We’ll Always Have Albuquerque

There were plenty of things that Staci liked about being a flight attendant. She got to visit lots of new places, see and learn new things. The job itself kept her on her toes--no two days were ever the same. She was young and single, so the chaos of not having a predictable 9-5 wasn't a problem. And the pay and benefits were pretty good too. Even the uniform was nice: a half-sleeved navy blue knee-length dress with black pantyhose and black flats. Its colors looked great with her long, wavy raven-black hair and the tightness accentuated her slender, curvy frame without baring a lot of her pale skin. She felt confident and sexy, but not objectified or exploited. The bright orange ascot was, she had to admit, a bit much. But even the male flight attendants had to wear this loud accessory (as a bow tie), so she could live with it.

But her favorite part of it all was that people. They were never the same. Strangers. And, likewise, she was a stranger to them. As a trans woman, this was an amazing feeling. She had grown up in a small town in the midwest, where everybody knew everything about everyone... Being able to exist in people's minds as just a *woman* was exhilarating.

Of course, the job wasn't perfect. Sometimes the people were assholes. Like on this current flight, a late afternoon run from San Diego to Albuquerque. There was a screaming baby at the back of the plane who just wouldn't let up. But that wasn't the problem--Staci could handle crying babies. The problem was the other passengers, complaining (perhaps a little too audibly) to one another. Giving the poor mother, who seemed to be traveling alone with her young child, dirty looks. The woman looked like she was on the verge of tears herself.

Staci would have loved to help her out, but she had pretty much no practical experience with babies. And she was busy serving drinks and snacks.

Luckily, not all people were assholes.

The young woman and her baby had the window seat and the middle seat. The aisle seat beside them was occupied by a man, in his mid to late 30s by the looks of him, dressed in a very sharp looking gray business suit. The young mother was apologizing to him nearly constantly, but he was taking it all with a surprising amount of grace. Instead of trying to calm down the baby or offering parenting advice, he seemed to be trying to calm and reassure the mother.

"Hey, babies are gonna cry," she had heard him remark good-naturedly, "it's pretty much in their job description."

"I know that I did my fair share of bawling, especially in the grocery store," she had also heard him share.

He had even helped her with her carryon bags, rummaging through them for toys, teething rings and the like. One might have mistaken him for the husband and father, except that she had watched them board separately. And he wore no wedding band.

Things finally started to settle down midway through the flight. Drinks and snacks had been served and the baby had fallen asleep. When the ride got a little turbulent, Staci waited things out at the back of the plane and eavesdropped on their conversation.

"I can't thank you enough for everything," the young woman said, in hushed tones as she cautiously watched the baby sleep in a bassinet in the window seat.

"Not a problem at all," he had replied, with his usual calm self-assurance.

"My name is Brenda, by the way. And this is baby Lucy."

"Mike," he replied.

"So, what are you all dressed up for, Mike?" she asked.

"Business conference," he sighed. "Wrapped up earlier this afternoon--I would have changed into something more comfortable, but things ran late and I didn't have time."

"Oh, what kind of business?" she inquired politely.

"Research equipment. High-performance liquid chromatography, gas chromatograms, microplate readers..."

Brenda's face was a mask of incomprehension.

"Research stuff," he said with a chuckle.

"Oh, that sounds really important," she said, in awe.

"Don't get the wrong idea--I'm no bigwig CEO or anything. I'm just a repair technician. I travel around fixing these things when they act up. This business meeting," he said, gesturing to his attire, "was just a yearly get-together with the higher ups."

Brenda's attitude relaxed. She wasn't in the presence of some multimillionaire executive--just a guy who fixed stuff.

Staci wanted to interject with some followup questions for Mike, and to talk about the similarities between their on-the-go lifestyles. But she didn't want to admit to listening in on their conversation.

She tuned things out as their talk drifted to Brenda and her family. And soon the turbulence passed and she busied herself with collecting trash from the passengers and tidying up the drink cart.

At another lull in the flight, Staci listened in on more of the conversation.

