2.9

Max excused himself, ostensibly to go to the toilet.

In fact he needed a break. With a woman like this it was rarely easy trying to negotiate a way through the first meeting. These ultra desirable women knew that they had all the initial power, and it often ended in some kind of convoluted competition.

In the peace and quiet of the cubicle, to the familiar accompaniment of his own running water, Max wondered why it had to be like this –
She probably is more intelligent than you are – most women are! But… who cares? What the hell does it matter?
Anyway, trying to outsmart Rita was not the kind of challenge he was looking for right now.
Mate – admit it – you’ve done this to death!
Just… go back to your own seat.
Tell her it’s been nice meeting her… and move on.
But as he stepped out of the cubicle she was right there, waiting for him, lurking mischievously in the half-light at the back of the plane, now more attractive than ever – sultry, irresistible, lit up with desire.

“You know,” she said, slowly approaching him. “In the old days they used to smoke down here at the back of the plane.”

“Yeah well, I’m not a …”

“And… they used to make love.”
She reached for him–

“They banned the smoking,” she said as her hand cupped his groin.

She leant into him.
They kissed – deep and luscious – a singular juicy moment exciting enough to clear a vacant space in Max’s mind. Before he could even think she was feeling down his pants – feeling inside, flesh on flesh, her fingers stroking, the blood rushing…

Mate – you are hopeless!

Seriously… put you anywhere near a pretty girl and…

You are fucking hopeless.