The Mile High Joy Luck Club

As I stood in line at the gate for my flight to San Diego, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over me. I was on my way to an academic conference at USD, the first one since my divorce. I was still reeling from the emotional pain of losing Serena, my wife of 15 years, to another man. The kids, Justin and Emily, were staying with their aunt for the weekend, and I couldn't help but feel guilty for leaving them behind. As I waited in line, I tried to distract myself by thinking about the papers I would be presenting at the conference, but my mind kept wandering back to my failed marriage.

I finally boarded the plane, relieved to be on my way. I settled into my seat, pulled out my laptop, and tried to focus on work. That's when a late-arriving passenger, a young Asian woman, bumped into my seat as she tried to squeeze past me.

"Sorry," she said, blushing as she apologized. I noticed her long, dark hair and the delicate jade pendant on a gold chain hanging from her neck. Her eyes were warm and inviting, and for a moment, I forgot about my troubles. "It's my fault," I said, smiling. "I should have moved my bag." We sorted out our belongings, and she finally took her seat next to me. She was young, very attractive...college age, like my students, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as I imagined what Serena would think if she saw me talking to this girl.

As we waited for the rest of our fellow passengers to board, I introduced myself. "Hi, I'm David," I said, offering her my hand.

"Mei Ling," she replied, taking my hand in hers. Her grip was firm and confident, and her nails were perfectly manicured. She had a soft, musical accent that made me feel at ease.

We fussed with our bags for a few minutes, trying to stow them in the overhead compartment, and then we sat down, adjusting our seats. The flight attendant came by, asking everyone to please fasten their seatbelts, and we began to taxi down the runway. Mei Ling pulled out a copy of a book and started reading, and I opened my laptop, determined to get some work done.

The take-off was a bit bumpy, and Mei Ling looked up from her book, her eyes wide with concern. I felt compelled to reassure her, so I turned to her and said, "Don't worry, it's just part of the process. They're just getting us up in the air." She flashed me a warm smile and went back to her book.

For a while, I worked quietly while Mei Ling read, occasionally glancing up to see her softly flipping pages or marking her place with one of those tiny bookmarks that always seem to come with new books these days. She was beautiful -- in form and countenance, as is said -- and I couldn't help but admire her from time to time, but I also felt a twinge of guilt. It had only been a few months since my divorce from my wife, Serena, and though I knew I shouldn't be looking at other women, especially one as young as Mei Ling, she was simply too lovely to ignore.

Finally, the flight attendant came by with the beverage cart, and Mei Ling and I both ordered ginger ale. As we sipped our drinks, I asked her what she was reading. She held up the book, a classic novel by Vikram Seth, and told me she was enjoying it. I laughed and admitted that I had never read any of his work, but that I had heard it was quite good.

"Oh, you must read it sometime!" she insisted. "It's one of those books that truly captures the human experience."

She had a way of speaking that made you want to listen. Her soft voice and thoughtful eyes seemed to draw you in, like a warm embrace. I found myself wanting to know more about her. So I asked, "What are you studying in college?"

"I'm majoring in economics at UCLA," she replied with a proud smile. "I've always been fascinated by the way the world works and how people interact with each other." She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "And it's not just about the money."

She fiddled with her jade pendant as we conversed, looking at me with her almond-shaped eyes. The jade looked like a perfect orb against her tan skin, and it had a ideogram on it. She told me it was a Chinese symbol meaning luck, a gift her grandmother gave to her when she was 8. I felt lucky to have met her, that was for sure. I chuckled, feeling suddenly flustered. I couldn't believe I was sitting here, talking to this gorgeous woman who was more than a decade younger than me. But somehow, I felt at ease. Maybe it was because she seemed so confident and sure of herself, or maybe it was because of her delicious accent. Whatever the reason, I was enjoying our conversation immensely.

As we talked about movies and cuisine, I realized that we had more in common than I would have ever imagined. We both loved sushi and ramen, though Mei Ling admitted that she couldn't stand the taste of natto. "It's fermented soybeans," she explained. "Very smelly and slimy." I couldn't help but laugh at her description.

