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into the aisle, trying not to attract anyone’s attention or disturb the dozing passengers.
She’d left the lavatory door open a half inch. He slipped into the impossibly small enclosure, then reached behind him to pull the door shut. He made sure it was securely locked.
She was practically sitting in the basin. She’d taken off her suit jacket. The first three buttons of her blouse were undone, giving him a glimpse of cleavage above lacy bra cups.
They looked at each other for maybe ten seconds, then came together like cymbals. Their lips fused in a kiss that was as amorous as any in his recent memory. She took his tongue into her mouth with an eroticism that made him groan from a surge of lust unequaled since adolescence.
His hands went straight to the fourth pearl button on her blouse, undid it and the one below it. He pushed his hands inside her blouse, and placed them on her breasts, squeezed gently, caressed the tight centers. She gasped into his mouth.
Holding the kiss, she fumbled with his belt and fly while he slid his hands down the outsides of her thighs, then pushed up her skirt until he could reach her panties. He peeled them down, past knees, past high heels.
He nudged himself between her legs, clasped her hips, and with one strong thrust buried himself inside her.

    When it was over, they laughed shakily and self-consciously.
Finally she lifted her head from his shoulder. Awkwardly they separated. He noticed how flushed her face and chest were as she clumsily tried to match buttons to buttonholes.
He tucked in his shirttail, zipped up, and buckled his belt while she pulled on her jacket. She reached for her underwear, which he’d flung aside in haste, but she didn’t put them on. He helped her to stand and then to smooth down her skirt. There was barely room for them to stand face-to-face.
He stroked her cheek. It felt feverish. Her lips looked swollen. He thought about kissing her again. He wanted to.
But before he could, she said, “You go first. I need to…tidy up.”
“Okay.”
“For propriety’s sake I should return to my assigned seat.”
That was disappointing. He’d hoped they would finish the flight sitting together, holding hands while they made small talk, savoring this delicious, guilty secret, looking at each other and shaking their heads and laughing over the absurdity of it.
He gave her his most engaging grin. “Can I change your mind about that?”
“No. It’s best.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She said it a bit too quickly, and must have realized it, because she nodded, repeating, “Yes.”
“Do you regret it?”
For the first time since they’d finished, she looked directly into his face. “Not in the least.”
“Good,” he whispered, smiling. “See you on the ground.”
“See you on the ground.”
He opened the door a crack, and when he saw that the coast was clear, he slipped out. He heard her lock the door behind him. None of the other passengers seemed to have stirred. The galley curtain was still drawn. Their glasses were still on the armrest. He collapsed into his seat, sated.
Feeling bloody fabulous, actually.
It was several minutes before she passed him on the way to her assigned seat. As she went by, she gave him a meaningful look but didn’t say anything. He watched her get settled, then picked up his book, switched on his task light, and tried to read. But the words wouldn’t register. He had a good vodka buzz going, and that was making him drowsy. And—who was he kidding?—he wanted to relive those few minutes in the lavatory.
What a reckless thing to do.
What fantastic fucking.
What an incredible woman.
As he drifted into sleep, he was aware of the sappy smile on his lips.

    He woke up to the rattle of the drinks trolley being pushed up the aisle by the flight attendant, who looked as fresh as when they had boarded. He wondered how they managed that. His clothes were wrinkled and his eyes were gritty. His head was muzzy from the vodka, and he badly wanted to brush his teeth.
He yawned,