Airports

Airports are funny.

I am sitting in one now, pissed off that my flight is extremely delayed and looking at a group of business types standing around and holding their smartphones and fiddling with their Bluetooth headsets.

They are probably very important people, but it is their self-importance that creeps me out. The calling of assistants to find alternate airlines and trying to get out of the situation we're all stuck in. They will solve this problem, and get home to their crazy-big, important lives. Swimming pools. Movie stars.

Meanwhile, I am eavesdropping on their conversation and realizing that these men know my CEO. They are making introductions to one another and I have heard some of their names mentioned in his conversations about boring business events and cocktail parties.

The funny thing is, every one of these dudes is a typical Discreet Businessman and I sort of hate them. They are so smug and annoying because they have money and power. Not like the CEO, who is so "aw, shucks" about it all, which is very endearing.

Mostly, I think about the "business trip" the CEO is planning for us in August (the only real business being the hard, pressing one in his pants). I can't remember the last time I traveled with a companion, but I enjoy the idea of this trip. Except now, in an airport on the other side of the country I realize that the possibility of running into people who know him is high. We will probably sit separately on the flight and act like we don't know each other. Which could be fun, anyway.

Or we could sit together and pretend not to know each other. Which would probably be more fun, because he is easily embarrassed and I enjoy making him blush by talking about dirty things like sex. He called me today, when I was in the cab on my way to the airport and I asked him if he missed the way I sucked his cock. Knowing that the driver could hear me made him blush. I could hear it in his voice. So, sitting next to him on a flight and him knowing what would be in store for him once we reached our destination would be delicious. Perhaps flipping through a copy of Maxim, being sure to linger so that he could look over and be crazily turned on while I coyly ignore him.

I will join him in August for this short trip.

I will do this because the fun we could have on a getaway blows my mind. Because I enjoy making him feel good. Because jet-setting is cool. And because, well, the Presidential Suite at the Four Seasons sounds like a semi-decent place to spend the night.