Chapter 1: The Reality

I was getting on a Continental Airlines Boeing 727. It was a red-eye on a Friday night after teaching a group of engineers for 3 weeks. I taught them how their machine really worked, and I was flat burned out. This was the first leg; Tampa to Houston.

I'm a contract instructor and it had been a very long 3 weeks. Something that seems so simple to me can be such a difficult concept for technical or engineering types that have no background in any kind of multiplexing.

Statistical multiplexing is a fantastic advancement in communications technology, but you really have to have a little grasp of "Time Division" before you can hope to understand statistical. Sometimes I wonder how some engineers got out of high school, much less college.

I was ready for some rest, but it wasn't to be; at least not until I got home to San Diego.

I'm certainly not complaining.

At the time, 1st class seats were the same cost as regular coach on a red-eye, so I'd booked my flight out and back on red-eyes. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to take advantage of 1st class accommodations.

I'm certainly happy I did.

I was on expenses, and could have flown 1st class at full boat, but I have a policy of never gouging a client on expense reports. My hourly wage was gouge enough, and the clients noted and appreciated that I wasn't trying to stick it to them. They could see that I was flying coach fare, didn't room at five star hotels, and ate inexpensively. It made for good relationships, good references, and a whole lot of return business.

I'm single and go home to an empty house so it certainly didn't hurt me any.

But with all that said, first class is the only way to fly!

When I boarded the flight in Tampa, I was greeted by a very stunning young lady who escorted me to my seat. Her brilliant green eyes had me mesmerized already. There was no pretense in her smile. It was big and it was beautiful. You could literally see the smile in her sparkling eyes. This was one happy woman.

I was put about 3 rows from the front at the window and while I was settling in, she introduced herself as Janice I nodded, and before I could properly introduce myself she asked me if I'd like a drink before take off.

I ordered my standard double Jack Daniels on the rocks. I knew that even in first class there was zero chance that Gentleman's Jack was available, so I asked for the standard fare and sat back to relax for the first time in weeks.

She turned towards the galley and had to stop a couple times to avoid some of the other passengers that were making their way towards the back of the plane. She disappeared into a doorway and I heard the clink, tinkle of ice being dropped into a glass; a real glass not one of those plastic things they give you in coach. A few seconds later she popped out of the doorway and sliding in between boarding passengers made her way back to my seat.

She handed me my drink with a big smile. There was a look in her eyes telling me she was "checking me out". I was totally flattered!!

As the other passengers boarded and worked their way back to their seats I noticed that I seemed to be the only passenger in 1st class. This was the first leg of the trip for me which would be a bit over 3 hours into Houston. There would be a slight wait for the connecting flight to San Diego.

After what seemed like an awfully long time, the door was finally closed and sealed. Then it was time for the attendants to go through their usual safety speeches.

I had personal attention much to my pleasure. I really was the only 1st class passenger on this leg of the flight. I was going to have the attendant all to myself. Oh, hurt me!

Janice was a very striking young lady, typical of the pre-PC, woman's lib contingent of airline cabin employees. Essentially that means, unlike on flights today, she was looking very good!

That doesn't mean that today's crews are not attractive, but anyone who flew in the 60's and still flies today will confirm; there is a significant difference in cabin attendants both in appearance and quality of service. Both have gone to hell in a hand basket.

I digress; back to Janice. I'd guess she was about 5'6" tall, maybe 110 lbs. and couldn't have been more than about 19 or 20, fresh out of High School and Stewardess training. If you've never read "Coffee, Tea, or Me" you've missed out. If you fly a lot, find a copy and have a bunch of laughs! It's extremely well written - at least I think it is. But it is also very dated! (like in old)

Her penetrating emerald green eyes were amazingly intensified by her very long, darkish, natural blond hair. You could tell that if she spent some time on the beach she'd look like a typical California "surfer girl"; a wet dream "on the hoof".

Dropping well past her waist, her shiny hair was tied back into a neat ponytail with a multicolored scrunchie. It would swish gently back and forth as she walked up and down the isle.

Usually stews with hair that long put it up so that it didn't get in the way. Most had cut it much shorter so it was less hassle to deal with.

