Happy Holidays Ch 01

In-Flight Entertainment

Ali whimpered into the wall ahead of her, trying to be quiet as I pushed my cock deep inside her willing pussy. Her naked back quivered and shimmied as I ran my nails down her back in time to my thrusts. To our right, the bathroom mirror dripped with steam and heat. I could feel her soft hole tightening around my prick as her moans increased, the musk of her sweat and arousal thick in the enclosed space. Her hips bucked against mine, her fingers caressing my balls as she tried to get as much of me inside her as she possibly could. I was doing something I had never imagined even in my wildest dreams: I was making love to Ali Jensen in an airplane bathroom . . .

It all started when I was arguing with the ticket checker at the departure desk.

"Sir, guitars and similar baggage are supposed to go into Checked Baggage!" the overweight ticket agent snapped. I could hear an anemic version of "Jingle Bells" playing over the airport speakers. The departure lounge was less than half-full; I was lucky that very few people wanted to fly home today.

"If you do that, pal, you may as well take a hammer right now and smash this guitar," I said, pointing to my Ibanez electric guitar in its black gig bag. I was working really hard at being reasonable. "Isn't there a closet or something where you can stash it for the flight?"

I could see his nostrils flare, his overgrown nose hairs fluttering as he inhaled. Oh yes, the 737 had a closet for situations like this, but the attendants wanted to save that space for executives with $3,000 Armani suits, not some bohemian university student who couldn't even afford a hard-shell case for his guitar.

The ticket agent, his chubby face set in obstinate lines, opened his mouth for another tirade. I tried not to wince; he had bad breath.

"C'mon, buddy, cut the kid a break," someone behind me groused. "It's Christmas and you're holding up the line."

The ticket agent visibly deflated. He looked over to his female partner, who gave him a barely-perceptible nod.

"All right, pal," he said with bad grace, "you can give the fucking guitar to Debbie over here; she'll make sure it gets on board. But you better . . ."

His threats subsided into incoherent mumbles as I pushed past, slinging the gig bag over my right shoulder. "Thanks," I said to the other agent, giving her my best smile. I could see her lips twitch as she handed back my ticket and ID.

"Try to have that guitar in a hard-shell case next time, all right, sugar?" Debbie said as she took the gig bag and placed it next to her desk. She wore cheap, flashing Christmas tree earrings that clashed with her dark blue suit jacket.

"I'll do what I can," I promised her, pushing the ticket and driver's license into the breast pocket of my black fleece jacket.

She was trying hard not to smile as she shook her head. "Get on the goddamn plane." She jerked her thumb towards the tunnel leading to the aircraft. She knew I was bullshitting her. I hate checking their guitar; I'd heard enough horror stories about what airlines do to musical instruments and had no desire to see my semi-hollow Ibanez turned into a tire chock for a 747.

As I walked towards the tunnel, somebody called out from the line behind me.

"Rick?" the familiar voice called out. "Is that you?"

I stopped, stunned.

"Oh my God, baby!" Ali Jensen squealed as she leaped into my arms, nearly belting me across the back of my skull with her book bag. "You're on this flight too? That's so amazing!"

My arms tightened around her without even thinking about it. Ali's hugs are never to be missed: she presses her entire gorgeous body against the lucky recipient. I had only gotten two hugs from Ali in the four months I had known her, but each one was burned into my memory. I could feel Ali's pelvis pushing against mine; I was firmly telling my penis to stay down.

Ali and I knew each other in passing, but we weren't close enough for her to be acting like this towards me. What the hell was going on?

"Pretend to be my boyfriend," she hissed in my ear. Her gold nose stud rubbed my cheek. "Please!"

I didn't need to be told twice! My left hand slid down to the small of her back, pressing her hips against mine. "You naughty girl," I told her, swinging her slightly as I leaned away from her. "Why didn't you tell me you were on this plane as well?" Pushing my luck, I kissed her noisily on the lips.

"Surprise, sweetie," she giggled as she wrapped her arms around my neck. Her long, slightly curly blonde hair brushed my cheek.

"Hey, lady," the ticket agent snapped. "You just jumped the entire line--"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir." Ali blushed as she turned to him. She gave him her best penitent look as she handed him her ticket and passport. "Here you go."

I could see the guy visibly turning into goo as she turned the full force of that charm on him. I didn't blame the guy; Ali has that effect on guys.

