The Mile High Club Read online

  Damn it. It was getting worse.

  “Your tits are very nice. Don’t be that way,” she said. Her eyes were a shiny bold blue and her laugh was easy; sensual and captivating, just like in the movies. “I’d say you have a lovely pair there…um…?”

  “Judith. Judith Montgomery. I work for Suncoast Studios. Dames of the Dead, that’s one of mine. I’m sure you’ve never seen it. Really. I think four people saw it and you were not one of them. Of that I am almost positive.” I took a huge swig of scalding hot coffee to shut myself up. I wasn’t sure, but it felt as if a whole row of blisters had just blossomed on the roof of my mouth.

  She laughed and then put her hand on my thigh and squeezed. I looked at her hand to make sure the sensation was genuine. Yep. There it was, on my thigh. Her hand, all long fingers and red manicure, rested on my thigh, squeezing my leg through my black pencil skirt. “Don’t be so sure. My youngest son is nineteen. It just so happens that Dames of the Dead is one of his favorites.”

  “I…” I flexed my thigh under her hand and she squeezed again. Then her thin hand slid higher and she squeezed my upper thigh. I felt a warm trickle of fluid in the crotch of my sensible black cotton panties. I closed my eyes, then opened them. Her hand was still there. I was not hallucinating.

  “Darla, they’ll eat you…alive!” she recited.

  “That’s Baby Cathy’s line!” I said, excited and shocked. She wasn’t just bullshitting me. She had seen the movie.

  Jannie nodded and leaned in closer. When she leaned in, her breasts pushed up high in her tight black dress. Her cleavage seemed a mile deep and I fought the mental image of sliding my tongue along the seam of flesh, burrowing my tongue into that cleavage and then finding a sweet blush-colored nipple to taste.

  “I told you. Chuckie has watched that movie about a billion times, and I’ve watched it at least a dozen times. It’s hard not to. The birthday cake scene is the best.”

  “Eew!” I laughed, though. A birthday cake adorned with flaming fingers instead of candles was a hard image to shake. Almost as hard as Jannie Blair’s naked thighs in The Sun Sets Blood Red in 1977. Or her shower scene in My Deadly Darling at the end of her career. When Jenson Belmar fucked her blue in the shower as Kelly Dubois kneeled in front of her. It was not only a killer zombie movie, but that was a killer threeway scene, one of the first, and she had been in it. I had always wondered about her after that scene.

  Turbulence rocked us and I thought that was bad, so soon into the flight. Not good at all. “Jesus.”

  “You don’t like to fly?” Her breath was hot along my neck and for a moment I forgot about the turbulence and just wanted to kiss her.

  “Not so much. Not a big fan, actually. But business is business and I’m flying out to scout a location in New York and…” I shrugged.

  “My hometown.” She said the words right against my earlobe and the vibration meandered down my belly to my pussy. I shifted in the cramped airplane seat and felt the seat belt rub my belly in a not unpleasant way.

  I cleared my throat and reminded myself who this woman was. Jannie Blair was not interested in me. I was suffering from delusions of grandeur. She was one of the premier slasher sirens. She had screamed with the best of them and had made blood and terror sexy. She had thoroughly earned her name, the Scream Queen. I shifted. “Have you been to Rico’s? That’s what I’m looking at. We’re shooting a huge vampire smack down in Rico’s. The stonework and gargoyles are amazing. At least from the photos I’ve seen.”

  “They are.” The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she leaned in and nipped my ear. I gave a little cry and her hand moved just a fraction of an inch higher on my leg.

  “Oh. Good. I…” I what? I had no idea. My brain had shortcircuited and my body had hijacked all sensation. My heart was banging restlessly and my pulse jumped in my neck. I shook my head because I felt dizzy and the plane jumped, making it that much worse.

  “I like your skirt. It’s what a real woman would wear,” she said. Her breath smelled like chocolate.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Oh. Don’t be.” She laughed at her own joke and the crow’s feet at the corners of her big blue eyes deepened. There was something sexy about how they made her bright blue eyes even brighter. “What I mean is, I watch all these professional women walking around dressed like teenagers. This is beyond sexy, this skirt. And it shows off your hips.”

