Once Upon a Plane Flight

Chapter One

I wake up terrified, lying in a pool of my own sweat, gasping for the necessity of oxygen. I gulp down as much oxygen as I can before rolling over and turning my screeching alarm clock off. I shove my head under the comforter and groan out something that was nowhere near sounding human, eventually coming to the conclusion that I will have to get up sooner or later. I push myself off my bed and slowly start dragging my body toward the only energy I can get this early in the morning. Coffee.

It was an awful nightmare--the type that no one should ever experience. I was on an airplane--you know, the ones that fly thirty thousand feet above ground--and there was so much turbulence--at least that's what I think that was, based on what my friend's told me about it. The 'fasten seatbelt' sign started blinking and I reached to find mine, which wasn't there. I started silently panicking, looking everywhere it should have been multiple times as if it would just appear if I look away and turn back two seconds later. Now I really start panicking; pushing the call button until someone showed up. I start by nervously telling her that my seatbelt was missing, but before I could utter the last word of my sentence, the plane suddenly starts to fall. I had no clue as to what was happening. First, it felt like I would fall out of my seat and then I did. Everyone else--besides the flight attendant that I was talking to--was securely fastened into their seats while I was floating around. There didn't seem to be any gravity to push me to the ground. I was just floating. At first I thought it was weird to be weightless and I actually enjoyed it, and then I thought, If I am floating, doesn't that mean we are crashing? That's when I really started to panic--grabbing onto anything that I could take hold of. Right when we were so close to the ground that I could see the grains of sand on the beach, I woke up.

I walked into the kitchen and saw a mug filled to the brim with coffee--topped off with whipped cream which was gliding off the edge. I hoisted myself up onto the counter it was placed on and sleepily started to sip it.

A person, who I assumed made the coffee, came out of the bathroom with only a towel placed tightly around his hips.

I glowered over at his mischievous expression and said, "No one wants to see that." I turned my head away after I said this to prove my point.

He didn't seem to mind my statement and, instead, strolled toward me and positioned himself in between my legs. He moved his head so he could whisper in my ear when he said, "Then maybe I should take off the towel." I blushed at his inquiry and didn't respond.

I pushed his head back and muttered the only thing I was capable of thinking of at that moment; coffee. He tipped his head back and laughed, obviously amused at my need for coffee.

I glared at him and took a sip from my mug--after which feeling something wet on my nose. I crossed my eyes in hopes of seeing it and before I could move, he dabbed it with his index finger and plopped the substance into his mouth before I saw what it was. As if he read my mind, he sighed, "Mmmm, whipped cream, yum." I nodded my head in understanding.

He placed both hands on my thighs--rubbing them up and down. At first, it was disgusting because he was wiping his spit covered finger on me, but after a little while, it dried and soon became soothing. Soon after the stroking began, I gently placed my coffee onto the counter top next to me--without spilling a single drop, may I add--and rested my forehead on his un-clothed shoulder, shutting my eyes.

"Do you have to leave?" came his quiet question. I hummed in response, draping my arms across his slightly damp neck--trusting him not to let me fall.

"You can come." I hopefully pleaded with him for the millionth time this month.

"Yeah, and stay with your mom as she chides me on being un-ethical and your dad saying that I'm not good enough for you. Yeah, that'll be fun. Besides, I have work."