A Sword in the Sky Read online

  He looked lower, at her waist, then lower. He seemed to stare long and intently at the juncture of her thighs and sex, until she involuntarily squirmed. He continued his visual assessment, but Aurora was mindful now of the reaction she had been having to him since his first words.

  Finally, he looked up, returning to her face. He was grinning. “My, oh my,” he said. He waited.

  Aurora felt the moistening between her legs. But she would not say a word.

  “Well, Aurora. What do I see? I see what I saw in the terminal, when you were sitting there, stretching. I see a beautiful woman. Her hair is almost black, her eyebrows are arched over intelligent brown eyes. Her nose is slightly curved, her lips are full, and her skin is honey. So I am guessing at Latina, or Sephardic. How am I doing so far?”

  Aurora was astonished. No one had ever guessed at her Sephardic origins, of the lost people of Spain, scattered all over the world, whose looks and customs so baffled the mainstream. “Amazing.”

  “Now, your breasts are full and curvy, and your nipples react to where I look, what I say, and what you read. So you are sensual. And a little deprived, shall we say?” He did not stop and wait for comment, and Aurora was grateful. “You are not skinny, bulky or leggy, or dressed like a fashion-plate designer, so I am going to guess that your body is a product of good genes and an enjoyment of some form of social exercise or dancing. And again, you react immediately to, let’s say, certain glances, so sex is very much on your mind.”

  This time Clay did stop, and looked at her. He was grinning widely. “Right?”

  “Obviously not as much as it’s on your mind,” she snapped.

  “And what’s wrong with that?”

  “Well, keep your fantasies to yourself.”

  Clay stretched out his long legs into the center space, and kicked lightly at her toes. “Maybe. Maybe not. Now, your turn, what do you see when you look at me?”

  Aurora sighed. This was the critical point. If she told him to mind his own business, or turned away, or called the flight attendant, she would be rid of him. If she played his game, she would be talking to him the whole flight. Which would she choose?

  The tarot spread flashed in her mind. She would have to be open and exposed to her lover to find true love. She would travel by air. It was all too obvious, and too silly to be believed.

  “Don’t hide,” Clay interrupted her thoughts. “It’s just a game. Play with me, and we’ll while away what will otherwise be a long, tedious flight. Come on, tell me what you see when you look at me.”

  Okay, Aurora thought. It’s just a game. She gave herself the luxury of a good, slow, lingering review of her seatmate. She paused, and returned, and looked some more. When she returned to his face, she was gratified by a dark flush that had spread across his cheeks. Good, she thought. Let him be uncomfortable.

  “Well,” she started. “I see blond hair, green, sparkly eyes, sandy, strong brows, and high cheekbones. I’ll guess that you’re standard issue mid-western, maybe some Scandinavian in your background.”

  “Good,” he said. “Good start.”

  “You’re tall, and rangy, and you’ve got big hands with big knuckles.” He chuckled at that one, and she smiled at him. “And we all know what big hands mean!”

  “And that would be true, too,” he replied, grinning.

  “That you have trouble with handwriting and other small-muscle activities?” she asked, teasing. “Or are you being obsessed with sex again?”

  “Got me,” he laughed. “On the other hand, I do small-muscle pretty well, too.”

  “Good. For a journalist, typing is important.” That drew another laugh. She continued. “You spend enough time outside that you’re weather-roughened. But you aren’t coarse, so you are pretty well educated. And you like to talk about yourself.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “I don’t, for one. Or did you mean, who doesn’t like to talk about you?”

  “Why don’t you like talking about yourself?” he asked, ignoring the little jibe.

  “There’s nothing to say. Now, about you, why are you looking for a new job? Don’t you like where you work in Denver?”

  “It’s a better magazine,” he said curtly.

  “Oh, something you don’t want to talk about!”

  “Maybe not. Now, tell me about your life. You don’t have a boyfriend, and you haven’t had one in a while. You’ve had your heart broken, but mostly you’ve been alone because you won’t let anyone in. Am I right?”

