I decided to take a red-eye early morning flight down to New Orleans from Dallas. I sat at the gate, sipping on a hot cup of coffee when the flight crew arrived for check in. There were three very nice looking stewardesses for the flight, which made me happy. I hated early morning out-of-town business appointments, but sometimes they couldn’t be avoided.

The gate area was not very busy and by the time we all got ready for boarding, I noticed there were only about twenty of us. The plane held just a tad bit over a hundred people and seating was on a first come basis. A few folks had already staked out seats through the on-line boarding process, but the rest of us got to choose any open seat that was available. I liked the open seating arrangement. Sometimes, I’d get lucky and get a seat right next to a beauty young lady, as opposed to the heavy-set sandal-wearing young college guy with his hair tied back in a man-bun or pony tail.

On this particular flight, I found myself taking up a window seat on the very back row of the plane. Normally, I like to sit over the wing, but those seats were already taken. As I settled into my seat, I checked emails on my phone, while glancing up the narrow center aisle as the plane filled up. One of the stewardesses made her way towards the back of the plane, as everyone took their seats and the safety announcements got underway. She was a young flight attendant, probably in her early twenties with long wavy blonde hair and a modelesque-like figure. She glanced in my direction and smiled. I think she winked, but I couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was my wild imagination.

I watched diligently as the safety instructions were announced and my flight attendant held up the seat belt to show us how to snap it in place and how to unsnap it. She put on an inflatable life preserver and showed us how to blow in the tube to inflate it. Dirty thoughts flooded my mind. She looked right at me as she pretended to blow into the little tube. Again, she smiled. She folded up the life preserver and draped it over the seat back next to her.

“Your flight attendant will be by to check your lap restraints, so please stow your electronic devices at this time as we push back from the gate.”

She stopped right in front of me and glanced down at my lap.

“If there is anything you need, my name is Kelly,” she pronounced, “Just hit the call button.”

Damn. A personal introduction.

I watched as she turned and walked up the aisle checking on other passengers. Her white shirt was neatly tucked into her beige-colored slacks. No panty lines. Wow!

She walked back past me and I watched as she strapped herself into a seat in the galley at the rear of the plane. She looked in my direction and I quickly averted my eyes so I wouldn’t be caught staring. The engines ramped up and within seconds we were climbing out of Dallas, and towards Oklahoma City.

The familiar tone alerted us when we had reached 10,000 feet and it was safe to take off the lap restraint. The stewardess at the front of the plane made the obligatory announcement that while we were free to roam about the cabin, we were encouraged to keep our seat belts on in the event of air turbulence.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Would you like something to drink?” my flight attendant asked.

“Coffee would be nice,” I replied. She made her way up the aisle asking several other passengers the same question. Once again, I had the opportunity to study her posterior as she worked her way up the aisle. Passing back by me, she glanced in my direction and once again, winked as she smiled.

Okay, now she was flirting with me. That was no casual smile and the wink as pronounced.

A few moments later and she stood right next to me.

“Your coffee,” she said, extending her arm, cup in hand. No wedding band. I smiled.

“What type of sweetener would you like?” she asked.

“Just put your finger in it,” I teased.

“Sugar, or artificial?” she replied.

“Sugar is fine,” I replied.

She reached into her apron and pulled out two small packets of sugar and handed them to me. I could smell the light scent of her fresh perfume.

“Would you like any cream?” she asked.

I stumbled out a “yes” and she handed me two packs of a powdery creamer.

“If there is anything else you might need, just let me know,” she whispered as she stepped back into the galley. I watched as she passed out the reminder of the offerings to the passengers seated in front of me.

As she made her way back to the galley, she glanced in my direction once again and smiled. I was now seated in an aisle seat and stretched out my hand with my empty coffee cup in it.

“Would you like a refill?” she asked.

“No thanks,” I politely replied.

She took the Styrofoam cup from my hand and tossed it into a trash bin in the galley. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her cleaning up in the galley area. I reached over and lowered the shade on the window.

