“This is the all-American Boy’s dream trip, you know.”

He didn’t look at her immediately, busily stowing his suitcase, briefcase and a sheaf of papers in the overhead and in the seat-back pocket.

Ellen was not the sort who could turn away a conversation, but she intended to have a good night’s sleep on the red-eye flight back home to Chicago. Nevertheless, she turned away from her book and examined the tall stranger smiling down at her.

“What?”

She noticed him folding his suit coat inside out to protect from wrinkles, but the stewardess took it from him to hang in a closet in some secret part of the first class cabin.

“I just said that this is the dream that all American boys grow up with, that they will travel to distant cities and have a beautiful girl for a seat companion. You can imagine how the dream runs from there, right?” He swung into his aisle seat without losing eye contact and holding the disarming smile.”

“Oh. That’s the dream, is it?” she laughed a quick little laugh and turned back to her book, hoping he would take the hint.

“A few minutes late, but not bad. We were to take off at 9:15 and it’s not yet 9:30.” He said, examining his watch.

They were quiet as the plane taxied in the waning sunlight and the dying sun cast the plane in a golden aura.

He sat quietly for a few minutes, glancing at his newspaper while the stewardesses went around efficiently closing bins and offering the first class guests the traditional glass of Mimosa. She looked up, then took the little stemmed glass and sipped.

“Your health.” He murmured, and insisted on clinking glasses with her. She smiled and nodded to him. He was handsome, she thought. “And you are, indeed very pretty.”

“Thank you. You’re pretty too,” she joked, and then turned again to the book. The smile lingered on her lips.

“You’re doing it wrong anyway.”

“I’m not doing anything!” she said pointedly but not unkindly. It wasn’t in her to be unkind to anyone, actually.

“Well, I assume you brought the book in case your seat mate was one of those people who just insist on talking. You have to bring a hard cover. Paperbacks don’t put anyone off.” He grinned at her, pulling the smile into a tight line but grinning with his eyes.

“Oh, this? A friend gave it to me as she dropped me off. Kind of trashy. You’re right, I should have brought a hard cover.”

“Oh, so you ARE trying to get me to shut up, eh?”

“You said it, I didn’t.”

“Kind of a hot cover. Is it a hot book?” he persisted.

“Well ... as a matter of fact, I am a little shocked at some of the scenes, if you want to know the truth. And the girl who gave it to me had a good Catholic upbringing! And I am sorry if my book doesn’t fit into your All-American boy fantasy!”

She laughed in spite of herself, uncertain if she wanted the stranger to stop talking after all. He was rather amusing ... and cute.

“Oh no, it fits right into it. I think my psychology professor called it the “Paradox of small places.’ When placed in a small place with strangers, at first we find things to avoid contact, looking into the distance, reading a book, anything to avoid any possibility of intimacy. But then a strange thing happens, as soon as the ice is broken by one person, we are likely to share even the most intimate thoughts or feelings or facts about ourselves to the stranger.” He smiled at her in a disarming way.

“When did you have a psychology professor? Are you putting me on?”

“No, in college, it was one of my favorite subjects. Favorite teacher, as a matter of fact. He was terrific.”

Ellen looked skeptical. “Really?

“Really! Haven’t you ever noticed it? In a taxicab, in an elevator, on a train? Or ... on a plane?”

She thought about it and had to admit that it had happened to her. “Yes ... you know, it does make sense. People are funny.” She looked off out the window, but it was pitch black now.

“Was it your major? Psych, I mean?”

“No. I thought about it though, but I didn’t think I could make a living at it, so I headed for business. I still think it’s interesting, though.”

“My name is Manny, by the way.” He held out his hand.

“Ellen.” She replied and let him take her hand. He held it longer than for a shake. Until she looked over her reading glasses inquiringly.

“Oh, sorry...” he said, letting go her hand.

“You are not!” she grinned.

“You’re right! I’m not sorry a bit. You can tell a lot by holding a strange girl’s hand, you know.”

“What for instance?”

“Well ... if she’s warm hearted, would she make a good mother, is she likely to put her elbows on the dinner table, that sort of thing.”

“You are a con man, aren’t you.”

