I walked briskly into the airport lounge and slid onto a stool at the bar, placing my backpack on the seat next to me.
I had about 30 minutes to kill before my late-night flight back to the east coast took off, so I decided to have a couple of pints over a copy of the Times to take the edge off after my long business trip.
After ordering a beer, I took stock of the rest of the bar, checking out the patrons one by one. To my left was a married couple, talking in hushed tones with one another, and further down, an older businessman watching the Sunday night football game. To my right, the bartender was helping a pair of college frat boys, also enjoying the game, no doubt on the way back home from the just-ended term.
After draining the last of my first pint a few minutes later, I noticed a woman sitting down at the bar a couple of seats down. She ordered a beer, then leaned over towards me, making eye contact.
"Can I see the living section?" she asked, killing my ego completely.
"Sure," I mumbled, as my fingers flipped through the paper and found her section. I handed it over, and she gave me a sweet smile before returning to her beer and newfound reading material.
Over the next few minutes, my eyes wandered to her occasionally, looking the young woman over. She seemed about my age, in her late 20s or early 30s, with dark – nearly black – hair and eyes. She was pretty short for a woman, and though she didn't have the thin, emaciated body type so popular these days, she wasn't really overweight, either. Dressed for the chill in the late fall air, she was wearing a black sweater, a slate gray knee-length skirt, and high-heeled boots.
I returned to my paper and beer, sure that she was not to interested in me, despite my nice outfit – khaki pants, a dark green button down shirt, and brown dress shoes. Lost in my reverie, I failed to notice when the young woman slid up next to me to return the living section.
"Ahem," she coughed, trying to get my attention.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," I responded, dumbfounded.
"Thanks for the section," the woman said, giving me a look that was more searching than smiling. "My name's Kathy."
"Nice to meet you, my name's Jon."
And so we made small talk for a few minutes, exchanging a bit of information about each other. She lived in San Francisco, while I was only there for business. We were taking the same flight that night, but her route was the opposite of mine – she was flying to Atlanta for business, while I was flying home.
We continued to chat for a while, sharing another couple of beers until we both had a good buzz going. But then, I heard a call over the loudspeaker for boarding to begin. We exchanged quick goodbyes, and wished each other a good flight before parting ways, she to the bathroom and myself to the boarding line.
About 15 minutes later, I settled comfortably in my seat on the back row of the coach section. The flight looked to be pretty empty, so I spread out a bit and kicked off my shoes, flexing my sore feet in my gray wool boot socks with black heels and toes. I leaned back in the seat and put on my headphones, relaxing to some classical music.
A couple of minutes into my catnap, a hand touched my shoulder, jarring me from my trance.
"Is this seat taken?" Kathy asked with a chuckle. "Actually, I've got the window on this aisle."
I returned the smile and scooted back to let her pass, and she flopped down tiredly into the window seat. Before long, we had struck up our conversation again, and we barely noticed when the plane went airborne – we had hit it off pretty well.
During our chat, she reached down and subtly unzipped her boots, slipping her feet out and revealing her dark striped dress socks. I was digging the view of her in her socked feet and sleek skirt, being a foot and leg man, but I tried not to openly stare at her.
When the fasten seat belt sign went off, Kathy unbuckled and slid up next to me in the middle seat as we continued our conversation. With the flight being a red-eye, flight attendants brought by the beverage and snack cart shortly after take off, and then dimmed the lights for the in-flight movie. We both stopped talking for a bit as we started watching the movie, and Kathy leaned over, practically resting her head on my shoulder.
"I can't see too well over there," she said with a smile. "You've got the good seat."
As I stretched my legs out in front of me while watching the opening credits roll, I felt my foot bump into something and I recoiled.
"Oh, sorry," I apologized, when I realized I had bumped Kathy's foot.
"No, that's okay, Jon," she replied, then moved her foot back to mine, rubbing it gently with her sock-clad toes. I responded by moving my foot closer to hers and rubbing back, making it clear that I didn't mind playing a nice game of footsie.
