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Authors: Dawn Atkins
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Kara in a flight attendant’s uniform? Maybe he wanted her so much he’d conjured her up. He blinked. The woman gave a hesitant smile. Absolutely Kara.
“Hey, traveler,” she called to him, trying to sound sexy but with nervousness in her voice. So Kara—ballsy but shy. She was forcing herself to do something she thought would be good for her.
He walked down the sidewalk to her. “Traveler?” he asked.
She met him a mere kiss away. “How about before the rest of the passengers board your flight, I offer you a little coffee, tea…or me.” She ran a finger—trembling, he noticed—down the middle of his chest to his waistband.
“My flight?” he repeated like an idiot. The uniform she wore was a Desert Air one. S&S was working on a promotion for the hometown airline, so Kara obviously had borrowed the suit. It was skintight and she seemed to not be wearing a blouse under the jacket, which dipped deeply between her breasts. Evidently, she had something planned. Something hot.
“Where am I headed?” he asked, tugging her by the hips against him.
“The mile-high club, I hope,” she murmured, licking those plump lips of hers.
“I always wanted to sign up for that.” He ran his hands down the curve of her backside.
“Park in short-term and meet me at the counter and I’ll, um, bring you on board. ”
“Can’t wait,” he murmured back, then watched her sashay through the automatic doors into the terminal. He was dying to go after her, but they’d tow Bob’s truck if he left it in the drop-off zone, so he drove like a maniac to the parking garage and found a spot, his vision so blurred by lust he narrowly missed a concrete post. His hard-on made it tough walking, so he sort of swaggered his way to the ticket counter, where Kara waited for him with that look in her eyes.
He didn’t even wonder how she’d arranged for them to get onto the tarmac—when Kara wanted something, she worked every angle until it happened—he just followed her curves toward an empty airplane in a hangar, grateful, this once, for her unstoppable nature.
The plane looked permanently stationary with a serious set of stairs to its open door. Maybe something they used for kiddie field trips or to desensitize people afraid of flying. There were a few people in the hangar—mechanics clanging away on a plane and some men in a clump at the far end of the hangar—but no one looked twice at the flight attendant and her passenger ascending the stairs.
Ross climbed behind Kara, delighted by the enticing triangle of firm thigh that appeared and disappeared as she moved upward. He wanted to touch, but restrained himself. Kara had a plan. He’d give her a chance to put it into operation.
At the entrance to the plane, she turned to him with that stewardess welcome smile. “Welcome aboard, Mr…?”
“Migue—Mike. Just call me Mike.” He needed a new character for this fantasy. He noticed the air had a warm cinnamon scent, completely masking the stale smell of airplane fuel and plastic. Kara had obviously taken air freshener to the place. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d vacuumed, too.
“Mike it is,” she said. “We have a first-class seat reserved just for you, Mike.”
He sat in the brown-leather seat she indicated. With the armrest up, the two seats made a decent sofa. He stretched his legs. First-class leg room. And he was sure they’d find a good use for every inch of it.
“Let me make you more comfortable,” Kara said. She pushed the recline button and his seat back tilted a few inches. She leaned across him to make the window seat recline as well. He noticed beads of sweat in the space between her breasts and that she wore a nearly transparent bra under the V-lapelled jacket. No blouse.
“Much better,” she said. She stood up, her face flushed—nervous, he could see. “I find airplane travel lonely, don’t you?” she said, but she didn’t wait for an answer before she babbled on. “It seems to me that
“Hey, traveler,” she called to him, trying to sound sexy but with nervousness in her voice. So Kara—ballsy but shy. She was forcing herself to do something she thought would be good for her.
He walked down the sidewalk to her. “Traveler?” he asked.
She met him a mere kiss away. “How about before the rest of the passengers board your flight, I offer you a little coffee, tea…or me.” She ran a finger—trembling, he noticed—down the middle of his chest to his waistband.
“My flight?” he repeated like an idiot. The uniform she wore was a Desert Air one. S&S was working on a promotion for the hometown airline, so Kara obviously had borrowed the suit. It was skintight and she seemed to not be wearing a blouse under the jacket, which dipped deeply between her breasts. Evidently, she had something planned. Something hot.
“Where am I headed?” he asked, tugging her by the hips against him.
“The mile-high club, I hope,” she murmured, licking those plump lips of hers.
“I always wanted to sign up for that.” He ran his hands down the curve of her backside.
“Park in short-term and meet me at the counter and I’ll, um, bring you on board. ”
“Can’t wait,” he murmured back, then watched her sashay through the automatic doors into the terminal. He was dying to go after her, but they’d tow Bob’s truck if he left it in the drop-off zone, so he drove like a maniac to the parking garage and found a spot, his vision so blurred by lust he narrowly missed a concrete post. His hard-on made it tough walking, so he sort of swaggered his way to the ticket counter, where Kara waited for him with that look in her eyes.
He didn’t even wonder how she’d arranged for them to get onto the tarmac—when Kara wanted something, she worked every angle until it happened—he just followed her curves toward an empty airplane in a hangar, grateful, this once, for her unstoppable nature.
The plane looked permanently stationary with a serious set of stairs to its open door. Maybe something they used for kiddie field trips or to desensitize people afraid of flying. There were a few people in the hangar—mechanics clanging away on a plane and some men in a clump at the far end of the hangar—but no one looked twice at the flight attendant and her passenger ascending the stairs.
Ross climbed behind Kara, delighted by the enticing triangle of firm thigh that appeared and disappeared as she moved upward. He wanted to touch, but restrained himself. Kara had a plan. He’d give her a chance to put it into operation.
At the entrance to the plane, she turned to him with that stewardess welcome smile. “Welcome aboard, Mr…?”
“Migue—Mike. Just call me Mike.” He needed a new character for this fantasy. He noticed the air had a warm cinnamon scent, completely masking the stale smell of airplane fuel and plastic. Kara had obviously taken air freshener to the place. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d vacuumed, too.
“Mike it is,” she said. “We have a first-class seat reserved just for you, Mike.”
He sat in the brown-leather seat she indicated. With the armrest up, the two seats made a decent sofa. He stretched his legs. First-class leg room. And he was sure they’d find a good use for every inch of it.
“Let me make you more comfortable,” Kara said. She pushed the recline button and his seat back tilted a few inches. She leaned across him to make the window seat recline as well. He noticed beads of sweat in the space between her breasts and that she wore a nearly transparent bra under the V-lapelled jacket. No blouse.
“Much better,” she said. She stood up, her face flushed—nervous, he could see. “I find airplane travel lonely, don’t you?” she said, but she didn’t wait for an answer before she babbled on. “It seems to me that
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