Chapter 1: A Game on a Plane Has Far Reaching Effects

“Good evening Mr. Winslow. Welcome to American Airlines. I see you checking in for our flight to Tampa ... may I see some photo identification? Any bags to check?”

I passed over my Florida driver’s license to the cute young agent at the desk. She glanced at it and me several times to verify my resemblance to the photo, and then passed it back to me. I didn’t think I looked too much like that photo any longer: premature salt and pepper hair, deeper tan than the pasty white skin I’d had when I first moved to Florida, and five more years of wrinkles that made me look like I’d gained more wisdom than I really had. All that, and I was only in my thirties.

“OK, Mr. Winslow. Here’s your boarding pass. For being a loyal customer to American Airlines, we’ve upgraded you to first class for this trip.” The pretty blonde bimbo looked up at me and gave me a broad toothy smile that would make her orthodontist happy. It was the nicest one of my entire trip, and I wondered if she’d ever meet Mr. Right in the job she had as a ticket agent at LAX – the fifth busiest airport in the country. Things at the airport were unusually quiet for this time of night – ten-thirty is pretty late except for the last of the arriving flights and the few departing red eyes heading east or to Europe.

I pulled my roller bag away from the counter, went through security – now being able to cut out a lot of the security bullshit after having gotten my TSA-Pre number, not that there were a lot of people waiting to go through the one line at this time of night; I could keep my shoes and belt on, didn’t have to unpack my computer and turn it on, and usually only got a cursory body check.

I arrived at the gate just as I heard the last call for the other first class passengers to board. An announcement over the speaker in the gate area then called for ‘First Class and those seated in rows thirty and higher to board.’ There weren’t a lot of passengers, so I could see why I’d been the fortunate recipient of the bump to first class. It had happened before. I traveled a lot as part of my job as a security consultant, several hundred thousand miles a year according to my frequent flyer accounts which I seldom used. If you traveled that much, the last thing you wanted to do on your own time was get back on another airplane.

I followed several others down the jet way, got on the plane, and immediately stowed my bag in the overhead above seat 2B. A pretty blonde in a business suit about my age sat in 2A next to the window. She looked up, smiled, and we nodded at each other; I slipped my briefcase under the seat in front of me, and sat down. I would be on the plane for the next five or six hours – L.A. to Tampa – a red eye: take off Thursday evening at eleven o’clock L.A. time, and land Friday at six-thirty the next morning three time zones to the east.

I popped a paperback book out of my blazer pocket – a mystery by Harlan Corben. Before I started to read, I took two minutes to just cool down from the rush to the airport after a dinner with a potential client – a subsidiary of a large aerospace company that had offices that abutted LAX. I left the dinner later than I’d planned, so I’d had to hustle to catch this flight. I closed my eyes and did a two-minute drill of mindfulness that made my senses recover from their dulled state that the slight excess of dinner and wine had also induced.

I sensed the woman next to me as I did my speed meditation. Even with my eyes closed I recalled the visual snapshot I’d taken of her: early to mid thirties – close to my age; serious business dress – heels, maxi skirt, white silk blouse, scarf, and blazer – expensive, and obviously from the finer shops somewhere. She’d had a no nonsense look, plus a trace of a subtle perfume that I liked. Her pretty face had just a touch of make up – nothing overdone, carefully coiffured hair, manicured nails with a natural gloss, again the expensive and chic look, but all business – not flashy. She wore modestly high-heeled shoes, Ferragamos. They looked expensive too.

I opened my eyes and turned to look at her to see if I’d remembered her correctly. I had. She’d put on reading glasses that half-covered her eyes, and was reviewing some kind of financial statement. I purposely avoided trying to read the paper; I wasn’t the nosy kind. In her hand she had a red pen and would occasionally circle some part of each page and jot a word or two in the margin. I saw one word she wrote in the margin in large print, ‘Bullshit!!!’

I started to read my own book as the other passengers filed on the plane, most bumping my shoulder with their shoulder bags. Eventually, the parade stopped, the doors were closed, several safety announcements were made, the plane taxied for a mile or two, and then we took off.

After the rapid rise to altitude for noise abatement, the plane turned east and slowed its ascent, and the flight attendants started to move around.

