God bless Margaret. She arrived at Heathrow with five overweight Louis Vuitton leather pieces plus hand luggage. The overweight charges cost as much as the flight tickets, and it took us some time to get through. But she was unflustered and fabulous.
We finally got through to the lounge where we could relax. Margaret triumphantly returned from the bar with pink gin and tonics in hand gushing, “Darling, here’s to a fabulous transition and a lot of fun.”
I sipped on the drink and felt the alcohol taking effect right away. I began to think about how drastically my life had changed within the last month and what it was transitioning to. I indeed felt freer and was excited about my recent adventures, but what, I thought, was I transitioning to?
Any doubts I had, soon were overcome by the effects of the alcohol on an empty stomach. It seemed like minutes before our flight was called, and we boarded the plane, a brand new Boeing 787 Dreamliner.
Once seated, there was more alcohol in the form of a delicious prosecco from Tuscany, and for dinner, I chose the poached rainbow trout with scalloped potatoes. I was happy when the attendants handed out the bedding. Usually, I find it difficult to fall asleep while flying, but not this time. I inserted my noise cancelling ear buds, pulled the covers over my head, and allowed the constant whoosh of the engines to lull me into a deep sleep.
It’s now morning in the Middle East, and breakfast is being served. We land on our first stop in an hour.
Arrived Dubai Airport. Stage one over. Next stop, Melbourne, Australia.
While the flight from London to Dubai was a breeze, the flight on to Melbourne was a grind. It just went on and on for thirteen hours and fifteen minutes. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snack, alcohol, alcohol, alcohol. Finally arriving, just as the sun was setting behind the city.
Our plane seemed to arrive simultaneously with every other flight from the Middle East and North America. The lineups through customs and immigration were horrific, but constantly moving, so we eventually got through after Margaret’s baggage was x-rayed, opened and inspected. Immigration also wanted to know Margaret’s intentions, which she found difficult to explain. In the end, they released us and we were one of the last on our flight to exit into the arrival hall.
A and A2 were there to greet us, as arranged. Margaret ran up to A2 and jumped into his arms, her lips firmly planted on his.
A welcomed me with a hug and wheeled my luggage to the car, a large military green dual cab Toyota Landcruiser with massive all-terrain tires. The luggage was secured on the tray behind the cab and A helped me up into the vehicle.
Unlike A2, A was subdued, but just as we were approaching the city, he said, “Ruby, I’m married. I have two kids. I’m really happy that you’re here, but are we going to have a problem?” I looked at him sympathetically. I truly had no expectations about him. I placed my hand on his thigh, feeling his bulging muscles, and smiled, saying, “No, you needn’t worry. I’m married and have kids too. Margaret’s friend?”
“Margaret’s friend!”, he agreed, and I could feel the relief drain from his body as he placed his large hand over mine on his thigh. He relaxed and I noticed again how handsome he was as we travelled with our hands together for the rest of the way.
The city of Melbourne came into view and we circled it on the highway and took the off-ramp into the city to the apartment tower where A2 lived.
A helped with the luggage and then said he had to leave. It was getting dark already and he said he’d meet us for lunch at the MCG the following day, Sunday, before the derby of their Hawks vs The Pies. (Hawthorn Hawks/Collingwood Magpies). I walked him to the lifts and while waiting, I walked up to him and went on my toes to kiss him. He picked me up and our tongues intertwined, making me stir down there.
The lift door tolled, and I knew it signalled the death of any potential with A.
“Oh, well,” I thought, it was fun while it lasted. When I got back to the apartment, Margaret and A2 were already behind closed doors. I showered and climbed into my freshly prepared bed in the adjoining room.
But I am jet-lagged and cannot sleep. It doesn’t help that Margaret is fucking A2’s brains out. The wall between the rooms is paper thin and I can hear their lust sounds.
And it’s making me horny. I am tired and horny. Maybe I should just rub myself to sleep.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/vcesw5/hello_melbourne