Opening Up

Fleeting Moment

10:53 a.m.

The hum of the plane engine lulls above. The unabating sound nauseates Jackie. At this point, everything does; the stale cabin air, the occasional thumps of turbulence, the look in Jack's eyes as he confers with his advisors. That strange look.

It was all nauseating.

A weight pressed on her chest. She wanted to turn around—to go back to Washington. She wanted to kiss her son and hug her daughter.

Breathe.

She takes a calming deep breath, exhaling slowly with closed eyes and pursed lips. Peeling off her white gloves, she reminds herself that all is well and that her husband is a smart man.

Meanwhile, Jack and his advisors crouch over leather-bound notepads thrashing out various campaign approaches. Jack's attention begins to dawdle away from the political banter. He peers between his men at his wife. She is daintily leafing through a magazine with a hand pressed to her forehead.

"What do you think sir—sir?"

"Mhm?" He whips his head back.

"After Dealy Plaza we do the photos with Governor Conally?"

Jack clears his throat. "Yes. That'll be fine."

He quickly returns his gaze to Jackie. He knew how frazzled the chaotic campaign scene made her, especially here in Texas, and was feeling a deep tenderness towards her. Or perhaps it was because the way she was sitting, unaware that her pink little skirt was hitched half-way up her thighs.

"Sir? Uh, sir?"

Jack's men were beginning to notice his attention was elsewhere and there where a few suppressed chuckles dispersed among them.

The president was fixated on his wife. His eyes traveled up her legs; he loved the way she always consciously pressed her knees together placed her legs elegantly to the side. His gaze trails upward more. He then zeroes own on her lips. He decided they were extra pouty today.

"Sir?"

Jack turns to his advisors with a raised brow.

"Regarding the glass top on the car, sir. The weather will be clearing up so we can—"

Jack taps his teeth and shakes his head. "Will you men excuse me for a moment?"

They glance at one another, slowly gathering their things. Compliances are mutually mumbled as they busy themselves with further perpetrations.

"Thank you." He nods, standing and making a beeline for the open seat beside his Mrs. Kennedy on the opposite side of the cabin.

Jack lowers himself beside Jackie. Her eyes suspiciously raise from her magazine page to meet his gaze.

"You hanging in? I need you working the crowds today, Mrs. Kennedy." He grins.

"I'll try." She replies shyly. She turns to her window feeling sick again.

He exhales, sliding a hand on her knee. He strokes her thin pantyhose with his thumb. Jackie tenses and bites her lip.

"C'mon, Jacqueline." He leans in closer. "Show these Texans what you're made of."

She refuses to turn around, prompting Jack to
move his hand up thigh. Pretending not to notice, she maintains her composure. As his hand strays further, however, her teeth sink deeper into her bottom lip.

It's only when her husband creeps under her skirt that her hand clamps down on his with a sharp gasp.

"Jack!" She scolds under her breath, her eyes shooting in the direction of the political aids still huddled just 10 feet away from them.