There was only one other man in first class two rows behind us, so the one attendant dedicated to first class would have a relaxed flight with only three of us.

The attendant had a nametag that read ‘Helen – Austin, TX.’ She leaned over the seat in front of us with a natural smile. “Good evening. May I get you a drink and a snack?” She consulted her passenger manifest, “Miss Reynolds? ... Mr. Winslow?”

I watched the pretty woman on my left. “Chardonnary, if you please, and yes on the snack.” She glanced at me to handoff our ordering process.

I said, “Helen, I’ll join the lady with a Chardonnary but skip the snack. A glass of ice too, if you please.”

The attendant moved to the only other passenger well behind us in first class and I heard the same litany go by, but a turn down of the offer for anything. I knew many passengers preferred to try to sleep on a red eye. I’d never mastered the skill; at best, I was good for an hour nap.

Just as I was thinking of moving across the aisle to an empty row, a voice to my left that sounded friendly said, “Pam.”

I glanced at her with a smile, anticipating her next question as well; “Bob, and yes, I’m headed home for the long weekend. I live in Sarasota.”

Pam smiled, “Oh, me too, neighbor ... well actually I live in Lakewood Ranch, but that’s right next door and used to be considered Sarasota.” She paused and asked tentatively, “Were you were out in L.A. on business?”

I nodded and responded to the question, “Yeah. I’m a consultant specializing in cyber-security. I was talking to a client out here the past two days about their approach to external threats. Sounds boring, but I actually enjoy the work. I’m a computer jock at heart, even though I’ve left some of the nitty-gritty stuff behind at this point in my career. This afternoon’s visit and my dinner involved romancing an old client where I’m hoping for some follow-on work.” I paused and asked, “How about you?”

Pam said with a smile. “As of six months ago, I run a hedge fund. It’s my own invention, and deals with non-traditional investments.”

My eyebrows went up and I gestured for her to say more.

“Well, I’ve got a pile of money – my own small pot and a lot from other investors – who like being in non-stock-market kind of investments, in today’s case something in the film industry. Thus I was out there talking to some of the people in that industry and trying to get them to open up about their finances, but so far I’m not all that happy with what I’ve rooted out of them.” She gestured to the paper on her tray table; the word ‘Bullshit!!!’ still loomed large on the page next to the columns of numbers. She added, “My mother lives in L.A. too, so I got a short visit with her too.”

She gave me a coy look and added, “When you used the word ‘romancing’ in what you do, it sounds like more fun that what I was doing.” The flirting index had just risen another ten points.

I laughed, “Well, romancing puts an interesting spin on it, except I’m just a normal heterosexual male trying to put food on my table. I don’t see much romance in cyber-security. Maybe I should have used a different word, but ‘selling’ sounds so mundane and unexciting.

Our conversation passed through the getting to know you stage, more about our jobs, our education, and where we grew up, and soon I had the feeling that I’d known Pam for years, and she was responding to me the same way. Of course, there was this man-woman, male-female dynamic going on too; another way of saying that we were flirting outrageously with each other.

After our third glass of wine, mine atop what I’d had at dinner, and Pam’s obviously following up on something she’d had earlier, we were both feeling pretty mellow and apparently a little daring.

Pam took the initiative in a low and seductive tone, “You said a while ago that you were a normal heterosexual male. If that’s the case, I’m the same way – well, a female, that is. Does that intrigue you at all?

I laughed at the obvious flirt and innuendo. “Most definitely. What do you have in mind?” I gestured around the first class cabin with a laugh, briefly imagining the two of us making love across one of the seats after we pushed up the console between us or reclined a seat to the horizontal position. I tossed the ball back to her with a glance.

“A game, if you dare.” She looked at me teasingly.

“What kind of game? Are there rules?”

“Oh, it’s my kind of game and probably yours too, given that you’re a heterosexual male. I’ll make up the rules as we go along and you play along. It’ll be a bit salacious. Are you up for some titillating fun for a few hours as we zip across America? After all, we may never see each other again, so we can play without consequences.”

I laughed again, “Try me. I suppose I can always say no, and by the way, everything has consequences.”

