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cheeks were
heated and her lips were swollen.  But her eyes were what Anne found most
captivating: dark, insatiable black holes from which there was no escape.  She
was disturbed and yet perversely proud at the same time.  Anne the giver, the
responsible, the reliable, the accommodating, had just been given a mainline
shot of selfish abandon from which there was no return.
     
    Her story had excited me, and I knew that I was walking too
close to the line from the moment I had questioned her fidelity.  Just one more
question, I had told myself as I pulled from her the secrets that she held: a
question, then another and then another. The savior and seducer that divided me
battled, while I listened, captivated by her answers.  I tried to convince
myself that I was not exploiting her weakness.  I rationalized that there was
nothing I was going to say that could help her; that she wanted to be seduced. 
Ultimately, I knew that it was hopeless and regardless of how close to heaven I
was, the earth below exerted its inevitable pull.
     
    The airplane began its descent and I moved quickly to rouse the
stranger within her.  I could see her cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment
and excitement.  I heard the weight of her breath.  No longer did I politely
avert my stare, less than fifteen inches away, which left her naked before me. 
Suddenly realizing her vulnerability, she made a futile attempt at escape and
turned the conversation to her desire to leave James, which was really more of
an incomplete plan to get him out of the house and into an apartment on his own
while maintaining some lesser version of their current existence.  I made her
admit that her drive to shed James was fueled by her desire to pursue the
fantasies she had logged through the years, hopes of being with other men and
perhaps women.  Again the blood returned to her cheeks as she nervously
adjusted her position in the seat, her eyes fixated on my expression that
foretold the inevitable.
     
    “About to slide off your chair?” I said suggestively so that
only she could hear me.
    Anne was not sure whether to be embarrassed or turned on.
    “There is a cure for that.”
    I smiled at her and motioned to the dark blue airline blanket
that draped across her lap.  Anne looked at me with shock, studying my face in
an attempt to find out if I was serious. I permitted the evaluation and held my
ground with an unflinching stare, determined to reset the boundaries of Anne’s
awakening.
     
    Anne glanced around and pulled the blanket neck high,
readjusted her seat and closed her eyes in a manner designed to feign sleep.  A
moment of fiddling under the blanket, followed by an occasional pursing of her
engorged lips, paired with the ever-so-faint increase in her breathing, were
the only hints of what was going on. About every fifteen or twenty seconds, she
opened her eyes to make sure I was paying attention, which I was while
simultaneously standing watch, waving off the occasional flight attendant
offering a final water, wine or chocolate.  Anne shifted her position towards
me so that she could whisper across the armrest. Her eyes were half closed and
her hands still buried under the blanket.
     
    I could feel my own air passages begin to dilate.  The circular
motion of her right forearm created a slow and rhythmic rocking that passed
across the armrest where only our shoulders touched.  I began to move along,
discreetly shifting my weight back and forth in assistance.   Leaning towards
her, I whispered in her ear, allowing the warmth of my breath to dance across
her neck.
    “Can you imagine what I want to do to you?” I asked her.
    Anne nodded her head and closed her eyelids tighter.  The pace
of her rhythm began to increase.
    “I am going to come,” she said. “Talk me through it.”
    “That’s it, I’m right here with you,” I said, in a quiet but
encouraging voice.
     
    With that, Anne made her final charge, climbing her mountain
while