  Aurora stared at him. “Is it that obvious?”

  “To the trained journalistic eye, it is.”

  “And you,” she countered. “You don’t have anyone either, and it’s not because you close everyone out, but because you say what you think, without editing yourself. And that may even be why you’re looking for another job.”

  His green eyes narrowed. “Maybe.”

  Aurora laughed. “It’s my non-trained, non-journalistic, intuitive eye.”

  Clay, for once, was silent.

  Aurora waited. This guy couldn’t be quiet long, and it amused her to realize she didn’t want him to be quiet. She was waiting for his next comment, as eager to continue the conversation as he had been earlier.

  She didn’t have to wait long. Clay cleared his throat. “I like that. Most people are too scared to say what they think. You aren’t.”

  “Nor are you.”

  He smiled again. That was the most amazing thing about him, Aurora thought. He was fabulously built, and had great bones, but it was his smile that kept her attention. She smiled back.

  “You know, this is entirely inappropriate,” he started.

  “What? This conversation? Didn’t I say that about twenty minutes ago?”

  “No,” he laughed. “What I’m about to say. When you smiled just now, well, you are the most attractive, no, wrong word, you are the most sensuously beautiful woman I have ever met.”

  “You say that to every woman you meet on a plane,” Aurora replied, blushing with pleasure at the compliment.

  “You’re glowing.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Captain. We have finally been cleared for takeoff. Flight attendants, please be seated.”

  “At last,” Clay said.

  “Hang on to your seats,” Aurora said. “The ride out of DIA is always rocky, and with this storm it’s going to be rough.”

  “At least we’re getting out.”

  The plane did its usual stop, revved its engine, and the race down the runway began. The high-pitched roar of the motors as they propelled the big metal bird into flight thrummed in Aurora’s chest, and she gripped the armrest on the window side. She shut her eyes and leaned back, and her heart caught as the wheels lifted.

  The first bump left her stomach on the ceiling, and the second caught it on the rebound. “Whoa,” Clay said softly.

  Aurora opened her eyes. “That’s nothing. It will get a lot worse before it gets better.”

  Clay looked a little frightened. “Really?”

  “This isn’t your first flight, is it?” Aurora asked, incredulous.

  He shook his head. “Second.”

  “You’re kidding!” she said. “I fly ten times a year, give or take.”

  “I’ve driven all over the country. I’ve been in forty-one states, and to Canada and Mexico, but the only time I ever flew anywhere was about ten years ago, when my parents took us to New York. How come you fly so much?”

  “Well, I live in California, and I went to school in Denver, so I go back and forth, and I’ve gone on vacations, and I’ve studied and lectured in Spain, and in France, and well, just that’s just how I get places.” They hit another big air pocket, and Clay grabbed her hand. She let him. His hand was huge, it engulfed hers so easily, and yet it was she who was comforting and reassuring him. Strange role for her, she thought.

  She squeezed his hand. “Almost through the worst,” she lied.

  “Liar.”

  “Yup.” />
  The plane bounced again. Clay squeezed her hand back. This time, he covered it with his other hand, and it wasn’t fear motivating him. She pulled away, but he held tight. “Let go,” she said, but not harshly.

  “You have such soft hands,” he answered. He let go with one hand, resting it on the empty seat between them. She looked at it, big and strong, and an errant thought of what it would feel like on her breast crossed her mind. Her nipples responded instantly.

  “Let’s keep playing,” Clay said. “It will take our minds off the bumpy flight.”

  “Okay. So how does the game keep going?”

  “I’ll tell you what I think your favorite fantasy is, then you tell me what you think mine is.”

  “That’s outrageous.”

  “Yeah. We won’t be thinking about the flight! And just think, it will be pure invention, since you’re not telling me your fantasy, you’re telling me mine. And vice versa, of course.”

  “Sure,” Aurora said. “And when we tell each other their fantasies, we’re disclosing our own. So forget it.”

