Interlude in the Sky

Interlude in the sky



She saw him approaching and swallowed a resigned sigh. When he slowed near her seat and looked down to check his boarding pass, she held on to the miniscule hope that his seat would not be 9B. But the gods weren’t on her side. She cursed inwardly as in one deft movement he raised his hand luggage and shoved it in the overhead bin before lowering his lanky body in the seat next to her. As his left leg accidently brushed against hers she instinctively drew away, closed her eyes, and pretended to be asleep. She had seen the arrogant prick lumbering in the airport lounge like a caged bear, heard him snap at a hapless ticket attendant, and inwardly nominated him for the quintessential Ass of the Year Award. Now here he was overpowering the small space and devouring the arm rest. She gave another involuntary sigh and pressed herself as far as she could into the side of the aircraft.



He glanced at the woman seated next to him, swiftly taking in the impassive face and the Siberian cold emanating from the rigid body. It was the same woman he had seen in the lounge who had been shooting him glacial stares. This was just what he needed; to be stuck on a four hour flight with the proverbial ice princess. He could wager his last dollar that she wasn’t sleeping. Bodies in rigor mortis might be that stiff, but not bodies in sleep. He should be able to tell after so many years of medical training and experience. With a humorless chuckle he put on his headphone and reclined, intent on watching the in-flight movie. She wouldn’t have to worry about him striking up a conversation. He wasn’t interested in cadavers. Pathology is not my area of expertise, he grinned to himself.



She glanced furtively to her right. The man appeared to be dozing so she decided to give him the once over. She could tell that his jeans were expensive. They hugged onto his thick muscles that rippled with every breath he was taking. She wondered how he got in them in the first place, if he had any help. They were so molded to his flesh that she became fascinated with the slow dance his muscles made under the fabric as her eyes travelled the impossible length of his legs. He must be well over six feet. Her eyes drifted to his mid section where the end of a white shirt disappeared into his jeans. He must be the outdoor type. His body was so fit, so trim…



Her eyes travelled upwards to find a pair of dark eyes staring directly at her. Startled and embarrassed, she quickly averted her eyes, developing a sudden interest in the monotony of clouds outside the plane window.



Well that was rude of you, he thought. Two can play your game. His eyes quickly raked her over, then returned to the top and slowly retraced his journey. Her breezy summer dress was protected by a small bolero that barely kept the façade of modesty, as it did little to conceal her ample bosom. It curved seductively into a small waist then tapered down to an abrupt finish right above her legs. Heat on Ice, he thought sardonically, such a pity.



She felt his impudent stare and kept her face averted feeling highly uncomfortable. The nerve of the man, she thought. He was just as despicable as she had imagined. She pulled herself further away.



He had almost succeeded in his attempt at self-induced sleep when the pilot’s voice intruded. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. We are about to enter an area of turbulence. You should expect to feel a bumpy ride for a short period. Please know that you are in the hands of an experienced team that will guide you safely through. Everyone is expected to put their seat belts on”.



With much chagrin he reached for his seatbelt. He hated bad flights, and hoped it would not be all that terrible. He wanted to get off this flight as quickly as possible so he could unwind at the hotel. He was looking forward to his weeks of pure bliss in paradise.



A small sob caught his attention and he glanced quickly to his left. She appeared frozen except for the telltale sign of tears coursing down her cheeks.



“You okay?” he asked, concerned. She did not respond. He noticed her seatbelt. “You need to put your seatbelt on”. When she did not respond, he reached over and secured the belt just as the plane began rocking. He was not prepared for the almost stifled squeak that emanated from her. It alarmed him. “Are you okay, lady?” he asked again, more urgently.



This time she nodded, but her eyes remained closed. Suddenly, he figured out the problem. “Are you afraid of flying?” slowly she nodded again. His voice became tender, soothing. “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon. We aren’t that far from the airport”. He placed one hand over her shoulder while he had both her hands in his other palm, stroking her thumbs rhythmically. Slowly her sobbing ceased. He took a tissue from his pocket and gently cleaned her face.



Tentatively she raised her eyes to his. Their gaze held. And locked.

“Hi, I am Jason”, he smiled at her.

“I am René”, she gave him a coy smile.