“Oh, yes. And no means no. Now where have I heard that before? Oh, well, let’s begin. I’m going to call this game... ‘Fantasies.’”

“Sounds interesting. How do we start?”

“So you tell me a sexual fantasy of yours, and then I’ll either elaborate on it or tell you one of mine and then you elaborate or toss in a new fantasy. We’ll go back and forth for a little while, and see where that takes us. Some time to come up with imaginative ideas is permitted.” Pam gave me a wide but lecherous grin. I sensed all sorts of sexual heat from her. I had the feeling she was not this forward normally, and that it was definitely the wine talking and the intimate nature of a dimly lit cabin, and of it being near midnight and somewhere over Arizona or New Mexico.

“So, I’m supposed to just layout one of my favorite fantasies for you, here on this airplane, to a pretty woman who I only met an hour or so earlier – nearly a complete stranger? What kind of man do you think I am?” I cackled.

Pam nodded enthusiastically and kept grinning. She said, “The kind of man with all sorts of fantasies and secret lives he’d like to live.” She sat forward in her seat and leaned over to me. The cockpit lights had been dimmed, but we could still see each other well in the dimly lit cabin. The atmosphere was actually romantic.

I ventured onto this dangerous landscape, figuring that I’d try a little shock value, “Well, I don’t think I’m different from many other males in that I’d love to participate in a threesome with my partner sometime before I die – sooner better than later.”

Pam immediately retorted, “Oh, you have a partner?” Throughout our discussion about our lives, we had both studiously avoided revealing our marital status. I did it purposely to tease her and to lead her on a little. I’d been curious to see how she’d broach the subject given the level of flirting we’d reached.

I replied, “I once did, but for the past year and a half I’ve been a confirmed bachelor.” My tone apparently didn’t invite further probing, and that was fine with me at this point in our game. Even as I said it, I wondered why I’d used the word ‘confirmed.’

Pam smiled, “I plan to add on to what you said, and I’m going to appear in your fantasy too; it’ll make it more personal and playful for us. There are different kinds of threesomes, and I’d love to be in a threesome, in my case with you and another handsome guy.” She gestured for me to continue and again touched my arm in a flirty gesture.

I saw that we were to build on the fantasy, to add details. I stroked Pam’s fingers on my arm with my forefinger to indicate that I liked the physical contact. I said, “Well, we’d come back to my condo from a dinner, the three of us, and we’d sit down in the living room. I’d be on your right, and let’s say Jon would be on your left.” I gestured for her to continue the story.

Pam started, “I’d be so pleased with both of you, and our dinner, and how we all fit together that I’d turn to you and we’d kiss quite passionately – lots of tongue, and then I’d turn to Jon and do the same thing. We’d go back and forth for a while, and there’d be some really heavy breathing as we French kissed. It’d be really romantic.”

Pam stopped talking and looked at me expectantly. I could tell this was just the kind of game she’d planned on. Her deep blue eyes were twinkling with mischief even in the dim light the attendant had left on in our cabin.

I said, “I’d get up and go to my bar and pour a small glass of Grand Marnier. I’d come back to the sofa, and take a sip and then I’d enter into a French kiss with you. After we were kissing I’d jet some of the rich liqueur into your mouth as part of my kiss of love to you.” I figured I toss a little more flirting and romance into our game as well as hint at something more physical and sensuous.

“Do it,” Pam implored, touching my arm again with her hand to add emphasis to her request; she even squeezed and pushed my arm slightly. She had pretty hands, with long tapering fingers. I wondered if there was anything about this woman that I couldn’t love.

“Do what, kiss you?” I must have sounded hopeful. I’d never had a one-night stand on an airplane before, but there was always a first time for everything.

Pam urged, “Yes, a kiss, but also with the Grand Marnier. The attendant probably has some. Ask her.” She glanced towards the plane’s galley and nudged me again.

I got up from my seat and walked into the galley at the front of the first class section. Our flight attendant was seated and reading a thick paperback. This was one relaxed flight, and in the middle of the night with only three people to care for I knew she had little to do. She looked up and smiled warmly. I asked for the liqueur, and she indeed had it on board. She gave me two bottles, and a glass.