"No, no kids myself," Mike explained. "The job is too demanding for me to settle down. But I'm the youngest of eight kids--by the time I was in middle school, my older siblings and cousins were having kids of their own. So, I grew up around a lot of babies."

"I hate to ask this," Brenda began, "but I really, really have to use the bathroom. I thought I could make it until we landed, but..."

"Oh, not a problem at all," Mike said as he unbuckled himself. "She looks fast asleep, but I'll keep an eye on her."

Staci found this to be the moment to enter the conversation.

"And I'll keep an eye on things too," she said to them both as Brenda squeezed past her and into the tiny bathroom.

"My name's Mike, by the way," he said to Staci, unaware that his introduction was unnecessary.

"Staci," she replied.

"Let me guess, Staci with an 'eye'?"

"Yes, how did you..."

She wasn't fooled for long. She noticed him eyeing her nametag, a wide grin on his face.

"Sorry, couldn't resist," he replied. He continued after a short pause. "So, have you been with this airline for long? I only ask because I travel a lot for work and I don't think I've seen you before."

Staci had been hit on by passengers before (usually after they had had a few drinks) with similar lines. But somehow this felt more like genuine conversation.

"Only a few months," she admitted. "What do you do for work?" she asked, not wanting to let on that she already knew.

"I'm a repair technician for specialized research equipment--high-performance liquid chromatography, gas chromatograms, microplate readers..."

She let him go on, essentially repeating the conversation he had had with Brenda earlier. The young mother soon returned and took her seat and the conversation continued between the three of them, pivoting from work to regional weather differences, to local food spots, until the plane began to make its descent and Staci got busy again.

Things went smoothly for the rest of the flight--baby Lucy surprisingly slept through the landing and the deboarding. Mike stayed behind. For him, Albuquerque was a connecting flight--his final destination was Kansas City.

Then, things turned bad.

There was some mechanical issue with the plane and it wouldn't be able to take off until repairs were completed. As the hours went by, this delay turned into a cancellation. Anyone on their way to Kansas City would have to wait until the next available flight... which wasn't until the afternoon of the next day.

Unsurprisingly, Mike took all this in with his usual easy-going attitude. But some of the other passengers were angry and irate. The rest of the afternoon and evening was a blur, but Staci somehow got through it. She was put up in a hotel for the night--like the passengers, she would be leaving for Kansas City the following day.

After an underwhelming, overpriced salad dinner at the terminal, Staci got a shuttle bus to her hotel and checked in. Still stressed out from hours of being yelled at, she had a nice long shower. It didn't calm her nerves as well as she had hoped it would. The night was young and she was both exhausted and filled with nervous energy.

She recognized the mood. What she needed that evening, more than anything else, was to get fucked. Long. And hard.

This was an unfortunate state to be in because, as a trans woman, hookups for casual sex were more complicated than they were for cis women. She had an app dedicated to dating and hookups in the LGBTQ+ community, but she had had mixed success with it in the past. There were a lot of "chasers" on the app--men who fetishized her trans nature. While it was nice to feel wanted, these men often had weird preconceptions of things or were into strange, vaguely bigoted roleplay or dirty talk. Staci wanted to be with someone who lusted after her as a woman, who happened to be trans, rather than a trans woman. And then there was also the threat of men on the app who actively hated trans people and used it to seek out targets for violence. Staci had never experienced this herself, but the threat was still there.

So, it was with reluctance that she opened the app, updated her location information and started browsing. She almost dropped her phone in shock at one of the first profiles that came up--it was Mike.

***

Mike couldn't believe his luck. Stuck in New Mexico for the night, bored and horny, his hookup app had notified him that he had been matched with none other than the hot flight attendant from earlier in the day.

The fact that she was a trans woman was interesting, but ultimately a non-issue. Mike considered himself bisexual, although he tended to prefer women. He didn't actively seek out trans women, but when they came his way they were a pleasant surprise.

He smiled to himself as he finished straightening his necktie and adjusted it on his collar. There was even more icing to this cake.

It had been a bit of a gambit but, as part of their conversation on the app, he had suggested that she wear her flight attendant uniform. Mike had never previously thought of himself as having a "thing" for this outfit but Staci's long black panythose-clad legs had certainly had an effect on him. She had agreed but only on the condition that he also dress up, in her words, "in that sexy business suit of yours."

