I decided to fly home solo to Chicago for Thanksgiving when my girlfriend had to stay back in LA to finish her high viz project over the holiday. She encouraged me to go home to visit our families and carry her apologies. Besides she joked, it’d help her focus on her work and not on me. So I booked a flight for the weekend before hoping it wouldn’t be crazy busy like it will be later in the week. Wrong. LAX was packed with people thinking the same. I arrived so early that after checking in, I had time to hit the premium lounge and relax a bit, get some decent food vs the ok business class meal.
After the morning rush, the lounge was relatively quiet for now. I found a nice quiet work table to park my carryon and long coat, got some espresso since I can never sleep well even in business so might as well make sure I’m awake, and got a light plate of food before my noon flight. I sat down, opened my tablet to get caught up on some business articles and enjoyed the my meal.
After having my head buried in my lunch and articles, I looked up to see how much more crowd there was and about to go get another coffee, when I felt that tingly feeling of being watched. I’d felt it in college and then even more when working as I met women both younger and older than me. I looked around the room and saw her. A confident, blonde woman in black dress, smiling when she saw me turn to see her. Unlike most women who look down after I notice them, embarrassed that their gaze and desire has been noticed, this woman never broke her stare. Nor did I as she slowly uncrossed and crossed her long black hosed legs. I got up to get my espresso and an instant later she was next to me at the machine. She made small talk about how to use the machine then asked if I was also on the Chicago flight. Yes I was. Diane introduced herself, said she is from San Francisco but got diverted to LA when her flight got cancelled. She’s heading there for a client meeting next week and going early to be a tourist since she’d never been to the city before other than passing through O’Hare. She struggled with the espresso machine so I reached over to help her insert the next cartridge into round opening. Diane leaned into me as I did and whispered that I did that so well, I knew how to fill a hole. I pretended not to hear and I knew it drove her crazy to put herself out like that and get zero response. She would just try harder like the several other older women I’ve encountered who want to break out of their usual roles of waiting to be pursued to now being the pursuer. The machine started its drip into her cup and Diane asked if there were sleep rooms in this lounge like her home lounge at SFO.
I said I think so though I never used them here. She smiled at my naivety, having let another hint fly by. I got my espresso and we went back to our part of the lounge. She disappeared for a bit and then returned to tell me she booked a room and did I want to see it? I was curious so gathered my bag and followed her down a hall. The attendant gave a knowing glance to Diane and let us both into a spare but comfortable sleep room.
I looked around and thought I’ll need to book one of these when I have a long haul flight down to Dubai or Sydney. Then Diane turned to me and got on her knees in front of me. We only have an hour, may I? I nodded and she reached up and was pleased to find a hardness already for her. She reached inside and gently pulled me out into her sight. She smiled and admired what she found. Not huge but big enough. Your girlfriend must be a very happy woman, Diane remarked. And then without further hesitation, opened her mouth to taste me. She murmured her approval, her mouth full of the food she really wanted.
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