She appeared next to me, looking down the aisle of the plane.

“Have a seat,” I said, looking up an in her direction.

“Thanks,” she replied, “But I’m not allowed to.”

I decided to make some small talk, just to see where it may lead.

“Are you based out of Dallas or New Orleans?” I asked.

“New Orleans,” she replied.

I had been to the Crescent City on many occasions, so I asked if she were from Kenner or Chalmette or one of the other nearby cities. She was from New Orleans proper. I also found out that she had just become a flight attendant and that she was still on probation. Prior to becoming a flight attendant, she had been a waitress.

“Not a stripper?” I teased.

“Not a stripper,” she replied. “Why? Do you like strippers?”

“Not usually,” I replied.

“Uh huh,” she replied, matter of fact like, as though she doubted what I had said. “I bet you like to hang out at Madam Moselle’s in the Quarter.”

I was caught. Yes, I like strippers. I had to admit it. She laughed.

“What do you know about Madam Moselle’s?” I asked.

“I used to be a waitress,” she replied.

I knew she was lying. Madam Moselle had hostesses, but not waitresses. If a girl worked at Madam Moselle, she definitely was not a waitress. It was a tawdry place, one where $150 could get a guy anything he wanted if he played his cards right.

I glanced over at my window shade.

“It stuck,” I said.

“What’s stuck?” She asked.

“The shade,” I replied. “It won’t go up.”

I could tell by the smirk that crossed my flight attendant’s face, that she knew she was in a no win position. I pulled my feet back and smiled as she attempted to pass in front of me, while facing me. She leaned over and pulled the shade open. She had one leg between mine and one to my left.

I squeezed my knees together, trapping her. She looked down at me.

“Behave,” she whispered.

“I can’t,” I replied.

“I’ll get fired,” she whispered back.

“No you won’t,” I argued slipping my hand on to my crotch.

She stretched out both of her arms on the seat backs between herself and where I was seated and peered straight at me. She had deep blue eyes.

“Behave,” she scolded a second time. Even though she was telling me to behave, she made no attempt to move from an obviously compromising position.

I smiled.

“Madam Moselle," I whispered, “would call this a great opportunity.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

I had been to Madam Moselle’s enough to know how the game worked. I lowered the arm rest that separated where I was seated from the middle seat.

“Sit down,” I said. She sat down beside me.

“Please don’t say anything,” she whispered. “No one knows.”

“That’s fine,” I replied. “Your secret is safe.”

I could immediately sense the relief flowing out of her, as she slipped her hand on to my upper thigh and I slid my hand on to hers.

“We have to be discreet,” she whispered as she leaned down and I peered down the aisle. The other two stewardesses were in the front galley, chatting.

She quickly lowered the zipper on my trousers and then leaned over to kiss the head of my cock, while I leaned right and kept watch down the aisle. She pulled my manhood out and proceeded to lick and kiss it. It wouldn’t take much for me to blow my load straight into her mouth and down her throat as she gripped my manhood with her small hands.

I couldn’t believe it. She had great oral skills and she was good.

She stepped over me and handed me some napkins she had retrieved from the galley. There wasn’t much to clean up to do, as she had taken everything I had to offer and swallowed it. I rearranged myself as she stood next to me and watched.

“How long are you going to be in New Orleans?” she asked.

“Just coming in for a quick business meeting,” I replied.

“When do you fly back?” she asked.

My plans were to fly back to Dallas about 4:30 that afternoon.

“Are you plans set in stone?” she asked.

“Pretty much,” I replied.

She was quiet for a few seconds and then placed her hand on my shoulder.

“I can get your flight changed with no costs,” she said, placing her hand on my shoulder, “If you want to change to a later flight or fly back in the morning.”

“I don’t have a hotel reserved,” I replied.

“You won’t need one,” she responded. “My bed is comfy.”

And that…that is how I came to like my early morning flight to New Orleans.