I slid into the window seat after stashing my bag in the overhead compartment. I tried to get comfortable and watched the other passengers approach and peel off here and there, stuffing their carry-ons and cramming themselves into the seats of the 737. It would be a long flight to Las Vegas and I wondered who I would be stuck next to this time. I generally went to Vegas at least once a year for one conference or another. On my last flight, my ear had been chatted off the entire way by a redneck from Arkansas who had been already drunk by the time he got on the plane and progressed rapidly to a state of unconsciousness, drooling on my shoulder despite repeated attempts to push him away.

I felt a jolt as a hot, young thing sashayed down the aisle. Damn, but she was cute. Her blonde hair was cut in one of those jagged, short numbers that made it look like she had just crawled out of bed after a wild night of sex. She paused near my row of seats and lifted her arms to tuck her bag into the overhead. I felt my jaw nearly drop when the movement revealed an expanse of tight, smooth belly flesh above her low-rise jeans. Her belly button was pierced with a silver ring. I swallowed and wondered what else she had pierced.

She slid into the seat next to mine and smiled brightly at me. She tossed a large, designer purse under the seat in front of her and examined the PDA phone in her hand.
She made a hissing noise and furiously moved her thumbs over the keys. After she stopped typing, she grinned at me. Her eyes were huge and blue and her lips… man, I felt myself getting slightly hard just looking at her. She wore a short t-shirt with some logo I didn’t recognize splashed across the front. The fabric was stretched tight across her perky breasts and I could see the outline of her bra. I would have bet it was some hot Victoria’s Secret number.

“My boyfriend SO does not want me to go to Vegas,” she said with a husky laugh.

I smiled back, trying for charming. “Why not? Does he think you’ll be naughty in Sin City?”

She giggled. “He knows I’ll be naughty. He just doesn’t want me to be too naughty.”

Her phone buzzed and she read the message and rolled her eyes. She tapped out another angry note and pressed SEND.

“So, just how naughty are you planning to be?” I asked lightly, flirting shamelessly. I saw her eyes travel over me and I kept my stomach pulled in while thanking God for those long hours spent in the racquetball court. I was in pretty good shape for a 48-year-old salesman from Lithonia, Georgia. Even so, I was not even close to her league.

“Well, I was only planning to go drinking and have some fun with my girlfriends, but if he keeps pushing, I’m gonna sleep with everything that walks.”

I choked back my instinctive response, which was to volunteer for that position.

“You don’t look old enough to drink,” I said.

She winked at me. “Dude, it’s Vegas. Besides, I have a fake ID. I’m over 18, for crying out loud.”

“I see.” I grinned. “What’s your fake name?”

“My fake name is Samantha. Like from Sex in the City, you know?” I nodded, even though I had no idea what she was talking about. “But my real name is Sadie.”

“I’m Brian,” I said. I would have shook her hand, but her phone buzzed and she began to type again as the flight attendant closed the overhead bins and reminded everyone to fasten their seatbelts and to not, under any circumstances whatsoever, light up a cigarette. “Nicotine Nazis,” I muttered, even though I had quit the habit seven months ago. One of the attendants dropped by to remind Sadie to shut off her cell phone. I obediently turned off mine while Sadie continued to text.

She made an angry huff that caused her awesome chest to bob.

“He says my friends are not good role models,” she said. “Role models! What am I? Twelve?”

“What’s wrong with your friends?” I asked mildly.

“Nothing! Well… they’re both strippers. But they make really good money.”

I couldn’t comment because her phone went off again. She read it and her fingers flew over the keys as the plane began to move.

“Such an asshole!” she growled. “He’ll be lucky if I even come back from Vegas.”

“Ma’am, you really need to turn that off,” a male attendant said with his mouth set in a rude line. He looked like a typical male stewardess—gay.

Sadie finished and hit Send before snapping, “Fine!” and turning off the PDA. When it went dark, she jammed it into the magazine rack in front of her and hooked her seatbelt.

“If he thinks he can go all Mr. Possessive on me, he’s got another think coming.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, but then everyone was silent as the plane took off. When it leveled out (at 30,000 feet, according to the pilot), and the drink carts began their slow roll down the aisle, Sadie turned to me.

“Why are you going to Vegas, Brian?”

I told her about the conference, trying to make it sound more interesting than it was.

“Are you planning to go out with a fake name, too? You know, cuz what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?” She giggled and I smiled too, except all the names that came to mind were from TV shows and stars famous before she was born.

“No, I’m pretty boring,” I said, wanting her to keep talking and hoping not to scare her away by making any obvious advances. I was somewhat ashamed at my half-erect state. For God’s sake, my youngest daughter was twenty-four!

“I doubt that. You were probably a very bad boy when you were my age.”

I laughed and nodded. “I can still be a bad boy now and again.”

She was distracted by the drink order and got a Coke with some annoyance. I ordered two tiny bottles of rum and dumped one into her drink with a wink. She grinned at me happily while the pudgy matron next to her huffed at us and shot me a disapproving glare.

“What EVER, bitch,” Sadie muttered and the woman slammed her seat back and pretended to read a book while we giggled.

I continued to flirt with Sadie during the flight, but she never offered up any additional information. She was staying with one of her stripper friends, but couldn’t remember where she lived. I gave her the name of my hotel and even handed her a business card, feeling like an old fossil and an idiot for even trying.

When the plane slammed onto the runway and skid to a halt, Sadie was practically bounding with anticipation, and damn if she didn’t have a nice bounce! Before the plane even stopped, she was out of her seat, shoving past the snooty woman, and grabbing her bag from the overhead.

“Bye, Brian! It was nice meeting you,” she called and headed out.

