They should have considered themselves lucky; really, this was not an easy flight to book on such short notice. But staring at the seats they would be occupying for the next eight hours, luck didn't pass through their thoughts at all. Something close to luck, however;
"Fuck!"
He hissed as quietly as he could. "We're sitting separately!?" Her disappointed glance answered back, they would indeed have to spend the first leg of their romantic getaway apart. She quickly took her seat, sandwiched between two older men. The both of them Mister Rogers clones, down to the cardigans and 50's style hair cuts; a dying breed.
He sat down in the row behind her, also surrounded by what appeared to be a group of geriatrics traveling together. How much more boring this flight could get, he could not imagine.
Thank god they expected to sleep through most of it. And after the plane took off, sleep took them quickly.
Hours slipped by as they all slept.
His eyes lazily parted, savoring the delirious blur the dark cabin presented him. He didn't bother to focus. Not yet. He enjoyed the delicious sensation of half-consciousness, the confidence that a simple closing of his eyes would send him back to his dreams. If only all mornings where this obligation free. He listened to the white noise airplane droning, the stillness of sleeping passengers, and felt at peace. He always slept well on airplanes, but his wife was not so lucky. It was a shame, really, that she could not feel the way he did now, in a warm bath. She couldn't sleep upright. He hoped she at least managed some rest. He allowed his eyes to drink in more, his vision remarkably keen considering the only light source was the floor running lights.
He peeked between the seats ahead of him to see his wife flat on her side and out like a light.
He grinned. The poor sucker to the left of her was recruited as a pillow. He imagined the embarrassed older gentleman staring down blankly at the girl cuddled up in his lap. It's probably been a while for him, he should count himself lucky. But his head was back deep in the pillow, his eyes shut, and his sinus's gently whistling. Everyone seemed to have found sleep.
He peeked through the other gap in the seats to see that she managed not to have spilled out onto her other row mate. Her knees where tightly curled up to her chest. He shot a mischievous glance at the daring skirt she was presently stretching out of shape. At this angle he couldn't get a peek at anything scandalous, but was reasonably sure the gentlemen to the right of her could get quite the show. He giggled a little thinking back on how he had talked her into not wearing panties, and how grateful he was now that she had chickened out at the last minute.
Remembering earlier.
"What if I get pulled aside in customs??" She spoke, honestly nervous.
"Well, then.... they're gonna strip search you anyways!" He grinned playfully, finding himself a little excited by the idea that conjured. Common sense brought him down, he was sure the reality was not as sexy as what he was imagining. She seemed to concur with the glare she answered back. So the white cotton panties went on, and the promise of intercontinental horseplay faded.
The first disappointment.
He wished he could see those panties now, but he had the whole holiday to enjoy her intimately. He smiled at the thoughts tumbling through his head and let the bliss carry him back to sleep.
Hours later he woke to the same scene; dim, silent cabin, the gentle snoring of sleeping passengers; his wife sound asleep, lounging across her two unfortunate isle mates. As his eyes became more accustomed to the light, something seemed different; a shock of white.
