Flight of Fancy (Climbers Extra!)

Frightened yet exhilarated at the same time, she gripped her man's hand as the plane left the runway, gazing out of the rear seat port hole as they soared up into the clouds. Calmed, if subdued, by the sensation of flying for the first time in her life, she reflected upon how far she had come since he found her lying in the freezing subway, and changed her life...

'I'm a different girl now, unrecognisable from the malnourished waif I was, fatter yet still beautifully slender, ruddier in complexion yet paler, bigger breasts than I had when he rescued me. The effects of the short winter days, I spent with him, recovering from my ordeal in the stone cottage - from my parental abuse: Blaise rubbing my clit until he made me sore, fucking me on my mother's bed -- luxuriating, in the warmth of his strange wagon home.'

She squeezed his hand in gratitude for all that he had given her so far: the food, the sex, the clothes, a lovely country retreat to live in, the money: a life beyond her wildest dreams - and the baby girl he'd yet to give her. They fucked every day: in the bath, on the kitchen carpet, in the lounge, to music. When normal fucking failed to make her pregnant, he finally confessed his secret fetish to her, and threw open the play room door. There, she obliged him, dressing for him in her black girdle, her black lace panties, black stockings and a red suspender belt, mounted the podium then pole-danced for him, peeling off her clothes to the sultry, erotic strains of Bolero, teasing him, arousing him, to bursting point.

As soon as she'd stripped naked, he tethered her to her leash, fitted her neck with her studded leather collar, took her to her cat litter tray where she cocked her leg like a poodle and pissed before he led her out of the playroom to their double bed, and fucked her senseless.

The days grew longer, the weather warmer, they became grounded in reality: his financial investment consultancy gained a reputation for honesty and trust in a challenging global market, requiring him to work long hours, alone at his bedroom desk. She managed their home, applying her freshly acquired computing and accounting skills, assuming control of planting out and tending the allotment in the walled garden, creating healthy dishes to keep her man well-fed. Having used the cold months to learn from her loving, giving, man, she no longer felt inferior to him. She was, at least, his equal. He adored her, there was nothing in the world he wouldn't do for her.

They took to fucking in the garden. She crouched on all fours for him, wearing her lamb's wool jumper and knee-length socks to keep herself warm. Until he tugged them all off and fondled her bloated breasts, while he mounted her and fucked her slimy wet cunt and arse from behind, ensuring her deepest penetration, hopeful of inseminating her. Still no baby came. Fearing that he might be infertile, like her father, and she might never be able to bear the baby girl she so desired, she finally agreed to take a complete rest -- the holiday of a lifetime with Sarah, his commere, in Bali.

Exhausted, she closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep.

They left the wagon, nestled, like her secret, in its enchanting walled garden, in good time that afternoon. He made her haul her suitcase for miles to the station, despite the sick state she was in, telling her the fresh air would do her good before she was cooped up, like his pigeon, in her cramped economy seat at the rear of the aircraft. Her man could be so frugal at times: he drove her mad when he pinched pennies to save a pound.

Still, she supposed, our seats are nearest the toilets, which is no bad thing for me in my condition on a fourteen hour flight.

The train ride into and out of London took ages. They finally arrived at the airport at six-thirty ready for their light Caesar salad and a filling cup of tomato soup, his favourite. She licked the silly soup moustache off his smeared face with her tongue, she kissed him, deeply. He bought himself a pair of luxury trainers, her a gold zip-up purse for her to keep her bits in, he told her, as they strolled around Duty-Free. There was no end to her man's generosity. It seemed that he could afford any gift she wanted, any gift except a baby girl.

After they'd checked-in their cases, he took her to a bureau de change, drew out his wallet, passport, and bought currency. As he explained to her: a hundred dollars were to pay for their visas on arrival in Bali, two hundred pounds were to be exchanged for four million, one hundred and fifty-two thousand, one hundred and twenty-eight rupiah, their spending money She had never seen so many bank notes.

Their flight to Singapore Changi took off, on time, at exactly five past ten.

'I need to pay a visit, Alex,' she told him, taking her gold purse out of the handbag stored under the seat in front.

'He's sound asleep, bless him.'

Kate pinched his bare inner thigh underneath his khaki shorts, just to make him stir, mind.

'Sorry, what?' he said, sounding groggy.

'I need to go to the loo.'

'Oh, right.'

'Move then, Alex!'

'I'm sorry, he said lamely.'

He slid out of his seat into the aisle, took off his trainers, and slid them under the seat in front. The fasten seatbelt signs were still lit above their heads. The cabin crew were busy asking passengers to pull down all their shutters, so as to mimic the darkness of the night.

There was a short queue: five, six women waiting for the toilet. It took her ten minutes of extreme discomfort before she could lock herself safely inside the cubicle. She breathed a sigh of relief, 'I'm on my period, I feel heavy,' she crouched over the loo and removed her bloodied tampon, 'I flush it away, flush it all away, my hopes of ever bearing my baby girl, insert another one, inside my cunt, hoping my nightmare quest for a child to love and care for will soon come to an end, like this bloody curse.'

She consumed two high calorie meals, then cried watching We Live in Time, a little bit of Titanic, too excited to sleep. The Boeing 777-300ER aircraft hit severe air turbulence over the Bay of Bengal, rousing her man from his deep slumber, then slowly made its descent.

'Did you sleep well,?' she asked, holding his hand, as her ears popped, as they fell, down.

'Like the dead. You?'

'I didn't sleep a wink, Alex,' she said.