How low can you go?

That's kindof a funny question to ask in relation to the mile high club, but still, apparently how low my book The Mile High Club: Plane Sex Stories went yesterday with my Amazon Spike Day promotion thanks to the approximately 20 of you (there may be more, but that's who I heard from with free book requests) is 1,997. Not bad for a book that started the day in the 200,000 range!

THANK YOU to everyone who participated. It was one of my little cheap DIY book promotion experiments and I think I will do it again with my next book Bottoms Up: Spanking Good Erotica but in a more organized, less haphazard/last minute way. I hope those who ordered enjoy your books! Big thanks to Alison Tyler for throwing in her own free book offer. And if you ordered The Mile High Club on Amazon.com on March 23rd, you can still email me your receipt, but otherwise this promotion is over.

To say thanks, here's a snippet of my airplane cybersex erotica story "Urgent Message" from The Mile High Club. To read the whole thing, you'll have to check out the book!

Urgent Message
by Rachel Kramer Bussel

The fact that I have to travel a lot for my job as a fashion photographer has always been a sore spot with my boyfriend, Brandon. He works the day shift at a French restaurant, and in many ways is more of a homebody than I am. I like a fast-paced lifestyle, which is why I moved to New York in the first place, but even though he thrives on the energy at the restaurant, he’s happy to veg out in front of the TV or just explore the city. Still, we fell hard for each other and weren’t going to split up simply because sometimes I have to hop on a plane. The chemistry between us was strong right from the beginning, and hasn’t let up, so we’ve learned how to deal with my traveling with frequent phone calls and hours of hot sex when I return. We balance our nights out with ones cuddled in front of our fireplace (yes, we have one in our apartment), watching movies or having luxurious sex on our shag carpet.

When I have to go out of town, though, he practically sulks. Or at least he did until we devised a high-tech, ultramodern, yet perfectly dirty way of dealing with my absences. I had heard on the news that several airlines were now offering in-flight instant message and Internet services. What better way to keep in touch with my man than by sharing every X-rated thought I had, while on a plane filled with strangers?

Usually I try to fly first class, where I indulge in champagne and ice cream sundaes and generally pretend I’m on vacation, rather than heading off to work. But since I’d had to book a last-minute flight, I’d been stuck with the only seat left—a middle seat in coach. Oh well, how bad could it be? I thought.

If you’ve ever asked yourself that dangerously rhetorical question, you know the answer: very, very bad. I wound up stuck between a drooling older man and a fidgety teenager of indeterminate gender. Though I’d never cheat on Brandon, I’d at least have wished for some eye candy, a hunky man—or, hell, even a curvy, cleavage-baring woman—to keep the edges of my vision occupied. So I turned to what at first seemed like a last resort: I logged on to my computer. The teenager was listening to some very loud music and the old man was nodding off, often with his head collapsing onto my shoulder. As I waited for my laptop to load, I knew that at least I could get lost in the endless offerings of the Internet, which I often do even when I’m supposed to be retouching photos or replying to email. It offers endless distractions and can keep up with my ADD brain much better than even a juicy novel.

The prospect of going online was enough to make me forget about the cramped legroom—did I mention I’m five-eleven?—and lack of food service on a cross-country fight. I went on and immediately checked my email, then logged onto IM, hoping that even though this was a red-eye, one of my friends would be up. Well, one of them was-- very close, personal, sexy friend. There was Brandon, or rather, Randyboy69, as he so often was when he wasn’t at work. We’re an equal opportunity online addiction household.

Hey sexy, I typed, shifting in my seat as I pictured him wearing just a pair of gray cotton briefs as he watched the latest episode of “Entourage,” probably with a beer, or perhaps a joint, in hand.

You stuck at the airport? he wrote back.

No. I’m stuck in the hell that is coach. I’m high. In the sky, that is, I typed.

What do you mean?

What do I mean? I’m in the air. On my flight. They have wireless now, at least, while it lasts.

Fancy schmancy.

Not so much. But you can help me pass the time. Take out your cock. Show it to me.

I didn’t mean literally, even though he could have, via Skype. That vision might be a bit much to share with my seatmates, plus I wasn’t sure I could handle the prospect of Brandon’s powerful dick right in my face. But I wanted to picture it in all its hard, pounding, deliciousness, while he pictured me in my seat, getting nice and wet, just for him. If I’d been in my car, I’d have been tempted to ditch my shoot, turn around, drive home, and jump his bones.

You’re crazy, do you know that? And I’m not gonna show you my cock till you take your panties off. Get rid of them and shove them in the seat pocket in front of you. I dare you.

That was unfair. He knew I could never resist a dare, or an order, or even a mere naughty suggestion...

Read the rest of the story in The Mile High Club: Plane Sex Stories.