Thirty thousand feet and she's already unbuttoned the blouse, letting those heavy curves spill forward while the cabin hum vibrates through the seat beneath her.

You glance left, glance right — every other passenger eyes-forward, headphones in, oblivious — and she tilts her head toward the narrow door at the back, one finger tracing the armrest between you.

The lock clicks behind you both, the turbulence hits right on cue, and suddenly the altitude feels like the least dizzying thing happening inside this tiny, shuddering room.