I was cramped in a too-small seat in what was generously called business class. It wasn’t a big deal but at just over six feet, I was still slightly squished. I was looking out the window, Hoping that my seatmate would be someone small. It was a five-hour flight, but the plane looked like it would only be about 2/3 full. If I was fortunate, I might get an empty seat beside me.
I felt someone next to me and turned to look at my best mate. Expecting another 400-pound basement dweller that hadn’t showered in days. That had been companion on the cost flight out. To make it worse, he had spent the entire flight hitting on me and trying to get me drunk. As if I would hook up with some random guy in an airport bathroom after we landed. I had tried to, very politely, explain to him that I wasn’t into men, but that made him work all the harder. As if bedding a lesbian was somehow an unlockable achievement in the game of life. How knows, maybe to guys it is.
I stared down at the cutest girl is ever seen at most, 25 years old. She stood just over five feet, her hair was raven black and hung framed her alabaster skin beautifully. Her t-shirt featured the rolling stones tongue and was stretched tight over her generous breasts. Below the shirt, she wore a black flowing skirt that came to just below her knees. Black knee-high socks and combat boots completed the rebel look I assumed she was going for.