"Well, mmm, well, I suppose . . ." Without being aware of it, the ticket agent was already feeding the boarding card into the slot. "I'll let it go this time. Merry Christmas."

"Why thank you, sir." She smiled as she allowed her long fingers to brush his as she took back her travel documents. "And a Merry Christmas to you too."

"My, uh, pleasure . . ." The guy's hand combed the long strands covering his bald spot. I could almost see the steam rising from him as he turned to the next passenger.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?" I breathed in Ali's ear as she pulled me down the tunnel towards the aircraft. Did I mention she also smelled great? Healthy, young body mixed with some perfume that I couldn't identify.

Ali shuddered. "Rick, I totally need you to run interference for me. This suit was hitting on me in the departure lounge, and he happens to have the seat right next to me on the plane. He's not taking no for an answer and I don't know how else to get rid of him. Can you pretend to be my boyfriend during the flight?"

Pretend to be Ali's boyfriend for five-and-a-half hours? My brain just melted.

How best to describe Ali? My buddies and I had a four-point rating system for hottie girls at our school: the first level was Carnage, then Extreme Carnage, followed up by Maximum Carnage. The top level was Medieval, otherwise known as the "they give

Maxim

girls jealousy fits" level. Ali was one of three girls on campus who had achieved that exalted status. She was about 5'9", nicely curved, and firm in all the right places. Nobody was surprised to learn that she was in Theatre; the big shock came when they discovered she was in the Directing Stream. Despite her looks, she apparently had no interest in being onstage.

"Can you do that for me? Please?" She turned those melting brown eyes on me. "I'll totally make it up to you."

Now, if I was one of those Slick-Dick types, I could have said something really smooth, something like "I know how you can make it up to me, baby," and this whole scenario would have ended with her mouth wrapped around my cock. Unfortunately, I can't do smooth. Hell, even the prospect of pretending to be Ali's boyfriend on this flight was making my throat close up. It took me until Grade 12 to lose my stammer, and it was only after I had been playing guitar for six years that any girls started to notice me.

"Sure," was my best reply. What can I say? I'm a stupid noble bastard.

"Thanks so much." She smiled and squeezed my arm. "You're the best."

"No problem," I said, while cursing my ineptitude. Couldn't I come up with anything better than this?

I'm a little over six feet in height. I'm in good shape, a little underweight (living on a student's budget will do that to you). I even grew my brown hair long to save money on haircuts. I have no visible scars and girls often tell me I have a nice smile. I've had one or two one-night stands, and even a girlfriend or three, but I'm no Lothario. On better days, I like to think that I'm good-looking but Ali was so far out of my league it wasn't even funny.

Hello," said the bottle-blonde flight attendant at the end of the tunnel. "May I see your boarding passes, please?"

"Um, is there any way we could sit next to each other?" Ali asked. She put her head on my shoulder as we passed over our boarding cards. "I didn't know Ricky here was going to be on the same flight as me, and," she giggled, "we'd really like to be together." She snuggled close as sweat beaded my forehead. Down, boy, down, I mentally told my cock.

"I'm sorry, but you're in completely different rows," the attendant replied as she checked our boarding cards. "This flight is half-full but airline regulations state that everyone needs to stay in their assigned seats."

"Listen." Ali leaned towards the attendant, losing her airhead act. "There's this really obnoxious guy who has the seat next to me. My friend Rick promised he'd pretend to be my boyfriend for the flight, but--"

Ali broke off as someone else walked towards the aircraft door. This guy was taller than I was, and the expensive tailoring on his dark suit wasn't quite enough to hide his developing gut. He had average looks, and an above-average ego. I could also see the indentation on the third finger of his left hand, where a wedding ring had recently been. Way to be inconspicuous, asshole.

"Why, hello there," he said to the flight attendant as he reached into his pants pocket. What little hair he had on the top of his head was heavily greased. "It's a good thing I kept this warm for you."

"You're in Row 36B, sir." The flight attendant's professional smile froze up as she took his boarding pass. She pointed towards the back of the plane. "You're on the left side of the aircraft, aisle seat."

"36B?" He smirked, looking down at her breasts. "Yeah, I'd say that's about right."

The suit winked at the flight attendant as he turned away from her. She waited until his back was turned before rolling her blue eyes. He gave Ali the once-over before looking at me. His eyes narrowed as he saw Ali's hand on my arm. I grinned up at him as I patted Ali's wrist; letting him know she was off-limits. His fleshy face hardened as he stalked down the aisle towards his seat.

