|03-20-2006, 04:24 PM||#1|
Join Date: Feb 2006
Flight - by One Shy Writer (BHM, Romance)
BHM, Romance - You can meet the nicest people in the confines of an airliner cabin
by One Shy Writer
I was returning home from a business trip I had never wanted to take. The meetings that my office had sent me to were for software training on a program I had helped write. It was senseless, like sending God to a training class on creation -- not that I had an ego about it or anything. It just felt like a waste of my time, and it wasn't as if the trip was to anywhere exotic, either. They sent me to South Dakota. They said the trip would be cathartic, relaxing. I just wanted to go home.
I was flying economy class, because my boss was a tight-wad. He called it 'frugality for the sake of the greater good;' I was not concerned with the greater good of anything other than my knees on the three hour long flight. At five feet and seven inches and a textbook average body type, I'm not terribly tall or girthy, but even my knees ached from the lack of available room on a lengthy flight. I couldn't imagine what a taller individual would have to go through. Although, if I really wanted to know, I could have just asked the fellow sitting beside me.
The plane wasn't full by any means. In fact, more than half the seats remained empty. I had the middle seat in my row, and had in fact changed my seat to an empty row so I would have the whole row to myself. I hoped to stretch out a bit and relax on the trip back home. So, I was rather disappointed when I heard a voice at my left shoulder asking if he could squeeze by.
Before turning around, I heaved a sigh. I didn't want to share my space with anyone, much less some guy who was bound to try to make small talk with me. Or, more horrifyingly, would try to hit on me, as I had experienced in the past. But as soon as I turned to look at him, my irritation faded.
He had large, gorgeous blue eyes; that was what I noticed first. Big eyes, very expressive. What I noticed second was that those eyes looked supremely apologetic. I couldn't help but smile up at him as I gathered my belongings to scoot out of his way, since his assigned seat was beside the window.
"I'm sorry," he began. "I tried to get my seat changed, but there weren't any rows with two open seats next to each other."
I looked at him questioningly, and then he stepped into full view. He was wearing an untucked striped button-down shirt of massive proportions, mostly because his body required it. If I had to guess, I'd say the shirt was at least an American size 4x. And, much to my dismay, I stared. At least I had the decency not to drool outright.
He saw me staring, and his face flushed. "I'm sorry," he said again, this time in a much quieter voice, as I moved out of his way and he squeezed into the much-too-small seat. I looked at him for a second, trying to form intelligible thoughts and make them come out as audible speech.
He was beautiful. As he moved past me, I caught a wiff of some sort of cologne, not designer but still very appealing. He looked around the same age as my 23 years, maybe even a little younger. He had shaggy brown hair that hung just over his ears, very trendy and not uncommon in Florida, and extremely flattering on him.
As he sat down, the shirt that was barely loose on him while standing was filled out gloriously by the sweetest round belly I'd ever seen up close. And the poor guy was absolutely wedged into that seat. I bit my lip as I moved out of the aisle, but I didn't sit immediately.
"Hey," I said, in my friendliest tone, "I think the arm rests move up. You'd probably be more comfortable."
He looked up at me, shifting a bit, trying to make himself comfortable even though it was clear that comfort was not going to happen. "Eh, I'll be fine. Besides, it kind of reins me in so I don't crowd you out of your seat."
I smiled genuinely at him as I sat down in my seat. "I don't mind," I said, then grabbed the arm rest and gently pushed it upward, tucking it out of the way between the seats. Unrestrained, his bulk creeped over into my seat space, pressing warmly against my side and my right arm. My throat went dry, and I had to consciously keep myself from gasping.
He looked at me through eyes narrowed out of concern. "Are you sure? You know, you could probably move into the aisle seat, if you wanted. Not saying you have to. Just... you know..." His voice trailed off, and he tried to lean even harder against the wall of the plane. Just then, a small elderly woman plopped down in the aisle seat, buckled her seatbelt, and immediately dozed off. So much for having room to myself. I looked over at my blushing seatmate and smiled apologetically.
"I guess not," he said. The poor guy looked supremely uncomfortable, moreso mentally than physically.
I turned my body sideways a bit to face him and extended my right arm awkwardly, aiming for a handshake without rudely leaning on his belly. "My name's Alex," I said with my brightest smile.
