Chapter 1

When the chime on the airplane rings and the captain announces “turbulence ahead” one can feel nervous anticipation throughout the cabin. In the days before smoking was prohibited on airplanes, half the passengers would light up to calm their nerves. Tension filled the cabin along with cigarette smoke that could be cut with a knife.

At seventeen years of age, I had never smoked. Trying my hardest to keep from gagging from the cloud of smoke that seemed to have instantaneously filled the cabin I feared that the airplane would shake apart from being tossed about in midair. Having chosen a window seat I had thought that I would be able to see the ground, the sea, or whatever was below us but all I saw was a solid carpet of clouds.

Feeling the comforting touch of a soft hand on my knee I heard the words, “This happens all the time. Just take a few deep breaths and relax sweetie. You’re safe.” They came from the woman beside me before the plane took off. Her sweet smile immediately calmed me as she said, “Airplanes are designed to withstand this kind of stress. As you fly more often you will understand what causes it and you’ll realize how sturdily these airplanes are built. There is nothing at all to fear.” I was taken by her English accent. She was a pretty woman who reminded me of the English actress, Deborah Kerr.

The flight left Logan Airport at 10:00 pm and was due to arrive at Heathrow by 8:45 a.m. It was my first airplane flight, and the term “redeye” made it both mysterious and exciting. Redeyes were not as full in the eighties as they are now, this one was no more than half full. Had I been a seasoned traveler I would have chosen an aisle seat, but I thought sitting next to the window would offer a better view. When we got up to altitude, I would be surprised to find that the cloud cover would obliterate the ground. As it was, we would be flying in total darkness until just before landing at Heathrow.

After the last passengers had been loaded, I saw a flight attendant walking down the aisle toward me (we called them “stewardesses” at the time). Over the top of the seats, I could make out her attractive face beneath a blue British Airways cap and the shoulders of her blue uniform. Stopping at my row she hoisted a small black Travel Pro suitcase into the overhead bin. I thought she was helping another passenger until she looked down at me, smiled, and said, “Do you mind if I share your row?”

As she smoothed the fabric of her tight-fitting blue skirt against her well-formed bottom she sat down. Looking at me she must have read the question on my face and said, “I’m deadheading to Heathrow to catch another flight day after tomorrow.” I had no idea what the term meant, and my face must have shown it. With a beautiful, toothy smile she said, “When a stewardess or pilot dead-heads, sweetie, it means that we are just taking a plane back to our home base.” Acknowledging the question mark on my face she giggled and added, “The airline pays for it.”

I don’t know why she thought I needed the explanation. My face told stories I wasn’t aware of ... something my parents always told me; they often said they could spot a lie on my face the moment I told it. At any rate, the proximity of this elegant woman excited me, the scent of her delicate lilac perfume having a narcotic effect. I could feel my heart beating in my throat and there was an embarrassing swelling between my legs that made me hope that she wouldn’t notice.

Noticing several passengers who were distinguished-looking men traveling alone I wondered why this sophisticated lady might have chosen to sit next to a teenage boy like me. Feeling self-conscious I lowered my tray table to foil any chance that she might see evidence of my boner. I was embarrassed when she cautioned, “Actually you’re not supposed to lower your tray table until we have taken off and have achieved altitude.”

When she walked toward me down the aisle she was a younger woman. But when she came into plain view at the end of my row, I could see crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes. I confess that as she lifted the suitcase to the overhead bin her flat tummy and the outline of her pubic mound against her tight skirt intensified my boner which seemed impossible to disguise.

Feigning interest in the airline magazine I’d pulled out of the seat pocket; I leafed through the pages as if I were scanning for the proper article to read. Settling on a page I pretended to read the article. Out of the corner of my eye, while trying to control my breathing I could see every move she was making. She kept glancing sideways as if she were interested in me. Arching her back she settled into her seat, folded her hands demurely in her lap then glanced more steadily in my direction. I noticed her lips curling into a smile before she moved her hand to cover her lips.

“Is that an interesting article?” she asked.”