“Yes, but I rarely admit to that.”

“You better buckle up, or the stew is going to remonstrate with you.”

The engines roared and the plane lurched onto the main runway and began its takeoff roll.

They climbed at a steep angle and soon leveled off with Ellen gazing spellbound at the golden glow of the sunset.

“Beautiful this time of night, isn’t it.”

“Yes.” She replied.

The lights twinkled along the shoreline, bordering the black ocean below.

“Are you a movie star?”

“What would make you ask that? Of course not!” She looked back into her book, but couldn’t fight off the tiny smile.

“Well, you look the part, of course, but who else can afford First Class?” he laughed.

“You’re here.”

“I fly for a living, I get upgrades for my millions of miles.”

She pretended to be engrossed in her book then said “My husband has lots of airline miles, too, he was able to arrange this as a treat. I’d like to get accustomed to it, though.”

“Has the heroine bared her bosom yet?”

Ellen shook her head, smiling into the book.

“Will you tell me when she does? I like that part!”

She shook her head still smiling to herself and pretending to be engrossed in the book.

The plane leveled out and the Stewardess offered them drinks.

“I’ll just have another glass of champagne...”

“Oh I was going to have a Manhattan, but I don’t want to drink alone. Sure you won’t join me?”

“No, better not.” She said.

The stewardess brought the drinks and he offered to clink glasses again.

“You don’t approve of the hard stuff?” he asked.

“It’s not that. Manhattan’s are my favorite ... but they make me wild ... so I am careful,” she laughed.

“Ohhh, how wild?”

“Just wild ... that’s all.”

“I could take care of you.” He offered.

“Yes, I just bet you would.”

“Mmmmmm, this is gooooood,” he grinned.

Ellen turned another page and sipped her Champagne.

“Are you going all the way? I didn’t ask, before.”

“I am willing if you are.” He said quickly.

“Oh god, you are making me blush again. I meant all the way to Chicago? You know we stop first in San Francisco. I thought you might be getting off there. I mean you have a nice suntan and might be a native out here.” She stopped as she realized it was nervous talk.

Instead she laughed and waited for his reply, her book open on her lap.

“Oh, Chicago. Disappointed! Yes, I am going all the way to Chicago. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid, now that you have befriended me.”

“I haven’t befriended anyone.” She protested, picking up her book and putting her nose in it pointedly.

The two-hour flight to San Francisco went quickly and the two became more and more involved in bantering back and forth with occasional sexual allusions pieced in between other subjects,

“The sight of the city lights from up here always bowls me over.” he said, pointing out the window the cabin lights had been turned off and the city looked like a jewel on such a clear night.

“Yes, it’s the best part of the flight, isn’t it?”

“So far ... yes, but there’s a long way to go. I have hopes.” He said, tucking his tongue in his cheek.

“Stop!” she laughed, punching him on his bicep.

“Hey, not so hard, you have a terrific punch there...” His fingers gripped her bicep and she realized that he was quietly copping a feel. The back of his fingers slipped easily along her brassiere until he could feel the beginning of her breast. She allowed it patiently, then looked at him and rolled her eyes. He took the hint and slowly withdrew, enjoying the soft beginning slope of her right breast as long as he could.

“Do you know you have a run in your pantyhose?” he asked.

Ellen looked down at her leg, holding it out to examine it. “Yes, I know. Someone ran over my foot with her suitcase in the terminal. A gentleman would have pretended not to notice. And wouldn’t be looking there in the first place.” She dabbed at the run in the rich medium shade of her stocking.

“Guilty! Sorry ... I couldn’t resist.”

“Besides, they aren’t pantyhose, mister smarty.”

“You are kidding! You mean you are an old fashioned girl and wear real honest to god stockings? I don’t believe it.”

“True. But it’s none of your business, anyway.”

“I don’t believe it!”

She looked at him, shook her head and pulled her skirt up until the dark band of the stocking top peeked into view.

“I love it! You have to tell me why you are still wearing ... my god, is there a garter belt too?”

She pulled it higher so he saw one garter snap.

She sat grinning at him. “My husband goes crazy about stockings for some reason, so I am going home to him and it’s sort of a coming home present!”

