F3 Fly Me

Back in the kitchen at the rear of economy class, Elizabeth grabbed Sue's shoulders and faced off with her so their eyes were locked on each other's and said in a low, tense voice, "Not Russ. Tell me you're not going to a beach resort with Russ during your Penang layover. Not Russ, the pilot."

"OK, I'm not going to a beach resort with Russ," Sue said, with a mischievous smile. She could almost enjoy this. All of the other air stewardesses seemed to think that she was as dull as a dish rag. They couldn't imagine her with someone like Russ.

Elizabeth looked visibly relieved and said so. "Well, that's a relief. I thought you said—"

"We're not going together. I'm meeting him there. His flight ends in Hong Kong, and he has to catch a hop down to Penang as he can. A very nice place, I understand. The rooms are made out like grass-roofed huts and sit out on stilts over the—"

"Sue, no!" Elizabeth hissed—loud enough that a couple of heads in the last couple of rows in economy seats snapped up. "The man's a letch. Hasn't anyone told you that? Maria up in first class can give you a really good rundown on what a sexual jerk Russ can be. Even Benton used the word 'letch' just a moment ago."

"Well, I certainly hope that Benton wouldn't know anything about that with Russ," Sue said, painting a smile on her face. Did everyone really think she was an innocent lamb?

Elizabeth gave her another shocked look. "It's not funny, honey. Russ is a perfect gentleman on the outside, but just let him get you alone, and—" She stopped because Sue had laughed.

"I can't imagine how you know that, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth blushed enough so that there was little to be imagined on how she knew that. Sue was looking away, though, so she didn't see that revelation.

"I'm a big girl," Sue continued. "I'll take my chances. Besides, I think the stories of Russ working his way through the stewardess pool is urban legend."

Elizabeth snapped her jaw shut in an "if you only knew" motion. "Well, OK, sugar. It's your funeral. You've been warned about what he'll do to you." She looked like she was going to say more, but Sue was saved by the ding of a passenger wanting assistance, and Elizabeth turned and walked away from her—and then went on up to the first-class kitchen rather than coming back.

Don't need to be warned about what he'll do to me, Sue thought, her smile still very much in place. He's been doing it to me in various layover cities for several months now. And I'm very much looking for him to do it to me at the Paradise Bay resort too—for two days straight.

Three hours later Sue unfolded from the beat-up Corolla taxi with a red body and black top at the entrance to the Paradise Bay resort. It had been a hot and dusty ride for the last couple of miles and she could easily believe that she was at the end of the earth.

"Perfect," she said, looking out into the quiet cove the resort perched on and spread across. The end of the earth with Russ making love to me, she added in her thoughts, as she stretched to realign her spine. Just perfect.

She was thinking less than perfect thoughts when she got to the reception desk, though.

"I'm sorry, miss," the desk clerk said. "Your party has not arrived. We have received an e-mail that he won't arrive until the day after tomorrow—but he's extended your stay for two days." The desk clerk was looking at her with a slightly bemused smile, like he knew some secret she didn't.

Damn, she thought. She didn't have the two more days before she had another flight to cover back to Sydney. She'd have to call and see if she could juggle her schedule.

But, for the desk clerk, she just smiled wanly and said, "Thanks. The way to the room?"

"It's one of our suite rooms out over the water. You can see it from here through the indoor pool area. String of bungalows out over the water."

"Ah, yes. Russ told me about those. Thanks, again," she said, as she accepted her room key. As she turned to walk over to where the pier out into the water started, a shapely black woman in a red bikini, the top of which she was retying at the back, walked by her. Sue half recognized the woman and a name—an unusual one—tried to work its way to the surface. But then a hunk of a young man passed her headed in the same direction as the woman in the red bikini, and Sue's attention refocused on his muscular body, clothed only in a skimpy Speedo and flip-flops.

Sue had turned in time for her attention to be focused on how the front of his bathing suit was pulled down to accommodate the weight of what must be quite a big set of dick and balls—just like Russ when he was wearing trunks—and she could feel her body tingle in places that only Russ had touched over the past few months. Damn, she thought again, what am I going to do with myself before he gets here?—and there will be so little time for us if I can't manage a schedule change.

She ate dinner alone, not seeing either the curvy black woman or the hunky man in the dining room, and pouted the evening away in her hut out over the transparent water of the cove that would be very romantic if she weren't alone.

What in the hell was she going to do to pass the time away for a day in this place that may be a paradise but that was remote and oh so silent and was not what she was expecting to face when she got here? She hadn't even brought a book to read. She had, however, brought a great deal of sexual need. She hadn't been with Russ for three weeks or more. She needed what he could give her.

She was laying, naked, on her bed, biting a pillow and moaning, as she squeezed her breasts and nipples with one hand and had the fingers of the other hand working in her folds. Her dream had been that Russ would be doing this, but her need was such that someone needed to be doing it, even if she had to manage it herself.

She was close to climax when the phrase "fly me" popped into her brain.

"Fly me," she exclaimed aloud. Of course. Jasmine. That was Jasmine Duval who passed me at the reception desk. That was one of Jasmine's favorite phrases.

"Ah, Jasmine," she moaned and just the memories connected with that name were enough to ignite the small series of explosions that put her body into convulsions.

* * * *

Sue was lying on her back on the bed—not her bed, but one very much like hers in a room almost identical to hers—her arms stretched out wide and gripping the sheets in bunches, her back arched, her eyes popping open, and a low, elongated moan emitting from her mouth as Jasmine crouched between her spread thighs and worked her clit with her mouth and teeth. Jasmine's long, thin fingers, with the purple-lacquered nails were doing what Sue had rather hoped the previous day Russ would be doing now—finding how far into her a digit could penetrate.