Having had hair nearly as long as Janice's I can understand that completely. Hair is a pain in the ass, but "Locks of Love" is very appreciative when I donate my hair so they can make more wigs for cancer patients and others needing hair pieces. I still grow it for them today.

Having a natural beauty about her, she didn't use much makeup to enhance that incredible look. She used just enough eyeliner to accent those deep green eyes. I'm one of those men that appreciates the stark contrast between a woman's natural appearance and those attempted cosmetics contests in which some of the others seemed entered, much to their detriment.

She was small topside, sporting smallish but pert breasts. I'd guess they were on the side of small B's, which is the absolute perfect size to suck me into the spider's web. I love members of the "itty bitty titty committee"! It wasn't always that way, but I'm a good student.

It seems to come from the "Barbie Doll" and "Playboy Magazine" syndrome that pushes that false image that a double "D" is the only sexy appearance that will get you a man.

It's unfortunate that women seem to be raised with this false sense that all guys will ever see on them is their chest. Granted, a lot of guys are that shallow, and do treat women like a pair of tits. It's part of the flawed wiring men are born with.

No shit? You wouldn't be funnin' me now would ya?.

I've been told that I have a "different" view of women than most guys. It's probably due to having lived with 4 gay women for a couple years earlier in my adult life. That experience certainly gave me a much different perspective than they can ever hope to get from most males. It's interesting that I totally agreed with their assessment of "men" when I got there. Their reasons for feeling the way they did were firmly cemented the longer I stayed.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still a guy with all of those failings, but to me women should be appreciated and loved, not viewed as a slab of meat. But my brain was rewired by 4 caring, loving, patient women.

You have to understand first off that the male brain is not wired the same as a female brain.

Oh really? What gives you the first clue?

I don't think I need to expound on that statement. It should be rather obvious to anyone with at least half of either type.

Mens wiring is primal. Extremely primitive. The purpose of the male since the cave man is to make sure women get pregnant and continue the species. As a quick side note, I've always said that if men had to give birth, the species would have died out centuries ago!!

But back to the point I'm trying to make here. The male brains wiring essentially says, find woman, get it up, stick it in, shoot it off, roll over and go to sleep!

Am I right ladies??

It's an unfortunate turn, but realistically if you are a woman and want a man to do more than what that primitive wiring tells him to do, you need to do some rewiring!! It's not really all that difficult, and if it is, find another man!! Easy stuff!

You have to train your man. What floats your boat? Make him float it!! Point him in the right direction; but again, if he balks, or doesn't learn, find another guy.

Here's a good test ladies. This one definitely separates the men from the boys!!

Give your man a great blow job. I mean, work it to death, swallow everything he has to offer, lick your lips and then move up to kiss him. If he won't kiss you after receiving that kind of pleasure, find another man!!!

He expects you to kiss him when he's finished licking your pussy for, it better be, two or three visits to orgasm world and has "you" spread all over his face.

Oh. He doesn't do that? Find another man!!! There's plenty of us out here!

The bottom line is that sex is very different for a man than it is for a woman. Holy shit, another masterfully enlightening statement!!

Hear me out...

For a woman sex is 90% emotional, and only 10% physical. For a man, it's exactly the opposite, and I'm sure that surprises none of the women folk out there. For sex, a woman needs a reason; a man, only a place!

And that's the fundamental difference that every woman needs to overcome. Sad but true!

The whole big boob issue really comes from the "Barbie Doll" and "Playboy" magazine syndrome that pushes onto women the false image that a double "D" is required to be considered sexy. Let's face it; Hef likes tits.

Not true ladies. Having dated girls with huge breasts and girls with small breasts, I'll take the smaller chest any day. Biggies somehow seem to get in the way.

It also supports a huge plastic surgery industry that creates a whole other false image. A beautiful woman, with perfectly gorgeous breasts thinks she needs to have them "enhanced".

Enough soapbox. I just get so tired of beautiful women deforming themselves because of some bullshit societal edict stating that "If you don't have double D's you ain't shit!!" So fucking wrong, on so many planes!!!!!!

I'm an ass man myself, but I have to tell you that the first thing I truly notice about a woman is her eyes and her smile. Unless of course my first view is while she's walking away from me.

Janice's ass was incredible in the tight little skirts they had to wear and her legs were so perfectly colored and smooth there was no hose. When she walked up and down the isle, that sweet ass just had me mesmerized.