“I love it. Are you for real? My wife wouldn’t do that if the king was coming to call,” he laughed.

“Talking about Psychology earlier reminds me that a friend and I went back to night school while our kids were small. She actually finished and went into psychology as a profession. But the statistics killed me and then another baby came along, so ... You know how that goes. But I loved it while it lasted. It was fascinating. I can imagine that you would consider majoring in it.”

“Oh, too bad you didn’t finish, isn’t it? If you enjoyed it and all,” he said with genuine concern in his voice.

“Yeah, kinda too bad ... but you know, a family and all...”

“The funniest thing that happened to us was, that we had to do a field study and then do the statistical analysis. We thought it would be interesting to test the theory that the size of a man’s penis is proportional to the size of his index finger. We were just being silly over our wine and thought that up. Is your theory something like that? Good grief, I shouldn’t be telling a stranger something like that, should I?”

“Did you think my finger felt extra large? I will give you a second chance.” He held out his hand.

Ellen felt herself blushing. “Oh god, I’m blushing, aren’t I? I hate blushing, it makes you seem silly.”

Good naturedly, she took his finger.

She let go and looked out the window at nothing, really. Her own image and behind her the handsome stranger reflected in the dark glass.

When she turned back, she answered.

“Yes ... I would say it is bigger than average,” she admitted. But we never actually did the study, we just joked about it and would wink at each other when we shook hands with a man.”

They were interrupted by the screech of the brakes and then the long taxi up to the terminal.

“Could we have a couple Manhattans while we are waiting? Please?”

The stewardess hurried to bring back two drinks and scurried away again.

“Are you a member of the Mile-high club?” He asked casually.

She frowned and looked at him quizzically, ducking the exiting passengers with their swinging bags and brief cases.

“What is that? You mean the American Airlines club in the terminal.

He laughed loudly. “No, not quite. You’re kidding right? No one has invited you to join?”

“No ... don’t think so.”

“I’ll tell you when we take off again.”

“NO, tell me now. Are you laughing at me?”

“No, no, sorry, I’m not laughing at you. Here’s my membership card.” He took a card from his billfold and handed it to her.

“It was a woman’s name and there was a date and the inscription MH Club, and a signature, Denise. The whole thing was covered with the imprint of someone’s lips in bright red lipstick.

“OK, I still don’t get it. It must be something dirty.”

He leaned closer and whispered. “It means we did it at 35,000 feet ... in the rest room.”

“Ohmigod, you have to be joking. Who is Denise?

“Oh, a seat mate.”

“It can’t be done. One person can barely fit in one of those places!”

They plane climbed out and reached altitude. The seat belt light went off. The Stewardesses stood up and started scurrying around.

“This is Captain Olson, your Captain. We have reached our cruising altitude of 35,000 feet and will be heading for Chicago, passing over Omaha. We’ll be about 4 hours enroute tonight and it looks like we will have a nice smooth flight. So relax and enjoy the flight. We will wake you in the morning for arrival at about 6AM, Chicago time. Good Night.”

A late night snack was served right away and was surprisingly good for an airline. Especially in the middle of the night. There was a mixed plate of fresh fruit and smoked salmon with a selection of cheeses and a yogurt cup followed by a piece of cheesecake with a cherry sauce. A white wine was served and then a coffee. The lights began to flicker off as almost everyone seemed to be ready to sleep.

“That actually hit the spot.” Ellen said.

“Yes, not bad.” He replied.

Only their overhead lights remained on and they continued their conversation, both feeling comfortably boozy from their Champagne and Manhattan cocktails.

‘What does this husband, whose wife wears stockings for him, do for a living? Is he worth all this worshipful attention?”

“He was in sales and now manages the company. I sometimes wonder if he is worth it but sometimes he rises to the occasion.” She giggled.

“I’ll bet he does.” He said, looking down at her legs again.

“How did you collect data on your field report on the size of index fingers?”

“What? Were you listening when I told you that?” she laughed. “I shouldn’t have told that story to a stranger.”

“Well, I’m curious.”

“We didn’t really do the experiment, except maybe on a couple people at parties.” She laughed.

The stewardess brought two blue blankets and they draped themselves with them.

