I had been making out with my girlfriend for about five minutes when I noticed the stewardess watching us for the third time. She smiled, and looked familiar, more than just from the first two times - a big healthy blond girl, not soft, but bordering on it, with big eyes, big breasts, an enormous mouth. and an obvious intense desire to watch us kiss more. My girlfriend suddenly noticed her for the first time and smiled back, half excited, half embarrassed, then retreated back into her own seat, under the blanket, feigning sleep.

But the stewardess still stood there, still achingly familiar, until I remembered, remembered lying alone in bed, my wife off in the study playing out her addictions on the internet, my erection in my hand, the morning commute a mere seven hours away, watching the stewardess kiss two guys she had met (in television time) less than fifteen minutes previous.

I motioned for her to wait one minute, scrambled in my bag for paper and pen which, thank God, they don't yet classify as weapons, and quickly scribbled "fifth wheel?" big enough for her to see. She smiled even wider if such a thing is possible, a hungry smile, voracious, one might call it, if one was inclined to a fifty cent vocabulary, inclined her head slightly toward the back of the plane and disappeared. I tapped my girlfriend on the shoulder, then indicated with my hands that I was going. She nodded, sleepy for real from all the feigning. I rose, walking boldly yet apprehensively, perhaps ten long steps to the back of the plane, where I did not see her. But then a flash of blond and white beckoned me around a corner into the mysterious world where flight attendants prepare for whatever it is they do.

She did not speak, but pulled me in, breasts through uniform against my chest, hands on my face, tongue in my mouth, lips devouring me, trying to suck the soul from my body for I know not how many seconds or minutes, until she pushed me away abruptly, unflustered but looking, well, full. "Thank you" she laughed, licking her lips appreciatively.

"Thank you," I smiled weakly in return, turning, staggering, shuffling, twenty smaller steps back to my seat, back to my girlfriend.

"Hey" she said drowsily, barely looking up "where you been?"

"Kissing the stewardess" I replied, sinking into my seat, buckling myself in, putting my hand under the blanket, between her thighs, where it belonged.