Gordita Conspiracy

by Lyle Christie

  Shit, my buzz was making me act like an idiot, and I was left sitting in the darkness staring at my iPhone, my heart racing as I anxiously waited for the next text. It beeped, and I looked down at the screen.

  “Interesting. Perhaps we should ‘investigate’ this further. Meet me in lavatory two, and we’ll see if your pet detective skills are up to finding my beaver.”

  I laughed out loud as I responded.

  “I’ll see you shortly. XXOO, Ace,” I wrote, which was an obvious reference to Jim Carrey’s classic character from Ace Ventura, Pet Detective.

  “PS, Ace, please don’t mention asparagus this time!” she wrote.

  “Roger that, no asparagus.”

  Sweet mother of infidelity! Had I somehow initiated a late night tryst? I slid out of bed, opened my door, and peered down the aisle to see if anyone was stirring. Most of the passengers were sleeping, and Asma and the other flight attendants were nowhere in sight, so I put on my shoes then quietly walked up the aisle past the now empty compartment of Mr. Friendly and stopped in front of lavatory number two. I knocked then opened the door and looked inside to see a pile of clothes on the floor and a person, hopefully Olivia, on the other side of the frosted glass wall of the shower. I stepped inside, and Olivia peaked her head out from behind the door.

  “Hello, Ace—I’m relieved to see that you actually came,” she said.

  “Are you kidding? I practically came the second I got your invite.”

  “Well good, then hopefully, you’ll be—up—for a little fun.”

  “Oh, I’ll be—up—for it all right, so, why don’t you tell me more about this lost beaver, such as whether or not it has any distinguishing features.”

  “Well, it’s wet and lonely and obviously needs some attention.”

  “Then it’s critical I find it as soon as possible.”

  We shared a laugh, but then a moment of silence ensued as we now faced the awkwardness of our unusual late night meeting.

  “Do you think it’s weird that our second date is in a shower?” she asked, breaking the tension.

  “Yeah, but it’s a good weird.”

  “It’ll of course be less weird when I’m not the only naked person in the room.”

  “Good point,” I said, as I started undressing.

  I finally got down to my boxer briefs, and, as I slid them off and dropped them on the floor, I noticed that Olivia was gazing down at my growing excitement.

  “Wow, you really are happy to see me,” she said.

  “Yeah, unfortunately this always happens whenever I see a beautiful naked woman in a shower.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t call it unfortunate.”

  We shared a laugh then entered our next official awkward moment of silence.

  “So, I—um—think I should clarify that I don’t generally hop into showers with strangers I only just met,” she said.

  “Don’t worry, you’re not going to get any judgement from this creepy shitbag, because I understand that you’ve just finished up a stressful negotiation and could certainly use a little fun.”

  “And I’m also celebrating meeting an actual nice guy while also simultaneously lamenting the existence of a lame-ass non-committal boyfriend,” she said, as she held up her bare ring finger.

  “True, and that combined with the eight thousand mile rule means we should proceed without any guilt.”

  “Damn straight.”

  I stepped into the shower and realized it was surprisingly spacious for a plane, but small enough that we couldn’t stand without our naked bodies touching. I slid under the water and felt her lovely breasts pressing against my chest as she took hold of the soap and started washing me from the shoulders down. She made slow circles, her hands drawing ever closer to my gentleman region, where Tag Junior was quietly filling with bravado and beginning to press upward and between her slippery thighs.

  “Sorry about that, but sometimes it has a mind of its own and likes to say hello,” I said.

  “It’s OK. It seems friendly enough,” Olivia said, as she took hold of my penis and thoroughly applied soap from tip to balls.

  Now that I was at full mast, I felt as though I should return the favor and grabbed the soap and began to wash my shower buddy. I started with her back then worked my way around to her front, where I realized there was just nothing as fun as a holding a couple of slippery bosoms. Of course, our orientation had our lips hovering only inches apart, and I felt the very real need to cross the void and kiss her.

  “Would it be too forward if I kissed you?” I asked.

  “Shouldn’t be a problem, considering you’re holding my tits, and I’ve got your dick in my hand.”

