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Olympic Airways 1986
Soon after boarding I read an article in the in-flight magazine counselling against the abuse of alcohol: ‘One spirit is equal to two as the altitude increases the alcohol’s permeation rate into the blood system.’ Two hours had passed and The Talking Heads’ Remain in Light sounded eerierthan usual. My three scotches were the equivalent of six according to the article.
A bottle blonde in her thirties sat next to me, her large breasts squeezed tightly against a watermelon sweater. Leila was from Athens. She was going back after a three month vacation visiting uncles, aunties and cousins she had never seen before. She whined about her rellies in Australia.
‘They do nothing! Just work, then sit in front of the TV.’
‘They’re still living in the village in their heads, fucking sheep,’ Leila said.
I was slowly getting drunk and my focus was on her breasts. She could see me looking at them but said nothing. I agreed with her assessment of Greek Australians. Her words simply lingered around my ears.
‘I met Hans … best club in Athens … Vienna,’ she talked.
I looked at her mouth, large with fleshy lips that were a little dry under layers of red lipstick, her nose sharp with a slight angle, her eyes were large brown and framed by dark eyeliner, her brunette roots anchored fading blonde hair which framed her thin angular face.
Leila asked me what I did.
‘I just completed my post grad in politics and I am going to Greece for a year. I want to travel sorry … I’m a little drunk. Sorry, you are so beautiful,’ I said.
‘Oh, come on. You’re so young,’ she flirted and dismissed me.
I gulped down another scotch, now on my fifth, the equivalent of ten.
‘Young, I guess. Not that young, I’m twenty four,’ I mumbled unconvincingly.
She laughed and brushed my shoulder. As she talked I thought about the humiliating near defeat of the Australians by the English during the Ashes and our comeback. Leila faded in and out. My head began to spin at one point and my stomach churned. Bile rose into my mouth, sharp, burning my esophagus. I lit a cigarette and offered her one.
‘I usually don’t smoke, but I’ll keep company,’ Leila said and her hand brushed mine as I lit her cigarette. As the smoke trickled out of my nostrils, my mouth suddenly filled with spew. I clenched my jaw and jumped out of my seat. I veered, stumbled and fell on passengers on my dash to the toilet.
I opened the cubical and my head dived into the toilet. A brown liquid, embroidered with remnants of food flooded the metal bowl. I felt lighter, and my stomach emptied, I pulled of the lever and it all ejected into the stratosphere. I soaked my head and swallowed airplane toothpaste.
Back in my seat weightlessness took over. I lit another cigarette it felt good.
‘Are you ok?’ Leila asked, concerned.
The lights dimmed and the dark was punctuated by fairy lights in the passageway. Warm, comfortable, sleep, the drone of the engines like an ancient Buddhist chant sent me to sleep.I don’t know what time it was when a hard-on woke me. It was straining against my jeans, granite hard, but it felt as though it did not belong to me, not to my body. I was edgy, hot, itchy, and desperate to get rid of it. Without thinking, without worrying, still partially drunk, I slid my hand under Leila’s sweater as she slept. My other hand moved to the back of her head and guided her to my crotch.
My cock was out, free, tent pole for the thin airline blanket. She burrowed her head under the blanked and took it in her mouth. She sucked, slowly and purposefully. Her tongue darted in and out of my foreskin and wiped the head of my cock on her large lips.
My hand under her sweater played with her breasts. I attempted to get her nipples to meet each other with one hand. I licked my fingers and went back to her now erect nipples. I thrust, gently and purposefully, back and forth into her mouth. Looking out of the porthole into the blackness I suddenly saw angels crouched on the wings as I came into her mouth. Laila lifted her head kissed me her tongue transferring cum into my mouth. When Leila smiled she looked younger, her dark eyeliner smeared across the top of her right cheek.
‘I’ve never done that with a stranger before especially on a plane,’ she said.
Dialogue from a 1960s film came to me, ‘When two people are attracted things happen.’
She kissed my cheek. We hugged and fell back to sleep in each others’ arms. I was awoken by a glacial voice instructing me to put my seat up and wear my seat belt. We were landing in Singapore.
‘So Singapore you’ll need to show me around,’ Laila said
‘I have no idea about Asia,’ she added.
‘Sure,’ I said, my only idea of Asia based around a couple of Malaysian mates and noodles.
We didn’t see much of Singapore.
© Nick Fonos 2014
Nick Fonos has been writing and performing for years at various festivals. He has published fiction and non-fiction in Overland, Meanjin, Artlink, Bookslut, Online Opinion and others under various names, now he reveals his liberatarian admissions and exultations.
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