Donna George Storey, author of “Nasty Little Habit”
What was your inspiration for your story in The Mile High Club?
In my story “Nasty Little Habit,” I wanted to set up an airplane seduction that could easily happen in my real life. Now you may be wondering if I’ve masturbated on a trans-Atlantic flight under the blanket? I’m afraid I have to take the Fifth on that one…
I will confess that like my narrator, I find the close contact with so many anonymous men on an airplane very provocative. The writer in me wants to slip inside their lives to know their secrets even for just a few moments. As in the story, I’ve also sat next to men who kept glancing over clearly hoping to chat, but since I usually have a great book I want to read, I’d ignore them as best I could. On the other hand, when I did relent, I enjoyed the strange intimacy with a partner chosen by the seat assignment computer. It makes me realize we’re all on the same journey, at least for a time. And why not have fun along the way?
Why do you think The Mile High Club has such a mystique?
Good sex whisks us away from ordinary life to another realm, a sort of suspended state existing beyond the rules we usually follow. Witness for example all the control freaks, men or women, who love to be dominated in bed, just as Matt Conklin’s narrator observes in “Wild Child.” Airplane travel is like sex. We are literally suspended in air, able to take on a temporary new identity. We’re brushing up against strangers we’d otherwise never meet, our senses are heightened by the excitement and novelty. Plus, there’s always that whiff of danger that each ride might be our last. Since we’re all thinking sexy thoughts anyway, we’re bound to be curious about the brave few who can take it one step further to actually realizing our collective fantasy.
Do you have any tips for people looking to join The Mile High Club, whether from personal experience, observation or imagination?
On our many flights to Japan, my husband and I occasionally lucked out and got the entire middle bank of seats on a 747 to ourselves. We’d put up the arm rests and stretch out, his head on one end, mine on the other, legs entwined. Sometimes we’d spoon together and I could feel his hard-on pushing against my ass, cruelly separated by our clothes. Occasionally a flight attendant would glance at us, but that’s back before I wrote erotica and we reined in our improper urges. Now that transgressive sex is very much on my mind for professional reasons, I can appreciate the possibilities that situation presents more fully.
For a woman, masturbating under the blankets is very doable. As a responsible professional, I confirmed the logistics on my last flight to Japan recently. However, practically speaking, to move up to platinum membership in the Mile High Club with intercourse in the restroom, I’d definitely need some serious foreplay in the seats to overcome the ick factor. Of course, in the right mood, squalor can be a turn-on all its own.
What celebrity would you most want to join The Mile High Club with and why?
Jon Stewart. He’s smart and funny and he looks a bit like my grandfather. Plus, I think he has enough of a prurient streak he’d really appreciate a good roll on the seats.
Are there any specific planes or airports you find particularly sexy?
Pittsburgh International Airport is definitely my first love. I took my maiden flight from Pittsburgh to Washington, D.C. when I was eight. It lasted all but forty-minutes, but they served an elegant breakfast on china plates: two huge Danishes, fresh melon, orange juice in a real glass.
The parking lot of the Pittsburgh Airport was where I became enchanted with the perfume of jet fuel on the breeze, the fragrance of foreign adventure. The waiting area is where I saw an infomercial on California made by TWA that made me yearn to live in that golden land someday. (Dreams do come true–I’ve been a California girl for years now, although of course TWA has long passed into history.) And the Pittsburgh Airport is where the man who took my virginity–actually I sort of shoved it at him and said “here”–treated me to breakfast one very early July morning. Driving out to the airport to have eggs and toast and watch the planes take off is an time-honored romantic tradition in the City of Steel.
We all know that in real life, plane travel is often not very sexy at all. What’s your best piece of advice on how to make plane travel as relaxing as possible?
Long flights to Europe or Asia are the real challenge. Drink lots of plain water, but no alcohol. Take off your shoes and wear travel socks (except to the restroom—those floors are sticky) to avoid swollen, aching feet. Blow-up neck pillows are key for restful sleep, and try to get some or the jet lag will hammer you. Plus, always snag a blanket, even if you don’t plan to masturbate!
What’s next for you?
I’m easing up on the promotion of my first dirty book, Amorous Woman (the semi-autobiographical tale of an American woman’s love affair with Japan), to start work on a new novel, which will be a journey into America’s erotic past. The research has been lots of fun. I’m also starting up a collection of podcasts of my work, which you can find on the Aural Pleasures page of my website.
Below is an excerpt from Donna George Storey’s “Nasty Little Habit.” Read the entire story in
The Mile High Club: Plane Sex Stories.
Today’s the day I’ll break my nasty little habit once and for all.
That’s what I tell myself as I shuffle on to the London-bound plane with the other Premiere Executives. I’m the only woman in the bunch, which isn’t unusual. Before I decided to change my ways, the closeness of so many anonymous male bodies was the first thing to get me in the mood for later misbehavior. I’d imagine them gathered around me as I pleasured myself, cocks in hand, ready to shoot their loads all over me until every inch of my flesh glistened like a freshly glazed doughnut.
Today, however, I resolutely wipe such thoughts from my mind as I hurry through the business class cabin—no upgrade this time, alas—and silently repeat my vow.
I will not masturbate under the blanket on this flight.
I murmur it, under my breath, as I slip my suitcase into the overhead bin.
I will not masturbate under the blanket on this flight.
Pulling my book from my shoulder bag, I settle into seat 33B. Call me a masochist, but I specifically requested a center seat rather than my usual window. Breaking bad habits always requires a certain amount of discomfort, and it will be that much harder to jam my hand down my pants with a vigilant stranger on either side.
I pick up the plastic-wrapped blanket from my chair and push it under the seat in front of me, well out of temptation’s way. It’ll make for a chilly night, but I can hardly masturbate under the blanket if I have no blanket, can I?
It’s a male voice, obviously the occupant of 33A. I don’t even look his way as I rise and step into the aisle to let him pass…
Read the rest of the story in The Mile High Club: Plane Sex Stories.