  “That sounds like probable cause to me, counselor,” I said.

  We closed the short distance and kissed, gently at first, but the heat of the moment grew into a frenzied bout of passion when our mouths opened, and our tongues, the most intimate and powerful muscles in the human body, met like two fencer’s foils. Dodge, parry, attack—one moment I had the advantage, the next it was Olivia. It was a battle of will, swiftness, and detente until I at last broke free and made my way to her neck, where I ran my lips over her wet skin until finding her earlobe and giving it a playful nibble. I returned to her lips, and we kissed yet again before I set off on another glorious journey. This one took me south to her breasts, where I traced the outline of her areolas with my tongue then gave each nipple the gentlest of nibbles, before moving down and kissing her just above her belly button—the last move eliciting a subtle gasp of anticipation. Her demeanor abruptly changed, however, and she reached down and took hold of my head.

  “Wait—stop,” she said, sounding concerned

  “Why? Are you going to fart?” I asked, looking up at her.

  “No, you fucker, but if you ever ask me that again, I will fart.”

  “So, if not gas, then what’s the problem?”

  “I’m not sure I can handle oral sex at the moment, because my dickhead boyfriend hasn’t gone down on me in a long time.”

  “Long time meaning?”

  “I’d estimate about two years.”

  “Seriously? Two fucking years? That asshole hasn’t gone downtown in two years?”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you give him felatio?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you don’t see the inequity? Come on you’re a lawyer for fuck’s sake.”

  She shrugged.

  “I got used to being neglected.”

  “Well, not any longer.”

  “OK, but be gentle,” she said.

  It was hard to believe this was the same woman who had just knocked a guy on his ass, but I suppose everyone had their Achilles heel. Olivia’s was apparently cunnilingus.

  “I will, but perhaps we should come up with a safe word such as—fart—and you can say it if you’re in any way uncomfortable,” I said.

  “Or, how about I just fart?”

  “Or, how about we skip all that, and you just tap me on the head. Now, you might want to take a few deep breaths, because I’m about to bring your lost beaver back home,” I said.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus,” she said, nervously, her heart pounding and her breasts rising and falling with each nervous breath of anticipation.

  She reached out with her hands to brace herself against the sides of the shower then gritted her teeth and closed her eyes.

  “You’re going to be feel a lot better. I promise,” I said, looking up at her.

  I leaned in, kissed her stomach, then ran my hands up her thighs and to her breasts, where I gently played my fingertips over her nipples. She shivered ever so slightly, and I couldn’t help but admire their beautiful form. Alas, I needed to move on, for I had been to her majestic peaks, and it was time to go unto the valley and fulfill the holy trinity. Her clitoris, a veritable pope who reigned over a neat and tidy Vatican, was now in need of some oral enlightenment. I approached St. Peter’s Cathedral slowly and could feel Olivia’s entire body tense
as I slipped ever closer. I reached her womanly alter and pressed my tongue into her essence then slid it up over her clitoris, and she let out an audible gasp. I applied gradually more pressure, and she went from soft moans to loud cries, her legs shaking as she threw her head back against the wall of the shower. In order to prolong her pleasure, I took an occasional detour to the center of her lady fruit then started anew, all the while pushing her closer to release. I repeated this cycle several times then paused to conduct a welfare check on my shower buddy and received a scornful gaze.

  “Is there a reason you stopped?”

  “I just wanted to make sure you were OK. You seemed a little tense.”

  “Yeah, because I was about to cum, you fucker.”

  “So, you’re apparently adapting pretty quickly to this brave new world of cunnilingus.”

  “Yeah, I am, so feel free to get back to it.”

  I took hold of her backside with both hands and pulled her essence to my mouth, doubling the pressure, and, in turn, the pleasure. Her entire body went rigid, and her back arched as her eyes glazed over with lustful abandon. Hardly a moment passed before a great cry erupted from her lips, and she set forth into glorious release. I kept my mouth firmly against her essence and used my tongue to extract every last bit of orgasmic energy from her body until I relented, and she collapsed into my arms. After recovering, she kissed me then leaned back against the shower and let out a long sigh of contentment.