Not knowing what to say I nodded and smiled until I realized that the magazine was UPSIDE DOWN. She tried hard but couldn’t stifle her chuckle that came out as soft laughter. Had I been in on the joke I would have thought it was the cutest giggling I’d ever heard. But I felt like a jerk. I was stuck and couldn’t do anything but suffer.

“I ... I’m sorry,” she said with obvious remorse, “I’m not laughing at you, it’s just the situation. Believe me when I say that you are simply the most endearing young man I have ever met.” She reached over and touched my arm then gave my wrist a confirming squeeze. “We’ll keep this just between us, okay?”

I don’t know why I noticed that she was wearing a wide, gold wedding band, it wasn’t like me to notice that kind of thing at the time. And the moment I recognized what it was a strange kind of jealousy washed over me. At the same time, I saw that when she smiled and talked the wrinkles on her otherwise smooth face became more apparent. When I’d seen her coming down the aisle, I thought she might be in her thirties. But her slight wrinkles gave me the impression that she might be my mom’s age, somewhere between forty-five and fifty.

An attractive woman in her own right my mother was not as pretty as this blue-eyed, copper-haired British Airways stewardess. Since puberty I’d always fantasized about Mom, so amorous feelings for this attractive, exotic airline stewardess with such a sophisticated English accent were easy to understand.

There were a lot of questions I would have liked to have asked, but I was much too shy. I knew I was too young for a woman like her to be interested in having a real conversation with me, but she had a knack for dealing with uncomfortable situations. When she said, “Why would a boy in high school be traveling to England at the same time his school year is about to begin?”

Eagerly, I told her that I had won a contest for higher GPA students at the school I attended whereby the winner would attend Kingston University ... free of charge for an entire school year. Seeing her raise her eyebrows I added, “A very rich man sponsors the scholarship. I won it.”

She took my right hand between both of hers and said, “Now that’s an IMPRESSIVE accomplishment young man. Can I have your name?” I told her my name was Arthur Chadwick. Holding it like she was my mother she said, “I’m proud of you Arthur Chadwick. Do you go by Arthur or Art?”

I told her that my friends called me Art, but my parents called me Arthur. “I’ll call you Arthur if you don’t mind. We Brits love formal names.” As she held my hand as if she were afraid of losing me she added, “My name is Colette,” holding out her name tag for me to see, “Colette Bentley.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Miss ... Mrs ... Bentley.”

Giving me a twinkle, she said, “You’re quite an observant Arthur Chadwick. I couldn’t be more impressed if you were my own child.” With another one of those honeyed chuckles, she added, “I was married for a short time Arthur but have no children. I just wear this wedding ring to ward off predators who want to hit on me.”

Looking at my questioning face she added, “It’s one of the trials of airline stewardesses, many of whom are much younger than me. Men think we are easy marks.” She could see I was still confused. “I’ll explain it to you later. Please call me Colette.”

I had no idea what “later” meant. The cat was out of the bag though; I was sure she was close to my mother’s age; she was attractive and seemed to be interested in me. I’m not sure if she was interested, whatever that meant, or if she just liked having these conversations to pass the time while flying deadhead.

“If I’m bothering you with all of these questions Arthur just let me know and I’ll leave you alone.”

I felt good that she continued talking with me but was still uncomfortable that my boner had not yet gone down. She engaged me in conversation so completely and comfortably that during the next round of turbulence, I had lost a good deal of my fear of it. When she asked me about it I lied to make her think I wasn’t bothered at all.

“It’ll get to the point, Arthur that you’ll honestly believe what you say about not being bothered.” I realized that I was becoming infatuated with her.

During the next hour, she had my complete history: who my parents were, how they met, how they got along, and my uneventful dating experience. I did have a brief affair with a popular girl who eventually shot me down.

With a sly smirk, she rolled her eyes and said, “We all go through that kind of pain Arthur. All of us have been hurt at one time or another.” Rolling her eyes she added, “I’ve even been guilty of inflicting more than one of those kinds of hurts myself.”

Boldly I asked, “And you’ve never been married?”

“As I said, I was married ... for three years just after I got my wings,” she shrugged. “He was an older pilot. We had such different schedules that we didn’t get to know each other very well. And” she hesitated, “Well, he was just too old and tired for me.”

