by J.R. Bowles
CHAPTER 2
As John Fleuric checked in at the TWA counter in West Palm Beach's airport, he was told, “I have bad news and good news for you, Mr. Fleuric. Unfortunately we've over booked the flight and your seat has already been filled.”
John started to open his mouth in protest.
“The good news,” the girl standing behind the desk smiled, “is I can place you in First Class at no extra charge.” She raised her head to look at him, watching his reaction.
John had a brief, strange flash. It was as if he could read her emotions, and for some reason, he knew, she was lying. He shook the feeling off. Why would anyone lie about something like this?
The clerk punched for several minutes at the computer terminal and looked up. She wondered who this man might be, that someone had changed his flight reservation and then placed an instruction in the computer to tell him the flight had been over booked.
John walked through the airport terminal while waiting for his flight, and thought how it looked more like a shopping mall than a terminal. As he walked up to his gate they announced first class boarding.
He walked onto the plane and handed the attendant his ticket. She glanced down at the ticket and then, slowly, up at him. She smiled as most of them always did, and said, “Follow me please, Mr. Fleuric.”
Her eyes had met his, and though she was smiling, he again had the feeling something was just not quite right—but he couldn't explain it. He followed her as she led him to another attendant.
“Good evening, Mr. Fleuric. My name's Morgan, Morgan Cross, and I will be your attendant in first class this evening.” Morgan's heart was doing a triple beat. It was him. She finally stood face to face with John Fleuric. He was handsome. Handsome didn't describe him. He was beautiful. Tall, dark and handsome. The words had been created just for him. His eyes were the palest shade of blue. She stood there mesmerized for a moment and thought, “I can't believe he's the one.”
Since her childhood, her parents had taught her of his coming. His birth had been predicted through the stars, down to the exact time and place. She had been told he would be here, and that the time for him to be presented to the world was at hand, even though he hadn't attained his own self-awareness of who he truly was. It was this trip to New York which would begin his awakening to total consciousness, and make him aware of his own destiny.
At this time, Morgan knew more about this man, in many ways, than he knew about himself. Her parents were members of one of the oldest orders of an ancient religion still in hidden existence, and had trained her for this purpose since she had been a child. Although Morgan was only twenty-four, she knew this was the one whom she must serve.
“Mr. Fleuric, here's your seat. Please make yourself comfortable and I will get you what ever you like to drink.” Morgan watched his lean muscular body as he sat down. His sensuality made her shudder; she admonished herself for the lustful thoughts she was having. This is he who had been predicted, she told herself, he is more than just a man.
John looked up at her and returned her smile. “I'll have a Bud Light, please.”
As Morgan went off to get his drink, John wondered at being the only one in first class. He thought it was rather strange, since they had said they were over booked. He sat back, noting the jet was one of the large ones which showed movies. That was odd too, to have a movie when the flight was so short.
Morgan returned with his beer and a glass. “I will be serving you dinner shortly after we take off. It looks like you'll be the only one in first class tonight, so you will get extra-special attention.” She smiled and poured his beer for him. “So if there's anything you want, please call me.” She emphasized the word anything and stared deep into his eyes.
Morgan knew that it was the lower chakra center which she had been trained to open; the second chakra, the sexual organs. She tingled at the thought of enticing him into a sexual liaison with her. She wasn't sure how she was going to go about it, but she had been trained for this and that was why, at the age of twenty-four, she was still a virgin.
After a short time the “fasten your seatbelt” light blinked on and the Captain's voice came over the speaker. He told them their flight would arrive at 9:00 P.M., and the weather in New York was partly cloudy with a comfortable 72 degrees.
Morgan walked over to John and leaned down. “Let me help you with your seatbelt, Mr. Fleuric.”
She reached down slowly, grabbing each end of the belt with her slender fingers on the underneath side of the clasp. She let her fingers graze John's crotch. At that touch there was an almost electrical thrill that ran through her hand all the way to her head, and back down to the base of her spine, at the feel of his male softness. She had to fight against the urge to keep from trembling.
At the feel of Morgan's hand, John felt himself begin to stir. He was shocked, not so much by her action as by his own response. Although he would be thirty next week, he was an old man by any sexual definition. He had always abstained from sex. Not because he had never had the opportunity; many women had thrown themselves at him, but he abstained because he had just never had any desire. When he had been a teenager, he had often wondered if there was something wrong with him. The conversations of other boys, on how they chased girls and “scored,” was like a sport. That had just never appealed to him. He had made a mistake in his choice of attending Radford University in Virginia: the mistake was that at one time, it had been an all-women's teacher college, and had just gone coed. He was one of the first men to attend the school after the change. The girls were always chasing him and asking him out. Being one of the few men on campus had made him very popular, and he had passed on many opportunities by making excuses to them that he had to study. He had even taken an evening job, just to get away from the dorm. After a while some of the girls were so frustrated by his aloofness they started the rumor that he was gay―of course the term they used back then was “queer.” The unfortunate thing was, he wasn't gay; that would have been some kind of sexual desire, but he truly felt nothing. He had even tried manually to get an erection. He finally gave it up, and came to the conclusion he was one of those few people who were just asexual.
John's eyes widened as he felt her hand against him. After all of those years of indifference he had finally felt something. He felt confused, as the strange sensation ran through his body to his brain.
“Please call me John.” He looked deep into her warm brown eyes, flecked with amber and green.
“Do you live in New York, or are you just going there to visit?” Morgan asked him as she stood up and surveyed him from head to foot.
“I'm going there on business,” John said, returning the close scrutiny.
“What company are you with―or am I being too personal?” Morgan quizzed.
“No, no–“John smiled and stuttered. “That is quite all right. Please be personal. I don't mind at all. I have a computer company specializing in software. We're still small, but growing.”
“Your wife must be very proud of you.” Morgan said, knowing he wasn't married but not wanting him to realize she knew all about him, even down to the fact he, like herself, was still a virgin―although she had sexual desire and he never had.
“I'm not married.” John responded with a grin. “Unless you consider being married to work. Some of the people who work for me accuse me of that.”
“Will you be in New York very long?” Morgan practically purred.
“About a week. I will be leaving on my birthday on the first.”
“And I bet you'll be nineteen,” Morgan flattered, and gave him her most dazzling smile and a half wink.
John grinned back. “Thirty, I'm afraid. Nineteen is more like your age.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Fleuric.”
“John, please. I insist.”
“John,” she whispered in her most sensual voice.
“Morgan, I'm sorry… what did you
say your last name is?”
“Cross,” she answered. “But I guarantee I'm not a burden to bare.”