As I returned to my seat I glanced at the only other passenger in the first class cabin. He was sprawled out in the last seat in first class wearing an eyeshade and obviously asleep. His mouth was open and I could see a line of drool coming from his mouth. Behind him, the curtains were also drawn across the aisle heading back to the darkened coach section on the relatively empty plane.

I sat down, poured one of the small bottles of the rich orange liqueur into the glass, and took a sip. I took another, and then leaned across the small console between our seats.

Pam looked eager, and she leaned to me and closed her eyes. I found her mouth and brushed my lips back and forth across her lips, before centering and then running my tongue into her mouth. After ‘lock’ had been made, I squirted the fluid from my mouth into hers.

Pam moaned. Her hand came up around my neck and pulled me into a longer, deeper, and more meaningful kiss with her. We came up for air a few times, but returned to kissing after each break. My brain was doing cartwheels; this was the best airplane flight ever.

Finally, she pulled away slightly and really studied me. I think she was trying to look into my inner most thoughts to see if I was feeling the same things for her that she’d started to feel for me. I was.

She whispered, “You almost made me peak. That’s the hottest kiss by far of any I’ve ever had in my entire life, ... and I’ve kissed a lot of frogs. You are no frog, my fair prince. I hope you like your princess because she really likes you.” She smiled at me warmly and then kissed me again. I liked how Pam kissed too, and hoped that the rest of our trip would contain a lot of this pleasant pastime. I hadn’t started to think beyond the plane’s landing, but I wondered.

Pam added after a break in our kisses, “Now, do that to me again, please – your liquid kiss.”

I took another sip of the now rich liqueur, and we entered into another hot kiss. As we kissed and our temperatures rose, I blasted a healthy dose of the liqueur into her mouth. Pam moaned a long, low sound that turned into a growl and then a purring sound. When we parted she and I looked deep into each other’s eyes for a long time – over a minute, maybe even two. Without a word we were communicating on many levels.

Finally, Pam whispered, “Back to our fantasy. After doing that a few times with me, I lean over and start to undo your shirt, button by button.” She coyly smiled at me, and then reached up with one finger and gently toyed with the top button to my shirt, eventually unbuttoning it.

I could tell it was my turn, so I said, “And I watch as Jon reaches around you from behind and holds your luscious breasts, fondling them with an obvious goal to excite and entice you to further sexual and romantic action.”

Pam said, “And after I finish unbuttoning your shirt, I turn to Jon and unbutton his shirt. When I turn back to you, you’ve removed your shirt revealing your manly chest. Behind me I know Jon is doing the same thing.”

After a tender kiss on Pam’s lips, I whispered, “And after kissing you softly and tenderly to communicate to you my deep affection and passion for you, I pull your shirt from your skirt and gently pull it over your head. Now, you sit between us in only a lacy bra that reveals more than it hides.” As I talked I stroked Pam’s tummy through her blouse just above her skirt belt with one finger. My message got across in only a few seconds.

Pam reached to the tray in front of me and picked up the glass of Grand Marnier. She took a sip and then reached over and pulled my head to hers. As we kissed, she jetted the liqueur into my mouth as her tongue probed for mine and I sucked on her muscle.

Pam whispered more to herself than to me, “God. I had no idea this game would become such a turn on so fast. This is way beyond my best expectations. I hope you’re liking it as much as I am. I hope you’re liking me as much as I’m liking you.”

I nodded with an obvious smile of appreciation.

Pam kissed me a few times, and then added to our fantasy. “After losing my top, I turn to Jon and kiss him with the Grand Marnier. We both moan and get highly aroused, and then he runs his fingers across the edges of my brassiere, stroking my skin, and raising my body heat and lust to an even higher level.”

I stepped in, “And as Jon is doing that and I’m behind you, I kiss your shoulder and then undo the small hooks holding the bra to your body. As it loosens, I push the flimsy material down your arms.”

Pam panted, “And Jon catches the material and sets it aside. He leans in and kisses my nearest nipple, bringing it to a sharp point that could etch glass. While he does that, you are kissing my shoulder, neck, and nibbling on my ears from behind me. You know those things really turn me on. You’re also turned on watching me kiss Jon and share the liqueur with him in our French kisses.”