Looking intensely at me she said, “Something is wrong with me Arthur. Or I just don’t like the idea of getting older. But I’ve not been interested in getting married since that time. I find that people under thirty tend to keep me young and vibrant.” Tenderly Placing her open hand on my cheek, she said, “Frankly Arthur, a young man like you is quite appealing to me.”

Butterflies invaded my stomach and I felt warm inside, but my skin seemed chilled. The sense of standing on the edge of a cliff overcame me as I consciously fought shudders that threatened to make me tremble. Her hand was on my cheek again as she gave me another of her adoring smiles and said, “Don’t worry Mr. Chadwick I’m not going to attack you.”

I didn’t know what “attack” meant but wanted her to do more. If it meant what I hoped it could mean, I knew in the midst of so many people we were too exposed to accomplish anything like that. But I knew she couldn’t mean attacking me in the kind of intimate way I had fantasized about with Sherry, the girl who shot me down and broke my heart, and my mother.

After we’d been in the air for about an hour and a half a chime rang and one of the stewardesses announced that the meal service would begin. My new friend leaned over to me and said, “I’ll be right back,” which I thought meant she was going to the restroom. The image of her sitting on the toilet flashed in my mind, which assured me that my hard-on would continue to give me trouble.

After an interlude of about ten minutes, she came back with two trays of food. It was food that was available only in the first-class section: steak, potatoes, crème Brule, and two small bottles of red wine.

“I’m not old enough to drink wine,” I said attempting to put my bottle on her tray. I didn’t want her to get into any trouble with the airline.

“Nonsense,” she said, “You’re a mature young man. You’re on your way abroad which doesn’t have the same age limitations on alcohol as the U.S. In my eyes Arthur you’re more than mature enough to drink wine.”

I was King of the hill. Though cognizant of being under the age limit, my parents had allowed me an occasional glass of wine since the age of sixteen as long as I was under their supervision. But I still couldn’t shake the feeling that Colette might get into trouble for breaking the rules.

She didn’t seem to think it was a problem though. And it certainly made me feel grown-up. As I looked around, I could see passengers in my area getting much less elegant meals (we even had crystal wine glasses on our trays). I noticed some jealous looks being cast our way and felt guilty about it. But when I mentioned it to Colette she said, “They are all aware that “stews” get special perks. And they don’t know whether or not you and I are related ... like you could be my nephew.” She winked in a playful which thrilled me.

Or your child I thought. The feeling it gave me was confusing, with a little guilt, a lot of dreaming, and fear that both might be true. Given the proximity of Colette’s age to my mother’s, I couldn’t rule out possibilities that tickled more fantasies.

After dinner, Colette bussed our trays. When she came back, she reached into her purse and pulled out the smallest deck of cards I’d ever seen ... playing cards with the airline’s logo. “Any time you want cards when you’re flying,” she said, “just ask a stewardess.”

We played eight hands of Gin Rummy which was new to me. I lost every game. We were interrupted by one of the stewardesses who asked us if we wanted blankets and pillows. I had been advised of the process by my father. Colette answered for both of us. I noticed a slight smile on the stewardess’s face which gathered a veiled look from Colette in response. We played two more games. I won the last one which I’m sure Colette allowed.

The cabin lights had been turned off, but we were using our overhead lights with which to play. Colette had moved to the middle seat when she had come back with dinner. Her right leg had been constantly pressing against mine which kept me in a state of constant erection, easing from time to time because of erectile fatigue. After a while, I became bold enough to press my knee against hers.

“Here,” she said as she raised the armrest between us and folded it between the seats. Amazed that they worked that way I imagined being with my ex-girlfriend Sherry when we had parked and necked a few times. Still pressing her thigh against mine she said, “It will be a little more comfortable if you would like to lean up against me as you sleep,” which made me think of the times I had fallen asleep against my mother during my childhood. Alive with testosterone my body was so charged that my erection felt like it might split the tight skin of its head like a frankfurter that had been overcooked on a grill.

The temperature had been turned down in the cabin. All the passengers around us were covered up with blankets. When Colette had taken off her uniform jacket, I noticed how substantial her breasts appeared. They seemed perkier than my mother’s. She was wearing an elegant, soft white blouse that showed them off in such a lovely way.

