Chapter 2: Bored at the Airport

Even though I haven’t flown that many times, the thrill of flying had long since left me - if it had ever been there in the first place. It wasn’t that I was afraid of flying, I just didn’t like it. Being cooped up in a small tube with hundreds of strangers, breathing recirculated air that contained God only knows what pathogens, fighting for room with the inevitable fat guy that I always seemed to be stuck sitting next to, dealing with the ear-popping, the dry air, and generally rude people ... well you might say I hadn’t been looking forward to the flight.

Within the first thirty minutes at the Pittsburgh airport, my jaded views about flying were only reinforced. Flying with the cheap seats meant we had to wait in the cattle lanes while people with overweight bags tried to repack them, idiots without proper ID tried to negotiate their way on-board (and failing), then there were the security lines - hell on earth if there ever was.

I decided to drive myself to the airport even though Mr. Eisenberg had offered me a ride. It wasn’t I didn’t want to be with them, I just wanted to be on my own schedule for as long as possible before being subjugated to heaven only knew what was awaiting me for the next five days. When I met the family at the check-in it was actually the first time I’d met his wife and daughters. Even though I’d seen family photos in his office, you never really know how someone looks until you see them in person.

The first thing that struck me was that for the first time, I saw Mr. Eisenberg in something other than a suit (or his birthday suit for that matter). My first impression when I’d seen him last month has been that of a handsome, middle-age man, balding slightly at the sides although his hair was still dark. He seemed to be of average build, several inches taller than me even back then with my heels so now he towered over me in my sneakers. He could have used a few workouts at the gym but was no means fat.

Then there was Kelly. Yes, his wife’s name was Kelly and from the start I just knew it would be SO annoying. She was even prettier than her picture on her husband’s desk. Kelly was either was well-endowed by Mother Nature or had some outside assistance when it came to her boobs which looked incredible, even with the loose dress she was wearing. The outline of her bra was visible and it was undoubtedly helping to support them so I would have to wait until later to tell if they were real or not.

In any case, she probably looked great in a bikini as her figure, especially her legs, showed signs that she spent a lot of time working out as well. Seeing how gorgeous she was, it made me wonder why her husband would risk his marriage with her by cheating on her. Then again, it also made me feel all the better about myself knowing he was willing to throw away a marriage with such a hot wife just to have me.

Their two daughters remained back, as if a little shy but it could have been indifference more than anything. It was one reason I didn’t want to teach the higher grades for now - the boys are all hormones and the girls adopt the typical “princess” attitudes. God, it was like they knew everything and the rest of us on the earth were placed here solely to annoy them.

Looking at the two of them, it was hard to believe they were sisters. At least one of them HAD to have been adopted. Morgan was the older of the two, soon to be an eighth grader. She was as platinum blonde as her sister Kenzie was a dark brunette, her hair as curly as her sister’s was straight. With her arms folded and that look of total boredom on her cute face, she was indeed the epitome of the “princess” category I mentioned before. There would be no satisfying her on this trip and I just knew that the whole time she would act as though nothing was worthy of her interest so I immediately pigeon-holed her in my “ignore her” box that I put girls like her in when I really didn’t have to deal with them.

Kenzie (short for Mackenzie) was the youngest and would be entering 6th grade this fall. She seemed more shy than anything, yet she had this impish little grin that belied something more simmering just under the surface. Oh yeah, I had a feeling SHE was going to be the one to watch out for. Both girls were wearing conservative loose shorts that came almost to their knees. Morgan’s were a light pink while Kenzie’s were blue denim. Kenzie was cute but Morgan was definitely going to be a hottie as she may have been just fourteen but she already had the look of a girl several years older - and the boobs to match (maybe her mom’s were real?).

As for Kenzie, she was just starting to show signs of a future bust but if she had the same genes as her sister and mom seemed to share, it wasn’t going to be long before she would be trying on her first real bra. Morgan had legs I would’ve killed for at her age while Kenzie’s still had that thin coltish look of a twelve year-old. I wondered what the two of them would say if they knew what their dad had demanded of me not quite a month earlier?

As I approached them they all looked at me. Well, the girls just glanced and then went back to their I-Pods and cell phones. Mr. Eisenberg gave me the standard “guy” once over, his eyes focusing in on my boobs while his wife “inspected” me - the best way I can describe the serious look she gave me along with the slight frown on her face. Sheesh, it wasn’t like I was in full “slut mode”, but my white denim shorts were considerably shorter relative to my legs than her daughters’, coming maybe a third of the way down my thighs (at most) but still fully covering my ass. They were pretty tight but even had I sat down with my legs spread open I wouldn’t have to worry about revealing anything. One good thing about them was that at least I didn’t have to worry about wearing panties with them.

On top I was wearing a salmon tank top with a light green blouse that I left unbuttoned but which covered my arms and shoulders a bit as it was a still pretty cool this early in the morning. The blouse also added another layer over my boobs such that my nipples, which were poking through the tank top as I wasn’t wearing a bra, were covered most of the time. I was wearing sneakers with white anklets and all-in-all I felt I was relatively conservative considering what I COULD have worn (or not).

Mr. Eisenberg introduced me to everyone. His wife shook my hand coolly and quickly disengaged with just a terse “good morning”. I saw her glance at her husband, catching him with his eyes once again focused on my chest, and I could see the look of disapproval on her face. No doubt she was having second thoughts about her husband’s scheme to invite me along as I was sure it was HIS idea, not hers.

One thing I soon learned that I hadn’t expected - the girls would not be with us the majority of the time. It seemed that there was a special “kid’s camp” for teens that would keep them busy going to places like Universal Studios, the beach and such. Actually, it sounded like fun! I can’t say I was disappointed they would be out of my hair and it also meant the RV wouldn’t be as crowded, not to mention two less pairs of prying eyes.

As Mr. Eisenberg checked us in (and thankfully paid the luggage fee for my bag), his Kelly wasted no time in letting me know her expectations and terms for the trip. She pulled me over to the side, smiling sweetly to her husband as if she was going to share some sort of “girl thing” with me, but that pleasant expression evaporated immediately as she turned to face me.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here exactly but I just want to get one thing clear from the outset,” she hissed in a terse tone, “When Bill told me he was inviting a teacher from school I just assumed it was one of the old biddies and didn’t think twice about it. If I’d known my husband was inviting a slut like you I would NEVER have gone along with it.”

I started to protest at the “slut” reference but she wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise.

“Oh now don’t try to give me that,” she cut me off, “Oh I’ve seen your type before ... hell, I WAS your type at your age so don’t think you can fool me for a minute. You just stay away from Bill - got it sweetie?”

I again started to protest, trying to say I had no idea what she was talking about but she would have none of it.

“Give me a break, no idea ... humph!,” she practically snorted with undisguised disgust for me, “Just like you somehow ‘forgot’ to put on a bra this morning? And if those shorts were any higher your ass would be hanging out. You DO know this is a CHURCH convention, don’t you? Have you no shame?”

Trying not to make the situation any worse than it already was, I assured her that indeed I did and that I was sorry if my outfit offended her (I really wasn’t but I figured I’d better say so). I then promised not to do anything like she was implying but of course, I had no intention of keeping my word. Let’s be real - if it came down to doing whatever I had to do in order to keep my job or my word to her, there was little doubt what my decision would be.