Up in the Air Pt. 01

A few other passengers did make their way down the aisle, and in response, I lifted my pillow and balanced it atop her foot, hopeful that none would notice the truth of what was going on.

Though, even with her foot covered, I could still sense the odour of Kim's toes in my nose, and I shivered and squirmed as I realised that I had been so close to being outted. Anyone could have looked over and seen me sniffing her foot, however, I had been extremely lucky and gotten away with it. If it wasn't for the fact that it was awkward for her to keep it held up, her toes would probably have still been wrapped around my nose.

Just as I was lamenting my position with Kim's foot on my lap, I felt Chrissy's socked foot press up against my left arm as it nestled onto the armrest. I didn't even react this time, basically used to such an invasion of my space by this point. When her foot settled upon my forearm, and her toes lightly pinched at my skin as she searched for a comfortable position: I allowed it to happen. I allowed her to use my own body to make herself comfortable, the exact same way her sister was doing, Gradually, her foot too snaked around as she lay back and got comfortable, till eventually, both sister's feet were settled in my lap.

We stayed like this for a while, the two of them occasionally shifting and moving during their naps. Meanwhile, I remained on edge the whole time, knowing the situation was ridiculous with every passing second. I couldn't even reason why I was allowing it to happen. All I needed to do was lift their feet and tell them to fuck off, but it was like they had made me their own. As if they had first taken over my row for their own comfort, and now, they'd taken over my body too. They appeared to have no qualms about resting their feet all over me, despite it being an obvious rude thing to do. Meanwhile, I would be mortified if someone else noticed, whereas neither of the sisters seemed to care. I mean, our embarrassment would hardly be comparable, would it? There's quite a difference between using someone as a footrest and being used by someone else.

I spent however long performing all sorts of metal gymnastics as I tried to reason a way out of this for myself. To come up with something clever. Some magical explanation I could say that would underdo all of the hours of past weakness and inexplainable behaviour. A token phrase that I could offer, where anyone, even Marketa, would nod their head and reason: yeah, that totally makes sense. Just a few words which would justify why I had allowed Kim to trod all over me. I wrinkled my forehead and scrambled for something, anything, but nothing came to the fore.

Right then, I almost jumped, startled, as a voice at my side said, "Will you be eating, Ma'am? I have your—"

I turned and gulped as I saw that Marketa, while holding a tray of food out towards me, had paused while noting Kim's and Chrissy's feet in my lap again. Despite trying to hide them with the pillow, with Marketa being so up close, it was obvious what was going on with their legs jammed through the seats. Her eyes were locked in place, and her usually professional and pretty face was screwed up; her eyebrows almost arched along with the wrinkles in her forehead, an evident display of her confusion at what she had seen. The tray shook in her hand as she held it out, while she nervously peeked between their imposing feet and my horrified face.

I, in turn, felt absurdly embarrassed. Each time she revisited my row, she seemed to witness a whole other humiliation that the sisters were putting me through, with me just sat here, inexplicably, accepting it. It was almost as if I'd been on a declining path ever since I'd challenged Marketa upon boarding the plane. I'd felt so confident that I was in the right and was going to get my way, and now, thanks to Kim and her repugnant feet, I was losing further with each passing second.

"Umm, thanks," I said, while my cheeks inflamed, the tray continuing to clatter in my own hand as I took it from her.

"Ummm," Marketa said, seemingly as nervous as I was. "This is the business class meal you were promised." She noticeably gulped, seeming flustered as she pointed at the various items on the tray. It was so odd, to see such a previously assured and beautiful woman completely shaken by what she was witnessing, but I guess that was the effect that Kim's feet were having on us all, though in varying ways. "You have the premium meal, along with the extras and a choice of alcohol beverage. Which would you...umm...prefer? Wine or the vodka and orange or...?"

"Wine," I said anxiously. "Wine."

"Red or white?"

"Any!" I just wanted the woman away from me before this ordeal became any worse. I nervously pulled down the fold-out tray, though accidentally knocking the pillow from my lap in the process.

