Fifteen Hours of Flight Alone with My Mother

Mariela was a divorced woman in her forties who had learned to wear single life the way one wears a good coat: with confidence and without apology. That night she was traveling with Tobías, her only son, on a flight that crossed half the world en route to Asia. Fifteen hours shut inside a dark cabin, with little more than an aisle separating boredom from discomfort.

It was hard enough for a boy whose eyes followed every skirt to endure such a long trip. And even harder when the woman in the next seat was his own mother, who had the nicest legs in the cabin and a body no one could ignore.

“Hey, don’t be so rude,” Mariela whispered, nudging him with her elbow. “I didn’t raise you that way.”

“What are you talking about, Mom?” he replied, playing innocent.

“You’re staring at the flight attendant’s ass. And the worst part is you’re not even trying to hide it. Show me a little respect.”

“How am I disrespecting you? I’m not staring at you. Besides, it’s all dark, you can barely see anything.”

“It would be the height of it if you were staring at mine,” she snorted. “But I’m a woman, just like her, and those things bother us.”

“There isn’t that much difference between the two of you,” Tobías said, fixing his gaze on the aisle again.

Mariela watched him for a moment, amused and scandalized at the same time. The flight attendant walked away arranging pillows, and the fitted uniform drew every curve under the cabin’s dim light.

“What do you mean there isn’t any difference? She’s young. I’d love to have one that firm.”

“I see them about the same size,” he answered, biting his lip.

“Rude!” She hit his arm again, but she was laughing.

“What? Didn’t you want me to be honest with you?”

“There’s honesty, and then there’s measuring your mother’s ass. That’s not exactly normal, if you ask me.”

“It is,” Tobías insisted. “I know at least two guys who do it.”

“All right, tell me who. I’m curious to know who’s that messed up in the head.”

“My friend Damián. He was the one who told me one day that his mother had an amazing body. That he always imagined her a certain way.”

“Really? He seems so calm and polite.” Mariela shook her head, unable to suppress a smile. “These kids today are seriously sick.”

“But you understood me perfectly, didn’t you?”

“I was young once too,” she said, and immediately regretted saying it.

“Does it bother you that we talk like this, without filters? That’s why we get along so well.”

Mariela glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He had a point: she would much rather have her son say those things to her than to strangers or on the internet. She tucked her hair behind her ear and let out a sigh.

“I suppose so. Better with me than with bad company.”

“You know what else Damián told me?” Tobías was looking out the window, as if the words weighed less that way. “That you have a better figure than his mom.”

“Hey!” she hit him again, this time more lightly.

“Everything okay back here?” asked the flight attendant, passing by at that very moment.

“Everything’s perfect, thank you,” Mariela answered, immediately composing herself.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, very kind of you,” she said.

“I do!” called a passenger from the rows ahead.

***

The flight attendant went over to the front seats. To hear the man better, she leaned forward, bracing her hands on the headrest, and the posture tightened the fabric of her skirt until it outlined every line of her body under the aisle’s emergency lights.

“Stop staring at her,” Mariela whispered to her son, though she herself still hadn’t looked away.

“See how everything shows?” Tobías murmured.

“Uff. Now I understand why she’s got you so distracted.” She let out a low, conspiratorial laugh. “But honestly, son, I don’t think I have anything to envy.”

“You think so?” He looked at her, surprised by the turn in the conversation.

“Who wins, in your opinion?” she asked, tilting her head with a wicked smile. “Her or me? You said something very true: better talk about it with me.”

“Mom, didn’t you say you didn’t want to talk about this?”

“I changed my mind. I’m curious. Come on, be honest.”

Tobías swallowed. The cabin’s half-light made everything more intimate, as if the sleeping passengers around them didn’t exist.

“Well, honestly, Mom, I think you beat her. You’ve got more hip, and that gives more volume to... well, you know.”

“Don’t hold back,” she said, leaning a little closer and lowering her voice. “You’re already saying it. You can be open with your mother, can’t you?”

“It’s just that I’m embarrassed to be so vulgar.”

“Not at all, sweetheart. Say things the way you think them. Get it off your chest, and who better than me to listen?”

“Having more hip gives you a better ass. A much better one.”

“Really, you think so?” she asked, and a flush rose up her neck that had nothing to do with embarrassment anymore. “Better than the flight attendant’s?”

“A lot better. And that’s saying something, because she’s got it too.”

“Don’t tell me talking like this with your mother turns you on,” Mariela said, looking straight at him.

“I’m not made of stone, Mom. Does it bother you?”

