Chapter 8

"Are you sure you have everything?" I asked from my car, where I had been arranging my suitcase and our two pieces of carry-on luggage. I hurried to help when I noticed Heather struggling to carry her suitcase down the sidewalk to my car, but she shook her head for me not to bother.

"You mean this?" she asked, looking down at her luggage. "This is most of it." Heather continued lugging the battered suitcase towards the car as I stood there, momentarily stunned.

"Most of it?" I asked cautiously. "How much is left?" I looked around the tiny back seat of my compact car and wondered exactly where all of our stuff was going to fit.

"My smaller suitcase has all of our bathroom stuff, along with some bedroom toys," she said, grinning slyly at me.

"You... you brought stuff?" I asked. "Nothing... nothing painful right? We talked about that, I thought."

"No," she laughed. "Nothing painful."

"But... what if someone sees it?"

"Like who?"

"Like someone from the airport, or from the hotel?"

"Who cares?" she shrugged. "It's not in our carry-on luggage, so if someone does see it, it isn't like we'll be standing right there looking guilty about it! And if we leave it out at the hotel, it would just be one of the maids that sees it. I don't care!"

"Fine," I said, smiling a little. "Just be sure to put up the Do Not Disturb sign if you want to start anything... kinky, okay?"

"Promise," Heather nodded. "Although it might be fun to leave you tied to the bed while I called down for room service."

"You wouldn't!" I said, my eyes I'm sure growing as wide as silver dollars.

"You were going to leave me in the bedroom and watch a baseball game on television," Heather huffed, while I burst into laughter.

"I was not," I laughed.

"You said you were," she replied.

"You were naked, dripping wet for me... how could any man leave that behind?"

"You mean it?" she asked, reaching out to wrap her arms around my neck and pull my head down.

"I mean it," I answered just before her lips met mine.

"Good," she said after a minute. "Now hurry up, or we'll be late!"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, snapping off my best salute. "Your wish is my command."

"Humph," Heather grunted. "Don't you forget it," she said menacingly, but there was a twinkle in her eye.

As the two of us drove to the airport she continued to look at me from the passenger's seat.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Nothing. This is my first flight, you know?"

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"It's going to be fine," I said, trying to be reassuring. "Nothing to worry about."

"I really love you," she said finally as we neared the departure gate. I turned and smiled.

"I love you too," I answered. We drove on in silence, but suddenly all I could think of was the possibility of joining the Mile High club.

"Oh my God," Heather moaned loudly enough for our fellow passengers to hear. "No one told me it would be like this!"

I looked over in alarm to where she was sitting. She had her face cradled in her hands and was rocking back and forth in her seat.

"Are you okay?" I asked, suddenly concerned. Heather had seemed fine during takeoff, but ever since the seat belt sign had been turned off she had seemed antsy. She didn't look pale to me, but her actions seemed to say otherwise, and I wasn't going to argue with a potentially sick girlfriend.

"I think I'm going to puke," she said, glancing at me for help.

"Hang on," I said, pawing through the magazines in the seat in front of me. "Shit," I swore. "There aren't any barf ba... any air sickness bags here." I turned to Heather who seemed to be on the verge of saying something when one of the flight attendants walked down the aisle towards us.

"Is everything okay?" the young woman asked in a pleasant voice, her face showing immediate concern when she saw the state Heather appeared to be in. "Oh my... how do you feel?"

"Not good," Heather mumbled.

"There aren't any bags," I said quietly to the attendant. "I think I need to get her to the bathroom."

"Certainly," the woman nodded immediately.

I helped Heather into the narrow aisle, holding her shoulders as I followed her toward the small bathroom. I saw Dr. Bergerud look up in concern from the other side of the plane, but I shook my head to tell him everything was fine.

"I'll be right out here," I gently told Heather, nodding to the attendant who left after handing me a couple of damp, warm towels.

"Oh God," Heather moaned and I quickly turned my attentions to my girlfriend who was now kneeling on the cool floor of the tiny room.

"How are you?" I asked softly. Heather turned to answer, but the miserable expression on her face told me everything I needed to know. "It's okay," I said, rubbing her back through the thin sweater she had elected to wear on the chilly airplane.

"I feel terrible," Heather moaned.

"Just... just let it go," I said, indicating the stainless steel toilet. I held Heather's long curls away from the toilet, trying to ignore the heaving sounds as Heather lost what little breakfast she had eaten that morning.

Thankful for the damp washcloths, I wiped the perspiration from Heather's forehead before washing her face clean. She stood a bit shakily, grabbing my hand as we exited the restroom.

"Better?" I asked quietly as we returned to our seats.

"A little," she shrugged, seemingly embarrassed by the looks of concern she was receiving from those seated around us.

The same flight attendant brought over a small can of ginger ale and a package of crackers, which Heather started to refuse.