  Yeah. My hips. I wasn’t too crazy about my hips. But I was starting to think the whole shower scene had been fairly accurate. She was flirting with me. “Thanks. Thank you.” Then before I could still my tongue, I blurted, “I have to pee.”

  And I did. Nerves had gotten the better of me. The flirting wasn’t helping. Years of fantasizing about this particular woman had set me on edge. Here we sat, side by side, and she had just bitten my earlobe. Her hand was on my thigh. I was thousands of miles in the air and the flight was a bit turbulent. And I had to pee.

  “This is a nice plane,” she said. “They have big bathrooms. Big enough for two.”

  I had finally caught on. I had no doubt that Jannie Blair had just offered to join me in the restroom. I stood and she steadied me when the plane rocked and tilted. Normally, terror would have ripped through me but excitement served as a distraction. I took my time moving down the aisle, working my way from seat to seat.

  “Miss, you’ll have to take your seat,” the flight attendant said.

  “I’m really not well.” I was only half lying. My stomach had just done a nice loopdy loop and I wondered which emotion would win, fear or arousal.

  “Miss, please.” I could hear the frustration in his voice. He frowned at me and bit his bottom lip. His bright red hair stood up in tufts from his having run his hands through it in frustration. I didn’t budge, but stood my ground in the narrow aisle. “Look, if I let you go, will you promise to come right back? Quickly. People are freaking out left and right and truth be told, if you are careful and hold on in the bathroom, you should be fine. Just keep your hand on something. Stay steady.”

  I nodded slowly and the plane did an unexpected dip. My stomach bottomed out and I swallowed a whoop of surprise.

  “They’re afraid people will lose their balance and fall or hit their heads or…” Someone in the front of the plane started to cry and he sighed. “Just hurry, okay?”

  I nodded again and walked the remaining distance to the restroom on numb legs. I heard him speak again and then heard Jannie’s calm smoky voice say, “I’m with her. I have her medicine.” I knew exactly what I would have my hands on to keep me steady.

  I smiled when he chirped, “Yes, Ms. Blair!” There was something to be said for slasher stardom.

  I had time to register that she was right about the bathroom size. That was all. My eyes took in the chrome room and the extrawide shelf area for your bag or purse. I got all that at a glance and then I heard the door and Jannie was on me, aggressive and quick. I laughed a little even as my heart seized up in my chest. She pinned me face-first to the pebbled silver wall and shoved her slim, cool hands down the front of my skirt. “You are wondering about the shower scene. Or you have,” she said in my ear.

  I nodded. “Yes. I have. But I bet everyone, boy or girl, who’s ever crushed on you has wondered.”

  “It is the number one question.” Her fingers slid under the waistband of my panties and I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. She was so close and I still couldn’t quite believe it was real. That she was about to touch me there.

  “I’m sure,” I gasped. Her fingertip parted my outer lips and I watched my unsteady breath fog up the chrome in front of my lips. Jannie rolled a tight circle over my clit and my knees went a little loose.

  “It was real. Don’t tell. It’s a secret. To this day, most people in the industry believe it was staged,” she said coolly, working harder and harder circles as I chugged closer and closer to orgasm. I splayed my fingers on the cool wall and rested my cheek there, too. I couldn’t seem to get enough air but I listened. “Only a select few of us knew. He was really fucking me, she was really sucking me, and the unsteady shot toward the end was because Buzzy the camera guy got off at the same time I did.”

  “Oh.” My voice was a few octaves higher than normal as I clawed at the wall. Jesus. But Jesus couldn’t help me now. I was in the hands of Jannie Blair and I was about a gnat’s ass away from coming like a freight train.

  “So basically it was porn but it made it to the big screen. Or as big as B movies get.” I felt the button at the back of my skirt give and she tugged the zipper. Her other hand joined the first and she slid two perfectly manicured fingers into my wet pussy. I sagged back against her and she nibbled the back of my neck. My nipples pebbled and my skin followed suit.

  “They always blurred it out, sadly,” I said, laughing, and felt my pussy clench around her fingers. I was pretty much done for. I put my lips to my forearms to stifle myself.

