The Flight Attendant #2
His hands moved beneath my skirt, pushing it higher as his palms traveled over my thighs. The cool air touched skin that had been covered by tights and uniform fabric all evening.
His thumbs hooked beneath the waistband of my tights and pulled them to the floor.
His hand returned between my thighs.
The first touch pulled a sound from me before I could stop it.
He covered my mouth with his.
“Quiet,” he murmured against my lips.
His fingers moved again, this time tracing around my clit.
My head tipped back against the mirror.
The tiny lavatory disappeared around us.
There was only the heat of his body, the steady hum of the engines and the careful rhythm of his hand.
His mouth moved to my neck.
“You’re going to leave a mark,” I whispered.
“I won’t.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I am.”
His teeth grazed my skin without biting.
I clutched the back of his neck.
“What if I want one?”
His hand paused as he looked at me.
“Do you?”
I hesitated for only a second.
“Somewhere no one sees.”
The expression that crossed his face sent another rush of heat through me.
He lowered his mouth to the top of my chest, beneath the edge of my blouse, and sucked gently at the skin hidden by my uniform.
I pressed my lips together.
He kept rubbing my clit with one hand, using his other to slide fingers in and out of me.
The combined sensation made my legs tighten around him.
“That’s it,” he whispered.
I pulled at the waistband of his sweatpants.
He helped me, shifting just enough in the cramped space to free himself.
My hand closed around his cock.
His eyes shut.
I moved my hand slowly.
“Jesus,” he moaned.
I tightened my grip.
His hand now pressed against the mirror beside my head.
His hips moved slightly into my hand.
The small loss of control made me bolder.
I stroked him again, enjoying the way his breathing changed.
He shifted closer.
The counter pressed hard beneath me. The sink faucet dug into the side of my hip. Nothing about the position should have been comfortable.
I did not care.
I pulled him toward me with both legs, guiding his cock inside of me with my hand.
His body inside mine felt too intense after months of pretending not to want it.
He moved slowly at first, drawing back and pressing forward with careful control while his hands gripped my hips.
The movement shifted me against the mirror.
It rattled softly with each thrust.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, holding him close.
His mouth stayed near mine, breathing the same air.
The effort to remain quiet made each movement feel sharper.
I bit his shoulder when one deep thrust nearly pulled a cry from me.
His body tightened.
“You bit me.”
“You told me to be quiet.”
“Do it again.”
I did.
His hand slid beneath my thigh and lifted it higher, resting my ankle on his shoulder, deepening how far he was inside of me.
The next thrust drove the breath from my lungs.
“There?” he whispered.
I let out a moan.
“Thought so.”
His breathing became rougher against my mouth. I could feel the control leaving him in small increments. Each thrust grew harder. Each pause shorter.
His hand tightened at the back of my thigh, keeping my legs open and steady against him. He grabbed my other ankle and rested it on his other shoulder.
“You feel so good,” he whispered.
My breathing got shallower, quicker as I felt myself nearing orgasm.
His thumb pressed into my hip.
“Close?”
I pulled him closer.
“I’m going to come,” I gasped.
His mouth moved to my ear.
“I’ve wanted to hear you say that all season.”
The next movement made my legs tighten around him.
My body began to shake.
He felt it.
I forced my eyes open and met his gaze.
His hair had fallen over his forehead, a beat of sweat dripped down his cheek.
He held me up with one hand, and used the other to go back to circling my clit.
The added touch broke what little control I had left.
I covered my mouth with his shoulder as the orgasm hit, hard and sudden. My body tightened around him, pulsing around his cock while I clung to his back.
“You’re so pretty when you’re coming for me,” he whispered.
The words made the waves stronger.
I shook against him, fighting to stay quiet as he continued pumping into me through each aftershock.
His rhythm broke.
“I’m close,” he rasped.
I tightened my legs.
“Don’t stop.”
He drove forward twice more, body tensing as his control finally gave way.
He buried his face into my neck to silence the sound.
My pulse slowly began to settle. His breathing remained rough against my skin.
Then someone knocked on the outside of the lavatory door.
We froze.
A handle rattled.
“Occupied,” I called, somehow keeping my voice steady.
A sleepy voice answered from the other side.
“Oh. Sorry.”
Footsteps retreated.
He lifted his head.
We stared at each other.
Then I started laughing silently, shoulders shaking.
He pressed one hand over my mouth.
“This is funny?”
I nodded against his palm.
“We almost got caught.”
“We need to get dressed.”
He kissed me first. Softly this time.
Just his mouth against mine in the tiny room while my legs still rested around his waist.
I lowered my legs and pulled my tights back into place.
“I’m going to walk out there first.”
I hopped down from the counter and smoothed my skirt down.
He adjusted his clothes in the tiny space, nearly hitting the wall with his elbow again.
I kissed him once more.
“Wait five minutes before you come out.”
“Five?”
“Yes.”
“What am I supposed to do in here for five minutes?”
“Think about what you’ve done.”
I unlocked the door.
Before opening it, I checked my reflection.
My lipstick was gone.
My hair needed smoothing.
The top button of my blouse had come undone.
He reached around me and fastened it.
His fingers lingered against my throat.
“You missed one.”
I looked at him in the mirror.
“Five minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me that.”
His grin returned.
I stepped into the galley and closed the door behind me.
Most of the cabin remained asleep.
A few players had shifted beneath their blankets. Someone snored softly near the front. A movie still played on an abandoned screen.
His seat was empty.
His teammate remained asleep by the window.
I walked past without looking toward the lavatory.
Five minutes later, he emerged.
He returned to his seat quietly, lowered himself beside his teammate and pulled a blanket across his lap.
I stood in the galley pretending to organize cups.
He looked back.
I gave him the smallest shake of my head.
“Behave,” I mouthed.
He smiled. Then he pressed the call button.
I stared at the illuminated light above his row.
The nerve of him.
I walked toward him.
His teammate stirred but did not wake.
“What do you need?” I asked.
He looked up at me with complete innocence.
“Coffee.”
“You hate coffee.”
“I’m starting to like it.”
Two hours later, the cabin lights came up for landing.
The players woke slowly, folding blankets and raising their seats.
As the team filed off the plane, he waited until most of his teammates were ahead of him. He stopped beside the exit as I stood near the door, thanking players.
“Good flight?” I asked.
His eyes met mine.
“Best one all year.”
A defenseman behind him groaned.
“Move. Some of us want to go home.”
He stepped toward the stairs, then glanced back.
“Same crew next trip?”
“You know it.”