“Nighty-night!” she said. “You two don’t seem sleepy, though. Have a good time.”

“Well?”

“Oh, don’t be silly.”

“I demand to know.”

“Well we would measure ... or sometimes take a wife’s testimony. We would never believe the man, though!” she laughed.

“Did you use a tactile method, ever, really?”

“Yes, sometimes. Usually at a party when everyone was drunk, though.”

Here, take my finger and tell me how big you think my cock is.” He leered at her.

“Shhhh, be quiet.”

They turned out the light.

She took his index finger and pretended to be in deep thought. “Hmmm, I would say, in my professional opinion ... about ... seven ... and a half, she took his finger in two hands and carefully examined it.

“A little more, actually.”

“I said we didn’t believe the man himself!” she laughed.

“Why don’t you check, then, Ellen.”? He said seriously, looking right into her eyes. Ellen looked around her. Everyone was covered up and asleep.

“You think I won’t do it, don’t you?”

“Well?”

She turned out the overhead lights and slipped her hand under his blanket. She waited a moment. Then her heart slightly in her throat, she felt along his waist and down the front of his trousers.

“Ohhhhh, my ... I take your word for it.” She whispered.

“Go ahead, full examination.”

She ran her hand down the length of his cock and felt it stiffen even more as she pressed the length of her hand against the long shaft. She teased the head with her fingernails.

She felt his hand squeeze her knee, fondling the nylon.

“Ohmigod,” she said quietly. “It is so big!”

“Yes, it really is. I have to be careful ... you know ... some girls are afraid...”

“Oh, you are such a BS-er!” she laughed. But she didn’t take her hand away.

They sat that way, her patting and feeling his cock and him fondling her knee and thigh as the conversation continued quietly huddled in their blankets and facing toward each other.

“I don’t think our spouses would approve of us having this much fun in the sky, do you?”

“Maybe not, maybe so. Spouses are funny,” he suggested.

“OK, I have told you about my experiment. Now you have to tell me the truth about this club you talked about. The truth.”

“Ohhhh, well, there aren’t many members. And it is exciting to be initiated.” He paused.

“What is the initiation?” she asked.

“Oh you go with someone into the same cubicle and lock the door. And then, if both agree, you fondle and play and see if the mood rises so that you find a position where you can enjoy having sex. The thrill is the excitement of a full airplane full of people. And feeling the throb of the engines course through both bodies. It is a sensation that you can only have on one of these big airplanes. It is bliss.”

“Have you actually done that, with your wife?”

“No, not my wife. She is too up tight for adventure, frankly.”

“You did it with Denise?”

“I did it with Denise. That was my initiation certificate,” he grinned.

‘I can’t tell if you are telling me the truth or what.”

“I’ll get us another drink.” He pushed the call button and asked the stewardess for two more Manhattans. She brought the drinks and took away their wine glasses.

“You are such a skeptical girl.”

“Do you blame me?”

He laughed quietly in the semi-darkness and slipped his hand a little higher on the nylon of her thigh.

“Where are you going there, Manny?” she said, putting her hand over his, but not pushing it away. The wine, the Manhattan, the close intimacy of the luxurious first class cabin were all making her feel extremely good. She felt warm, cozy and strangely exhilarated. But most of all she felt the warm glow of intimacy with this stranger now fondling her knee so pleasantly.

“Oh, honey ... you are getting me so very hot!” he said, nuzzling his forehead against hers.

“Tell me more details.” She asked.

“Well, she went first and I waited a few minutes, then followed. Everyone was more or less asleep by then. I tapped three times and she unlocked the door, letting me in. We kissed and pressed against each other. You are right there is not much room, so you are pressed nice and close.

She took it out.

I played with her breasts and fondled her ass.

We were very excited by then.

She sat on the sink and raised her legs. She wasn’t wearing panties and she was already very wet.

I put it in.”

“Did you wear something?”

“Oh, yes, you mean a rubber? Yes, the regular ones are too small, but now they have a large size, so yes, we used one.”

“Now I know you are lying. They don’t come in sizes!”

“Yes ... they are called ‘Magnum’ and they are bigger. The regular sizes are too tight for me and I can’t stand them.”