  “Sweet mother of God! I seriously needed that!” she exclaimed.

  “Apparently.”

  “No, I mean it! I seriously needed that. I haven’t cum that hard in a long time.”

  “I’m glad I could be of service.”

  “Yeah, and now it’s time I returned the favor,” she said, as she knelt down and took hold of my member.

  “Believe me, I’d love to experience some of your oral pleasure and bring my whole grass-fed comment to fruition, but I think you’ve been giving more than your fair share for the last few years, so tonight should be all about you receiving.”

  “Are you sure, because I really would like to suck your dick right now, and I don’t like to brag, but I’m really really fucking good at it,” she said, before circling her tongue around the tip and finishing off with a devilish smile.

  “Ummm—well—shit—maybe. Wait, no, I’m standing firm on this.”

  “I’d say firm might be an understatement,” she said, as she gave my member a squeeze.

  “Well that’s probably true, but, alas it’s time for you to prepare to make sweet hard love m’lady.”

  “And to think I cruelly called you a somewhat attractive shitbag,” she said, as she stood up and steered my manhood into her happy place.

  I slid in to full mount, and we both let out a glorious moan of pleasure, but she suddenly paused and looked a bit pensive.

  “Um—I think you should know that I can’t—well, I don’t usually climax from intercourse, so don’t feel too bad if it doesn’t happen.”

  “Wait. Don’t or can’t. It’s different.”

  “Well—don’t, I guess.”

  “So, if you’re not getting any oral stimulation, and you don’t usually climax from intercourse—then you’re obviously not receiving your fair share of the pleasure.”

  “Afraid not,” she said, a little sadly.

  “Well then, I have a theory I’d like to try out.”

  “Theory? So now you’re some kind of sex scientist?”

  “Yeah, and I’m going to experiment on your beaver, so I hope you don’t have a problem with animal testing.”

  I lifted her up and braced her back against the wall of the shower then took a moment to explain what I had in mind.

  “Now, having an orgasm from intercourse can often be a matter of the proximity of the clitoris to the vaginal opening.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Technically it’s called secondary orgasmic dysfunction, and it can be resolved during intercourse by utilizing the hips to deliver more friction and, in turn, stimulation to the clitoris.”

  “You’re starting to sound like my gynecologist.”

  “If that’s the case, then your gynecologist is a pervert.”

  “Well, he did ask me out once during a visit.”

  “I suggest you get a new doctor. Now, I’m going to let my hips do the talking from here on out.”

  Many women suffered from some kind of orgasmic dysfunction, whether it was primary, which meant not being able to climax at all, or secondary, which meant only being able to climax from oral or manual stimulation. In either case, I found it generally to be the result of an inexperienced, or selfish partner—Olivia’s lawyer boyfriend, for instance. I decided it would be easier to just show her what I was trying to explain, and it started with proper technique. So, rather than just move in and out like a jackhammer, I incorporated a circular motion at the apex of each thrust. This put the clitoris in the middle of a veritable flesh sandwich and made sure it received adequate stimulation. I think she at last understood my point about a second later when she dug her nails into my back and started moaning again. Jackpot.

  “See—what I was trying to say is that…”

  “Shut up and keep doing what you were doing,” she said, as she continued to grind against me with a determined urgency.

  Looking at Olivia writhing in my arms was becoming too much to bear, and I had to summon every ounce of staying power in my loins to keep from emptying my seed. Thankfully, she was on a collision course with climax and started calling out more urgently as she approached an impending release. I poured on the last burst of speed that I always kept in reserve, and, soon, we were both entwined in the divine ecstasy of a mutually assured orgasm. I powered on until my legs were spent and shaking then lowered her to the floor of the shower, where she leaned in and kissed me, holding tightly to my lips as though I were the only source of oxygen in the universe. After a long, quiet moment, she pulled back and stared at me, her intense blue eyes appearing to delve into my soul.

  “You are indeed, a gifted sex scientist when it comes to unlocking the secrets of the vagina,” she said.

  “Every man needs a hobby.”

  “I think you’ve found yours.”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  “How are you at cuddling?”

