decompression

“Do you think women are still portrayed by the media as sex objects?”

The Boeing 767 taxied out onto the ramp and began to lumber its way to the runway for take-off. Jayne Madigan stretched out in the seat of the first class section of TransAtlantic Airlines flight 7620 from Heathrow to JFK. This was much better than the economy seating she had had on the flight from Munich to London. On that previous flight she had almost been unable to sandwich herself between the seats. As the aircraft increased speed towards its lift off, she thought back over the events of the past two weeks.

It’s late afternoon by the time I arrive at the empty stadium. I notice that you’re already there, waiting for me. You’re looking smug, as though you already know the outcome of our little competition. I absent-mindedly finger my navel. I know that if I lose, that wonderfully familiar hose will be pushed into it. I remember well the sensation of my belly swelling as you pump it full of air. This time, it won’t be as easy...

“Hello! Sorry I’m late,” I apologize to you. “I had to get a few things ready, so that I could meet your challenge.”