  “Don’t close me out, Aurora. You’ve got nothing to lose.” He rubbed her arm gently but firmly with his free hand. It felt so good, she thought. And what would she lose? She would never see him again. It didn’t matter what she said. And his hand felt so good.

  “Okay. What the heck. But you first.”

  “Of course. It’s my game. Now let me think a moment. Your favorite fantasy. Hmmm. You’re a romantic, of course, but you’re so closed that maybe even your fantasies have limits. I’ll have to see beyond those limits. I’ll tell you what your fantasy would be if you dared to dream it.”

  “That’s cheating! You’d be telling me your fantasy, not mine!”

  Clay looked at her closely. “You’re right. I’d be projecting, not thinking about you. That’s awesome. Maybe you should start. Tell me my fantasy, as you imagine it.”

  Aurora nodded. “Okay. Let me think too. I’ve never tried to see it from a man’s point of view, and I don’t know you, of course.” She shut her eyes, and thought. Now, what would a man like this imagine as his favorite fantasy? “Does it have to be sexual?” she asked.

  “I’ll give you a hint,” Clay answered. “My favorite fantasy is definitely sexual.”

  “Fine,” she said. “Give me another minute.” After another moment, she began. “You’ve caught a glimpse of her, many times before. She walks past you on the street, you see her in the halls at work, sometimes at the café. But she never stops to talk; you don’t even know her name.

  “She isn’t tall, or skinny. She’s about average in height, and she’s got long black hair, like mine, only shinier. She’s curvy, oh my, is she curvy. Her breasts are round and full-looking, and she wears sweaters and t-shirts that show off those orbs. Her nipples sometimes perk up, and you imagine running your hands over them, your tongue, and suckling them.

  “Her hips are curvy too, and her bottom is certainly round under that clinging skirt she usually wears. When she walks, those hips sway, provoking you with their rhythm. She wears little heels, so her butt is lifted even more.

  “Her eyes are sultry, and her lips are red and rich-looking. But she never stops to talk, she never stops at all. So you sit at your desk and wonder about her.

  “Today, though, when you step outside to go to the café across the street, the wind is blowing hard, the way it can in the spring in downtown Denver. It’s whipping around the corners, with a sharp little chill in the warm air. To your delight, you see your dream-girl come out of the other elevator, and head to the door. You rush to hold the door for her. She is wearing a tight black t-shirt, and a short, black and white flirty little skirt. She turns and smiles at you, and your heart thuds.

  “The wind takes that moment to whip around, and her skirt flies up in front of her. She laughs into the wind, and bats the skirt down, but not before you’ve gotten a glimpse of her legs, and better, the dark shadowy cleft between them. She has nothing on below her skirt.

  “You see that her nipples are standing upright in the wind, and you know she wears no bra, either. Like a boy ten years younger than you are, you feel yourself become erect and hard, right there in the street. You touch her arm, and invite her for coffee.

  “She nods, yes, and you cross the street together. You are hoping for a hurricane. She asks your name, and you get hers. You run your tongue around her name, as if it were her breast. The wind twitches her skirt, and it’s almost as if she’s touched you.

  “Inside, you get your coffee, and hers, and you sit at a tiny table together. You start to talk, and without preamble, you are talking at an unthinkable level of intimacy. She tells you that she’s seen you at work, and wondered about you. You tell her the same, and suggest a walk. You don’t care where--you just want to be with her.

  “You leave the café together, and walk towards a shopping area. Every time the wind blows, you think of what you saw. You start to wonder if you really saw her most private area, or if you only wished it. But her nipples are real, and very ready for your eyes. In broad daylight, in the middle of the block, you reach for her nipple, and run your thumb over it.

  “She shudders but does not pull away. You pinch it, and see her react. Her lips part, and she sighs. You smile at her, but you know that you can’t do more right here. The two of you keep walking, and now you have your arm around her waist. You let it drop a little lower, feeling for a panty line, and instead feeling the round globes of her ass moving and bouncing as you walk. You want to drop your hand more, below the hem, and up onto her bottom, but the whole world would be treated to a sight you want only for yourself.

