Olympic Conquest

Lainey - Douchebag

I can't believe they're actually holding the plane for some idiot Alpine skier who is late. I would have left him behind by now. Yeah, we all would have liked to sleep in too.

Finally, he boards the plane. I shoot him daggers as he grabs his seat across the aisle from me. Jesus. He smells like a brewery and an ashtray. How the hell is he an Olympic athlete? I give him a once over. He's tall, which probably helps. He seems to be in good shape, despite the rancid odor emanating from him.

I lean over to him. "Hey!"

He looks over at me through his sunglasses. What a douchebag. Who wears sunglasses on the plane? "Do I know you?" he asks.

"I hope not," I say.

"Then what do you want?"

I throw my free toiletry bag from the airline in his lap. "I'd love for you to brush your teeth. You're ruining the air quality of this plane."

He leans over to me and gets really close to my face and blows his hot, stinky breath really slowly in my direction. Then he flashes me his best Hollywood shit-eating grin.

"Oh yeah. I think you just want what I can give. You're aching for it. Too bad for you I don't find pleasure in stuck-up bitches," he laughs and sits back down in his chair.

I mouth, "You're an asshole," as the plane starts taxiing to the runway.

"No, actually, I'm Cory – the favorite to win the Downhill and Super-G for the third time. What's your name?" He extends his hand to me. As if I would shake it!

I ignore his hand, "I'm not telling you my name."

He points to my team jacket with my name embroidered on it. "It's nice to meet you, Lainey from the U.S. Figure Skating Team. Now why don't you twirl on back to where you came from and leave me alone?"

"Ah you're rude too, on top of being cocky and inconsiderate. I'm sure your parents are proud." I see a twitch under his eye and I realize I may have gone a little too far. Whatever. He deserved it. I sigh and turn my back to him.

Mom looks up from the Hammacher Schlemmer magazine. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing," I say. "Let's get some sleep." I put on an eye mask and insert earplugs. If only I had a nose plug with me. I lean back and try to rest.

About five hours into the ten-hour flight, I have to use the bathroom. I notice that the douchebag is not in his seat. He's probably accosting the flight attendants for more alcohol.

I get to the toilets and notice a really long line. I ask one of my teammates. "What's going on?"

"I don't know. Someone's been in there a really long time, they're either sick or ... you know," she says with a look of disgust.

The door finally opens and, of course, douchebag saunters out as if nothing's wrong. Oh and out comes one of the flight attendants. Nice, he's a proud member of the mile high club. I'm so happy for him and glad I don't have to go in there next.

Douchebag makes his way back through the long line, seemingly unembarrassed by his antics. He sees me and deliberately rubs his body next to mine.

"It's really cramped in here," he whispers. I can feel his manhood rub my hip as he walks by me. I deliberately hip check him hard. Knocking the wind out of him instantly.

"Someone needs to de-ice the chip you've got on your shoulder," he mutters.

"Oh yeah, someone needs to throw some ice on whatever you are. I only have a chip on my shoulder for people who don't respect their talents. You're living the dream and this is how you show your gratitude?"

 I move on and make my way to the restroom. I decide to ignore the douchebag the rest of the flight, which was very easy to do.