That's A Date

Homo-pho-nic

For an overnight flight – I think the Americans call them a "red-eye"– it was surprisingly busy. Surprising to me, anyway, but then many things about this country had surprised me so far on this first visit. I wondered if I'd bitten off more than I could chew with tacking this two-day visit to San Fransisco on the end of my research trip. Taking an overnight flight had seemed to be an efficient way of doing it on paper, when I was planning it all back at home, but I was still struggling to get my head round the idea of taking a six and half hour flight and staying in the same country. From Britain, a six and a half hour flight would probably take you to a different continent.

But I wanted to see San Fransisco, of all places in America. Maybe it was the gay thing? I'd had a girlfriend at college who'd dragged me to visit Brighton and Canal Street in Manchester, because she said it was our duty as lesbians to go there, so maybe I was just doing the same thing in a foreign country. A guy I'd been talking to in a bar in Philadelphia had told me "San Fran" wasn't the gay capital it once had been, but it still interested me to go there and see it.

Mercifully,the plane seats were pretty comfortable. I settled back and peered out of the window at the ground crew fussing about under the wing –I was near the back, but it wasn't a huge plane. Some other passengers filed on, a mixture of people, so far as I could tell: businessmen and women, obviously, some families and couples, a fair few people on their own. I wondered who they were, why they were flying this route at this time, but they were idle thoughts and I was distracted by the view from the window again.

A few more passengers were crossing the tarmac, including the nice-looking girl of Asian heritage I'd noticed in the terminal. She'd had her head buried in a serious-looking book so probably hadn't noticed me check her out, but I do always find serious readers quite sexy. This girl had quite a nice figure in her t-shirt too, though, and long legs below her denim shorts, although she didn't seem to be the kind to be all that bothered about her appearance. Which is an attitude I also usually find quite sexy, as it happens.

As I watched her approach the plane, a slight breeze lifted her loose black hair for a moment, and suddenly I wondered if I'd be cold during the flight – it had been hot these last few days in Philadelphia, was still warm even at half-eleven at night, and I knew it would be warm in San Francisco when we got there, so I was in just a thin top and light knee-length skirt. While there was still nobody in the seat next to me, I decided I'd rescue my cardigan from the overhead locker. My coat and any other, warmer clothes, were in my case in the hold.

As I was rummaging in the locker, a stewardess brought round some blankets and I snagged one of them too, as well as a meagre-looking airline-issue pillow. Pulling my cardigan on, I noticed the Asian girl waiting patiently to get past me, so I shuffled back into the row and flopped back in the seat.

"There was no rush," the girl said in a broad Californian accent, smiling sweetly. She pointed at the locker. "You sure you're good? I'm in the seat next to you."

"Um, well. I might get my book..." I stood up again. "Sorry..."

"No problem." She stepped back a little, and I twisted round the seats to feel for the book in my bag. The girl reached in to help, her breast brushing my shoulder slightly. "Here. This one?" Together we pulled a book out, our fingers touching as we held the spine.

It wasn't the one I had in mind, but I was beginning to blush at inconveniencing her. And the casual physical contact was a bit distracting too. "That'll do. Thanks." I stroked a finger against hers quickly, and tried to decide whether I was imagining the flicker in the pretty brown eyes behind her spectacles.

Settling back in the seat, I watched from the corner of my eye as she stretched up to stow her bag. For a moment, her t-shirt was pulled across the shape of her small round breasts and the denim of her shorts was tight across her hips, and I felt a tug of interest inside. She pulled out a thick sweatshirt and tugged it on; it was so large it completely hid her figure and came halfway down her thighs.It looked nice and warm. She flicked her hair out from the hood,retrieved the book she'd been reading in the terminal from her bag, then shut the locker and moved to sit in the seat next to me.