What to do sitting on a plane in flight?
I wrote this a few months ago while I was travelling. No specific plot in mind, just an idea that I decided to put to paper while I was flying.
The glare of the stage lights obscured Jim's view of the main stage. He could make out the gyration of the dancer working the pole jutting from the raised platform well enough as she shook her ass. It wobbled, like it should, not too much, but just enough jiggle that it was sexy. The ban on smoking in clubs passed by the guys in city hall for better "health" had little effect on smoke generators. Stale cigarette smoke had been liberally replaced with a similar, if slightly better for you foggy haze. The blare of the music reverbrated in his ears, some pop tune he couldn't quite place and didn't really give a fuck for anyways. Not that he ever liked pop music in the first place. It didn't matter though, he was here for booze and dancers rubbing their tits in his face and their crotch on his. His wallet was fat with the last two weeks pay, and nearly an extra week of overtime.
"Do you have a preference in seating?" asked a feminine raspy voice to his left.
Taking his gaze from the dancer on main stage he turned towards the voice asking him the question. She was short, even with heels on. Maybe five-five standing up straight, and skinny, without much up top. Which probably explained why she was a waitress instead of a dancer. Her dishwater-blonde hair and plain features didn't help her much either he thought. If there had been enough light he would have noticed that her eyes were a plain brown, to match the rest of her plain appearance. Her two redeeming features in his eyes was here cute little button of a nose and her obligatory whore-red lipstick. Compared to the tiny g-strings of the dancers she seemed over-dressed in her tight black vest and black mini-skirt. Her exposed legs were covered by black fishnets and disappeared into black knee-hi boots. While he had never been a big fan of store-bought tits, having more than a little up top never hurt a girl.
"Yeah, put me over there" and pointed towards a darkened area to the left of the stage. "I like it a little bit dark sweet-cheeks" he said condescendingly.
"Sure, you bet" the waitress replied. "Follow me". She turned, holding her drink tray in her left hand at about the level of her breasts and started making her way over to the left of the main stage. Jim's eye's wandered down to her ass as she walked in front of her. The skirt wasn't super tight on her, but there was no mistaking that feminine sway of her booty as she walked in front of him. The fake leather of the skirt hugged her rear just enough for his visual enjoyment, ending about four inches below her butt cheeks. He continued to enjoy the undulation of her rear end till he got to his table.
End of first two pages
The glare of the stage lights obscured Jim's view of the main stage. He could make out the gyration of the dancer working the pole jutting from the raised platform well enough as she shook her ass. It wobbled, like it should, not too much, but just enough jiggle that it was sexy. The ban on smoking in clubs passed by the guys in city hall for better "health" had little effect on smoke generators. Stale cigarette smoke had been liberally replaced with a similar, if slightly better for you foggy haze. The blare of the music reverbrated in his ears, some pop tune he couldn't quite place and didn't really give a fuck for anyways. Not that he ever liked pop music in the first place. It didn't matter though, he was here for booze and dancers rubbing their tits in his face and their crotch on his. His wallet was fat with the last two weeks pay, and nearly an extra week of overtime.
"Do you have a preference in seating?" asked a feminine raspy voice to his left.
Taking his gaze from the dancer on main stage he turned towards the voice asking him the question. She was short, even with heels on. Maybe five-five standing up straight, and skinny, without much up top. Which probably explained why she was a waitress instead of a dancer. Her dishwater-blonde hair and plain features didn't help her much either he thought. If there had been enough light he would have noticed that her eyes were a plain brown, to match the rest of her plain appearance. Her two redeeming features in his eyes was here cute little button of a nose and her obligatory whore-red lipstick. Compared to the tiny g-strings of the dancers she seemed over-dressed in her tight black vest and black mini-skirt. Her exposed legs were covered by black fishnets and disappeared into black knee-hi boots. While he had never been a big fan of store-bought tits, having more than a little up top never hurt a girl.
"Yeah, put me over there" and pointed towards a darkened area to the left of the stage. "I like it a little bit dark sweet-cheeks" he said condescendingly.
"Sure, you bet" the waitress replied. "Follow me". She turned, holding her drink tray in her left hand at about the level of her breasts and started making her way over to the left of the main stage. Jim's eye's wandered down to her ass as she walked in front of her. The skirt wasn't super tight on her, but there was no mistaking that feminine sway of her booty as she walked in front of him. The fake leather of the skirt hugged her rear just enough for his visual enjoyment, ending about four inches below her butt cheeks. He continued to enjoy the undulation of her rear end till he got to his table.
End of first two pages