The Mile Higher

John S. Lloyd

rawlingbros@gmail.com

I detest flying on a red-eye from the West Coast to Chicago. But opening a new office in Orange County has fallen to me. I don’t personally plan to work there for long, but I was tagged by the officers of our consulting company to make the office happen. I have flown back and forth from the West Coast for the past four years serving clients, but this project is for the firm. The officers insist that I spent our money carefully since everything in California is more expensive than the Chicago suburb where we have our main office.

Our company policy was to fly coach not only on client business but also to our business. The only exception was the red-eye where consultants are permitted to fly first class because the fare was usually close to day-time coach fare. I hate the way I feel after sitting up for four to five hours even in a large seat. I avoid the red-eye if I can. With the company board meeting tomorrow I wanted to give the board members a report on how things looked for opening the office on April 1st. Because I’m single and a junior vice president I was slated to open the office even though the office would be managed by a senior consultant.

At the board meeting three hours after I landed, having freshened up in the washroom, I reported that everything was ready except announcing the office opening to the broader healthcare audience on the West Coast. I reported that I had signed a contract for offices in a shared office building for three offices and a reception space. The phone would be answered by a receptionist who served all the clients in the office. When a call came in to our number our name would appear on her screen. She would answer, “Wallace & Spencer”. She would route the call to one of our consultants or to voice mail if no one was in the office and available. I also reported that I had rented a basic furnished executive apartment in Irvine ten minutes from the new office.

Finally, I planned to hold a reception at the upcoming Western Hospital Association conference in San Francisco. I had already been working with our public relations person to design invitations that would go to a wide variety of healthcare organizations west of Denver. While there were a few questions, the board redirected its attention to other matters like the difficulty of recruiting experienced consultants for our recently opened East Coast office in New York. I had used the experience of the senior associate in New York as my consultant as I planned our West Coast expansion.

Mike lived in Chicago near me when he joined the firm. He was tapped to open the New York office because he was newly married and his wife wanted to move back east. He was the logical choice to open our first office outside the Chicago area. That office had been open for a year. I modelled what we were doing in California after what he did in New York. He rented an executive apartment at 79th and Lexington where I stayed with him on several occasions and by myself when he was away. The apartment had one bedroom and a pullout coach in the combination living room and eating area. Currently our New York office had a shared conference space serviced by a single receptionist.

I wasn’t interested in leaving the Chicago area, but I found New York more appealing than California. Since I had many clients in New Jersey and the Philadelphia area I had plenty of excuses to go to New York and stay with him in the apartment. I drove up from the Jersey Shore where I was working, to stay a night or two in the apartment and go out to a Broadway show or go to my favorite piano bar – The Townhouse. I guess I could have gone to the famous baths like the Continental but was too frightened of AIDS to do that.

I found myself daydreaming about my time in New York when the board meeting ended. I went to my office and closed the door to take a short nap. Short is the understatement because the firm’s president knocked on my door five minutes after I closed my eyes. He didn’t apologize and sat in front of me, “John, I just found out that Jim’s wife is pregnant and she doesn’t want to move to California until the baby is born. I know you agreed to open the West Coast office and intended to move back to Chicago shortly after that. Jim’s development means you probably won’t be coming back except for meetings until the first of January. You have client work at two hospitals in the San Diego area, don’t you? Focus on getting additional clients at the San Francisco convention.”

“Whoa, that’s unexpected news. I didn’t expect to be there so long.”

“Well, I am sure you don’t want to give up your apartment on South Michigan, correct? The firm will pay half your rent in Chicago for the rest of this year. Have you signed a lease on your executive apartment in Irvine? If you haven’t get a nicer place.”

“The executive apartment I was looking at is month-to-month. Thanks, I will think about getting a place a closer to the ocean.” The president got up and closed the door behind him. I was now too wide awake to take a nap. I called our public relations manager and asked her to come to my office. She anticipated my request based on our earlier conversation and showed me a novel invitation for a cocktail reception in April in San Francisco. We discussed where to find an appropriate mailing list that included mainly the top officers of healthcare organizations in the western states. She indicated that she would look for an appropriate mailing list.

I returned to the west coast two weeks later to interview several administrative assistant candidates. I also decided look for another executive apartment in Newport Beach or Laguna Beach. Both towns were further from the office. I felt I would enjoy them more in my downtime. My plan was to stay in Newport for two days before flying to San Francisco to make arrangements for the reception at the Hilton Hotel adjacent to the convention center. I would take the red eye back to Chicago on Thursday about midnight. I had a busy weekend planned in Chicago.

