AF345 – Montreal to Paris

I’m the last one left. I don’t need help. He knows it. Stands mid-plane, looks at me cool and level. I stand up in the aisle, eyes on his, turn my back, bend from the waist to get my bag. My skirt is short enough he can see I’ve taken my underwear off. Two beats. The flat of his palm lands a hot smack on my ass. I buckle forward across the seat, my fingers directly to my clit. Get yourself off, bitch he says, the blows raining down.