  “I can cuddle like a motherfucker.”

  We cleaned up, got dressed, and left the bathroom but paused just outside the door.

  “My place or yours?” I asked.

  “Yours.”

  We walked back to my cubicle, climbed into bed, and the place was already feeling a bit more cozy now that I had company. She rolled onto her side, pulled my arm over her chest, and we spooned as though we’d been doing it for a lifetime. I gave her nipple a final gentle caress, kissed her neck, and soon drifted off to sleep, bringing to an end a day that started with a bang and ended with bang.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A Room with a View

  A LITTLE LATE night calisthenics made for a wonderful night’s sleep, and I awoke refreshed and ready for the day ahead. The plane was coming alive, and I could hear murmurings of conversations and already smelled breakfast cooking away in the first class kitchen. I felt Olivia stir, and I looked over in time to see her open her eyes and smile.

  “Oh good, it wasn’t just a dream,” she said.

  “Definitely not.”

  We slid out of bed and got dressed, and I felt a bit like a teenager who had snuck a girl into his room. I would imagine that airline policy preferred passengers to stay in their assigned seats, but there was no telling what happened in the nether world of first class.

  “I heard a tray rolling down the aisle followed by Asma’s voice a second later.

  “Are you two ready for coffee?” she asked from the other side of the divider curtain.

  I looked at Olivia, and she nodded.

  “Absolutely!” I said, opening the curtain.

  Asma was outside with her c
art, and on it was a tray with a pot of coffee, cream, two cups, and two menus.

  “I guess you know I had a sleepover last night,” I said.

  “The lavatory walls aren’t all that soundproof, and, when I discovered her seat was empty this morning, I figured she was here.”

  “Sorry, I hope we didn’t break any official laws or airline policy,” Olivia said.

  “Perhaps in coach, but not in first class,” Asma said, placing the tray beside the bed.

  She gave us a sassy smile as she closed the curtain and left us alone to partake of our coffee. I poured us each a cup, added cream, and handed one to Olivia. We clinked mugs then sipped the elixir of life while we perused the breakfast menu. Asma came back a few minutes later, and we both chose omelets, toast, and potatoes, although Olivia went the chick route by adding veggies and avocado while I went man-style by ordering the same with chicken apple sausages. At that point, we dressed and converted the bed back into its chair form, then slid out the table and shared the large seat. Asma appeared a moment later with her cart and placed our two plates, glasses, and a small carafe of orange juice on the table.

  “Bon appetite,” she said, before rolling her cart on to the next seat.

  We enjoyed an excellent breakfast and replenished the many calories we had burned in the shower. Employing a standing position brought the legs, especially the quads and glutes, much more into the picture and, therefore, burned a shitload more calories than your average missionary style position. Now, each bite of omelet was hopefully finding a new home rebuilding the muscle fibers we had torn down last night.

  “So, Tag, I never asked—what is it that takes you to Dubai?”

  “My latest case.”

  “Is it an exciting one?”

  “Yeah, though I’d prefer if it got a little boring. What will you be doing now that your deal is mostly done?” I asked.

  “Celebrating, actually. With the contract negotiations complete, there’s going to be a big party at the Royal Palace in Dubai.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Maybe you could be my date.”

  “I’d love to if my schedule allows.”

  We finished breakfast, then Olivia went back to her seat to get fresh clothes and shower while I did the same. I headed to the lavatories but this time had to use number four, which was the exact mirror image of two. I put my clothes on the bench, stripped down and hit the porcelain, or, in this case, plastic with faux wood trim. It was pretty comfortable for a plane and had plenty of legroom, but, best of all, it afforded adequate privacy. At last, a peaceful dump. I skipped my book and, instead, monkeyed around on my iPhone, perusing emails before bringing the session to a glorious finish. I washed my hands then shaved and stepped into the shower, which was not nearly as exciting without the beautiful Olivia. Fresh and clean, I toweled off, put on deodorant and cologne, then, feeling completely refreshed, went back to my seat. Asma swung by a minute later, and I ordered a sparkling mineral water to help rehydrate after the previous night’s martini binge. She reappeared with the water a moment later.