I smiled at how she was revealing her weak points to me. We had each other in a state of high sexual heat. I wondered if we’d end up fucking in the aisle because we couldn’t wait. I glanced around the plane’s cabin, but all was quiet and unmoving.

I leaned in and kissed Pam again, finding a more than willing partner. This time between kisses our tongues dueled gently but passionately in the open air between our mouths. This was one hot woman in my arms and she tasted like heaven.

I didn’t push our physical contact. While she might be enjoying the kisses, if I were to even inadvertently stroke her breasts with a finger or hand, it might blow the delicate balance we’d created in our new friendship.

Pam asked gently as we parted one time, “Bob, do you have a sense of humor?”

“I do. I’m not into practical jokes or slapstick comedy at all, but I love jokes, humor, and sarcasm in the right dose and in the right place. I am easily amused and find humor even in tragic situations, providing I’m not too involved in them.”

“Did you find humor in your divorce?”

I chuckled at Pam’s not so subtle probe about how I’d ‘lost’ my partner over a year prior. She’d made the correct assumption that I’d been divorced, but based on virtually no information I’d offered beforehand other than referring to activities I did using ‘I’ and not ‘We’ vocabulary.

“Yes, I guess I did. I laughed at myself for being unaware of how my ex was getting involved with someone else despite a list of signals as long as your arm. I didn’t think it was tragic; it just ‘is’ or ‘was.’ We’d had a great seven-year marriage, but that’s all the time it was meant to last. We’re still friends, and I even like her new husband. We’ve been on a couple of double dates.”

“Really? Do you have a steady girlfriend?”

“No, no one special. I’ve gone out a few times. My ex, Reese, thinks she has to fix me up with dates because she instigated our separation, but I don’t think she knew what she wanted at the time. I’m really quite content with the flow of things, but I humor her so when she calls to arrange something I’ll generally go, but none of her dates have amounted to anything serious such as a second date. My best guy friend thinks he has to fix me up too, but I think he knows now that I’d rather find a girlfriend on my own.”

Pam pecked me on the cheek and then said in an urgent tone, “OK, back to the game. It was your turn.”

“Ah, yes. You’d just become naked from the waist up; an exceptionally pleasant thought, I might add.” I ogled Pam up and down rather obviously; she flashed me a smile that I’d noticed her body. I went on, “After Jon has kissed and sucked on your breasts for a while, he turns you towards me so he can take over turning you on with kisses to your back, shoulders, neck, and ears. He also wants me to kiss you and share soul kisses with you. You like that coming from the two of us; you are really turned on. I romance your breasts with my hands, lips, tongue, and mouth. I gently suck, milking you and heating you up. You respond by holding my head to your chest and urging me on. I often come up and kiss you too when Jon is otherwise occupied.”

I paused; Pam was hanging on my every word and lightly panting. I asked, “What about you? Boyfriend? Husband? Steady?”

She shook her head to come back to reality, “Oh, right now, no one. Had a husband for a while, like you – about five years; it ended about five years ago. No kids, not that I wouldn’t like some. You?”

“No kids either. I’d like being a dad. I’m an uncle to a couple of great kids of my brother and his wife, but that’s it. They’re outside of Atlanta, so I don’t see them too much. It’s not that we choose to ignore each other; it’s just that we’re busy with our own lives and hence don’t talk too much. How about your sense of humor and tolerance?”

Pam grinned. “I have a good sense of humor that sounds like yours. Anyone I get serious about must have one too ... and be tolerant of all my little foibles. I probably have a lot of them if I think about it. I think I’m tolerant of a lot of things with people. I have about twenty staff in my company, and thus a wide range of personalities and dispositions and get along with all of them. I think they like me as a boss too.”

I asked in a teasing tone, “Have you ever been in an open marriage or relationship?”

Pam pondered that question for a moment. “No, but I wouldn’t mind so long as the door swung both ways. I don’t think I want to swing on a steady basis, but I do think there’s a ‘fun’ component to sex that most people overlook or avoid. I wouldn’t want to step outside a relationship unless my partner was solidly into it too.”

