Virgin Flyer

Every time I’d imagined having sex with someone else, I’d thought about the futility of the get-to-know-you dance that would inevitably come with it. There was no reason to get-to-know the guy or date the guy when I knew my future lay with Chris and only Chris.

The time had come for me to make it happen with or without him, but I’d be damned if it was going to be some awkward transaction with excruciating small talk. No, if I was going to do this, I wanted to at least pretend it was special. I wanted to be treated like I mattered, like I was worthy. It couldn’t be some quickie Grindr hookup where the man was out the door before the cum dried. I wanted the whole night, as if he was truly my boyfriend and actually gave a shit the way I knew Chris would be with me once we were together.

I pulled out my phone and started planning.

2

Jack

I plastered a smile on my face and stood in the cockpit door as the passengers deplaned.

“Thank you for flying with us,” I murmured over and over. “Have a great weekend.”

No less than two women and one man hard-core flirted with me, but I tried my hardest not to reciprocate. I’d learned early on from a fellow pilot never to shit where you flew. There were plenty of fish in the sea to fuck without putting your job in jeopardy.

When I caught the eye of a little boy screaming and trying to pull out of his mother’s hand, I squatted down and crooked my finger at him. His eyes grew wide, and the screaming came to a sudden halt.

“I’m looking for a someone to help me make sure the cockpit is ready for the next flight. Do you know anyone who could do that?” I asked. “They’d have to be on their best behavior and have eagle eyes to look for anything out of place like a forgotten jacket or a leftover coffee cup.”

He nodded and looked up at his mother. I shot her a wink, and she returned it with a grateful smile and sigh.

“Um… I can help you,” he said hesitantly. “I’m good at finding things. Even things I’m not supposed to find.”

I reached for his hand and lifted him up on my hip before turning and stepping back into the cockpit. I pointed out the usual elements that fascinated kids and asked if he saw anything out of place. After helping the boy’s mother take some photos with her phone, one of the flight attendants handed the boy a set of plastic wings before waving them off.

By the time the plane was empty of passengers and the ground crew were going through the seats to clean up, I spared a few thanks and nods at the rest of the flight crew and bolted down the jetway. I was ready for a break, the kind with hard muscles, wiry chest hair, and a nice hard dick.

So maybe I was a cliché. I didn’t exactly have a lover in every port in the traditional sense of the phrase, but I certainly used the hell out of my hookup app as soon as I stepped out of whatever airport I’d flown into for the night. There were benefits to being a commercial airline pilot, and arranging anonymous fucks in random cities was definitely one of them.

But when I walked out of O’Hare into the frigid sleet to wait for the shuttle to the hotel, I wondered if I had enough mental energy to handle one more stranger interaction today. It had been a long day, but it had been even longer since I’d gotten off. Due to a hectic string of long trips and even longer days, it had been over a week since I’d had any action, including my own hand. It was only midafternoon, and I wasn’t due back at the airport until ten the following morning. I envisioned a nice steak dinner with a bottle of wine. Even better if I could find someone interesting to share the meal with.

I thought back to the super-flirty senior flight attendant I’d spent the last three flights with. His constant chatter was easier to handle in small doses, but after several flights in a row of him telling me in graphic detail all about his recent vacation to a clothing-optional resort in Jamaica as well as his extended family reunion over Christmas in Houston… well, maybe a quiet dinner alone would be better after all.

Holiday travelers were already their own special kind of crazy with ten times more kids and non-seasoned fliers. Complaints were always up, and airports were more crowded. It was like everyone who’d never flown before had splurged just this once for tickets to see Grandma, and they expected to be treated like a king for the hundred and fifty bucks they’d shelled out to get from Kansas City to Chicago. My nerves were shot, and my ears still rang.