He stared at me suspiciously for a moment, then smiled back. "I'm Derek."
"Derek," I said confidently, "it is a pleasure to share a seat with you."
He laughed. "Literally, sharing it," he said, prodding at the left side of his belly in a vain effort to create a little more room in the seats.
"Don't worry about it. Planes are always cold anyway, right? A little shared body heat would be nice." I was doing my best to dazzle him with friendliness.
He stared at me again for a long second. "I saw you staring at me, you know. I mean, I get that a lot, but there's not much I can do about airplane seats."
I gave him a lopsided grin. "I liked your shirt," I said honestly. I did; it was stylish, maroon and cream striped with a crisp collar, and it looked especially fabulous hugging his soft body.
He laughed out loud, a genuine chuckle. "You're a real piece of work, you know that, Alex?"
I shrugged, pretending to be sheepish when in fact I knew precisely what I was doing and regretted none of it.
"Well, I guess if I'm forced to confine myself to a single seat, I'm glad I'm sitting next to someone who likes my shirt."
Beaming now, I replied, "And he's witty, too. Be still, my heart." Derek stared at me incredulously, shaking his head, but grinning from ear to ear.
The stewardess walked by then, and informed me that I should buckle my seatbelt for departure. I looked over at her, then wriggled back into my seat and buckled my belt.
The woman then looked over at Derek, and it became clear that her smile had gone from friendly to forced. "I'll be right back," she announced, then scuttled off. I watched Derek's smile fade. He turned his head to look out the window. I pursed my lips.
The attendant returned with a seatbelt extender and handed it over with a smile, though I noticed she was holding it as one might hold a snake if one was not fond of snakes. I took it from her, smiled, and told her thank you. She returned to her work without acknowledging me. I handed the nylon strap over to Derek with a little smile and a shrug.
He dug around for the clasp end of the attached seat belt. "I knew I shouldn't have flown," he muttered. "Should have just driven."
I put my hand gently on his arm. "Don't worry about her."
His shoulders fell, the loose end of the belt flopping down onto one leg. "You don't have to be nice to me, you know."
I leaned over to see his face, and he didn't appear upset. Maybe just a little tired.
"I didn't wake up fat this morning; I've dealt with this all my life. I'm used to people looking at me like I'm a leper."
I stared at him quietly, trying to think of what to say to disarm his defenses. He went back to struggling with his seatbelt, and I noticed that he was inches away from reaching the end he was seeking. I watched for half a moment, then grabbed the elusive belt and placed it in his hand.
"I'm not being nice to you because I feel charitable, Derek. I'm being nice because I think you're worth being nice to."
He looked down at the seatbelt for a long moment, then fastened it, then shifted to face me a little more.
"And why do you think that?"
"Well, we've already established you have a sense of humor. That's always a plus."
A hint of a smile returned. "Anything else?"
"Your fashion sense," I said, testing out my smile again.
He smiled more in response. "Go on."
"Being attractive helps."
He arched his eyebrows. "I'm attractive, eh?"
I nodded. He relaxed visibly, which made my heart soar.
"Well then. Maybe this won't be such a bad flight after all."
Last edited by Observer; 07-02-2006 at 09:53 PM.
|06-29-2006, 12:44 PM||#2|
Join Date: Feb 2006
We were distracted by the flight attendant's safety speech. The bored-looking blond mimed through all the actions described by the disembodied voice of another. When they got to the part about the procedure to follow in case of a water landing, Derek leaned over and whispered in my ear, "If we make a water landing, you can just use me as a flotation device."
I grinned and whispered back, "Yeah, because there's so much water between South Dakota and Panama City." He laughed softly.
The take-off was uneventful, and soon we were in the air, soaring through the sky toward Florida's panhandle. As soon as the ascent stopped and my stomach returned to its normal, upright position, I shifted again in my seat so I was facing Derek.
"So," I began. "Are you from South Dakota, or are you heading home?" I found myself desperately hoping that he was heading home, because that would mean that home for him was the same as home for me.
"Home," Derek replied, and my heart soared. "I grew up in South Dakota, and I was there for an uncle's funeral."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Were you close?"
"Sort of. It was mostly for moral support for my dad. They were brothers and good friends. It was hard on him."
"That's so sweet of you, to be there for your dad like that." Really, I was impressed. I was learning that this man had a big heart, and I was already finding myself to be fond of him.