"Take them," I whispered softly. "They'll do you a lot of good right now."

Heather grudgingly accepted the food and began nibbling at the crackers while taking small sips of the soda. When she finished the small meal Heather leaned against me, the exhaustion on her face evident.

"Time for a nap?" I asked, curious to see if she would be able to. During my years of touring with my college's choir, I had taken many plane rides but had never been able to sleep well.

Heather nodded, and to my relief and a bit of envy, she was quickly asleep.

Eventually I too was able to get some rest, but as always my sleep was light and interrupted by any mechanical sound I heard. But it was still a surprise when I felt myself roused from my sleep by a gentle tapping on my leg.

"Shh," Heather whispered. I opened my eyes to find I could see nothing but pitch black - the plane had apparently flown into darkness and the cabin lights were turned off.

"Heather?" I answered. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's okay. What time is it?"

"I don't know. I put my watch in my bag under the seat."

"Still cold?" I asked when I saw Heather had grabbed one of the blankets from the overhead compartment at some point.

"Actually I'm a little warm," she admitted. "That's why I woke you up."

"We don't need the blanket," I said, noticing it was thrown over my legs more than hers.

"That's not what I meant," she giggled softly, reaching out to grab my wrist. She pulled my hand under the blanket and between her thighs. "I'm really kind of hot," she said. "Can't you tell?"

I could.

Even before I reached the juncture of her legs, I could feel the heat from her pussy radiating upward toward my hand. The circulation and recycling of the air throughout the cabin kept me from smelling Heather's arousal, but when my fingers found her pubic hair already soaked with her slick juices there was no doubt as to her excitement level.

"I'm so wet," Heather blushed. "I keep hearing about people joining the Mile High club and I got so excited." Heather leaned close, pressing my hand firmly against her wet crotch. I flexed my fingers once, sliding over her slippery flesh before burying my index finger in her warmth.

"What do you want to do?" I asked, my voice nearly cracking as I whispered into the darkness. My cock was instantly hard, my heart pounding in my chest as I imagined the possibilities. I had read stories and heard rumors about the Mile High club, but most of what I had heard was totally unbelievable.

Tales of wild fucking in the bathroom seemed impossible, especially since I knew firsthand just how small this one was and how close the rest of the passengers really were. I had heard rumors of people screwing underneath a blanket similar to what was now draped over my lap, but even that seemed impossible. Was that what Heather had in mind? How were we supposed to do it?

Before I could mention any of this Heather grinned and pushed my hand away from her boiling pussy.

"What?" was all I managed to get out before Heather dropped her head, winking as she pulled the blanket from my lap.

"Lift your hips," she whispered and I felt her fingers beginning to struggle with my belt. Suddenly the belt was undone, followed quickly by the waistband and zipper of my jeans.

I obediently lifted my hips and quickly Heather pushed my jeans and underwear down around my knees, freeing my erection, which obediently popped into the air, stiff and ready.

"Try not to make too much noise," she giggled softly before leaning down and taking my length in her hot, wet mouth. Realizing where she was headed I grabbed a corner of the blanket and pulled it over my lap, covering my nakedness as well as her position.

I grabbed hold of the arm rests with both hands, making fists as I tried not to cry out. Heather' head was bobbing up and down furiously in my lap and through the blanket I could hear soft wet slurping noises as her lips and tongue played over my hot flesh.

I closed my eyes tight before realizing I alone could watch for anyone who might see us and quickly opened them, glancing around nervously. The other passengers seemed to be sleeping, but I was nervous about a flight attendant - perhaps the helpful one from earlier on the flight - checking to see how we were doing.

"Oh fuck," I hissed as Heather began applying heavy suction to the head of my prick. Her hand was wrapped around my balls, gently squeezing in time with her sucking and I knew my time was soon approaching. To my dismay Heather pulled her mouth away from my cock and grinned at me.

"Good?" she asked.

"Hurry up," I moaned. As soon as Heather once again dropped her open mouth to my erection I again covered her head with the blanket and reached out my right hand and slipped it between Heather's legs. Her juices were flowing freely from her pussy, coating the insides of her thighs with sticky fluid. I simply followed the trail to the source and with my hand already well-lubricated, plunged three fingers inside her dripping snatch.

"Humph," she moaned around my cock as I penetrated her sticky center. As I began a steady thrusting motion Heather sped her movements around my prick. I used my thumb to strum a quick rhythm on Heather's clit, trying to bring her to her own orgasm.

Unable to hold off any longer I thrust my hips against Heather's mouth as a river of sperm flowed from my cock. She choked softly as the first spurt erupted but quickly began swallowing my seed.