Marketa caught sight off both girl's feet in my lap and as her face turned puzzled, I realised that my left hand was bizarrely resting atop Chrissy's socked foot. Why? I couldn't even say. I didn't even realise I'd been doing so. Perhaps in the midst of leaning to take the tray, I'd grabbed whatever was nearest. I immediately released her foot, and in a panic, brought the fold-out tray down further to cover the embarrassing sight. However, in my haste, I only succeeded in tapping the top of Kim's big toe in the process.

"What the hell," I heard her say from behind, before her foot violently kicked against my tummy. "She just hit me."

"Sorry, it was an accident," I said instinctively in my defence. "I didn't mean—" I bit my lip as I realised what I was doing, but it was too late.

Marketa offered me a look of bemusement, her mouth dropping open in surprise while her eyes darted between my face and Kim's leg. She then stood up, before peering back at the girls behind me, then hovered there, apparently lost in thought for a moment, seemingly baffled at what she was seeing. She flustered in place, before eventually she stepped away and continued to move down the aisle. She paused just as we made eye contact a final time, and I saw her lips quiver as if she was about to say something, her hesitance evident.

However, I blushed deeply, before looking away, back down towards my meal; Kim and Chrissy's feet still in place beneath the tray. In the corner of my eye, I saw Marketa continue to look my way, before she eventually moved the trolley to the girls behind.

"Will you be eating, Ma'am?" I heard her say to Kim behind me in a slightly uneasy voice.

"Oh yes, of course," Kim said, without a hint of her own nervousness.

"What's going on?" I heard Chrissy ask as she stirred; her toes lightly digging into my tummy. "God, my knee is killing me." She straightened her leg and stretched it out, before pulling it back between the seats and leaving me with only Kim's foot in my lap. Obviously, Marketa witnessed the whole thing; the comfort in which Chrissy casually stopped using me as her footrest, though she didn't say a word.

"Food time," Kim said, and her face pressed into the gap while she took a look at my meal. "Looks great."

"What we having?" Chrissy asked.

"Fish," Marketa said, and there was suddenly a groan from behind.

My seat shook as the girls pulled out their own trays. "Will we be getting premium meals too? Because these look gross."

"No, Ma'am, sorry, these are the economy meals."

"Typical," I heard Kim say. "So, loudmouth gets a business meal just because she caused a stink?"

I felt a tingle run up my spine as Kim was so unashamedly disrespecting me in front of the whole cabin and the airline staff. She was talking so loudly that someone must have overheard. I looked down my row anxiously, and saw that the father was now awake, and sat up. He was peering in my direction, though, thankfully, Marketa's trolley was currently blocking his view; Kim's foot low enough that it remained unseen.

"Not at all," Marketa said defensively. "It's because she originally paid for a business class seat. That was part of the compromise."

"What if I want one too?"

"What?" Marketa asked in confusion. "You can't? You get this meal, as you paid for, Ma'am."

"Well, I want what she's having," Kim said in a truly bratty tone. My seat then jolted forwards as she must have pushed on it. "Hey, lady," I heard her say rudely from the gap between the seat to my right. "You wanna trade meals?" She then sniggered while enjoying putting me in an awkward position once more.

Obviously, I didn't want to do that, but once again, I pretended like I hadn't heard anything. However, my meal almost bounced from the fold-out tray as Kim deliberately kicked her foot into the underside. "Lady, I'm talking to you," she added.

"Ma'am, please stop," Marketa said, and I was silently thankful for her intervention. "You can't do that. Please behave in an orderly way."

"Why not? She hasn't told me not to. Obviously, I'm not bothering her, am I?"

"Well...I...just..." Marketa seemed to trail off as she considered Kim's logic, and I realised that I'd put myself in an even worse situation. She'd seen that Kim's foot was all over my lap, we'd made eye contact and I hadn't said anything. I hadn't communicated in any way that it was bothering me and against my will. If anything, I'd looked away sheepishly and embarrassed, as if I'd been caught amidst some seedy act. Even worse, earlier, I'd told her everything was fine while Kim had shoved her foot in my face. I basically had no conceivable defence by this point.

"Ask her if she wants to trade meals with me?" Kim said without any hesitance. I felt her ankle rotate in my lap, and suddenly, her big toe was digging into my leg.

"What?" Marketa said, bemused once more. "I can't ask that."

"Why? It's only a request."