  The plane bobbed and weaved and I wondered what would happen if we fell in a tangled injured heap on the floor. What a mess that would be. What a scandal.

  Her laugh was throaty. “I know. But I have an unedited copy at home. If you’d like to see it when we land. My sons are with their father and I could use the company.”

  Her fingers slipped in and out of me effortlessly. I was beyond wet. I could hear the slick sounds of her fingers fucking me and the rustle of my skirt seemed louder than the plane. “I’d like that!” I bit my forearm as my cunt spasmed around her fingers. She fucked me harder and juices seeped down my inner thighs, warm and wet. Another warm wave rolled through me and I bucked in her arms. The plane wobbled.

  “Good girl. Even through your fear you gave me such a nice one,” she whispered against my throat.

  “You. I want you,” I said, turning. “Before that redheaded flight attendant shows up and starts banging on the door. He’ll notice we’re not back. He will.” I moved her back as I chattered anxiously, my skirt hanging loosely around my hips.

  I pushed her until her hips connected with the chrome counter. Her dress was long and black, tucked and tailored at her waist but with a voluminous skirt. I burrowed under it desperately until she helped me out by bunching it at her waist. I didn’t think about the fact that I was kneeling in an airplane bathroom. I could Handi-Wipe my knees later. She made a small noise and I pushed her black lace panties down: tango pants. No thong for her; classy grown-up panties instead.

  Her thighs were softer than once upon a time and pale white. She smelled like spices and arousal and lavender. I touched my tongue to her clit and she hissed. I licked harder, sucking the essence of her into my mouth. She tasted like flowers. The plane tilted to the left and we both slid just a bit. I knew he’d come looking: that attendant. I could feel the excitement of limited time run up my spine. I shivered. Jannie plunged her hands into my hair as I shoved my rigid tongue into her wet pussy.

  Her short pubic hair tickled my nose and I nudged her harder, suckling until I thought I might suffocate. Her fingers found my nipples and she pinched me. I bit her clit gently and she let out a high cry that made me think of her movies.

  I worked my fingers inside of her and stroked her swollen G-spot. She was so ready, my fingertips went right to it and I teased it with my fingertips. Another tilt and we slid to the right. “You have to hurry, Jannie,” I said. “He’s coming. I’m sure of it.”

  I clamped my lips back over her hot little clit and sucked. I finger-fucked her furiously as she pulled my hair in short yanks. I felt her cunt seize up around my fingers and I laughed for just a moment. “Oh, god…god, god!” Jannie yelled. But true to movie form, she kept gathering steam as she came, letting loose with a high earsplitting shriek as the orgasm ripped through her.

  Sharp knuckles rapped the door and a muffled voice yelled, “Is everything okay in there? Do you need help?”

  It was my redheaded friend. “No,” I called, stifling a laugh, “Just scared by the turbulence. It’s fine!” Then I stood unsteadily and kissed Jannie’s full lips. “Lady, you really are the Scream Queen.”

  “Sweetie, you ain’t heard nothing yet,” she said and kissed the tip of my nose.

  WILD CHILD

  Matt Conklin

  Sex on planes is stupid. These people think they’re so cool for joining the “Mile High Club.” They probably think that sneaking a joint makes them oh so rebellious too. Whatever. Fucking on airplanes is overrated. They’re just dumb conformists who want to do it because they read about it in a magazine. I just want to get to L.A. already. This whole thing is stupid….

  I couldn’t help looking over her shoulder. She was sitting right next to me, after all, and I’ve never been one not to notice a woman, even if she is fifteen years my junior. But even if I weren’t the type to try to see what my seatmate was reading or check her out, the furious way this girl was scribbling in her notebook, a loud, angry kind of scrawl, was the equivalent of pounding a piano keyboard, hard, and it was difficult to ignore.

  Her entire aura was angry, and she was dressed in typical post-teen fashion—black tank top over jeans, with a black hoodie, plenty of black eyeliner, an eyebrow ring, and a scowl. Oh, and dark green Converse sneakers. As I took in her words, I knew immediately that she was all but a virgin. She was too fired up, too cocky to have ever fully surrendered to a boy—or a girl. She had all the charm of a young woman whose sensuality is hidden not so deeply beneath the surface, but who just hasn’t figured it out yet.