I'm definitely an ass man.

Tiny titties and a pert bubble butt. Yummy!

Of course one of my male brains, the little one, was splashing around in the gutter almost immediately. Janice was what would be considered by most an all around stone fox. Her "body style" couldn't be more perfect for my liking, and it didn't hurt that she was cute as a bug.

She turned and smiled brightly like she could read my mind. Then surprised the hell out of me, "Would you like another drink before we start our taxi, Mr. Jones", she asked in a hushed voice? "I'm really supposed to collect the glasses before takeoff, but you're the only passenger in my section so I'm not going to worry about it. Nobody will know except you and me."

Shaking her head, smiling and with a soft giggle, "I'm so bad."

"Sure. I'd like that," I replied, "But please, call me Bob or preferably Bobby. When someone calls me Mr. Jones I tend to look around wondering why my father is here."

She giggled again momentarily, while her mind seemed to go somewhere else for a second. A far away look I could recognize because of my own continual "mental wanderings". I have ADHD so my brain does all kinds of interesting things, sometimes at inopportune moments.

I put on a sincere smile, "It looks like it's just you and me and I'm hardly a demanding, high maintenance passenger."

She grinned widely and turned around to retrieve my drink. I couldn't help but notice that gorgeous rear end swaying above her legs. When she came back she had the glass with ice and two miniature bottles of JD.

She reached over to put them on my tray and surprising me again, started to twist off the tops off the tiny bottles and poured the contents over the ice.

When she'd finished with that she asked dreamily, "May I sit next to you for takeoff? I'm supposed to strap in to the jump-seat, but they're so uncomfortable." CLUE!!!

"You need to ask," I thought to myself? Come into my web said the spider to the fly. Hey. One can have fantasies; even on an airplane! Especially in those days...

"By all means. Please. Make yourself comfortable. As I said, it's just you and me, so there's no need to be your usual formal self. Even if it is the rules, rules are meant to be bent," I chuckled giving her a sly smile.

I wondered out loud how long she'd been a stew and was a little taken aback when she told me three years. She didn't look old enough to have been working flights for three years, but she obviously knew which rules could be bent a little. That "skill" doesn't come with newbies. I about fell out of my seat when she told me she was twenty-one.

The pilot proceeded to taxi out, and prepared for the take-off roll. The ding-dong sounded letting the crew know that take off was imminent and that, by now, they needed be strapped into their seats.

She slid in close, strapped in, then leaned in placing her head gently against my upper arm. I looked at her and saw a very contented smile on her young, elfin face.

Smiling, I raised my tray and locked it in place behind the seat in front of me, while punching the button to raise my seat back to "the full upright position". She looked at me with a smile that could kill, and giggled.

Nobody can say I didn't follow the rules. Well, some of them anyway.

I always love take-off, that feeling of being pressed back into the seat and then, in a 727 especially, the nose high attitude. I'm a pilot myself and have done a lot of aerobatic flying. I just love those "G" forces. Aero is a roller coaster in the sky.

As we climbed out, Janice remained glued to my side. She had taken one hand and put it on my upper arm holding on to me and when I looked at her, there was a sensuality in the gorgeous green eyes that were looking at me. Clue!

As we climbed out, Janice remained glued to my side. She had taken one hand and put it on my upper arm holding on to me and when I looked at her, there was a sensuality in the gorgeous green eyes that were looking at me. Clue!

This young lady was a very different kind of woman. She had a spiritual aura about her that I hadn't sensed in many other women. It was a lively spirit I could literally feel trying to join with mine. Without hesitation I let her in.

I'd always had pretty good luck and a lot of fun with stewardesses throughout my commercial flying experiences, especially during my time in the service. There's definitely some interesting stories in those experiences. Maybe I'll write some of them.

Normally I'm an extremely shy guy. For some reason I feel very intimidated by a woman. It may go back to my basic training, which involved being badly abused by my first "female role model."

Somehow these ladies could get past that initial shyness and bring out that real person inside of me. Once the ice is broken I'm good to go, but it's that initial introduction that fails me most of the time. Most all of the stews I've met had a way about them that put me at ease immediately. Yeah. I know, it's their job!