Chrissy then piped up over a chuckle. "If she doesn't want to, she'll say no, right?" I could almost sense that she was nudging Kim in the arm while the two of them were exchanging knowing looks. "I mean, if it was me, I'd say no. No difficult, is it?"

"Yeah, she'll say no if she doesn't want to do something," Kim added. "You know, just like a normal person does."

"Well...ummmm..." Marketa was still stood just behind my row of seats, and seemed hesitant with what she was supposed to do. Obviously, the request was ridiculous and went against all her professional procedures, but perhaps she was still rattled by everything she had so far witnessed. Maybe she even disliked me after the way we'd come to heads earlier. With the trolley being in her way, she had to lean over and tap me on the shoulder. "Ma'am," she asked.

I made a show of jumping, as if startled, before pretending like I hadn't been eaves dropping to the whole exchange. "Yes?"

"Ummm, I'm sorry to ask..." She trailed off while seeming to reconsider what she was about to do. She paused, looking back towards Kim. I too turned in my seat, following her eyes, maintaining the fallacy that I was oblivious to what was happening. I peered slyly between the gap in the seats, just catching sight of Kim's expectant face. She almost seemed annoyed that Marketa hadn't asked me yet, and she offered a subtle nod for the woman to continue. The arrogance in her expectation that this was a reasonable thing to ask was almost astonishing. "Ummm, I know this is not a normal request"—there was another pause as she nervously looked towards Kim a final time—"but would you be interested in switching your meals with the lady behind?" Marketa's eyes flickered sideways while she seemed to reconsider the ridiculous nature of what she'd just asked.

I glanced down at my meal. It was just so much better than the ones that were on offer in economy. Of course, it was. This was one of the reasons why I always sat in business, because I got a gorgeous, luxurious seat with a delicious, gourmet meal. There was none of the tin foil over the top of my food, like the gruel in economy always received. There was a steak fillet on a plate, along with carrots, broccoli and a whine-laced sauce. Each ingredient was so beautifully arranged on the plate, and along with the main, there was an appetiser of creamed spinach and mushrooms, with a brownie as dessert; melted chocolate dripping over the top.

Who the hell did Kim think she was, and that she was entitled to my meal? She'd already been stomping all over my personal space, and now she felt like she had the right to take my meal too. This was simply a step too far, and even while her toe was digging into my thigh, as if encouraging me to bend to her will, I kept tight lipped and shook my head.

Marketa placed a hand on her chest, and almost seemed relieved that I'd actually stood up for myself for the first time. "I don't think she wants to trade," she said, and I heard her slide a meal onto Kim's tray.

"Yes, she does, she just doesn't it realise yet," Kim said without a hint of hesitation, before raising her voice and saying, "She doesn't realise that while I'll be eating her meal, she can sniff my toes." She shoved my seat. "Sound fair?"

"Take it," I said, lifting the tray while my cheeks were burning in shame. My voice was already turning to a squeak as I glanced around the cabin, horrified at what Kim had just announced so loudly. A few of the other passengers had looked over, though either hadn't fully heard what was said or didn't understand. Most seemed pre-occupied with their own meals. Only the guy in front paused for a while, looking back with raised eyebrows. "Take it," I said, almost shoving it over the seat towards Marketa's bemused self. I was frantic to give Kim exactly what she wanted before she said, or even worse, did, something else even more humiliating. "She can have it."

The two of the girls behind burst out laughing, whereas my eyes immediately shot to Marketa, who took the tray from me while remaining speechless. Even as gave up the meal, some part of me was reasoning that I was going to get a full refund anyway, so it hardly mattered if I ate an economy meal, did it? It was like with each passing defeat to the girls behind, my mind tried to reframe and process it in a different way from reality, like some kind of coping mechanism. Another part of me considered that perhaps this would bring the whole matter to a close, that if Kim got her way once and for all, maybe she'd stop tormenting me with her foot and I could just live in peace for the remainder of the flight.

Marketa raised an eyebrow. "You're...you're sure about this?" She picked up Kim's original meal, and looked between the two trays in her hands, the disparity in quality being undeniable. It was like choosing between scraps for the peasants and a banquet for royalty.