Her hips were flexing against my hand in time to the muscles in her throat contracting around my prick and as my orgasm dwindled I felt Heather's pussy clench around my fingers. Realizing her time had arrived I began tickling the inside of her walls with my fingers, dragging my nails lightly over the rough patch of skin that was her most sensitive spot.

Heather froze momentarily and the thought occurred to me that if she fought to stifle a cry my prick - soft now but still encased in her mouth - might be in danger. Happily Heather's climax caused no such troubles although her legs did spasm and hit the back of the seat in front of us. Luckily no one seemed to notice.

"Wow," Heather whispered as I slowly brought her down from her orgasm. To my surprise she grabbed my hand away from her pussy and licked her juices from my fingers, savoring each digit as she licked up her sticky secretions.

The visual was nearly enough to bring my prick back to life, but I was spent for the moment and quickly felt myself tiring.

We cuddled together under the blanket and were quickly asleep.

I was awakened by a rough shaking on my shoulder, and not for the first time wondered why I was never the first one awake. Grumbling like I normally do when aroused from a deep sleep I slowly opened my eyes to see who the disturber of my sleep was this time.

"What?" I asked when I saw it was Dr. Bergerud. I was perhaps a bit more gruff than I should have been, but in my mind he deserved it.

"Come on," he said, shaking me a bit more roughly and I immediately thought of my father. Never one to coddle a sleeping person, I generally figured myself to be lucky while growing up if my father simply called my name as opposed to grabbing the sheets and pulling my pillow out from under my head in order to wake me up.

"We're there," he laughed. "Heather's already climbed over you, so get up," he said, slapping my knee. I grumbled a bit more but finally pulled myself out of the uncomfortably small airplane seat and grabbed my small bag.

Still wiping the sleep out of my eyes I staggered after the rest of our group. Dr. Bergerud held back to wait for me while the three women went on ahead. I watched them for a moment before hurrying after them.

"Pretty amazing," I said.

"What is?" Dr. Bergerud responded.

"Your wife and daughter. If I didn't know which was which, I think you could have convinced me the two were sisters."

"They're a lot a like," he said, nodding his head. "In lots of different ways."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Just... lots of different ways," he replied. "Come on, let's go get the luggage and try to get to our hotel before lunch."

Our plane had landed at a little after ten o'clock in the morning, but my body - even with the sleep I'd had on the plane - was letting me know that more rest would be in order before I would feel normal.

"Can't do it," was Stacey's response. "If you sleep now, you'll just be messed up the rest of the trip."

"But it's not even noon yet," I protested. "I'm going to keel over from exhaustion long before bedtime."

"Nonsense," Katie giggled. "I'm sure Heather will think of something to keep you up, if you know what I mean."

Heather and I shared a small grin, but I was surprised when Stacey jumped into the conversation.

"Katie," she said harshly. "That's enough of that kind of talk."

"Yes," interjected Dr. Bergerud. "Apologize this instant."

"Sorry, Sir," Katie mumbled quietly before turning to where Heather and I were standing. "I'm sorry, guys."

"That's okay," said Heather while I nodded my agreement. "It's fine."

The previously good mood was only slightly lessened as the five of us stood waiting to retrieve our luggage. Apparently Swedish airports are much more efficient than American airports generally are, and it was but a matter of five or six minutes before our luggage came rolling past us.

"That's mine!" Heather shouted, reaching to grab her smaller suitcase, the transport of which had cost us a few extra dollars.

"Careful," I said, leaning close to whisper in her ear. "Wouldn't want everyone to see what a couple of perverts we are."

Heather responded by elbowing me in the gut before turning to laugh.

"No chance of that," she grinned. "Stacey and Katie each had some extra room in their carry-on luggage, so we swapped some stuff out."

"So you're saying that..."

"Our toys were with us on the plane," she grinned impishly.

"What?" I asked in amazement. "What if..."

"Sorry I didn't tell you," she giggled. "Did you want to play earlier?"

"Not a bit," I said and hurried to catch up with the Bergerud family. Our bags had all arrived and we were now headed out to find a cab to take us to the hotel the conference had set up for us.

The World Choral Symposium is - as the name implies - a major international choral event. The Symposium is held every three years, each time in a different world city and hosted by that city's top choral organizations. Clinicians come from around the world to give workshops and there are numerous educational opportunities, but the top attractions for most of the attendees are the concerts given each day. Any choir from around the world can apply to perform, so the screening process is incredibly intense, and those selected truly are the cream of the choral world.

I knew that years before at either the fourth or fifth Symposium, Dr. Bergerud had taken a group to perform, and he had always looked at that event as one of his major achievements. It occurred to me that he was attending this Symposium solely as an observer, and asked why he still wanted to come.

"Oh, many reasons, I guess," he said while the girls tried to hail a cab. As efficient as the airport had been at getting our luggage, it appeared the cab drivers in Stockholm were much the same as those in other cities - never around when you needed one.