Flight

(story continues from Indecent Proposal 3) Part Four “You guys talk about all kinds of things, don’t you?” I asked, the conclusion a sudden, if not unexpected revelation, the leather gifts from Jack’s fellow employees suggesting a great many things about the depth of his purported kink, and by extension my own. Jack’s answer, delivered in the form of a knowing mischievous smile, should have caused me to blush. I also took notice that little Jack had not deflated yet, (likely for several obvious reasons) and when Jack caught me looking he just shrugged his shoulders as if to ask what I intended to do about doing this to him. ...

(story continues from Indecent Proposal 2) Part Three The ride home from the restaurant had been quiet, not because I was angry, but because I was contemplative. Jack had given me a lot to think about, and a rather huge compliment, the latter laying bare what I had come to suspect in the back of my mind. Jack was envious of Mike, his friend and my husband, and I was the apparent object of that envy despite Jack’s greater material success. ...

(story continues from Yoko’s Experience 3: The Escape Pod) Yoko’s Experience #4: The Space Trip “Here’s your flight suit.”, said Hikaru, handing Yoko a bag. “You should get changed into it before entering the bridge, otherwise you won’t be able to fit into your seat. It has been lubed already. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, so take your time.”. The suit in question consisted of some kind of a one piece body suit with very short sleeves and legs ending at thighs, a pair of long gloves and thigh high boots. Both gloves and boots ended with zippers, suggesting that they can be permanently attached to the main part of the suit. And the boots had a very strange kind of heels. Actually they looked more like a connection between heels and wedges: they started at the insteps, like any kind of standard wedges, but were only 1 cm thin and 10 cm high. They also had two holes at the back: first one just below the heel and the second at the bottom. ...

“You’re in number 12. All the way at the end.” The uniformed man on the flight line waved Jim toward a waiting aircraft at the far end of the row. Jim made his way toward number 12, winding through knots of people and individuals, all as lost as he was. Half remembered faces smiled or frowned at him, maybe struggling to remember his name. A line of VTOL aircraft, stinking pavement, barked orders, and vaguely familiar people were not part of his ideal tenth high school reunion. Of course, nothing was normal where Colliersburg was concerned. ...