"Is that the guy?" the flight attendant asked when he was gone.

Ali nodded.

"You weren't exaggerating." She shuddered. "Don't worry about a thing, honey. I'll take care of it."

* * *

We settled into our seats. I gave Ali the window, so I could have the aisle seat. I pulled off several layers of clothing, leaving only my Pearl Jam t-shirt and jeans. For some reason, the airlines always overheat their planes in winter.

I tried stretching out, shoving my stocking feet into the aisle so my knees wouldn't cramp up. My hiking boots were under the seat in front of me. Flying economy is agony when most of your height is in your legs. I had taken out my copy of the

Hedwig and the Angry Inch

score and was looking through it. The school was putting on the musical in February, and I was in the backing band.

Ali had also kicked off her shoes. "I didn't know you lived out West," she said to me.

Ali had also stripped down in the overly warm plane. She wore a long skirt, and what I refuse to call a 'wifebeater' shirt. I tried hard not to look at her tits; I could see she was wearing a lace bra under the tight top. She was leaning against the seat, looking at me. Her blonde hair framed her face, making her look like an angel. Ali wore no make-up, but then she didn't have to.

"Yeah, in Vancouver," I said. "You?"

"My folks are in Merritt, but I got a job waiting for me in Penticton." She had a copy of

Fast Food Nation

open in her lap. "I'm in the snow patrol at the ski hill near there, doing Search and Rescue."

"Sounds pretty sweet," I replied. "Do you make good money?"

She nodded. "I've been working SAR for the past three years. The company told me that I can come back there any time I like."

"Nice." I could feel myself getting tongue-tied. It's always hard for me to talk to a girl I like, and I had been seriously desiring Ali ever since I had met her. I couldn't think of anything else to say, and any time that happened to me, I said nothing. I stared down at my score, making notes in the margin.

"Hey, Rick." Ali put her hand on my arm. I tried not to jump in my seat at her touch; her fingers were incredibly soft on my wrist. "Thanks for pretending to be my boyfriend like this. I really appreciate it."

"Hey, no problem."

"No really, I wanted to thank you for helping me back there," she said, squeezing my wrist. Her rounded face was serious, with no hint of artifice in her expression. "Most guys would have taken this as permission to stick their tongue down my throat, and you've been really cool. I'm not going to forget this."

"Hey." I tried to smile at her. "Anything for a friend." I tried not to wince as I said that.

"Thanks," she smiled. "You're awesome." She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and went back to reading her book. I turned back to the

Hedwig

score, trying not smash my head against the upright meal tray. Anything for a friend! Nice one, dumbass! Right now my thoughts about Ali were anything but platonic. I was imagining how her tits would look, freed from her bra, and whether or not she was a natural blonde. My cock was rock-hard, twitching at my jeans. I laid the sheets of paper across my lap, hoping she wouldn't notice how hard I was. It wasn't easy; hiding a 7" inch erection is no picnic.

I tried to concentrate on the score, listening to that little voice cursing me for my stupidity.

* * *

"Do you have any gum?" Ali asked, a few minutes after we were airborne. "My breath stinks."

"Sure." I didn't think so, but I pulled out my black fleece anyway. I knew I had some breath mints in the inside pocket. "Let me check."

I rummaged in the pocket, trying not to blush as my fingers found a few things that definitely weren't breath mints. I pushed the plastic packets aside and found the little metal box.

Just then, the plane jumped from some turbulence. My hand slipped out of the pocket, sending the contents all over Ali's skirt.

"Whoa, what do we have here?" She grinned as she picked up one of the condom packets in her lap. "Were you hoping to get lucky?"

I could feel my face heating up. "Uh, no." Oh shit, my stutter was coming back. Nice timing. "My...roommate must have...put them in my jacket...as a...practical joke. He always jokes about...you know, the Mile-High Club?"

"Oh really?" She opened the box of wintergreen Altoids and popped one in her mouth. Her lips were twitching. "And were you looking to find someone to join you?"

"Well . . ." My face felt like a blast furnace. I was usually pretty relaxed around women, but Ali's presence was making me act like a 13-year-old with his first erection. "I wouldn't say no . . . but--" My throat closed up.

"Are you okay?" she asked, all teasing forgotten. "You look like you're about to have a heart attack."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "Just a...stutter."

"You stutter?" she asked. "I didn't know that. Oh my God, I'm so sorry. You hide it really well."