Catching my breath to keep from gasping I imagined what they might look like out of the package. Covertly eying them I thought I had perfected; it was a way of staring at women that made me think I was undetectably oblique rather than gaping openly.

Giving me my pillow and fixing my blanket so that hers overlapped mine she said, “Lay your head on your pillow sweetie. I’ll put mine up in the crack between our seats.”

When she had gotten on the plane, I remembered how she sat in the aisle seat and wished she might sit closer. “Turn off your light Hun.” I did, and she turned off hers. Lights were going off all over the plane. Then, except for a few lights, the cabin was dark.

Snuggling next to me her right shoulder was against the seat, her thigh was pressing against mine and her head was on her pillow facing me. Her breath washing my neck and cheek drove me crazy and sustained my erection. “Try to get some sleep honey,” she said with a tiny chortle then added, “if you can,” with a tiny tee-hee.

When she called me “honey” my heart felt like it was melting. When she kissed the side of my neck it was like a shock that caused me to jerk. “I hope I didn’t alarm you, Arthur. It’s just ... just that you’re such a sweet boy who brings out my mothering instincts.”

Silent for a while I realized one of the questions, I hadn’t asked her. “Do you have any children?”

Chortling ruefully, she said, “Uh-uh. Though I’ve often wished I had.” She was quiet for a bit then, “With my lifestyle Arthur I don’t think I would successfully have been the kind of mother I would like to have been. A child would have deserved better.” She patted my leg.

Realizing how far apart we were in our lives I wondered why she was being so nice to me. She liked being with me but seemed to be taking pains not to press herself too forcefully on me. I assumed she was fully aware that I wouldn’t be able to carry on a fully adult conversation with her. She had been driving the conversation by asking a lot of questions and kept patting my thigh, caressing it as if to say she was happy with what I was doing to keep my side of the conversation going.

To my surprise, she said, “You’re an extremely sweet young man Arthur Chadwick, and will probably break a few hearts before making some lucky woman a loving partner.”

Removing her hand from my leg she took my hand and placed it on her chest. In a recurring state of shock, I could tell that her blouse was open at the top where it hadn’t been before. I hadn’t been aware that when she was laying out the blankets she had unbuttoned the top three buttons. In a controlled whisper she spoke into my ear, “I noticed you looking at my breasts when I was taking my jacket off Arthur.” So much for the way, I had perfected my ogling.

Anxious that she thought me rude I was embarrassed. But she didn’t say or do anything to make me aware that she was uncomfortable with my glances. “Women have a way of knowing that you’re staring at them, sweetie. Thousands of eyes have done the same thing over the years young man.” Her laugh was like “hmm-hmm-hmm” in her whispering tone. “You’ll have to be more creative in your ogling Arthur. But since you enjoyed what you’ve been looking at, I thought perhaps you might like to know how my breasts feel as well.”

Shock quickly morphed into awe. I couldn’t figure out how she got her hands inside her blouse to unhook her bra. But with her hand on mine, she coaxed it inside her blouse where I found her cups hanging loose from her breasts. I remembered the time my mom was uncomfortable on a hot day when she reached both hands inside her top, undid her bra, pulled her arms out of the straps, and put her hands back through the sleeves of her top, finally taking her bra out of her shirt. The way she did it always amazed me. But when I felt Colette’s soft, naked breast and cupped her amazingly soft skin with my hand I couldn’t stop the noise that began emanating from my throat as I thought sure I wouldn’t be able to hold back my ejaculation.

Like a flycatcher, she clapped her hand over my mouth while I breathed in my excitement. “He-he-he Arthur,” she said, “shh ... SHH.”

As the jet engines droned in my ears, I calmed my breathing while concentrating on Colette Bentley’s magnificent tits. They were much larger than my girlfriend Sherry’s, just as smooth but seemed softer. While Sherry’s nipples felt like peanuts Colette’s were hazelnuts and just as hard. Each heartbeat thumped in my ears which I also felt in the head of my dick. I could feel her fluttering heartbeat as I rolled her nipple which seemed to make it expand with each pulsation. Though I knew she was tightly controlling her breath I felt the heat of her lips nearing my ear then capturing my earlobe between them before whispering, “Can you feel how much you are exciting me, Arthur?”