With that in mind, I had a final thought: maybe there was a way I could play this off and appear magnanimous after the way I'd embarrassed myself with my performance earlier. Perhaps I could redeem myself before the eyes of the whole cabin by making such a selfless gesture. Kim was forcibly taking it from me, the four us knew that, but we were in a collective bubble, and everyone else wasn't party to the absurdities going on within our two rows. "You know what," I said in a slightly louder voice, making sure the guy in front heard, all while trying to sound as reasonable and polite as possible. I smiled for the first time on the flight. "Why not? I'm not really a fan of steak anyway." I turned and gestured towards Kim. "You can go ahead and give it to her. I don't mind."

Marketa bit her lip, nodded, and then without saying a word, she hesitantly turned and seemed confused, moving her arms back and forth, before she gave the premium meal to Kim. A second later, she offered me the other tray; handing me the gross economy meal. Immediately, I noted it was missing any kind of dessert; a section of the tray notably empty where Kim had likely swiped it. My lips parted to say something, but I already wanted this whole thing to come to an end.

"Thank you for your considerate attitude," Marketa said, while awkwardly shifting in place. "I..." She didn't even finish what she was saying, before she patted down her uniform, smiled, and then left me alone.

I placed the meal down, and as Marketa continued to hand out meals to the passengers opposite, I waited for Kim to remove her foot from my lap. Now that I had acquiesced to her demand, I figured that she would let up on me, considering she'd completely got her way. She'd proven her point after all, and if she'd wanted to teach me a lesson for my behaviour earlier; well, she'd certainly done that. I was intent on keeping to myself for the rest of the flight and causing no more bother. However, I could already hear her cooing about her victory; her foot still rudely pressing into my thigh.

"God, look how much better this meal is," she said, and I silently nodded my head. That meal had looked completely saliva-inducing, and my tummy was already groaning that I was not going to get to sample it. Perhaps this was the first, and maybe the only experience of business class cuisine that she'd ever get to sample. Still, I didn't want her to think I was listening in, and I put my earphones back in, despite the volume being muted.

"Is...is everything okay?" I heard Marketa ask with some hesitance.

"Yes, everything is fine," Kim said back, and I felt her toes pinch at my thigh, causing me to blush deeply.

"It's just that...well...oh..."

"What?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter," Marketa said, and then the sound of the trolley wheeling further down the aisle brought the exchange to an end.

"Do you think she saw your foot?" Chrissy asked.

"Maybe," Kim said. I felt my seat jolt forwards, as Kim must have pushed it from behind. "If she did see it, Miss Loudmouth here still hasn't said anything, has she? So, I guess she's not bothered with it?" I then felt my seat shunt forwards a further time, almost causing me to spill my drink. I then felt Kim's hot breath on my arm as her face was apparently up in the gap between the seats. "Are you bothered by my foot, lady?"

Yes, the hell yes, I am, get that horrid thing away from me, I wanted to scream, but almost absurdly, I instead pretended like I hadn't heard her, picking up a bun from the tray and awkwardly attempting to butter it with the plastic knife; my hand shaking throughout.

"You hear me?" Kim added, and I flinched slightly, almost dropping the bun as her toenails dug into my inner thigh. "Stop pretending like you're not hearing this."

I was swallowing so nervously, my mouth almost filling with saliva, my cheeks burning up in complete shame, as I inexplicably continued down the path of ignorance. It was almost like some process of self-preservation, where if I refused to acknowledge what was occurring, then I could pretend that it wasn't actually happening. It was almost as if I entered into some kind of out of sight, out of mind way of reasoning, as if I was burying my head in the sand. I mean, I couldn't be accused of being weak and allowing this to happen, if I pretended I hadn't noticed, right? As if I was blissfully unaware, enjoying my movie and my in-flight economy meal, because I had generously given up my premium steak to the poor, young girls behind. I mean, that's how everyone else would see it, right? That I was so engrossed in my movie that I hadn't even noticed that Kim was trying to irritate me. She was just some bratty teenager that had no experience of plane etiquette and I was the classy lady willing to rise above it all.

But then, while settled in my ignorance, the earphone in my right ear was abruptly yanked out. I instinctively went to grab for it, before Kim's foot retracted from my lap, and had already buried the bud in her scrunched toes. As a result, my fingers clumsily touched the top of her toes, before I recoiled in horror, stuffing my hand into my lap and pretending like it hadn't happened.