Derek smiled a lopsided smile. "Yeah, my dad and I have always been close. My parents had me young, and my dad always thought of me as his little buddy. My uncle was only two years older than my dad, who is 46, so he's feeling a little panicked. I spent a week up there, hanging out with him like old times."
I grinned. "You're a good son."
Derek shrugged. "I try." He shifted a bit, and I couldn't help but watch the way his body moved. His belly looked so soft, and every time his side brushed against mine it gave me goosebumps. I tried not to stare, though, so when he talked again, my eyes snapped up to meet his. I couldn't tell if he had seen me staring at him or not.
"What about you?" he asked. "You don't look like the South Dakota type."
"Definitely not," I said with a laugh. "I was in town for a business meeting against my free will, and I couldn't get out of there fast enough. Too far from the ocean for me. I felt land-locked."
Derek nodded. "Where do you live, then?"
I leaned back and smiled peacefully, thinking of my beachfront condo. "I live in Panama City Beach, right on the ocean. I absolutely love it there."
"Wow," Derek said, visibly impressed. "How do you manage to afford that?"
From there, we chatted about my job, the software I had a part in writing, the training I had to endure despite my authoring of the system, the horrors of office jobs, and the luxury that comes from doing that job anyway and being good enough at it to dictate your own hours and salary. Then we discussed Derek's job as the manager of a coffee house chain, how he graduated with a business degree but doesn't necessarily feel the ambition to do much with it beyond that coffee house that he loves but won't admit to anyone that he does. We talked about how he lived on the other side of town from where I lived and worked, but how it wasn't that far away, and how we both liked to visit some of the same bars and restaurants, and wasn't it odd that we'd never run into one another before, yet here on this plane we're seated side by side?
The conversation took up more than half of the flight with ease, and then we both started getting restless. Derek was especially uncomfortable stuffed into a seat that was built for someone less than half his size. He shifted to one side, then to the other, and finally sighed. I watched him with concern.
"These things just weren't meant for me," he said. "A drive that long would have been torture, but at least it would have been torture spread out over two days rather than stuffed into three hours."
I nodded sympathetically. "It's uncomfortable for me; I can't imagine how you feel. But at least it's more than half over. We'll be out of this sardine can before too long." He looked utterly miserable, so I layed a hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Well, at least I got to meet you," he said, managing a smile. "That makes the torture worth it." This made me blush a bit, and he laughed. "What, did that embarrass you?"
I returned the laugh, sheepishly. "I guess. I'm nothing special."
Derek gave me a skeptical look. "Are you kidding me? It's not every day a gorgeous girl treats me like I'm her equal."
I stared at him quizzically. "Why wouldn't you be my equal?"
"Well, look at me. I'm a big fat blob. Most women see me and run the other way."
"I've been looking at you this whole flight, Derek," I said, feeling bold and even going so far as to look him in the eye as I spoke. "I don't see anything wrong with the way you look. And I certainly don't see a blob."
Our gazes were locked together in silence for a long moment. I had the overwhelming feeling that something profound was happening. "What do you see?" Derek asked quietly.
My heart was pounding in my chest and my mind was racing so fast that I couldn't tell the difference between thoughts and white noise. So, I went with instinct. I reached a hand across and layed it gently on his belly. The shirt held his skin taut and warm, but there was still a bit of give when my hand made contact. I felt him gasp just the tiniest bit, but he didn't push me away or give me any reason to believe he was uncomfortable. So, I let my hand rest there for a moment, then gave his belly an affectionate little rub. "I see someone I want to get to know better. A lot better."
Derek stared at my hand, resting on the soft expanse of his midsection. He looked at it as if he couldn't understand what it was doing there. I reveled in the sensations, the heat transfer between his flesh and mine, the way his belly was so soft and yielding even packed into that shirt. My whole body was tense and tingling, and this was just from a simple touch!
I gave his belly a bit more of a rub, very gentle and tender. I couldn't find words to express just what I saw when I looked at him, so I let my hand do the talking for me. I pressed in just a little, sort of a half-hug, to show that I wasn't just touching to show that I was okay with his size, but rather that I liked what I saw, and that it was desirable to me. And it was so desirable, clearly as much for him as it was for me. When I had first touched him, he had tensed up; now, he was relaxing, and his belly had expanded to its full girth, perhaps for the first time since he had sat down.