  She made me want to smack some sense into her, or fuck her. I could’ve told her to grow up, but what would be the point? So she could become jaded, I mean, “mature,” like me? No, I figured I could have some fun with her, though, and maybe let Miss Attitude know that there’s more than one way to get screwed on an airplane.

  Her eyes, once you got past the shaggy bangs and overdone makeup, were almost sexy. And yes, I was now officially a dirty old man, likely twice her age or damn close, for even considering what she had going on under that hoodie. But she started it, and I felt like it was in both our best interests to pursue it.

  “You’re wrong, you know,” I said in as snotty a voice as I could muster. Like meets like and all that. “It’s not just about yuppies sneaking off for a quickie and calling it the best sex of the year. There are all kinds of ways to fuck on a plane. You’re just too young to know about them.”

  She glared up at me, and let me tell you, it was the sexiest glare I’d ever seen, the kind of sneer that says “Leave me alone” and “I want to suck your cock” at the very same time, the kind of stare that made my dick even harder. “Like you’d know,” she muttered, then cut me with her eyes before turning to face the window, deliberately closing her journal and curling up into a ball as best she could within the confines of the seat. Normally, I don’t care what my neighbors are reading or eating or doing on a plane; I’m intent on getting where I’m going as quickly as possible. I’ve had my share of fun on planes, but for the most part I think they’re utilitarian vehicles, the fastest way to get from point A to point B, nothing to get too excited about.

  But I was excited about this girl, because she was definitely a girl, not a woman—not even close. I’d been spending my time with women who’d been around the block, who knew exactly how to give a blow job designed to make me melt, who approached sex like a sport they’d already won several medals in. Maybe that’s not totally fair, but I was bored. I was on the plane because I wanted to shake things up, not necessarily with a wild fling, but with something different. I’d been certain a quick trip to Miami would snap me out of my rut. I’d fantasized about somewhere more exotic, but time was even tighter than money and I just wanted to be in the sun, soak up a few rays, ogle some chicks in bikinis and flirt and drink and not think about my latest breakup or my job performance. Things were salvageable at work, but I wasn’t exactly going to be made employee of the year. I’d been drinking too much and had taken some of my frustration out on Heather, who’d finally had enough. But looking at this girl full of smoldering sex appeal buried beneath layers of goth indifference, I wondered if maybe I didn’t even need to get to the land of beaches, sunshine, and Cuban flair for that to happen. This wild child seemed tailor-made for that, and looked like she could use someone to talk some sense into her before she became jaded like all the others.

  Just then the stewardess came by and asked about drinks. My companion surprised me by ordering a club soda. I opted for water—with extra ice, and a whiskey. I smiled politely even as my mind formed deviant plans. My seatmate continued to pretend to ignore me, but I sensed her eyes peering at me over her shoulder. I pulled out a book, some thick thriller on the bestseller list I’d grabbed off the shelves. I used to have a stack of books just waiting to be read, and would sometimes rush home to them like they were old friends, but lately all I’d been reading were labels on jars and captions on my TV screen.

  I tried to act like I was immersed in the book, playing hard to get, if you will, but when the stewardess returned with my requested cup of ice, I was grateful for the chance to pull out my tray, and grinned up at her. I think she thought I was flirting with her, from the way she leaned down, thrusting her tits in my face. That brief nearness made my seatmate a little jealous, apparently, because she scowled at the woman and demanded both a Coke and a tomato juice. “You better not spill on me,” I said to her like she was eight.

  “Why don’t you just mind your own business?” she snapped back.

  “Are you sure that’s really what you want…Donna?” I asked, having copped a glance at the copy of Bust with its address label still attached she’d been rifling through.

  “You’re damn nosy, you know that?”

  “You were the one writing about something that I happen to have a vested interest in.”

  “I was writing in my journal, you idiot.”

  “Fine. Stay young and uninformed, I don’t care,” I said, sipping the whisky I’d so wisely had the busty stewardess bring me. I reached for my book again and tried to imagine I was in first class. But my cock was insistent that I not let this one get away.

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