  “Walking is getting a little uncomfortable for you, and she notices. She tells you that you must suffer, for your torment has just begun. You assure her that hers, too, is only starting. All you want is to find a place private enough to strip her, see her, fondle and enter her. You start to lose peripheral vision, your desire is so strong.

  “She stops in front of a shop window, and you stop too. She faces you, and with her belly, she rubs up against yours. You feel the bit of friction, and shiver. She laughs at you. You pull her in tight, and your mouth descends on her full lips. First, you kiss. Then your tongue, lacking the constraints your cock suffers, plunges into her mouth. You take her with your lips. She tries to pull away, but your hand behind her head holds her to you. She relents, and you feel the sweetness coming back.

  “Then her tongue retaliates, and invades you. The match is unequal, and she retreats before your force. You disengage, and tell her that’s only the beginning. She licks her lips, and smiles. She can do a lot with her tongue, she says, if you’re a good boy. You promise to be stellar.

  “Finally, you come to the park. You take her off the path, down to the creek. There are trees and benches, and a secluded grove further on. If this were summer, it would be full of teenagers and tourists, but in the spring it’s deserted, as far as you can see. Concealed behind the trees, you’re invisible to the mall traffic above you.

  “You pull her around until you’re behind her, and wrap your arms around her. You stroke her breasts freely, and then slide your hands under her skirt. You lift the skirt to her waist, and gently bend her over. She grasps the tree for support, and opens her legs for you. A couple of thrusts of your fingers, and she is dripping wet.

  “With one hand you play with her, while with the other you work at releasing your straining cock from its confines. You lower your zipper, and then the waistband of your boxers. Your shaft springs out, full of life. You tease her lower lips with it, then stop. You pull back, and turn her around. She knows immediately what you want, and she sinks to her knees in the cool grass. She takes the tip of your cock in her mouth, and you feel the warmth deep inside. Her tongue caresses the corona, dipping around and under, and she licks the long vein on the underside of your cock. You moan, and try to thrust inside.

  “How am I doing so far?” Aurora stopped, and asked. Clay’s eyes were gli
ttering, his lips parted, and his cheeks were flushed.

  “Great,” he rasped. “You’re unbelievable. Keep going.” The plane was leveling off, and the ride had become a little smoother.

  “I’m done for now,” Aurora laughed. She could not believe the tale she had just told him, the boldness of her speech to a perfect stranger.

  “No way! Finish what you start!”

  “It’s your fantasy, Clay. Finish it however you’d like.”

  He leaned back and sighed. Aurora took a surreptitious glance at his jeans, and saw the effect her words had wreaked on him. She smiled. It was his game. “Too bad there’s nothing you can do about this!” she said gaily, enjoying his discomfort.

  The plane took a little hop, and the seatbelt light stayed on. “Your turn,” she said to Clay. She was eager, despite her growing arousal, to let him take a shot at her fantasy.

  “Okay, you asked for it. But on one condition.”

  “I didn’t put any conditions on playing,” she replied. “And it was your idea. So why should you get conditions?”

  “Because I asked for them,” he grinned. “Now just wait. You don’t know what the conditions are.” He rummaged in his carry-on bag below his seat for a moment, then pulled out a little bag. He put it next to him. “All you have to agree to is that when the seatbelt light goes off, you’ll put on something I give you.”

  Aurora eyed the bag suspiciously. “What is it?”

  “Yes or no?”

  Aurora smiled again. “No.”

  “Chicken.”

  “I won’t agree until I know what you’re talking about.”

  Clay rolled his eyes, but she knew he would yield. “All right,” he groaned. He opened the bag, and took out a strange, L-shaped object. The short leg of the L was a soft thick plastic oval, concave, about an inch long and a half-inch wide. The longer leg was about six inches long, and cylindrical.