IN WHICH MY BACK FORTY MAY GET PLOWED.
The seatbelt sign had turned off. I was dozing off with thoughts of hot Apollo, when I was jolted awake. The flight attendant was standing over me, a man smiling next to her.
“Excuse me,” she said. “This man has been kind enough to offer you his seat up front.” I knew Apollo was behind this, and while I gathered up my stuff, the man just kept grinning at me. Apparently he’d made a rather good trade. How many olive trees was I worth?
In first class, Apollo was waiting for me with shots of ouzo lined up on the tray between our huge seats. I sat down, returning the smile he was flashing at me.
“Now, where were we?” he asked, proffering me one.
Fortunately, the hors d’oeuvres started and they curbed my buzz. But as we continued to chat through dinner, the wine didn’t help my bid to stay sober and “ladylike.” For his part, Apollo seemed to have plans for me, considering every time I got up to go to the bathroom he leaned over his seat to savor my back forty. Forty inches which always gave me, Mrs.Hot, the last word in any encounter.
The cabin lights went off and people watched movies or drifted to sleep. But Apollo had another kind of entertainment in mind, and I’d soon find out what.
I got up to go to the bathroom, so I’d be totally comfortable during the hot makeout session I anticipated for our midnight snack. I took off my underwear, too, having a horror of sleeping with elastic anything — call it my issues with limitations. I was washing my hands when there was an insistent knock on the door.
“How rude,” I thought, but then I heard Apollo’s voice.
About to ask, “What’s the rush?” I opened the door, and he pushed me back into the small space! I almost fell back over the toilet, but he caught me around the waist with one arm, closing the door behind him with the other. My jaw dropped, beyond surprised.
“Welcome to the Mile High club,” Apollo grinned, and then plunged his tongue into my open mouth. Just then the plane lurched and the seatbelt sign flashed.