Her movie tastes were surprisingly eclectic. She mentioned her love for horror films, which was something I never expected from someone who looked so delicate and beautiful. In return, I told her about my fascination with Korean dramas, which she found amusing. I said, "It's not something I would normally admit to, but these shows are addictive! They have the most beautiful cinematography and storylines that keep you hooked."

As we started discussing movies, the conversation eventually turned back to me. She said, "So Professor Stone, tell me about your life." It was a simple question, but it triggered a flood of emotions. I sighed and looked out the window before answering. "Well, to be honest, my personal life is a bit of a mess right now. I'm newly divorced."

The silence that followed felt heavy, and I could feel Mei Ling studying me intently. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said softly, her eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before looking away.

I nodded, unsure what else to say. It was always hard to talk about the divorce, even after all these months. "Yeah, it's been a rough ride. But I'm doing better now, I think," I lied, hoping to sound more convincing than I felt.

Her response was empathetic, but I didn't want to be an emotional leech. I decided to change the subject to something I knew would make me feel better--my work in philosophy.

"Well, I teach at Boston College," I began, trying my best to sound enthusiastic. "I specialize in ethical theory and political philosophy. It can get pretty intense sometimes, but I love what I do."

Mei Ling seemed genuinely interested as I described some of the concepts I was working on, like utilitarianism and Kantian ethics. As our conversation continued, I felt myself relaxing a bit. She had an easy way about her, and it was clear that she was bright and well-read. Plus, talking about philosophy always made me feel a little less lonely after my divorce.

It was a freight train of thought, the kind of yammering that probably set Serena away from me over the years. But Mei Ling eased me down out of my conversational trap with grace, "I can't speak much to the philosophy of the ages," she said. "I'm young. But I know that angels do often visit when we're at our most broken."

I couldn't help but smile at that. "Well, you certainly seem like an angel to me," I said, and I meant it. There was something so pure and uncorrupted about her that made me feel like maybe there was hope for humanity after all my years of teaching and personal foibles.

We relaxed silence after that. I returned to my laptop and attempted to work, and Mei Ling returned to Vikram Seth. The sound of the engines and the quiet hum of the plane filled the space as we worked side by side, occasionally glancing over at each other. I was tempted to take another look at her, but I tried to keep my eyes on my work and away from temptation.

The flight attendant came by to announce dinner service. As the cart wheeled by, I selected chicken while Mei Ling opted for the vegetarian option. "The airline food is better in Asia than it is here," I joked. She knew exactly what I meant. "That's why I'm going there next," she laughed. "To get some good food."

As we ate in silence, I couldn't help but notice the way the light from the overhead compartments danced across her face and highlighted the delicate features of her profile. She really was a vision, and I began to form in my mind's eye what she might look like under those clothes.

Once we'd finished our meals, the cabin lights dimmed, signaling that it was time to rest for the overnight flight before the early morning landing in San Diego. Most of the passengers around us settled in for the night, some with their seats fully reclined and eyes closed, others with their seats upright and their eyes fixed on the in-flight entertainment system. Mei Ling pulled a lightweight blanket over herself and leaned her seat back just enough to be comfortable.

Feeling the weight of my own exhaustion, I put away my laptop and pulled my book from my bag and began to read. But try as I might, my mind kept wandering back to Mei Ling and a sense of unformed anticipation. In the dimmed cabin, she appeared to be doing as the rest of the passengers, slumbering. With her eyes shut, her face was a mask of serenity. I couldn't help but think about how perfect she looked in that moment.. I took advantage of the opportunity to ogle her slender Asian body, clad in a form-fitting black top that hugged her every curve. My thoughts wandered, a flash of an impossible tryst forming in my mind, salving the pain of my divorce.

She must have sensed my gaze. Startled that she was awake, I looked at her face to find her brown eyes peering up at me.

She smiled.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, "I didn't mean to be a creep." I pulled away, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. "It's just..."

"...the divorce." She finished my sentence as though reading my thoughts. "You haven't been with a woman in a long time." Her voice was soft, almost conspiratorial.

I nodded, unable to articulate the intensity of my feelings. My divorce had left me emotionally drained, and physical intimacy seemed like a distant memory.

