21 Jul 2017
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15 minute read
“Fuck, I hate these places!” he thought, as he entered the Eastern European airport on route home, after his current work rotation as an operative for an international security corporation. The combined Arrivals and Departures hall was literally crawling with passengers and the noise was deafening; the heat stifling; and, the announcements in a foreign language irritating. His flight was in ninety minutes time and after his VIP check-in - a perk - offered by the company in consolation of a sixty hour journey home, meant he would have time to catch a quick bite to eat. Although there would be a meal offered on the plane, by the time he landed, the hotel where he would catch some shut-eye before the last connecting flight, would not be serving anything then, so he had learnt to eat when he could.
The restaurant was crowded, but he managed to find a free table and he borrowed a chair from close by. Once he had ordered, he checked the time on his boarding pass and settled to study the report he was to submit to Head Office on his return. He wanted this document off his hands as soon as possible, so that he could enjoy his time at home, before returning for the next assignment; wherever that would be. His coffee arrived and taking his first sip, his glanced wandered through the other patrons and as the hot, dark and sticky liquid hit his lips ............... he saw her.
“There is no way she is from here!” he thought to himself. If anything, probably British or American; what with that complexion and hair. His eyes traveled leisurely from her head to toes. Taking in the golden flecks in the long, layered hair held in place by designer sunglasses; a face lightly made up, not excessive, yet clearly done with expertise based on his limited knowledge; a white, he guessed linen-type material sundress thing, which was long and flowing and, by the abundance of material lying on the floor next the chair, it was obviously full length. Not wanting to be caught staring, he checked his notes for an appropriate amount of time. Looking back towards where she sat, he started at the floor this time and noticed the strappy high-heeled sandals, covering what were VERY likely, pedicured feet; long legs, beneath the dress reaching up to a wide-banded belt that was apparent from the gap between the table and chair. She sat reading a magazine and drinking what looked to be some kind of juice, oblivious to the bustle around her or his intrigued attention.
“Excuse me, Sir, your food,” interrupted his gaze and he realized that he had now been staring. As expected, the food was not great but edible, especially as he was so dam hungry. Putting the last forkful into his mouth, he looked up. “Shit, she is beautiful,” he almost said aloud and at that moment, she shifted in her chair and the food literally caught in his throat in mid-swallow, as the material covering her legs slid to the floor from high on her thighs, revealing length, slim legs moving to cross over one another beneath the table. He must have coughed, because whatever the noise that he made was loud enough to make her glance his way; or, was it the noise made by the fork dropping down onto the plate?
“Those eyes!” was all that registered in his brain and his breathing started to shallow, as he discovered that she was looking directly back at him with clear interest. I must look like a complete asshole, staring at her. Thinking this, he could still not help the feeling that was starting to well-up and then, she smiled - a full, blatantly inviting smile! “Shit, I am going to embarrass myself big time here if I keep looking and she keeps smiling,” he thought at his jeans started becoming increasingly uncomfortable and his palms started to sweat. “Has it been that long that just a great view and stunning smile from a pretty girl is enough to excite me? I really need some serious leg-over!”
Breaking the gaze first, he looked away gratefully at the bill he had just been handed, by the waiter. It gave him some much-needed time to collect his thoughts, adjust his breathing and literally relax in his pants. As the waiter retreated with the overgenerous tip, he looked up and caught a fleeting glimpse of white, as she walked away, trailing her hand luggage behind. There was an unaccustomed wrench in his gut as that gorgeous, veiled arse moved away and was soon blocked from his sight. He felt the urge to get up and run after her, but at the same instant thought that he had better get a grip. A flight announcement broke the spell and hearing it was his flight that had been called to board, he collected his papers and stuffing them into his carryall, rose from his seat and started to make his way to the final security checkpoint.
Following the stewardess, he finds his Business Class seat and is relieved to eventually be able to sit down. “What possessed him to pursue a career, where he spent a good deal of his time living out of a suitcase and sitting on a godforsaken plane?” At least it was premier standard and there was ample space for his long legs and the reclining seat was bound to be comfortable enough for him to get some shuteye during the flight. Settling back, he suddenly could not help wondering; thinking, what had happened to her and where she could possibly be going. Like a knee-jerk reflex action, the smell of aromatic cinnamon and spice, synapses in his brain before he can even think to look up; literally smelling, before seeing ............ SHE is walking down the aisle towards him, checking her ticket to find her seat.
Almost upon him, she glances up and their eyes meet. “Shit a brick,” is all that comes to his mind, as a hint of recognition crosses her face and again, she smiles at him. He almost wants to sit up and look behind him, like a foolish teenager, just to make sure it is him, who she is bestowing that amazing favour upon. He sheepishly returns the silent greeting and she glides past, stopping behind him, having located where it is she is designated to sit. Without needing to look, he senses her every movement, as she stows her luggage and relinquishes herself to the comfort of her seat. His senses are on fire, hearing and smell - straining for more. “Fuck, what the hell is wrong with me?” he wonders, as an announcement over the intercom declares that they are almost ready for takeoff.
Never before had he been so grateful for alcohol on a flight and out of character, ordered a double. It did not even touch sides, nor did it help much, as he has not felt so sexually aware and switched on, in ages. It was going to be a very long flight, knowing she was sitting behind him the whole way. He could smell her; hear her movements; and, just imagine how she looked (those legs under that white material!) relaxed and oblivious to his aroused turmoil. All he wanted to do was to get up, turn around and ask her, her name.......... and shit yes, “Do you want to fuck?” He urgently needed another drink and to control himself, or else he was going to never make it through the next couple of hours, without doing something really, idiotic.