It had been the "Fly me" comment that had started it all—both here and in Bangkok two years previously—when Sue had found herself with the other Cathay Pacific stewardess in a situation in which both were on edge, waiting for someone who hadn't shown up, half sloshed, and ready to party.

In Bangkok it had been an actual party they'd gone to, where the copilot Jasmine was with and the air steward who had convinced Sue to go to a "gathering" with him had decided they were more interested in each other than their dates. Sue had been drinking before that, but she doubled up on the booze after watching the two men, arm in arm and hip to hip, sauntering up the stairs of the host's house toward the bedrooms. Three quarters sheets to the wind and all giggly about how and why they'd been stood up, the two had fallen into each other's arms when Sue had said "Our dates have flown away," and Jasmine had given her a come-thither look and cooed, "You could always fly me." She'd gone on to say that she and Sue could, she was sure, climb those stairs to the bedroom level as well as their dates had.

Sue hadn't done anything like that before or since.

But now, after commiserating with each other over strong drinks in the hotel bar at being put off by the men they were meeting here, at the coincidence they were here together—alone— and that neither one of them had brought a book to read, they were romping in bed together. Sue had remarked on just how much this was like their experience in Bangkok. Jasmine had smiled wickedly and repeated their signature phrase, "You could always fly me." They then both had collapsed in a fit of laughter, and here they were, on the bed.

Satiated, if only for a matter of moments, Jasmine lifted her head and pulled herself up, stretched beside and embracing Sue, and murmured, "And to think I was worried about what I was going to find to do today."

"Me too," Sue whispered with a sigh, her finger walking their way down Jasmine's belly.

"Serves the bastard right for arriving late," Jasmine muttered, followed by a giggle.

"Got that right," Sue agreed, nuzzling her face into Jasmine thick mane of black hair.

Jasmine jerked and moaned as Sue's fingers reached the end of their walk.

* * * *

A confab was going on at the reception desk of the Paradise Bay resort in Penang, Malaysia concerning how two rooms had been booked to one individual, when one guest inadvertently jostled another at the desk.

"Peterson," exclaimed checking-in Guest One, as he turned to see who had nudged up against him.

"Tenley," checking-in Guest Two responded in a voice that seemed a bit more shocked and hesitant than the first.

"What a coincidence to see you here," Tenley said. "Haven't seen you since Hong Kong. Since that night after the flight when—"

"Like to have you meet my wife, Anne," Peterson said quickly, moving aside to reveal a woman who had been standing behind him. "And my children," he rushed on, trying to cover the embarrassment in his voice. The woman, Anne, held the hand of a toddler girl and preschool boy in each of her hands. "You recommended this place to me, remember? Anne, this is the pilot on my flight from LA to Hong Kong who I told you had recommended this place as a good vacation spot."

Peterson was talking fast, and doing a bit more sweating than the heat in Penang justified. Tenley was standing there looking a bit amused, knowing exactly why Peterson wanted to fill the air with prattle. Last time Tenley had actually seen Peterson, Maria, the Filipina stewardess had been laying on her back on a bed, her head hanging over the foot of the bed, and Peterson was standing over her, feeding his cock into her mouth. He had already fucked the Filipina twice. Of course Peterson was three sheets to the wind at the time.

Tenley took a gander at Peterson's "one and only," Anne. Nice rack, he thought, and flared hips. Wouldn't mind "one and onlying" her a couple of times.

"Couldn't find a sitter on such short notice," Peterson was babbling on, "So, had to bring the urchins with us, ha ha." The laugh was distinctly forced.

Tenley opened his mouth to say something, not sure himself which way he would go with this, although feeling he should be able to get some fun out of it, when he turned, at the sound of two high-pitched and high-decibel voices piercing the air from across the reception area.

"Jim!"

"Russ!"

Dan Peterson drifted back a bit from the desk, huddling his family behind him, establishing separation from James Russell Tenley, who was standing now in the limelight all by himself.

"Jasmine? Sue?" he asked in confusion, and then, when realization hit, he muttered, "Fuck it. Double booking."

Jasmine, who had arrived in reception, arm in arm with Sue, turned to the other woman and said, "My Jim is your . . .?"

"Russ," Sue finished for her.

The two women gave each other a shocked look, which slowly degenerated into grins and laughter. "Figures," Jasmine muttered.

Flipping James Russell Tenley the bird in tandem, they turned in unison, and, arm in arm, walked back down the pier toward Jasmine's hut.

Dan Peterson was devoting all of his attention to the desk clerk now, finding the check-in process fascinating and all consuming. The two children were engrossed in opening the wrappers on the two suckers the desk clerk had given them. Anne was casting a tentative speculative sidelong glance at Tenley, who . . .

. . . was giving her the eye back. But then, passing by behind her was that sweet little piece he'd flown the last time he was here, that cocktail hostess in the hotel bar, that Thai honey with the dark-toned pussy lips that could wave at you. . . her name was Lek, he thought, not that she had to have a name for him to fuck her.

Tenley did a U-turn to follow her into the bar. Lek had seen him and lowered her eyelashes and given a slight smile. That was all the signaling Tenley needed.

Anne gave a little shudder, looked away, and snuggled close to her husband's back. Dan Peterson, celebrating within himself having escaped a bullet, wasn't remotely aware—yet—of the danger of he and his "one and only" sharing the Paradise Bay resort hotel with a James Russell Tenley on the loose for four more days.