Business Class

For H, with whom I first wrote erotica...in recognition of what we never tried.

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He first noticed her several places ahead in the security line at the airport. She was late 30s or early 40s, 5ft 7in or so, shoulder-length dark hair, slim, with an attractive face. Well-dressed, tight expensive jeans, designer purple low-cut top. "Nice ass," he thought in that unconscious male way when she bent down to slip her shoes off. And when she stood side on in the body scanner and lifted her arms he saw she was stacked as well.

Or else had been to Victoria's Secret. You couldn't be sure any more; lingerie could get a girl several cup sizes.

She was sitting in the departure lounge for the same overnight flight when he got there after his usual desultory ramble through duty free...the single malts were almost always more expensive than on the street back home. His impressions were confirmed; pretty face, nice body, well dressed. He watched her disappear down the entry ramp when they boarded the first class passengers.

"Mr Roberts?" The girl scanning the boarding pass looked at him. "Could you wait to the side please? There's a problem with your seat assignment. "Great" he thought, "I'm going to get bumped." He started thinking of the calls he'd need to make, the meetings to reschedule.

"Mr Roberts?" The girl was talking to him again. "We're overbooked in economy. So we're going to seat you in Business Class. I presume that's fine?"

The stewardess showed him to his seat and a pleasant surprise...the woman from the security line was in the adjoining seat, and she smiled as he sat down. "Hi. I'm Natalie," she said, leaning a little forward and holding out her hand. "Richard. Richard Roberts," he said shaking her hand. The seats on this model of plane were arranged in a configuration of head-to-tail, with a low dividing wall in between, which meant they could look more or less directly at each other. The seats converted into beds by extending the footrest and putting the seatback down.

"Nice looking man" she thought, checking him out. Average height, medium build, graying hair. Slim, some facial lines. She put his age as somewhere in his 40s. She studied his hands. No wedding ring.

They exchanged the usual pleasantries; jobs, cities, travel stories. He noticed her book and enquired...she was reading "50 Shades of Grey"

"So what do you think of that book? I tried to read it but it seemed a bit formulaic. Really badly written. And I don't believe any intelligent educated woman would be involved with S