When I met with the events manager I asked if she could get me a half day rate so I could get some sleep before going to the airport for my flight at midnight. I got the room and I was able to get a couple of hours of sleep.

I changed out of my work clothes into comfortable clothes for the flight. I had a pair of tailored wool trousers, a blue buttoned down oxford cloth shirt and a light brown cardigan sweater. I wore slip-ons loafers so I could take my shoes off easily and slip on the socks that the airline provides to first class passengers. Even though slightly wrinkled I could go directly to work.

I arrived at the airport at 9:30pm and went to the Admirals Club. One of the benefits that our company grants consultants is personal memberships in two airline clubs. In my case, I have memberships in the United Club and the Admirals Club. Once I arrived at the Admirals Club I ordered my complimentary glass of white wine, intending to sit quietly by the expansive windows that look out onto the tarmac.

I planned to leave at eleven because I had a long walk to my gate. The club was almost empty except for three women and one man sat who were casually talking. A fellow about my age stood at the bar as was I ordering my glass of wine. I looked at him and he smiled. I returned his unspoken greeting. He was dressed more casually than I was in blue jeans, white trainers and a long sleeved thermal shirt. I thought no more of the interchange until I saw him at my gate.

He was obviously taking the same red eye that I was. After I sat in the waiting area he took a seat several seats from me. I really didn’t think more about him since there was a fairly large crowd preparing for the flight. He spoke first, “Don’t you detest the red eye flights?”

I smiled, “Yes I do. But I get to fly First.” I thought that would end the conversation but it didn’t.

He said, “I avoid flying overnight if I can. I had a meeting in San Francisco today with my lawyer and have a convention in downtown Chicago tomorrow. The red eye was the only way I could do both.”

“You live here in San Francisco?”

“I actually live in Marin, north of San Francisco. I co-own a restaurant and bar called Rocker Oysterfeller's Kitchen + Saloon. We feature oysters any way you want them.”

His reason for flying to Chicago on a red eye was plausible but I didn’t follow up. If I kept the conversation going he might want to sit next to me and talk. I really wanted to get a few hours of sleep. I turned away as the gate agent announced that first class passengers could board. The fellow and I got up and walked into the jet bridge. He was behind me and his bag touched my leg. I felt it was an accident. I took my seat, which was 2-B. As he walked by me he said, “Nice speaking to you. I’m Brandon.”

I said, “Good to meet you. I’m Jim.” I didn’t look back. As it turned out the seat next to me was empty when boarding was complete. As soon as the door closed he came forward and said, “Mind if I sit next to you? I won’t talk if you want to sleep.” I was beginning to think that this fellow, who probably traveled less than I did, might be nervous or apprehensive. I am annoyingly polite and indicated it was fine if he sat next to me.

We took off right at midnight and after a small snack and another glass of wine I closed my eyes. True to his word Brandon didn’t talk until 3:30 when he stepped over me to go to the toilet. He said nothing but put his right hand on my left thigh and squeezed. He stepped away. When I opened my eyes I noticed a slip of paper on the arm rest between our seats. I turned on the little reading light to read, “Meet me him the toilet on the left. MH”

I was immediately angry and irritated that this guy would think I was an easy a mark. I didn’t move. I became increasingly curious the longer he was gone. I weakened, got up and walked to the lighted, empty galley. The snacks were out but there was no one around. I pushed open the toilet door which wasn’t locked. There he was, bare-assed, with his jeans around his ankles. I couldn’t see any sign of underwear. “Join me. I want to join the Mile High Club.” I had to admit his ass was inviting. He locked the door, turned around, slowly loosened my belt, unbuttoned my pants and slid my Calvins down with my pants. He leaned down and took my dick in his mouth. His soft lips felt fantastic but I didn’t want him to know that. He straightened up and tore open a condom and slipped it on me. He squeezed a little packet of lube on my dick and turned around as he lubed himself.

I felt like a bystander, but knew what he wanted. I worked the lube around his asshole with my hard dick before pushing in. I automatically started the back and forth motion. We were probably together five minutes before there a soft knock at the door. Both of us were surprised and quickly pulled up our pants. Neither of us spoke but I unlocked the door and opened it enough to slip out. He stayed behind as I walked back to my seat. He didn’t follow me immediately. When he did return he laughed as he said, “That hunky older flight attendant said, ‘welcome to the mile high club’.”

I was embarrassed, but what could I do. We had been caught. Now I knew what ‘MH’ on his note meant – mile higher.