She was silent for a few seconds. Outside, the night was a black blotch without stars. Inside, there was only the dull hum of the turbines and her own heart, suddenly beating harder than she wanted to admit.

“No, darling. It doesn’t bother me. You’re a man, you have needs, and you’re old enough to take care of them. If your mother can lend a hand, I don’t have a problem with that.”

“You’re making me very...” he started, not finishing the sentence.

“Very what?” she asked in a very low voice, almost in his ear.

***

Mariela looked around. The neighboring rows were empty, the passengers behind them were snoring under their blankets, and the ones in front had their lights off. A dangerous idea crossed her mind and, instead of scaring her, it caressed her.

“Here,” she said, handing him her coat. “Put this over your legs.”

“What for?”

“Just do what I say. And now unbuckle, slowly, so nobody can see us.”

“Mom, you’re crazy. What are you thinking?”

“Your mother isn’t made of stone either, my love,” she whispered, and there was something new in her voice, a grave resolve. “Do it before I change my mind.”

Tobías obeyed. He lowered the zipper of his pants under the cloth, his pulse racing, while his mother watched the aisle with a calm that unsettled him.

“And now?” he asked.

“Now take advantage of what’s about to happen. Just watch.”

Mariela pressed the call button. The flight attendant appeared within seconds.

“How can I help you?”

Mariela sat up and stepped into the aisle, forcing the flight attendant to turn and give Tobías her back. Then she shot her son a look that said everything: now.

“Well, I recently had knee surgery,” Mariela improvised, “and I’ve been sitting for too many hours. Do you have any painkillers?”

Meanwhile, hidden beneath the coat, Tobías started touching himself, with the flight attendant barely a hand’s breadth away, the uniform taut over every curve.

“Of course, but you can’t stand here. Take a seat and I’ll bring you something right away.”

“No, wait,” Mariela said, gently taking her by the arm. “Let me stretch my leg a little. Just a few seconds.”

“Ma’am, we can’t stand in the middle of the aisle. We’ll both get told off.”

Mariela smiled inwardly at the rhythmic movement beneath the fabric beside her. Then she pretended to get a cramp and bent over one knee, simulating a groan. The flight attendant fell for it: she knelt to help her, and in doing so offered Tobías the full view he had been waiting for.

“Ma’am, get up, you’re going to hurt yourself more,” the flight attendant insisted, still bent down.

“A little more, please, I’m almost better.”

A few seconds later, Mariela straightened as if nothing had happened.

“There, I’m better now. I just needed to stretch, sorry.”

“All right. Please return to your seat.”

The flight attendant walked away down the aisle. Mariela sank back into her seat and turned her head toward her son.

“Well? Did you finish?”

“Yes, Mom. You’re the best in the world,” he panted, still catching his breath. “Only thing is, I got your coat dirty.”

“It’s fine, it can be washed. —But when she lifted the fabric, she gasped.— My God, Tobías. So much. You look like a kid who’s been holding out for months.”

“It was your fault,” he said, smiling.

“Take advantage of the fact that it’s night and everything’s dark. Get some sleep, come on.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” Tobías replied, looking at her with an intent that made her sit up straight. “I want to return the favor.”

“To me? That’s not possible, son. What do you mean?”

“Did you never go to the movies in a skirt, Mom?”

Mariela’s mouth fell open, stunned by what he was implying.

“No, son, don’t even think about it. How can you do that to your mother?”

“It’s normal for you to be turned on. Are you?”

“Well, yes, I’m not made of stone,” she admitted in a whisper, “but this is crazy. I can’t let you touch me.”

“Let’s do something. Thirty seconds. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop and we’ll never speak of it again. Deal?”

“Oh, son, the things you ask me...” She looked again toward the dim aisle. “I don’t know.”

“Thirty seconds. Nobody will see us. There’s no one next to us, the ones behind are asleep, and the ones ahead have everything off.”

Mariela searched for a flaw in her son’s logic and found none. The darkness covered everything. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and against every voice in her head, gave in.

“Thirty seconds, my love. Not one more.”

***

Tobías slid into the space in front of his mother’s knees. He parted her legs carefully and disappeared beneath her skirt until she felt the first stroke of his tongue and had to bite her fist not to make a sound.

“With your hand, son, with your—oh, God,” she babbled, and the sentence broke apart into a stifled moan.

No one had touched her like that in years. The sensation took her by surprise, and she clung to the armrest while her son worked slowly, patiently, attentive to every shiver.

“That feels so good, my love,” she whispered, burying her fingers in Tobías’s hair. “It’s been so long.”

The thirty seconds passed and neither of them counted them. Tobías brought up a hand and started stroking her from inside, and Mariela bit her lips to the rhythm of the turbines, holding back everything she wanted to scream.