He had just gotten out of that outfit and showered but now found himself suiting up again.

It was definitely not an outfit suited for the blistering heat of a New Mexico summer, but he was fortunate enough to not have to even leave the building to get to his destination. He checked his phone for the time. 10:00 p.m. on the dot. Go time.

Mike pocketed his room's key card and carefully closed the door behind him. He turned to the left, took four steps forward, and knocked on the door.

Adjacent rooms. What were the odds?

Noticing that the doors in this hotel had peepholes, Mike took a step back to be better seen. Soon the door opened and Staci furtively ushered him in.

As soon as the door clicked shut, she was on him, her body pressed against him, her lips pressed to his. After a momentary shock over the rapid turn of events, Mike's brain caught up to the situation and he began to kiss back. She moaned lustily as she kissed him deeply and her breath felt hot against his face as she paused to come up for air.

Mike hadn't expected things to start so fast, but he certainly wasn't against it.

As they kissed, he wrapped his arms around her body, his hands running along the soft fabric across her shoulders and back. One hand settled on a hip while the other stretched down for a squeeze of her butt that produced a startled sound of pleasure. Staci's hands pressed to his chest, her fingernails gently scratching at him through his shirt. She too began to work her way down, settling one hand on the small of his back and the other against the outline of his package.

Mike gasped involuntarily as she began to rub both his shaft and balls through the fabric of his pants and underwear. This didn't last long as she soon began to use both hands to undo his belt buckle and unzip his pants. His dress slacks fell to the floor, the metal of the buckle clinking against the tile.

At this point, Staci broke from their kissing and pressed her face against his chest. Although he was still wearing his shirt, tie, and suit jacket, she kissed the fabric as she knelt down until her face was pressed against his boxer briefs. She kissed his erection through this thin fabric, from head to balls, before deftly pulling down this last barrier between her and his hard, eager cock.

She stroked it for a moment, as if sizing it up.

"Why don't you make yourself more comfortable?" she suggested, releasing him and standing back up.

At this point, Mike realized that they were still in the foyer of the hotel room, right against the door. He removed his shoes as deftly as he could manage and stepped out of his pants and underwear. Staci was already waiting for him by the armchair that all hotel rooms seem to have for some reason.

Feeling awkward for being fully dressed from the waist up and fully nude from the waist down, Mike made his way across the room and took a seat, leaning back and spreading his legs wide. Staci knelt on a pillow, which she had taken from the bed, and got to work.

Her soft lips pressed gently against the tip of his cock while the fingers of her right hand carefully wrapped around his shaft. At this point he noticed her fingernail polish--bright orange, matching the color of her neckerchief.

She began to stroke, slowly but with a firm grip. Her lips parted and the head of his cock felt the warm slickness of her mouth. In time with the strokes of his shaft, she took more and more of him in her mouth. It wasn't particularly fast, but the strength of her grip and the synchronicity between the movement of her hand and her mouth resulted in an amazing sensation.

Mike had gotten head from a fair number of people in his life--men, women, and everything in between. And he could confidently say that nobody could suck a dick as well as someone who had a penis themselves.

He sank deeper into the chair and let the pleasure sweep over him. Glancing down, he watched her wavy black tresses sway back and forth in time with the bobbing of her head. He would have loved to have grabbed a handful of that soft, silky-looking hair, but he feared this would throw off her rhythm.

Without missing a beat, she kept stroking as she popped the cock out of her mouth and leaned lower to the ground. She buried her face in his balls and he felt her wet tongue swirl around his perineum, up to his sac. Mike moaned deeply as her lips pressed against one testicle, kissing it before parting and taking the whole thing into her mouth. Sucking gently and swirling with her tongue, she got it nice and wet. She then repeated this with the other ball before returning to his shaft.

As pleasurable as all this was, she had been doing it all with only one hand. That soon changed. She continued to stroke and suck while she ran her left hand along the length of his bare thigh. At first, with the soft tips of her fingers, then with the tips of her nails. Then, with the full palm of her hand. This hand continued to slide along, underneath the shaft and down to his scrotum. She squeezed his balls, still slick with her saliva. It was gentle at first, but the kneading motions grew and grew in pressure.