“Bye, Samantha!” I called and she giggled and waved. I sighed heavily, but reflected that at least it had been a great flight. I waited until most of the plane had cleared out and checked carefully for my items. It was then I noticed Sadie’s PDA jutting from the magazine slot.

I grabbed it and quickly deplaned, hoping to catch Sadie in the terminal. My eyes scanned the crowds on the moving walkways and clustered around the ever-present flashing, beeping, rattling slot machines, but she must have bolted.

I gave up and went to the baggage claim area, wishing she had told me her friends’ names. Maybe she had and I just hadn’t bothered to remember. With my suitcase and carry-on in hand, I caught a waiting limo and headed for the hotel. I pulled out Sadie’s PDA and noted that it was the same as my old model, except for the shiny pink exterior. I turned it on.

Sadie had five text messages waiting from someone named Rob, obviously her angry boyfriend. I wondered if her friends’ phone numbers were easy to find. I noticed the Photo Gallery and felt a pang of conscience when I selected it, but I truthfully did not expect anything other than pictures of Sadie’s boyfriend, pets, and relatives. My jaw dropped when the first pic revealed was that of Sadie’s bare breasts—she had taken the pic standing in front of the mirror and sent it to one of her friends named Angie. My brain could hardly process the notion of her sending naked photos to her girlfriends.

Other photos were even more graphic and I found my dick, still half-hard from conversing with Sadie, approach granite hardness at the sight of her gleaming pussy, accompanied by the knowledge that she had sent the pic to her girlfriends with the message—Looking forward to your tongue!

I shut the phone off quickly and tried to think non-erotic thoughts, such as the notion of my wife’s enormous sister jammed into that hideous orange bikini on the beach last year—thankfully, that diminished my erection so I wouldn’t embarrass myself walking through the hotel lobby.

Once in my room, I turned on Sadie’s phone again—eight text messages now—and dialed Rob.

“Why the fuck are you ignoring my messages?” he demanded without a hello.

“Um… is this Sadie’s boyfriend?” I asked. The silence was immediate and heavy with tension.

“Who is this?” he asked.

“My name is Brian,” I explained. “I sat next to Sadie on the plane and she… dropped her PDA. I’d like to return it to her, but I didn’t catch where she was staying.”

Rob muttered something that sounded like, “Stupid bitch.” I felt a moment of annoyance. Sadie seemed like a sweet girl. She deserved better than this jerk.

“If I give you my number, can you have her call me if you reach her? I can leave her phone at the front desk or something, for her to pick up.”

I said the last to relieve any potential jealous reactions. It nearly worked.

“Who are you?” he asked sullenly. I told him and added that I was a salesman in town for a conference. I jokingly asked if he were in the market for life insurance and he quickly ended the conversation, promising to contact Sadie’s friends.

I ordered something from room service and sprawled on the bed. I wasn’t much of a gambler. The casinos did not attract me. I had barely flipped through all the channels on the television when my phone rang. It was Sadie.

“Brian!” she cried. “Oh my god, I’m so glad you found my phone! I’ve been going crazy, thinking I lost it at the airport.”

“I have it,” I said with a laugh. “Of course, it’ll cost you to get it back.”

Silence on the line.

“Sadie, I’m joking. I’m at Bally’s on the Strip. In room…” I checked the card they had given me and rattled off the number. “I’ll be here all night, if you want to come by and grab it.”

She promised to come and get the PDA as soon as possible and I entertained myself with visions of having her naked in my bed until guilt forced me to call my wife and let her know I’d arrived safely. When that task was done, I went back to my entertaining imagination and fondled myself until a knock on the door snapped me out of my erotic dreams.

Sadie stood in the hallway with her pixie hair wildly teased and a large grin on her face. I felt my tongue nearly loll from my lips at the sight of her. She wore one of those tiny, tight, red tank tops with the black lace bra poking up at the top, both of which barely covered the tips of her amazing breasts.

She wore a shred of material that would only be classified as a skirt by a wild stretch of imagination. To me it looked like an oversized headband. Strappy black heels were on her feet, showing off sexy legs that had been concealed by jeans on the plane.

“Holy shit,” I said. “You look great.”

She giggled. “This is my ‘fuck you, Rob, I’m getting laid’ outfit.”

I spun around quickly so that my instant hard-on wasn’t quite so obvious. I moved behind the bar and grabbed her phone.

“You should be able to accomplish that in five minutes or less,” I said truthfully. “Here’s your phone.” She squealed as she took it and hugged it to her chest—the lucky fucking piece of metal.

“Thank you so much! You found Rob’s number on my phone?”

I nodded and saw her chest jerk as she gasped a bit.

“Did you look at the pictures I have on here?”

I wanted to deny it, but my instant blush and inability to speak answered her question.

“Did you like what you saw, Brian?” she asked huskily. I nodded, feeling like I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. “Want to see it for real?” she continued.

I thought my jaw would have to be pried from the ground with a forklift. She giggled and I realized she was joking. I was both relieved and horribly disappointed.

“My friends are both busy until 2 a.m.,” she said. “I’m bored and I’m not really in the mood to go clubbing.” She pulled the red tank over her head and unfastened her bra, freeing those amazing breasts with the pink rosebud nipples. She moved around the bar and pressed her breasts against my chest, so I raised my hands and caressed them, feeling like I was in a dream. I ran my thumbs over the hard nubs.

“Why me?” I asked as her hand slid over the front of my pants.

“Well, you were flirting with me on the plane and you seem like a nice guy. Plus, you’re older and I figure you might know something the immature assholes I’ve been seeing don’t.”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” I asked and bent down to kiss the side of her neck. I’d teach her so much about foreplay her rotten boyfriend would never cut the mustard.