“I need... I need more,” she panted, already surrendered.

“Ma’am, don’t squirm so much or they’ll see you. And you won’t be lucky enough for it to be me who finds you.”

The voice froze her. Mariela’s eyes flew wide open: the flight attendant was standing by the row, watching them, the glass of water and the painkiller still in her hand.

“I... I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say,” Mariela stammered, covering her mouth, while Tobías remained motionless beneath her skirt, paralyzed with shame.

“I brought you your pill, but I see you found a better way to pass the time,” the flight attendant said, without a trace of reproach. She looked more amused than anything. “Don’t worry. Be grateful it was me. It’s a lot of hours in the air, and with such a handsome companion, anyone would understand.”

“Actually,” Mariela said, lowering her gaze, “he’s my son.”

The flight attendant raised her eyebrows, and for a second the silence was absolute.

“Well. I thought it was a temporary arrangement.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice until it became a secret. “Are you asking me to keep it quiet?”

“How much do you want?” Mariela asked, tense.

“I don’t want money. I want to watch. I never thought something like this could really happen, and I’m not going to miss it.”

Mariela looked at her son, still crouched at her feet, and then at the woman in uniform watching them with shining eyes. Something inside her broke, some last boundary, and what remained was pure desire.

“All right,” she said softly. “If that’s what you want, watch.”

“Keep doing what you were doing to your mom,” the flight attendant ordered, and leaned against the seatback, not missing a detail.

Tobías sank under the skirt again, and Mariela let her head fall back, biting the back of her hand to smother her moans.

“Do you like how your son does it?” the flight attendant asked, almost purring.

“I love it,” she confessed, trembling.

“Take it to the bathroom in the back,” the flight attendant said then. “I’ll watch the door. You’ll get caught here, and not everyone will be as understanding as I am.”

The three of them stood in silence and walked to the narrow lavatory at the end of the cabin. The flight attendant opened the folding door, let them in, and stayed on guard outside.

“When you’re almost done,” she told them in a low voice, “knock on the door. I want to see the ending. But hurry, the space is tiny.”

***

The cubicle barely had room for two. Mariela leaned against the small sink, facing the fogged-up mirror, and lifted her skirt without needing to be asked. Beneath it appeared red lace that she had chosen that morning without knowing why.

“Pretty clothes, Mom,” Tobías murmured behind her. “Leave them on.”

“Whatever you want, my love,” she replied, looking him in the eyes through the reflection.

He held her by the hips, pressed against her body, and Mariela closed her eyes at the firm weight of her son against her. The mirror returned a forbidden image neither of them dared to look at for too long.

“Slowly,” she asked, and then, when he pulled her fully close, she smothered a moan against her own forearm. “Like that, my love. Slowly.”

The plane’s engine covered the sounds. Mariela moved against him, alert to the noise of the aisle, while Tobías wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck.

“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, Mom,” he panted.

“Shut up and enjoy your mother,” she answered, her voice broken with pleasure.

When she felt he was close, Mariela stretched out one arm and knocked on the folding door. The flight attendant slipped inside instantly, squeezing into the little space left, breathing hard, eyes blazing.

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” she whispered, leaning against the wall. “Keep going, don’t stop on my account.”

“Do you like watching?” Mariela asked between gasps.

“Very much,” said the flight attendant, not taking her eyes off them. “Finish, come on. I want to see it.”

“Not inside,” Mariela managed to say. “Please, not today.”

“I’ve got a pill in my bag, I’ll give it to you,” the flight attendant promised, her voice husky. “But let me see it. Just that.”

Mariela closed her eyes, surrendered, and nodded.

“All right, my love,” she told her son. “Do it.”

Tobías pulled her against him one last time and finished with a muffled groan that was lost in the turbines’ hum. Mariela felt the heat run through her and bit her lip hard enough to hurt herself, while the flight attendant, kneeling in the corner, watched without blinking, lips parted.

“Beautiful,” murmured the woman in uniform. “Simply beautiful.”

***

A few minutes later, the three of them came out of the bathroom with the naturalness of people returning from washing their hands. Mariela and Tobías went back to their seats. The flight attendant returned to her post and, after a while, leaned once more over Mariela’s ear.

“Ma’am, guess what?” she said, with a mischievous smile.

“What is it?” Mariela asked, alarmed.

“I looked in my bag,” whispered the flight attendant, stifling a laugh, “and I couldn’t find the pill.”

Mariela stared into the darkness of the window. There were still many hours left before landing, and for the first time during the whole trip, it didn’t seem too many.