I was on a pan am jumbo jet. I don’t remember how old I was, but it wasn’t much older than twelve. I was fully grown by the time I was about eleven, so people often mistook me for an older young man.

The stewardess and I drank tea and played hearts in the back of the plane. She asked "Have you seen the lounge?" I admitted I had never seen the lounge before.

We climbed the spiral staircase and smoked a cigarette in the leather padded upper bar of the airplane. She stroked my thigh and asked me if I had any idea how beautiful I was. I stared at her, slack lipped, and numb. She kissed me deeply and then pulled away laughing self consciously. Then she came in to kiss me again. My hands were already up in her uniform, and we made love in the upper lavatory. She whispered "Don’t hold back" and it ruined me for many years. I never got those words out of my mind. Was I holding back? What was I supposed to be doing? Who was this woman? What did she want from me? But I assure you I wasn’t thinking any of those things for very long at the time. They returned later, with other people.

I never made it on another airplane, or with another flight attendant, but in this way, by contrast to what we consider this sort of things by today’s standards, I miss the past and her open heart, her open arms, her pleasures, and her abandon.