"I'm gonna come real soon if you keep that up," Mike warned with a sigh of pleasure.

Staci didn't stop moving her hands and only stopped her sucking long enough to moan needfully "yes, I want your cum. I want you to come in my mouth."

With those very clear instructions given, she brought her mouth back to his cock and quickened her pace of everything.

As predicted, Mike felt his pleasure rise to a crescendo, the wave of orgasm flowing across his entire midsection as he had to try hard to not let his hips buck. He felt the release of ejaculation and a gradual slowing of Staci's movements until she came to a stop, releasing his balls and pulling her mouth from his twitching penis.

What was going to happen next was a mystery to Mike. Some trans women liked to receive oral sex. Some did not. Some liked handjobs while, again, some did not. But after the orgasm she had just given him, he was more than willing to do whatever it was she expected from him next.

"I just need a minute or two," he sighed with contented exhaustion, closing his eyes and sinking deeper into the chair.

"You take all the minutes you need," he heard Staci reply seductively. From the sound of it, she had arisen from the floor and was walking around the room. Her breath was warm against his neck as she whispered in his ear: "I wanted to make sure you wouldn't come too fast when you fuck me."

Now Mike was really intrigued. These kinds of hookups rarely lasted long. But this promised to be quite the evening. He wasn't as young as he used to be, but two erections in one night was still very possible. With the right person. And he had the feeling that Staci was definitely the right person.

His eyes still closed, he felt her massage his shoulders through his suit jacket and shirt. She stopped and leaned down to softly kiss his neck as her hands worked their way over his chest. She loosened his necktie and began to undo the top few buttons of his dress shirt. Now with access to his bare chest, her hands ran across his pecs, teasing at the thin hair that covered his upper body.

Mike opened his eyes and stood, turning to face his lover.

"But what can I do for you, in the meanwhile?" he asked.

"You can finish getting naked," she replied as she continued to undo shirt buttons.

Mike helped her along and his suit jacket, shirt and tie were soon a pile on the floor in the corner. Standing face to face, they began to kiss again. Slowly. Tenderly.

"You know, I can't help but feel at somewhat of a disadvantage in this situation," Mike said playfully as he gestured to his fully nude and her fully clothed body. "I think it's time you got naked too."

"Would that turn you on?" she purred.

"Immensely so," he stated emphatically.

With that, she stepped backwards away from him, toward the bed. Once there, she fell backwards and spread herself languorously across it. Her long hair stretched outwards from her head, jet black waves against the white bedspread.

"Strip me then," she commanded.

All too happy to comply, Mike stepped forward and lifted a leg to his face. Running the soft fabric of the pantyhose along his cheek, he delicately removed the black ballet flat and gently set it on the floor beside the nightstand.

Staci smiled up at him as he massaged her foot through the hosiery, moaning softly to herself. Gently returning that leg to the bed, he reached for the other one and repeated his motions.

Eager to move on, Mike rested this ankle on his shoulder and let it slide down his back as he sank into the bed, his lips running the length of her calf and thigh. Her tight-fitting dress was getting in the way of his further progress and she arched her back off the bed as he peeled it up.

The head of her small but eagerly erect penis poked up and over the top of her black panties, barely visible through the screen of the hosiery, which ran up past her navel. Not wanting to move things too quickly, Mike continued to move upward, crawling onto the bed atop her.

They were once again face to face and their lips met in a series of slow, lazy kisses. Mike could already feel his erection returning.

Instead of continuing up with the dress, he released it, bunched up just below her breasts and grabbed the top of the pantyhose. Working his way back down, he kissed the pale, smooth skin of her flat stomach as he carefully rolled off the hosiery. Once again at her waist, he teased her by avoiding her penis, kissing around it along the length of her hip and thigh. He grabbed hold of her panties along with the pantyhose and pulled them down together as he stood, rolling them both off her calves, ankles and finally her feet. The two black garments joined the shoes by the nightstand.