NW2874 – Ottawa to New York

I always travel with a long coat, just in case. For this case. I trade for the window seat: she wants the aisle. Her legs, she says, and I look. They're long, she's right. Thick and muscular, encased in faded denim. I smile at her crotch, slide over to the window.

With my head agains the shutter, I pretend to sleep, coat pulled up to my chin. I tap my fingers, syncopated, subtle, against my clit and asshole, barely a flutter, moving my hips, the barest rock.

There's this thing I can do, open my eyes just a smidge, my lashes still tangled. She doesn't know I'm looking, watching her watching me. Her hand resting heavy on her bulge.