AllFreeNovel
Share Us
1
Harry
Five Years Later
British Airways FL505 from London’s Heathrow Airport to Accra’s Kotoka Airport
* * *
The fact that I’m taller than the bulk heads means I can’t see the faces of the people in the seats I’m approaching until I’m next to them.
I’ve never realized this before because I’ve never wanted to see the faces of the other people on the plane. But, I can see a pair of shapely, dark denim clad thighs in the seat next to mine. Another step closer reveals a pair of small, caramel colored hands – I note the absence of any rings — folded in a luscious and definitely feminine lap. Her slim hips rise to a narrow waist. It is covered in stretchy white cotton that shows every line of her body. And every curve. Her small, but very nicely rounded breasts are covered in that same stretchy white cotton. But her face is cut off by the bulk head and when I try to lower my head to see under it, I find my range of motion restricted by the press of bodies on either side of me.
I was late getting to the airport because of an accident on the motorway and I missed the pre-boarding for first class. So, I’m stuck in a line that stretches all the way to the back of the plane because some guy is trying to make his oversized carry-on fit inside the overhead compartment.
When the line starts to move again, I move quickly to reach my seat. When her face comes into view, I almost let out a low, appreciative whistle. Something I’ve never even thought about doing, but shit, it’s a great face. What I can see of it, anyway.
Her eyes are covered with a sleep mask and she’s got a pair of those ridiculously large headphones that only DJs in clubs wear over her ears. It’s a “Do Not Disturb Sign” if I’ve ever seen one. I don’t mind though, it gives me the chance to do some unobserved staring. She’s got a wide, full mouth, but with lips that are so full, especially her bottom one, that it looks like she’s started to pucker up for a kiss. Damn.
The rest of her face is made up of a slightly pugnacious nose, high cheekbones, a delicate jaw and narrow chin with a beautiful little cleft in the middle. They’re ordinary enough features. But, there’s nothing ordinary about that face. Her skin is so smooth, it looks almost airbrushed. It is the color of my favorite caramel candy and, but for a mole that sits on the top of her left cheek bone, is completely flawless.
Her hair is the color of the darkest chocolate and the overhead lights of her seat reveals a dark, silky riot of curls that framed her face and spilled down her shoulders.
“You’re holding up the line.” An irritated male voice behind me shakes me out of my trance. I throw an apologetic smile over my shoulder, while I put my carry-on overhead and drop down in my seat.
Thank God for first class seats on flights. It’s an extravagance, but with my height, long flights like these are impossible without it. I buckle up and get settled. My neighbor doesn’t stir. It’s been a busy week, I should probably try to get some sleep, too. But, I can’t stop looking at her. Now that I’m seated right next to her, I can see the details of her face. Her profile is striking. Her nose has a graceful slope and her lips look even fuller from here. And, there’s the faintest scent of citrus in the air now, and I know it’s coming d
irectly from her.
I force myself to look away, I’m being a total creep. I settle into my seat, buckle up and put my ear buds in. When I turn on the random music player on my phone, and Beethoven’s Fifth, with its famous da-da-da-daaaa, that’s become the universal sound for “shit’s about to get real,” I find myself glancing at the woman next to me and hoping that it’s portent.
Being more impulsive was one of my New Year’s resolutions. And everyone knows those are only made to be broken. So I’ve spent the last nine months not doing a single unplanned or unpredictable thing. Looks like I just needed some inspiration, because now, I find myself hoping that my neighbor will wake up and that when she does, she’s feeling impulsive, too.
The shock of ice cold liquid in my lap wakes me up. It’s followed by a loud gasp and a whispered, “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.” That is followed by hand dabbing at my crotch. My eyes snap open, to find the plane is dark. My eyes take a few seconds to adjust. I grab the hand rests of my seat and start to stand only to find my movement restricted by my seatbelt.
The overhead light comes on and our row is illuminated to bright, but somehow hazy yellow. As eyes adjust, I see that the voice and the hand belong to the flight attendant. She’s brushing the last chips of ice off my leg. “I’m so sorry, sir. It’s my first time serving the first-class cabin, I’m so nervous. I apologize. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning, I promise.” Her voice is thick with tears and worry as her head whips back and forth between my leg and the front of the plane.
“It’s okay.” The soft, little voice from my left startles me. Before I can look in her direction, her torso is pressed against my left thigh and her hair tickles my nose as she leans across me. She starts to pat the shoulder of the frantic woman who’s now kneeling in the aisle next to me, trying to clean up the mess the spilled drink has made.
“It was an accident, I’m sure he’s not upset.” She coos at the top of the woman’s dark red head. She turns her head and fixes me with a narrow eyed, irritated stare. The light from above our seats, shines in her eyes and reveals eyes of the most unusual shade of gold. Her pupils are contracted to pinpoints under the light and set against thick, long eyelashes, they look almost supernatural. For the second time since I boarded this plane, I find myself staring.
“You’re not upset, are you?” She says, her voice still soothing for the benefit of the flight attendant, but her eyes are still on me, impatiently waiting for me to respond.
I’m confused and still groggy and because I don’t really know what else to say or do, I say, “Uh, no. I’m not.”
She looks back at the woman, “See, it’s okay. Why don’t you stand up? There wasn’t that much water in the glass anyway. I’m sure it’ll dry quickly,” she says, giving the woman one final pat before she leans back in her seat. The cold wetness seeping through my trousers and briefs tells a different story. But saying so, would make me sound like a jerk and I don’t doubt that it was an accident.
“Thank you so much, miss. I’ll be right back with another drink.” The woman says to her knight in shining armor, a grateful smile on her bright red lips. She stands up, straightens her vest, and tucks an errant lock of hair back into her bun. The badge pinned to her lapel reads, Tina.
Right before she turns to leave, she gives me a sheepish smile and says, “Can I get you anything, sir? You slept through our meal service.”
“Napkins would be nice,” I say with a pointed look down at my lap. Her smile falters a little, but her tone is cheery, “Yes, of course.”
As soon as she walks away, I look at my neighbor. She’s reading the magazine that’s spread open her seat tray. There is a stack of small plastic cups on one corner of the tray and a few crumpled gold foil chocolate wrappers scattered on there too. Her earphones are off, while her eye mask is pushed up into her hair, holding it away from her face and revealing the entire side of her face, her ears and the side of her neck.
The corner of her mouth lifts in a smile. “You’re staring,” she says softly, without taking her eyes off the magazine.
“I know.” There’s no point trying to look away or denying it.