A few minutes later the same flight attendant brought us each a glass of champagne. He said nothing as he set the glasses before us. He smiled as he turned away. Brandon and I sat quietly. I had never considered becoming a member of the mile high club, but it happened and I couldn’t take it back. The plane landed, but before we got up to go our separate ways Brandon said, “I’m here in Chicago for a food show until Monday. Any chance you are available?”

“I really have a busy weekend with a birthday party tonight and a fifty-mile bike ride tomorrow. I could meet you Sunday morning. Where are you staying?”

“Hyatt Regency Mccormick Place. Wouldn’t you be exhausted after your ride?”

Without responding to his concern, I said, “Your hotel is only two miles from my apartment. I’m on South Michigan. What time do you get done with your event tomorrow night?”

He looked surprised. “Probably about ten.”

“I got my card out of my wallet and wrote my address on the back.” Smiling, I said, “Let’s finish what we started.” He laughed.

We shook hands and proceeded to disembark. The flight attendant who served our champagne smiled and said, “Hope you boys fly with us again.” Brandon and I parted ways in the luggage pick up area with a handshake. I only had carry on and left to retrieve my car in long-term parking as he waited for his luggage.

I drove directly to the office. Even though I only stayed until noon, I was busy all day. I stopped to buy wine for a birthday gift. I checked my bicycle which I hadn’t ridden since fall. I laid out my riding gear as I had to meet the Rainbow Riders in the western suburbs at nine. The birthday party was for a girl I knew through friend. It ended fairly early. Some guests were going clubbing but I knew I had to get to bed.

The ride was tiring because none of our group had ridden that far since fall. The pace was reasonable and we got gone about four. I was home in the shower by 5:30pm. That gave me time to take a nap before Brandon arrived. I hadn’t heard from him, but assumed he was still coming. At 8:30 I got a text: ‘See you at 10:30.’ He was prompt.

He took off all his clothes as I pulled the drapes closed. He stood naked sporting a major hard-on. He said, “Let’s finish what we started last night, then we can talk.” I had the lube and a condom on the bedside table. He said, “We may need more than one.”

I found myself pulling Brandon into me. He hesitated when I gave him open mouthed kiss. He reciprocated and before long he and I were in a sixty-nine, slurping away on each other’s cocks. That didn’t last too long before he got on his knees signaling that I should fuck him. I put on the condom and lubed his hole. I was not in a hurry. I knew there was no flight attendant checking on us. His sounds told me he was enjoying what we were doing. I was getting close but decided I would pull out because I was unsure if I could come more than once. I hadn’t had sex for a while. He told me to get on my back and lift my legs. I did as I was told. He slipped on a condom and lubed my hole like I had done his.

I was apprehensive about how he would feel inside of me since it had been months since I bottomed for anyone and certainly no one as big as Brandon. He went slowly, but it hurt. I had him stop several times to let me get used to the intrusion. He was working hard and would stop on his own to prevent something happening prematurely. Finally, he couldn’t hold out and screamed as he came.

He said, “How do you want it? By hand, mouth or in my ass?”

Surprised at his forward manner I said, “In your ass, but without a condom. I’m not that sensitive.”

“As long as you are disease free I am fine.” That is what happened. I was in him no more than five minutes when all of the cum that was in me shot into his ass. When I pulled out we both looked at each other. He laughed. “Does this one night stand include breakfast?”

I said, “Certainly, if you have the time. I have to visit my grandmother in the afternoon. I’m free all morning.” We fell asleep. I don’t know when Brandon got up, but the clock beside my bed read 8:30 when I woke.

Brandon said, “I’ll fix breakfast as your naked chef.” I opened the drapes because the sheers kept unwanted viewers away. He kissed me passionately and I returned his gesture. I watched as the naked chef prepared flavourful omelettes with shrimp from my freezer. As we sat at the counter Brandon said, “Are you moving to California?”

“I’m opening an office for my company in Irvine and rented a small place in Newport Beach. I’ll be living there for the rest of the year.” I could tell he wasn’t concentrating. He probably realized, as I did, that the chances of us being together again were probably unlikely. He was busy running the restaurant and I was eight hours and five hundred miles away in southern California.

Brandon got dressed and left about noon to return to the convention. Unhurriedly, I got dressed as I surveyed what I would be taking with me to California in two weeks’ time. I didn’t want to take time to drive out myself.

As I drove to my grandmother’s condo I couldn’t help but think about my experience with Brandon. I knew so little about him. I couldn’t tell if he was partner material or not. I stopped thinking about him, simply enjoying the thought that we'd had a one-time experience that inducted both of us into the mile-high club.