into a room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone. He
approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring
voice close to my ear. “Just relax.”
Without warning, he reached down and I felt his strong, calloused
hands start at my ankles, gently probing and moving upward along my
calves, slowly but steadily. My breath caught in my throat.I knew I should be afraid, but somehow I didn’t care. His touch was
so experienced, so sure. When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a
slight shudder, and partly closed my eyes. My pulse was pounding. I felt
his knowing fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage. And then, as he cupped my firm,full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply.Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to
my shoulders, slid them down my tingling spine. Although I knew nothing
about this man, I felt oddly trusting and expectant. This is a man, I thought.A man used to taking charge. A man not used to taking ‘No’ for an answer.A man who would tell me what he wanted. A man who would look into
my soul and say . . . .
“Okay ma’am, you can board your flight now.”
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Flying First Class…
Yes. I’d say it’s time I dusted off my passport.
This brings new meaning to the idea of a full-body pat-down. Does that mean that intrusion is or can be a good thing/
Sorry. That should be a ‘?’. Slipped on the keyboard.