Long story short I was in one of those “airline has overbooked the flight” situations. I was pleading with the woman behind the airline counter when a man in his late forties, handsome and well-dressed, stepped in and pointed out that the first class seat next to him was empty. The woman behind the counter said that would have to count as an upgrade and smooth as silk he slid a jet-black credit card across the counter. “If the lady wants, that is.” I grinned and nodded my approval. The woman behind the counter seemed annoyed but didn’t have a choice.
We board the flight, and settled in. It’s one of those first class seats that’s kind of a “pod” for two—not totally private of course because anyone walking by can look down. Anyway, he is a perfect gentleman for the entire flight, mostly working on his laptop. Still, I can’t help but notice him sneaking the occasional glance at my chest. It doesn’t bother me, I have firm, round G-cups and I’m wearing a snug, stretchy dress that doesn’t hide my curves. No bra. And anyway he’s not being obvious and he’s cute.