"It took me a long time, and I haven't totally gotten rid of it," I said, forcing myself to calm down. "Sometimes it jumps out at me...like right now."

"I'm sorry." She put her hand on my wrist again. "Is that why you rarely talk?"

"Yeah."

"Jeez, I always thought you were arrogant."

"What?"

"Well . . ." She seemed at a loss for words. I was surprised; I never thought Ali would be like this. "You rarely talk to anyone, and you play guitar so well. My friends and I all thought you were too cool for the room, you know? And you're always with Esther Green, I figured you were . . . you know."

I frowned. "I'm not seeing Esther."

Her mouth dropped open. "What? But I thought...I mean, you guys are always together--"

"Oh yeah, she's my busking partner but we're not dating," I said. Esther Green and I made really good money busking together on-campus and in the subway stations. She had an incredible voice, and a figure to match. She was on many guys' (and many girls') lust list but I had no interest in her.

"Oh my God . . ." She seemed at a loss for words. "Everybody I've talked to thinks . . . you guys are so close--"

"We're close friends but I have no interest in screwing her," I said. "You know the old saying: Don't dip your wick in company ink?"

She nodded.

"Well, that's what I think about Ellen," I said. "We have a good thing going musically and I don't want to fuck it up."

"I'm so impressed," she said. "I mean; everybody in Fine Arts wants to nail her."

"Including you?" I couldn't resist.

She blushed. "Yeah, I've . . . thought about it."

"Oh really?"

She laughed nervously. "Well, I'm strictly dickly but I admit, I'd go gay if the right girl asked me."

"Esther is bi, you know." I knew a lot about Esther's sexual habits; despite (or maybe because of) the fact that she knew I would never sleep with her, she told me all about her sexual escapades. It was a mixed blessing; there were one or two guys I couldn't see on campus without snickering. Unfortunately, they were also guys who could easily clean my clock if they found out that I knew.

She punched my shoulder. "Shut up!" she said, laughing. "Here I was, being nice to you earlier, and now you're teasing me!"

"Serves you right for bugging me for the condoms." I grinned.

"That's not--" She broke off, and leaned closer to me. "Don't look now," she whispered, "but that asshole suit is staring back at us."

"What do you mean?"

"Hang on." Without moving, she reached for her blue book bag. She slipped out a hand-sized mirror and angled it so I could see the guy for myself.

Wow, if looks could kill I would have been the main attraction at a funeral. It didn't take a lot to figure out what was going on in his head. About twenty years ago, he had probably nailed girls like Ali several times a week but time had finally caught up with him. Now he was some over aged Lothario trying to make moves on somebody young enough to be his daughter. Sad.

"He does look pissed," I said instead. Ali put her hand over her mouth to muffle her giggles.

I didn't mention that the way Ali was holding that mirror allowed me the perfect opportunity to check out her breasts. They were a great shape in that bra. Her cleavage poked up from her top; it had that healthy-girl glow that cosmetics just can't fake. I could tell that she didn't need much padding in her bra for those breasts to press together like that. I shifted my right leg, so she couldn't see my erection tenting my jeans.

"Doesn't he though," Ali looked down at the mirror again and grinned at me. "You wanna make him even more pissed?"

"How?" I asked, not sure where this was going.

"Kiss me."

"Are you sure?"

"Why, are you scared?"

I didn't bother to reply to that one.

Her lips were unbelievably soft against mine. I could feel her fingers stroking down my cheek as I pushed closer to her. Her breasts were pressed against my chest; my hand touched her hair and slid down her neck, feeling her back warm against my fingertips. She sighed into my mouth as we kissed.

Her kiss was incredible but I could feel something was missing. Her mouth was open against mine but her tongue wasn't involved. Daring, my tongue slid into her mouth and touched hers.

That did it. She started giving me a full upper-body press as our tongues slid against each other. Okay, God, you can take me now. Even if this was only meant to piss off the suit, I didn't care. I was kissing the most beautiful girl I had ever met. Her lips were incredible: so soft and tender and she knew what to do with them. At one point, she pulled back slightly and ran her tongue around my lips before sucking my tongue as if it were my cock. My hand slid down her back, pulling at her top, stroking the hard flesh at the small of her back. She moaned into my mouth as her tongue danced with mine. The only problem was that the armrest was getting in our way, pressing into my stomach as I tried to get even closer to her.