Truth or Dare

It was early, even for me. I'm the type that went to school when the doors were still locked. Not a pet, just...eager for a change of scenery. But even given my predilection for arriving early, this was very early. I had three hours to kill before my flight. Oh yes, I had a book, but what good is a book in people-watching central?

I stopped for enough beer to keep me occupied, but not so much to send me to an airplane bathroom more than once. Shiner Bock, fresh off the tap. Yes, please, 22 ounces.

I tried not to notice the oh so loud women on the other side of the bar. I tried not to notice the man sitting at the end of the bar also trying not to notice the oh so loud women.

It didn't work. Eye contact, a moment of wry humor shared. Who spoke first? Does it matter? Soon entangled in a resume exchange and business travel woes conversation. He was small and wiry and sharp, like a hungry fox. Something about his eyes made me prey.

We were on the same flight, of course. He to Baltimore, me to Tampa. A wishbone of luck. Delays, delays, the bar closed. We sat whispering and giggling, the innuendos coming hard and fast.

Another delay announced, another chance granted. I lick my lips, his fox eyes track my tongue's movement. A quick walk to a deserted corridor, there is time, yes, there is time. On my knees, quick, in this corner, a fly unzipped, a soft cock exposed. My mouth was so greedy and wet.

It was over in an instant, in my mouth and down my throat while he twitched like the fox in a trap.

Later, sly glances from his row to mine. From the connecting airport, taunting text messages. My further delay, his eventual return to Baltimore. Nothing more happened, but I would have worn his skin like a stole for the night.

Delayed Gratification

There is an inescapable feeling when flying - that shift when you stop ascending and your stomach drops and you can't help but perceive the change from climbing means that you're falling. It reminds me of other things.

I spend my time in airports watching.

The older man in (I swear) a zoot suit and baseball cap, carrying a shaving kit.

The woman holding a book on biblical studies, wandering and looking lost.

A leggy redhead with vicious bruises peeking from under a miniskirt.

The balding man in first class taking out his contacts then smacking himself on the overhead compartment.

The man across the aisle too timid to tell his neighbor that he (the neighbor) is using the female receptor of his (the timid man) seat belt.

The woman next to me reading a relationship self-help book and twisting her engagement ring.

And all along I sit, trying to wrap my head around Schrodinger's explanation of quantum superpositions and finding it allegorical to life.

And cursing the short life of my iPod battery.

Then reading an article about a mathematician who posits that there are parallel existences, all based on the fact that everything is an equation, and I think - where on this axis is the membrane the thinnest that I can touch hands to the mirror-me?

What happens in Vegas...

I have a business trip scheduled next week. Manhattan. I've been once before, a day trip...in and out. This time, I'll stay several nights.

Something about hotel rooms. They need besmirching.

I scanned my list of regular watchers before posting this. As much as besmirching appeals, the thought of meeting a fellow blogger is very intimidating.

Granted, I've met quite a few people from online, in various capacities. Most are friends. Some are very good friends.

But bloggers and besmirching and hotel rooms...that's a combination that makes me gulp.

I'll leave the spare key at the front desk. Come and get me.