"Bad things can happen to good people," she continued, her eyes boring into mine. "It's unfair."

She was giving me more credit than I deserved. The pain of my failed marriage still lingered, eating away at me like an insatiable beast. "I'm not so good," I offered.

Her mood suddenly shifted from solace to one of mischief. "But you know what?" She whispered conspiratorially, "Life can also reward you in unexpected ways." With that, she looked around the cabin, as though searching for something.

She then turned back to me, grinning wickedly. "Follow me in five minutes if you want to be rewarded, Professor..." She made a shush gesture, and then a come-with-me gesture. With that, she sneaked away down the aisle, on tiptoe, like a cat-burglar, towards the bathroom.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I watched her go, my mind reeling with possibilities. Was she offering what I thought she was? Could it be this easy to heal the wounds of my broken marriage?

As the minutes ticked by, my curiosity got the better of me. What was she planning? Was this really such a good idea?

The decision was like the philosophical dilemmas I often discussed in class. Would I choose the path of self-preservation or self-fulfillment?

After an eternity, I mustered the courage to rise from my seat and join her.

As I tiptoed down the aisle, trying my best not to make any noise, my heart was pounding.

My mind filled with all sorts of scenarios. What if she was just trying to set me up for some embarrassment or humiliation? I had only just met her and knew only what little she had revealed to me.

My legs felt like jelly as I made my way down the aisle, my heart racing with both anticipation and fear. I couldn't believe what I was about to do, but something deep inside me told me that I needed this. The passengers around us slept, oblivious to our actions, and as I reached the end of the aisle, the bathroom door slightly ajar, I felt a rush of adrenaline as I finally reached my destination.

Inside the bathroom, the lights were dimmed, casting shadows on the walls. Mei Ling stood by the sink, her back to the door, facing the mirror.

She had taken off her black top, revealing her flawless skin and perfect breasts, covered only by a pink lace bra. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the sight before me.

Mei Ling turned to face me, her hand reaching out to guide me inside. As the bathroom door clicked shut behind me, the sound of the plane engines faded into the distance. All that remained was the sound of our breathing and the anticipation of what was to come.

For a long minute, we just stared at each other, unspeaking but communicating a desire that was palpable. Our conversation earlier had been worldly, but now the atmosphere was charged with sexual tension. Her eyes were heavy-lidded as she looked up at me from beneath her long lashes, and I found myself transfixed by her Oriental beauty.

She spoke first, her voice barely above a whisper, "Like I said, Professor. Sometimes life rewards you in unexpected ways."

I responded hoarsely. "How so?"

"You like Asian girls, don't you Professor?"

I could see that she was playing with me, teasing me. But it didn't matter. I wanted her too much to care about her game.

"Well?" She challenged, taking a step closer to me.

I took a deep breath and nodded, my resolve wavering. "Yes. I do."

With that, she reached up and unclipped her bra, letting it fall to the floor. I stared in amazement as her perfect breasts sprang free, her nipples hard and erect in the cold air, her areolas the color of chocolate. Without breaking eye contact, she reached behind her back and unsnapped her skirt, letting it slide down her curvy hips and over her slender legs. She stepped out of it gracefully, standing before me in nothing but her lacy pink thong, and her jade luck pendant glistening in the dim bathroom light in her cleavage. She looked like an absolute princess.

She moved even closer, her body brushing against mine, and I could feel the heat emanating from her perfect skin. I reached out, tentatively at first, but she gently guided my hand to one of her breasts, and I felt the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips. My pale hand stood in contrast to her sun-kissed, smooth complexion.

Mei Ling took my other hand and placed it on her other breast, squeezing both gently as she whispered, "Enjoy."

I did. I enjoyed the feel of her flesh beneath my fingers, the way she arched her back to push her breasts into my hands. I enjoyed the way she leaned into me, her soft hair tickling my neck as she let out a soft moan.

"Taste them," she whispered, her voice hoarse with desire.

Without hesitation, I leaned down and flicked my tongue against her nipple. I felt a shiver run through her body as she mewed like a kitten. I took that as my cue to suckle on her, pulling gently with my teeth as I licked and sucked in a rhythmic pattern.