I heard the "ding" that signaled to the cabin crew that they could start their routines, and the "fasten seat belts" sign turned off. When Janice unsnapped her belt, she leaned over and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

With a shy smile she whispered, "Thanks Bobby. That was really nice. Clue!!

"Can I get you another drink," noting that my glass was about empty?

"Uh ... Nooo thank you," drawing it out a little. "Not right now thanks. If I drink much more I'll be too tipsy to enjoy your company. A ginger ale would be cool."

"Ok. Ginger ale it is," she said giving me wry smile.

"If you'd like, I can get you a meal now that we're airborne, then we can just relax for the rest of the flight," she said with an interesting sparkle in those dancing green eyes. Unbeknownst to me, she was sucking me right in. Clue!!

"I'd like ... Sounds good to me, what's on the menu for today?"

She listed off a couple things, but the Chicken Cordon Bleu sounded the best, and when she brought it there were two on the plate.

I must have given her a funny look when she set it down. "I have a dozen," she explained, "what's left over just gets thrown in the trash." Then as an aside, "so if you want more, just ask. Ok?"

I looked up and smiled; nodding my head I'd started to dig into my meal and my mouth was full. She just chuckled quietly.

After enjoying my meal, and let me tell you, first class meals were actually enjoyable in those days. I looked around and noticed that she was sitting on the floor just outside the galley doing what appeared to be some kind of candle ceremony.

I just sat and observed for a short time, then curiosity got the best of me. I had to ask her what she was doing.

She said that she was Jewish and it was some holiday or other. I don't recall which one to be honest, and she needed to finish before midnight. She was celebrating with prayer and a symbolic candle.

I took my "dishes" up to the food station for her so I didn't continue interrupting her activities.

I've always been fascinated by various religions. I study philosophies of all kinds, finding as many similarities as disparities.

With that said, even though I'm not Jewish, I unobtrusively joined her for the short time there was left in her prayers. When she was finished, her sparkling green eyes joined with mine and gave me a smile that said, "Thank you".

I went back to my seat to relax off the meal. She was humming a tune while straightening up the galley area. I watched with interest because I could see that pert ass of hers with hair just swishing back and forth as she wiped down the surfaces she had used.

While she was tweaking around she reached into a small drawer and pulled out a new, fresh toothbrush, and a travel tube of paste. Smiling warmly she walked over to my seat, and handed it to me.

Now I'd never had this happen before, but ok, I can always scrub the buckers after a meal. I stood up and made my way forward to the restroom. As I passed by the galley, she furtively looked up at me with a shy smile but kept polishing.

I'm a guy, ok? I hadn't seen the look in her eyes as I passed the galley. I didn't have clue one about the indicators I'd been given already (remember clues above?). Besides, I was tired. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!

I finally wandered out of the 1st class restroom, stopped at the galley entrance watching her work. When she finally noticed me standing there I thought I saw nervousness in her eyes. Returning her smile I asked her what I should do with the used brush and paste.

"You can keep them, or I can put them in the trash bag," she said quietly holding out her hand for me to give them to her. She took them and deposited them in the trash bin. She stood back looking at her handy work and I heard a heavy sigh.

I'd returned to my seat, more or less settling in as she was finishing up with her "chores". When she was finished and everything sparkled, she went to the cabin control panel, picked up the telephone and had a quiet conversation with whoever had picked it up. While she was talking I tried not to look at her, but couldn't help but catch a couple nervous glances in my direction. Clue!

I guess whatever was said from 'beyond' was "what she wanted to hear". She had a big smile and hung up the handset. She putzed for a few moments pulling out a few of those pillows they carry and a blanket. Then she dimmed the overhead lights.

It's the red-eye. Of course you turn the lights down. Some people want to sleep. Usually on a night flight the only lights on are the overhead seat lamps that people turn on to read. Turning them down after the meal wasn't unusual. Still, not clue one!

Janice secured the first class cabin then stuck her head through the rigid curtain that separates first class from the rest of the seating. She said something to the cabin attendant responsible for the coach section. They made a few pointing gestures, laughed a bit, nodded their heads, and then she made sure the curtain between the sections was tightly closed and secured it with the latch. Latching was rather unusual, but I didn't think that much about it at the time.