Page 16 of The Woman in 3B
I shook my head, still unclear what she was doing on my plane. “But this isn’t your line,” I observed.
On Fridays that month I’d been working with two other flight attendants, a middle-aged woman named Cheri, and Derek, one of the only straight men I knew at the airline. I didn’t want to be rude, but I wasn’t supposed to see her that month. It was the whole reason we’d ended whatever it was we’d started.
“I swapped with Cheri,” she explained. Her smile flattened. “Don’t worry though; it’s just for today.” She began to stab at a container of ice cubes that had fused themselves together. “Then you won’t have to see me again.”
“No, no. That’s not it,” I insisted in a rush. “I was only surprised to see you, that’s all.”
Lara didn’t verbally acknowledge my words; instead, she continued to aggressively stab at the stubborn block of ice. Derek wasn’t on board yet, and Lara continued to ignore me, so after storing my carry-on luggage in the rear of the plane, I started my portion of the pre-flight routine.
I observed Lara out of the corner of my eye while I made sure the evacuation slide was properly pressurized. She had abandoned the ice cubes in the front galley and had taken an aisle seat in First Class. Her three-inch high heels occupied the empty seat beside her. I never went over a two-inch heel myself, preferring function over fashion, while Lara tended to push the boundaries of our uniform regulations. She could also wear the hell out of a pencil skirt. I tended to feel like a shapeless potato in my skirt and button-up uniform shirt, but Lara’s small waist, long legs, and shapely backside seemed especially built for the outfit.
Watching her work the pads of her thumbs into her nyloned arches reminded me of our brief time together. She’d complained about her feet hurting often enough that I’d finally worked up the courage and had offered to rub them for her. I didn’t have a foot fetish, but I’d definitely had a crush. Rubbing her feet between flights had eventually matured to something much more intimate. I wondered what she would have said now if I’d made the same offer.
“Sorry I’m late!”
My eyes snapped away from Lara and her stocking feet to see the third member of our flight crew—Derek—stumble onto the plane.
Derek looked ready to launch into a myriad of excuses for why he’d been delayed that morning, but he too noticed the substitution to our typical flight crew.
“Where’s Cheri?” he vocalized.
I answered before Lara could get more annoyed. “This is Lara. Cheri swapped lines with her. It’s just for today.”
The curveball had no reason to trip up Derek as it had me. He flashed Lara a megawatt smile. “Glad to meet you, Lara.”
The flight to Philadelphia was as routine as they came, which gave my brain plenty of opportunities to wander. Derek and I worked the Economy section together. He was a nice guy with a quick laugh and good sense of humor, but he had no chance of holding my interest. I found myself getting distracted, with my attention drifting too often to the front of the plane where Lara was working.
Cheri was typically the purser on our Friday flights. I would have taken over the position in her absence since Derek was pretty new to the airline, but Lara had seniority over me. I hadn’t even considered asking her to switch assignments so I could complete another seat-specific task in First Class. Lara had never approved of the bingo game, and I would only end up owing her. It might have been kind of thrilling to be in her debt, but we were over—not that we’d even really started.
Working separate sections of the plane should have eased the tension between us since we weren’t trying to maneuver around each other in a cramped space. There were no opportunities to innocently brush against the other person. No chance for witty banter or flirtations. And yet, I couldn’t deny the almost electric charge I experienced the few times I caught Lara looking in my direction. I tried to ignore my own lusty and confusing emotions and focus instead on completing beverage service, but unresolved questions cluttered my mind.
Had she known I would be on this flight? And if so, why had she agreed to switch with Cheri if she knew with whom she’d be working? Was she regretting how we’d ended things?
Disappointingly, I also considered my bingo card. Gemma had been the one to suggest I might be able to complete the Mile High Club challenge with Lara, and even though I’d originally rejected the proposal, the longer I stared at Lara, the more reasonable the suggestion became. We’d already slept together; would it really matter if we had sex one more time and it just so happened to be mid-flight?
Thankfully we had a quick turnaround between our arrival in Philadelphia and our next flight to Boston. We didn’t have a plane change, but we had just enough time between arrival and departure to quickly pick up trash in the seat pockets and to inventory supplies before our Boston-bound passengers would be boarding.
Because Derek was the newest member of the flight team, and therefore was low man on the totem pole, he had the honor of picking up the bathroom areas while Lara and I divided up cleaning the rest of the plane.I was going to suggest we start at opposite ends of the plane and meet in the middle, but she had other ideas.
“Want to do sides?” she suggested. “I’ll take the seats left of the aisle if you go right?”
We’d similarly separated clean-up duties for the flights we’d worked together before. Neither strategy was more efficient than the other, but my proposal would have continued to separate us.
I shrugged. “Sure.”
Lara held the garbage bag for both of us while we cleaned the cabin on our respective sides of the plane. She seemed content not to manufacture small-talk, so I followed her lead. We worked in silence until she discovered something particularly disgusting that a passenger had left behind in their rear seat pocket.
“Oh, that’s nasty,” she practically gagged. She made a face and dangled a dirty diaper away from her body.
I couldn’t help my own laughter. The tension had been building over our three-hour flight, and I needed some kind of release. It wasn’t all that funny, but my initial chuckles morphed into a guttural guffaw that had me holding my sides.
I didn’t laugh alone, however; after her initial disgust, Lara joined in on the almost-manic giggling. She lay her hand on my forearm and doubled over. I was too distracted by my efforts to reign in my own laughter to dwell on the fact that she was touching me, but the action didn’t go entirely unnoticed.
After a moment, Lara righted herself and wiped under her eyes. Her cheeks were damp, but her mascara was unaffected.
“Oh God, I must be a mess,” she worried.
“You look perfect.” The words had escaped my traitorous mouth before I could stop them.