He was tall, with long legs that pressed into the seat in front of him. His belly took up nearly half his lap space when seated. From the position I was in, I couldn't reach even three quarters of the way around it. I found myself breathing just the slightest bit heavily, my mouth open in an expression of wonder. I spread my fingers out to touch as much of his soft middle as I could, then gave another light press and an equally light squeeze.
Derek was breathing as hard as I was. With his right hand, he was rubbing the side of his belly that I couldn't reach, but it was so discrete that I barely noticed it. Then, with his left hand, he ever so gently brushed my cheek with the back of his fingers.
This snapped me out of the trance that his belly had cast on me. I looked up at him, and for just a second, I made eye contact with him with my face full of wonder. But it lasted only a second before I realized what I had been doing, and I blushed furiously. Derek drew his hand back, but held it in mid-air, fingers still curled for the touch. We both looked stunned.
And then we laughed. We both started laughing at the same time, most likely to ease the tension.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking," I said apologetically.
"No, please don't be sorry!" Derek insisted. "I... it's been a long time since anyone's touched me like that."
I bit my lip, trying to think of what to say next. I knew what I wanted to say, but I wasn't sure if it was too forward. So, I looked up at him to gauge the appropriateness of my thoughts by the expression on his face. He looked stunned, but happy. And I went for it.
"Maybe... I could do it again sometime?" I gave him a hopeful little smile.
He grinned. "You can touch me like that any time you like."
I smiled back, still feeling sheepish. But who was I to turn down such an invitation? With about 45 minutes left in the flight, I draped my arm across Derek's soft and inviting belly, then layed my head on his shoulder. It was, in fact, cold in the plane, but I had more reasons than warmth to want to snuggle up to this man. And he didn't seem to mind; his arm wrapped around my back and rested on my side like it was the most natural thing in the world. We stayed cuddled together like that for the rest of the ride, neither of us saying much.
Finally, the plane landed, we deboarded, and we found ourselves standing around the luggage carousel with our bags, but not wanting to leave.
I shifted and stalled, trying to make small talk, but it was Derek who finally broke the tension.
"I have to get going; I need to stop by the coffee house tonight and see what kind of damage my employees have done while I was gone, and then I have to be up early to open in the morning. That's my penance for being gone for an entire week -- a week's worth of morning shifts."
I nodded, trying not to look as disappointed as I felt. Derek put a hand gently on my cheek and tilted my chin up so I was looking him in the eye. "I want to see you again, Alex."
I smiled. "I want to see you again, too." I reached into my purse and pulled out a business card. "It has my cell number on there. Call me. And don't... worry about anything silly like the two-day rule. Call me as soon as you like."
He said nothing, but stroked my cheek gently. Then he leaned in and layed a gentle kiss on my opposite cheek. He smiled down at me, his hand trailed down my neck to my shoulder, he gave my shoulder a squeeze, and then he walked off. I watched him leave, surprised at the amount of grace he possessed despite being as large as he was. I watched until he turned a corner and I couldn't see him anymore, and then I hailed a cab.
It was only five minutes before my cell phone rang. I smiled. It had turned into such an interesting day...
More about these two if readers desire...
[and indeed there was, beginning here]
Last edited by Observer; 03-07-2007 at 08:35 AM.
|06-29-2006, 09:59 PM||#3|
douchebag reform school
Join Date: Mar 2006
That was a beautiful story. So human and expressive, with a hint of sexuality. It's humans interacting as humans should.
IT CAN'T END HERE!
Manny: rabies is as close to zombification as we can get
|03-03-2007, 07:19 AM||#5|
Join Date: Mar 2006
Don't stop now!!!!!!!!!
LOVE IT....I was just flying across the country from MD--->AZ and found myself mesmerized by a few BHM barely fitting into their seats...wishing I was next to one and could do exactly that.......<sigh>
|03-07-2007, 08:11 AM||#7|
Join Date: Feb 2006
Glad you liked it. The next part of the story is in the new story forum, though it's not quite finished yet. I'm waiting for my muse to strike again.
[ Oh please - let it strike! Unlike labor/management disputes and home team baseball, we like this kind of strike! Meanwhile I've linked to the sequel!]
Last edited by Observer; 03-07-2007 at 08:38 AM.