Life always balances accounts. Okay, so I hadn't had sex in the last 11 months; to make up for it life had been fucking me over hard. Yes, I'm whining, but it wasn't JUST the lack of sex that made me mad. I went to Catholic boys schools up until I went to college so even as a kid I knew about coerced celibacy. But then there's a difference between celibacy when you're a terminally virginal fifteen-year-old and celibacy as a divorced forty-year-old man, the difference is the same as dreaming of climbing Mt. Everest when you're in a sinkhole in Kansas and when you're sitting in a base camp in the Himalayas surrounded by Sherpas who are just never in the mood. Actually that last part is a good description of the last couple years of my marriage as well.
Now on top of everything else there's breaking my hand. Well, spraining my wrist actually and having that done by my coworker, Maggie, slamming her trunk shut before I got my hand clear. It just proves you should never get greedy. Even in perfect condition I had worries about my upcoming date with Theresa. Pulling off some virtuoso fingering was going to be difficult with one gimpy paw. Maybe more importantly -- being that I was a righty -- it pretty much killed my backup plan.
It looked like there wouldn't be anything to distract me from pre-date jitters. The business/first class section of the plane was practically empty and the three men and two women that were there with me had their heads buried in laptops or their eyes closed as they listened to headphones. Not being in the mood to read any of the magazines instead I spent the time studying the flight attendants. The only one interesting to me had a name tag that read Lily. Initially I'd guess her to be about thirty, but closer up, there were enough laugh lines to make me think her older. Stunning in an LA kind of way but without all of the plastic, she had short, ash blonde hair, blue eyes, and her body was trim and had good muscle tone. Tall at about 5'9" she looked like a ballerina with maybe an extra fifteen pounds to keep her from starvation. Even pushing the drink cart down the aisle, she seemed to move on point.
The closest I had ever come to the mile high club was probably as a teenager staring at the cover of a fantasy novel while in a bumpy prop plane over Kansas. On the other hand for a long time I thought of myself as a mile-higher using as justification the fact that my ex-wife and I had sex in Denver during a mini-vacation just after our oldest daughter had been born. Having sex a mile up always seemed a silly distinction, up until I saw Lily.
There was something about her hands: short nails, smooth skin that was scented lightly with lotion. We touched when she handed me a soda and again when she clutched my wrist to make sure I didn't drop it. The touch lingered and her eyes held mine.
Why was I thinking about Lily? Flying a thousand miles just for a date and I get distracted when I touch some woman's hands. Lily was beautiful, but this just had to be nerves. How serious was the thing with Theresa and me? Maybe this wasn't a date at all, but really a thousand-mile booty call.
Lily walked up from behind me stopping beside my aisle seat. Her blue eyes caught mine. "Broke it riding a Brahma bull, I suppose?"
"What?"
"Your hand."
"Oh. No, it's sprained actually. I got it slammed in a car trunk. Not very glamorous..." Shit, this was flirting. I knew how to flirt didn't I? "Not too big a deal except the car was on fire and I had to pull a baby to safety."
Lily smiled mischievously. "Interesting parenting skills there." I must have looked baffled. "The mother kept her baby in the trunk?"
"Well, you didn't see how small this car was..." I shrugged. "Maybe it was a stack of printouts and the car might not have exactly been on fire. But it was warm in the parking garage." I smiled and she just stared at me in that way beautiful women do that let you sit there feeling how stupid you are. Except she smirked a little bit after a second.
"I saw you in the airport two weeks ago when you were barking into your phone. Put that together with no ring on your finger and your nervousness and I'd say you've just gotten divorced."
I started to nod and then stopped. "The only reason a man without a ring would yell into their phone is because of an ex-wife? I'm not saying you're wrong, but..."
"You fit a type." Her hand caressed my arm and she glanced quickly up and down the aisle. "A handsome, intelligent, charming man my age that isn't trying to jump in my pants. Of course I could be wrong. You could be separated or gay ...?"
"No, definitely not gay. Especially right now." I stared at her and my eyes drifted down her body hesitating at her waist and especially her long legs.
She laughed. "I said you were the type that WASN'T trying to jump into my pants."
God did this woman have beautiful blue eyes. "No, jumping would be wrong..."
"You prefer a slower approach?" Her sultry look was spoiled as she glanced up and caught the eye of a male flight attendant who mouthed some words at her. She looked back at me. "So you never told me, are you separated or divorced?"
"Divorced going on about half a year. And by the way, I'm Peter Wilkes."
"Lily Neff..." She patted my hand again. "I'm not usually this forward. You do like me being forward, don't you? No don't answer that." She glanced down the aisle and then leaned in toward me. Taking a drink coaster from her pocket she produced a pen and quickly scribbled her name down. "This is my number. Nothing else. If you call, you're going to have to spend at least half an hour flirting with me until I give you a chance at a date. You dance, don't you? I mean you know how to dance. No phobias about twirling a woman around the room."
"It's been a little while, but with thinking about you as an incentive it strikes me I could manage it. Just in case, first thing when I get home I'll sign up for lessons." Lily's eyes flitted through a range of emotions and at the end she ended up kind of staring through me.
"So..." I said.
Lily's eyes refocused, but still her expression seemed a little distant.
"So do I pass the test?"
God, it was like I was highschool again. In the second she hesitated, a dozen different memories of rejection came back.
"The test isn't over yet. You're doing good so far. But..." She stared at me a second, considering my face. "You're not really planning on taking dance lessons, are you? Never mind. You live in Minneapolis right?"
"No. St. Paul."
"Close enough." She smiled and straightened up. Only when she let go of my arm, did I notice I had developed a hell of an erection. "You realize how easy I'm making this on you? The only reason I'm giving you my number is because you seem too easy going to ask yourself. You weren't, were you? No, don't..."
"It had nothing to do with not wanting to. Mostly it's lack of practice. And it isn't easy to ask out such a beautiful woman."