I said, “Your turn.” I reminded Pam about our game.

“Oh, yeah. So, after a few minutes of kissing both you and Jon, I undo belt buckles and zippers on each of you. I can reach inside your pants and I find that you’re both excited about the prospects for the rest of the evening with me.”

I picked up from there, “As you do that, we are both fondling your breasts, and Jon has undone the button and zipper holding up your skirt on your shapely body. From my angle, I run my hand up your legs all the way to your most private area. I stroke you through your bikini undies and I find that you are soaked with your wonderful sexual juices through and through. You’re as excited as we are.”

I paused and asked another deep question of Pam, “What do you think holds a relationship together? How do you know you’re loved?” I kissed her briefly.

Pam openly panted from our elaborate and growing fantasy, but I could tell she put some thought into the answers because of the look on her face as she thought. To gain some time to think she made out with me for a minute.

She broke away and said, “Love is the glue, and there’s got to be a lot of it. It’s got to be palpable every day so that neither partner ever doubts how the other feels about them. I read a book once about the five languages of love; as I recall they were quality time, words of affirmation, gifts, service for the other partner, and of course physical touch in some way. The last point, sex is important to me. I like to be touched and held and cuddled by the man I love. I want to be close to my lover and him close to me – quality time; I guess that means we talk about deep things often, really trying to understand how each of us think about the world. I don’t care too much about a flow of gifts or having things done for me – once in a while is nice, but not all the time. I guess some words affirming our relationship and ‘us’ are nice too, but I’m a self-starter so I don’t need much outside affirmation about my own goodness. How about you?”

I chuckled, “I think we’re very aligned. Reese liked quality time, gifts and me doing things for her. I guess I was too focused on my career at the time, so our quality time slipped. She had a friend she met through work at the hospital who started to provide those things, at first in a platonic way, and then things got romantic between them. They started a short affair, and then came to me for both forgiveness and to ask for Reese’s release from our marriage. I knew it was the right thing for her even though I was broken up about it. We had a peaceful separation, but Reese promised me that she’d still be in my life in what she called a nice way. I had to accept that – not much choice really. They had a small wedding when things were final; I was an official witness.”

I continued, “I’m pretty physical too; sex is a vital element in a relationship for me. I was a nerd through college, so didn’t date much and certainly didn’t have much sex. Reese was a pretty tightly wound female without experience too. We dated, eventually slept together – but only after we were engaged, and then had a pretty plain vanilla marriage as far as the sex went. Since we parted, I’ve found a whole new world of sexual experiences and fun out there, although for me it’s all pretty new. As for the glue in a relationship, I agree it’s love, but it’s also an openness to try new things, to support my partner even in endeavors that might do little for me, and so on. I really think I’ll be a better husband the next time around, but I’m not rushing to get married. I’m happy.”

Pam soaked in my responses like a damp sponge. After some contemplation she asked, “If we were married would you let me have an affair?”

“No, definitely not; that’s secretive and destructive. Besides the word ‘Let’ implies that I have some ownership over you, and that I give you permission to do some things and deny permission to do others. You or anyone I would be in a relationship with would be your own person, making your own decisions, and taking responsibility for your own actions. So, in answer to your question I might encourage you to have a deep and loving relationship with another man or woman where you openly share what’s happening and how you’re feeling with me. I would hope that your ‘other’ relationship wouldn’t end with us parting and that we would still have the bond of love between us, but if that’s what happened, I think I’d realize that was meant to be.”

Pam snorted, “You wouldn’t care if I had a lesbian relationship?”

“Most men, me included, get turned on by the idea. I’d want to be there some of the time and watch, or participate. Now, that’s a whole other fantasy we haven’t gotten to yet – the other kind of threesome.” I grinned lecherously at her.

Pam thought a moment and said, “My turn in our fantasy. I stand up in front of you and Jon, and I slowly shimmy my skirt and half-slip down my legs. I have good-looking legs, and as they become entirely visible to you two, I can watch your eyes enlarge in anticipation. I step out of my skirt and toss it over a nearby chair with our shirts.” As she talked Pam looked down at her heavily cloaked legs beneath her dark skirt. I had to take it on face value that she did indeed have nice legs.