She moaned again, this time louder, her head falling back against the wall as she clutched at my hair and guided me to her other breast. I switched sides, my tongue tracing circles around her nipples as my hands explored her slender, supple body.

The sound of our passionate making out echoed through the small bathroom, interspersed with the occasional shushing sound of the airplane's engines. Our lips met in a frenzy of desire as we kissed harder and faster, our hands roaming over each other's bodies.

Then, as if on cue, the cabin chime sounded, signaling that it was time for the passengers to end their rest period. We broke the kiss and looked at each other sheepishly, realizing that we had to hurry.

"We don't have much time," Mei Ling whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engines. She went for my belt buckle, undoing it with practiced ease and pushing my pants down. My hard cock sprang free, already leaking pre-cum in anticipation. I could feel the heat of her breath on my lips as she leaned in closer, her pussy rubbing against my thigh teasingly.

I gasped, my mind reeling with excitement and trepidation. We were so close to getting caught, but the rush of desire was overwhelming.

"Don't worry," she whispered again, her fingers wrapping around my shaft. She had turned around now and was bent over the sink, presenting her gorgeous ass to me. "Fuck me from behind just like this, Professor." I reached out and grabbed her waist, pulling her close to me. My cock was already hard as a rock though it had barely been touched yet. I positioned myself behind her, lining up my shaft with her wet Chinese slit.

As my tip contacted her labia lips, it felt like every nerve ending in my body ignited. I pushed forward, and the unfamiliar Asian territory felt tight and hot around my shaft. I plunged deeper, stretching her slit until I was buried to the hilt inside of her.

"Ahh... yes," she moaned, her body quaking with pleasure. "That feels so good."

With each thrust, I felt Mei Ling's inner walls contracting and squeezing my cock, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. Pussy juices gushed from her Oriental pussy, coating my shaft and dripping onto her thigh.

I watched her sweet face in the airplane bathroom mirror, her eyes shut tight, her lips parted in a silent scream. Her skin, normally smooth and light tan, was flushed and dotted with tiny beads of sweat. Her hair, usually neatly tied back, had come loose and now cascaded around her face in a mess of dark strands.

As I continued to pound into Mei Ling's soaking wet pussy from behind, her Chinese jade luck pendant bounced wildly around her slender neck. With each greedy thrust, the pendant swung back and forth, hitting the metallic surface of the sink with a soft tinkling sound. The sight of it flailing, along with the sound it made, was strangely erotic.

Mei Ling turned her head up and looked at me through the mirror, her eyes filled with lust and desire. "Fuck me harder, Professor," she whispered breathlessly. "Make this Chinese slut cum."

Her words fueled my lust even more, and I pulled her hair back, forcing her to stare at me in the mirror as I continued to pound into her from behind. The slap of our bodies echoed in the small space, and I could feel my release drawing near. This innocent young Chinese girl was my first conquest since my divorce and I determined to make the most of it.

I couldn't hold back any longer.

I felt the tightness build inside me, signaling that it was time. I pulled out of Mei Ling's tight, wet pussy and positioned myself so that my cock was aiming pistol-sure at her face. She leaned forward eagerly, her mouth open, waiting for my cum. I couldn't resist one last glance in the mirror at my reflection, which now showed my sweaty, red face looming over this beautiful Chinese co-ed as she eagerly awaited my cum.

With a deep groan, I erupted, spraying hot, sticky ropes of cum onto her Chinese angel face. It urgently on her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids, even in her mouth. She swallowed, drinking down every last drop. As I continued to cum, some of it spilled down onto her breasts, leaving sticky trails on her skin.

When my orgasm subsided, I leaned against the curved wall, panting heavily. My mind was foggy with lust as I watched Mei Ling lick her lips clean and wipe the cum from her face with the back of her hand, smearing it across her skin like it was war paint. "Oh, fuck..." I muttered, gazing down at the mess we'd created. "You really are going to make me forget about my ex, aren't you?" I smiled at her as she smiled back, completely unrepentant.

"Life takes from you, but it also gives back, you see?" She whispered huskily, smiling, her hands playing with the cum dripping from her cheeks.