. Michael placed his right hand on her left and she quickly let go of the armrest and gripped his hand. Eliza calmed somewhat but was still taking deep breaths as the plane accelerated and left the ground. She didn't let go of Michael's hand until after the pilot flicked the seatbelt sign off.

"Thanks Mike," said Eliza.

"No problem." Michael examined his reddened, sore hand. "That's quite a grip you have."

Eliza let her hand fall on Michael's thigh, causing him to tense up. "I do have a much softer touch too, you know."

Michael quickly stood up out of his seat and bumped his head on the compartment above him. "ThatwhiskeyisworkingfasterthanIthoughtIthinkI'llgotothebathroomnow!" With an unshakeable feeling of deja vu, Michael left a slightly confused Eliza in his dust as he made his way towards the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Michael came back and sat back down in his seat. Eliza had a smirk on her face.

"What? I had to use the bathroom," said Michael.

"Yeah, right," said Eliza.

"Have you always had that problem during takeoffs?" asked Michael.

"Don't change the subject," snapped Eliza. Then in a sultrier tone of voice she said, "We're all alone up here. Don't tell me that the thought hasn't crossed your mind."

Michael was about to reply when the stewardess came around again and recited the meals for the flight. The daggers Eliza stared into the woman could have punched a hole in the bulkhead. The stewardess continued her duty, albeit much more uncomfortably. The two of them both started off with a smoked salmon appetizer. Eliza ate a salad for the main course and Michael had the roasted chicken. They made small talk as they ate, but Eliza held off on the innuendo.

"Never had a meal like this before on a plane," said Michael as the stewardess cleared away the utensils and containers.

"Sir, would you like anything for dessert?" asked the stewardess. Michael shook his head. "How about you, miss?"

"I'll have an ice cream sundae. And I thought we were clear about how you are supposed to address me?" said Eliza sternly.

"Yes ma'am. I'm sorry. I'll get you the sundae right away."

"Are you always this bossy?" asked Michael.

"Growing up with three older brothers tends to make a girl more aggressive, you know?" said Eliza. The stewardess came back with the ice cream and placed it in front of Eliza. Eliza nodded at her and the stewardess walked away and closed the curtain. Eliza's eyes lit up as she looked down at her sundae. Her first bite was a heaping spoonful of whipped cream, vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce. She closed her eyes and practically moaned her approval.

Michael was of course, watching her every movement. "But I see that a bowl of ice cream can turn a bossy bitch into a pussycat?"

She meowed at him as she spooned another helping of ice cream into her mouth. She locked her lips around the spoon and slowly pulled it out. Then she turned the spoon vertically and licked the underside sensuously, making sure she got every last bit of ice cream. Michael's eyes were locked on that lucky, lucky spoon.

"Maybe I do want dessert after all," said Michael distractedly. "Where is that damn stewardess?"

Eliza smiled, knowing she had her prey right were she wanted him. "No need to call on her, Mike. You can share mine." She carefully spooned around the inside of the ice cream bowl, making sure she got a generous amount of fudge and melted chocolate on the spoon. Eliza held the spoon up and Michael leaned in and took it into his mouth. He let the ice cream linger on his tongue briefly before swallowing it down. He reached for a napkin to wipe some excess chocolate sauce that was smeared on his lips. Eliza stopped him. "Don't waste it," she said.

Eliza put the spoon down and gathered the chocolate from Michael's lips with her index finger. She then slipped it inside his mouth and let him lick her finger clean. Her finger came out with a pop.

"Never had a dessert like that on a plane either," said Michael.

"I bet there's a lot of things you haven't done on a plane," said Eliza, twirling her hair with her fingers.

"You know, there's a little something left on your lips too," said Michael.

