Just enjoy the flight

At 4:00 am, you arrive at the airport, thankful you thought ahead to buy coffee. You grabbed the girls' favorites, hopeful to make a good impression, or at least get a quiet flight. Six hours on a plane with coworkers is not the best way to start the week, you think. You grab your luggage and pull it behind you, balancing the three cups in your other hand.

Beth greets you at the terminal, and looks amazed that you brought the coffee. "That's really thoughtful of you John," she says, and her smile is impressive. For the first time, you notice that Beth's hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she's wearing a t-shirt with a hoodie. The t-shirt says Harvard on the front, and you're curious, because she never mentioned going there. You decide against mentioning it, but do notice that the shirt is a snug fit, and you can see the contours of her bra over her smaller chest. She takes a swig of the coffee and sighs. "Thank you again," she says. "I forgot to set my timer last night. I was up late... packing." Her hesitation catches you off guard, and you shrug. It's early. She's likely tired. You chat for a few minutes before you feel more than hear someone come up behind you.

You turn to see Emily, and she smiles. "Almost got you," she says before stretching and yawning, thrusting her chest out. Her breasts push against the shirt confined in what looks to be a simple bra, and you realize she's more well endowed there than you had guessed. Her work wardrobe did a nice job of hiding her chest, you realize. Her eyes widen at the sight of coffee. "You are a godsend!" she says, and you smile as she profusely thanks you, draining the coffee in two gulps.

"Not a morning person?" you tease, knowing full well she is. She flips you off, and you both laugh. Beth is shaking her head.

"I predict a long week," Beth says, officially.

Sarah arrives about twenty minutes later, swearing at the taxi driver and grabbing her luggage. She walks up and you hand her the coffee. "Thanks," she says, though her face is dark. She takes a long pull on the cup and looks at you. "Fucking cab driver," Sarah sneers. "Kept slowing down because he was looking down my shirt." You take a quick glance, and you do your best to keep your eyes from widening. Sarah's shirt is a t-shirt, a concert t-shirt, with a designed tear that leads to the front clasp of her bra. Her light skin is pushed together, creating a valley of cleavage you've yet to see from her. She catches your eye and thanks you for the coffee again, pointedly.

Thankfully for your progress (and Sarah's mood) the boarding process goes smoothly, and you take up the entire back rows of first class. Sarah ends up next to you, and you try to quietly enjoy the view as you watch Sarah lean over to adjust her carry on, and the jiggling as she piles a bag into the overhead compartment, despite your offering to help. Emily catches your eye as Sarah sits, and points at you with a "tsk, tsk" motion. It's your turn to flip her off, and she snorts with laughter before pulling out her e-reader and putting in headphones.

The first hour of the flight is going well before Sarah, obviously asleep, leans over to your seat, her head almost touching your shoulder. You can't help but glance down, realizing you can see the bottom curve of her breast down her shirt, pushing the bra away from her chest. You urge your crotch to calm down, but feel the inevitable stiffening.