On the edge of losing it, I clamped my legs together and squeezed my erection between them to keep from ejaculating, clutching the cheeks of my ass so hard that I felt like they would cramp. I succeeded in that one but lost the battle when I felt warm air from Colette’s nostrils flaring on my temple before her warm, wet tongue probed and soaked my ear. Shuddering, I let my jizz spew into my BVDs.

I should have been embarrassed when I squeezed her breast so hard when I came. I figured she must have known because her body tensed at the same moment before shuddering into a prolonged but controlled spasm. Finally relaxing she murmured, “I’m glad that you came, Arthur. Secret? When you squeezed my breast you made me climax as well.”

I was still too naïve to know what “climax” meant. For that matter, I didn’t realize that females could have such orgasmic events. But I had the sense that her shuddering indicated some kind of pleasure.

With a deep sigh, she said, “BRAVO Mr. Chadwick you are an extremely exciting young man.”

It was strange. In the midst of my confusion which should have had me cringing in awkwardness and shame, I felt like I was the King of the world. “I want to hold you, sweetie,” she said, “and feel the wetness of your sperm with my fingers.”

I knew I got satisfaction feeling the warm, slimy result of my sperm gobbed on my dick but was amazed that she would want to feel my goo as well. So instead of shrinking from her when she placed her hand on my belly I sucked in and created space between my belt and stomach. Knifing her hand inside my underpants she kneaded my waning erection, squishing my sperm between her fingers. “Yes Arthur,” she said, “Yes, yes, yes, your splooge feels delightfully slippery and nastily wonderful!”

She fondled my limp penis for a while until it became hard again. “You’re as large as ANY man I could want to be with Arthur,” she said, confirmation which made me feel larger than I was. That empowerment made me feel proud and invincible.

Stroking me to erection again she made me come all over her hand which slipped through my jizz while my pecker was once again becoming flaccid. Taking her gooey hand out of my pants she discretely put it just beneath her nose, breathing deeply and sighing, finally reaching up to press the service button.

It only took a moment for the working stewardess to come to our row. “We’ve had a little accident,” Colette said to her with a wry and telling smile. “Might you bring us a warm wet towel and a dry one?”

Looking back and forth between Colette and me the stewardess rolled her eyes and shrugged wordlessly before turning and walking toward the galley. Within four minutes she came back with the napkins on a tray. Colette thanked her and as soon as the attendant left, said, “Open your belt Honey and zip down.” Hiding it with my other hand I got it open. Stretching out the waistband of my underwear she reached inside and cleaned my penis and pubic hair with the warm cloth and rubbed me dry with the other one.

As soon as I had gotten rearranged she said, “Let’s get some sleep before we land kiddo.”

As I laid my head against my pillow which I placed in the window Colette snuggled next to me, coaxed me to put my arm over her shoulder, and rested her head on the pillow she had placed next to my neck.

The next thing I knew the cabin lights were on and one of the stewardesses was announcing breakfast. Colette stirred and then said, “I’m going to the loo then I’ll help the girls serve breakfast.” Kissing me on the cheek she said, “You’ll be eating breakfast by yourself, love. I’ll be back before we land.” Getting up she reached into the overhead, took out her uniform jacket, and headed to the rear of the plane.

The stewardess that brought the towels served my breakfast. When she smiled at me in such a knowing way I was embarrassed. Giving me a little nod of her head when she placed the tray on my table she said, “No worries honey, one day you’ll be counting this as one of your most memorable experiences.”

I was fascinated by the full breakfast of omelets and biscuits, along with a pat of butter and a small container of jam. Along with coffee, it fits onto the tiny tray like a puzzle. The food was quite tasty but in no way satisfied my hunger. I was famished.

After breakfast had been served and the cabin cleaned up Colette sat down in the seat beside me. I expected that she would sit in the aisle seat, maybe indicating she was done with me. But she handed me something wrapped in a napkin—two more biscuits that had already been buttered and jammed. From her other hand, she handed me a small carton of milk with a straw. Smiling she shrugged and said, “I’m familiar with growing boys, ya know.”