"Oh?" Eliza began licking around her lips when Michael leaned over and kissed her. His tongue probed her cool and sweet mouth. She eagerly reciprocated the kiss reaching around and grabbing Michael by the scruff of his neck and pulling him in closer and harder. Then she reached down to his pants with her other hand, deftly pulling his buckle loose. The button and zipper proved no match for Eliza's nimble fingers. Suddenly the curtain opened and the stewardess came back in. Michael held his open fly shut as Eliza quickly pulled her hands back and looked straight into the stewardess's eyes. "GET THE FU-"

"Hi!" said Michael quickly. "Could I have a pillow and a blanket? Some for her too." The woman nodded and retrieved the requested items from the compartment. She handed Michael's set to him and Eliza's to her. Greatly annoyed, Eliza snatched them from the stewardess's hands and looked out the window. "Thanks. Look, I'm sorry for how she's acting right now, she's not a very good flyer." The rattled stewardess nodded at him. "So, um, it'll probably be better if you leave her alone for awhile, maybe even the rest of the flight. I'm sure we won't need anything, but if we do, I'll come to you, okay?" Regaining her composure a little bit, the stewardess left the cabin with the half eaten dish of ice cream and shut the curtain.

"Well, aren't you the little diplomat?" said Eliza.

"It's not hard to be polite," said Michael. "Besides, I just got her off our back for the rest of the flight."

Eliza turned back to Michael. "Yes, you did. Now where was I?"

"I believe you were about to show me how soft a touch you really have?" said Michael.

Eliza tugged at his jeans until they fell around his ankles. She reached in his boxers and pulled his penis out. Squeezing and caressing it with her hands, she leaned over and shoved her tongue back in Michael's mouth. His penis quickly came to attention under Eliza's ministrations. Michael's left hand roved inside Eliza's coat, fondling her exquisite breasts. She removed her coat and tossed it across the aisle. Her shirt quickly followed revealing her bare and firm tits.

Michael easily picked her up out of her seat and sat her on his lap. He leaned her back against the seat in front of them and took her left nipple into his mouth. She purred as he licked her tits and squeezed her ass. "Bite them!" she said. Michael complied and gently nibbled on her nipples. "Harder!" He gave her hard nipples a couple of firmer bites, drawing pleasurable yelps from Eliza's lips.

When she tired of breast play, Eliza got off his lap, stood in the aisle and pulled her tight jeans to the floor and kicked them off. Michael was absolutely delighted that she wasn't wearing any panties. He tried to take her in his arms again, but she shoved him back by his face. She pointed her finger at him. "Don't move until I say so," said Eliza firmly. Somehow, Michael kept himself from leaping out of his seat and grabbing Eliza by the hair like a caveman.

Eliza moved in front of him and climbed onto the armrests, putting her feet on their respective armrests. She arched her back and presented Michael with a tantalizing, up close view of her moist pussy. Michael leaned forward, but Eliza locked her powerful legs around his head, halting his movement and keeping her pussy mere inches away from his lips. Her scent inflamed his senses and he desperately clawed at her legs, trying to pry them apart. Eliza just laughed at him.

"I bet you're dying for a taste, aren't you?" teased Eliza. No matter how hard he tried, Michael just couldn't any closer to her pussy. "Maybe I won't even let you eat me out, Kirsten said you weren't any good at it." Michael refused to give her the satisfaction of getting under his skin, and stopped trying to pry her vice-like grip on his skull. This took a little wind out of Eliza's sails. "Yeah, right. Like you don't-"

The lights suddenly flickered a little and Eliza loosened her grip in surprise. Seizing the moment, Michael pressed his face hard into her hot pussy. Having lost control of the situation, Eliza tried pushing Michael's head back, but his tongue was not going to be denied again. Her hands pushed less and less while her soft moans grew longer and longer. Soon, her hands were holding his head in place. He put his hands on her ass, supporting her hips and keeping her wet pussy in prime position. Michael attacked her clit with his tongue, giving it hard stabs and swipes. She eagerly gyrated her hips and started making cat-like noises.

"Shh," said Michael, briefly stopping to quiet Eliza down. She looked at Michael with lust crazed eyes and pulled his face back into her pussy.

"You will finish your fucking job," whispered Eliza desperately. There were worse things in life than being caught eating Eliza Dushku's pussy on an airplane, so Michael continued where he left off, giving her clit all the aggressive attention it was looking for. She was practically humping his face now, inching closer and closer to an orgasm with every stroke of Michael's tongue.

Cognizant of the effect biting her nipples had, Michael decided to apply this information to her vagina. After giving her clit one last suck, he gave it a tiny little nibble. Eliza gritted her teeth as her pleasure level shot through the roof and she creamed all over Michael's face. During the flood, Michael never stopped his attack and Eliza thought the exquisite pleasure would never end.