The movies available were uninteresting; the food served later, unappetizing and not even another drink managed to make any difference to the fact that all he could think about was Her. The word Frustration was taking on a whole new meaning and he thinks that his only option is to try and get some sleep (not because he is tired, but just to make the time go quicker.) He pushes the button to call the flight attendant for his pillow and blanket. She arrives and hands him hopefully, the items that will allow him to blank his mind numb - the urge in his jeans more like it - and, he thanks her. Busy arranging himself and getting ready to try and sleep, he suddenly feels her get up out of her seat, knocking his from the back. He jerks deeper into his seat in fright, when her head suddenly appears from above him, as she leans from around and over his seat, her hair falling around them. She is so close that her whisper sounds like thunder in his ears, “Are you really going to sleep now?”
Her eyes were the lightest blue-green and the lashes pitch black - cats eyes; her mouth was like a sun-ripe apricot and her skin, like blushed mother of pearl. Shit, had he ever looked at a woman like this before? The moment seemed to last an eternity, before he managed to answer, “Yes, I am going to try.” Her eyes almost seemed to darken and a red-hot poker pierced his thigh, as her hand grabbed his leg. “I am sure we could find a way to make that easier. Come with me!” Straightening, she turned and slowly started to walk away up the aisle to where the bathroom was, not bothering to look behind to see if he was following. She knew dam well he was coming. Casting aside the blanket and pillow, not caring that they fell to the floor, he gets up and walks after her, towards the single-most impulsive thing he has ever done in his life...........
His stride was evidently much bigger and more agitated than hers, as he almost bumps into her, getting to the hinged door at the same time. She reaches to open it and turns back towards him, glancing over his shoulder past him; almost as if checking to see that they have not been observed. It dawns on him then that anybody in their right mind would know exactly what is about to happen. “Am I completely out of my mind?” he thinks, as she moves her gaze and looks him straight in the eye, daring him to follow now or to turn and leave. He is not sure if he is meant to say anything in response and he feels her other hand, take his and pull him inside behind her. Subconsciously, he closes the door.
The bathroom is generous and he instinctively takes in the layout, as she turns and reaches up with both arms, to put her hands on his shoulders. He stands his ground feeling completely out of his depth with a growing need that is threatening to embarrass him to no end. Her feline stare is intoxicating, as it wills him to reach for her belted waist, bringing them into even closer proximity. Her spicy scent envelopes him and his senses reel, as she opens her mouth to utter huskily, “I really need this now, before I get home.” With that said, she steps into him and ever so gently reaches up to kiss him. The feel of her breath on his lips, as they touch his, is the last proverbial straw and he lets go with every fiber of his being that has been held taut from that first instant he saw her.
The kiss is deep. Two complete strangers trying to learn about the other, as quickly as possible. Tongues questioning and exploring, while her hands move up from his shoulders to stroke his face with one, like a blind person who reads facial features and the other, its fingers curling into the hair in the nape of his neck, so that he can feel her nails scraping his skin. The intensity is such that his hands grip at the flesh in her waist, imparting his desire; his stance changing to feel her breasts against his chest, as his one knee nudges her legs further apart. He can feel her desire mounting in the movement of her hands and the increasing pressure of her mouth on his. Suddenly, she breaks free and pulling away she leans back, her fingers flying to his shirt buttons, nimbly opening the length of his shirt baring his chest so that she can touch him. Splayed over his skin, her hands smooth their way traversing his pecs and abdominal muscles, now achingly contracted, down to where she loosens his belt and unzips his fly.
Her brazenness astounds him, but it is such an aphrodisiac that he is spurred on to reach and undo the buttons down the front of her dress and quickly exposes a crisp, white lace push-up bra that presents her breasts to him, as the dress slips off her shoulder to hang from the belt at her waist. He dips his head inadvertently, forcing her back against the basin that he can lay his lips on the burgeoning crests. Her sharp intake of breath, as his mouth touches her skin, is like fuel to his already burning groin - he is on fire! No longer worrying about his actions now, his hands go behind her back and undo the bra, that he can pull the shoulder straps down and give his mouth free reign of the coral nipples, now perked with passion. Both hands in his hair guide his mouth over her breasts, allowing each to be licked and sucked in turn. The intimacy of the gesture leaves him breathless.
He feels her hands in the front of his jeans as she seeks him out. “If she touches me now, I am gone,” he thinks and steels himself for that first caress. Her hands are eager, almost rough, in her need to hold him and he comes out hard, long and throbbing. Almost as if it is more than she can handle, she pulls his hair with one free hand, bringing his head up and looks straight into his eyes, “I want to see your face the whole time,” and she turns in his arms to recapture his flabbergasted stare in the mirror. Realization washes over him, as she lifts the material of her dress up to her waist, draping the waves over bent arms; her hands position themselves on the counter top and and she steps back opening the gap between her long legs. He tears his eyes away from hers and glances down between them, to see a matching white, lacy G-string disappearing between her firm cheeks. "Fuck!"
“Please,” breaks the silence after his outburst and he looks up into a hauntingly beautiful face that reflected back at him, eyes now speaking volumes of need, desire and raw passion – “Is that sadness?” He cannot take it anymore and with matched feelings, he uses one hand to move aside the scanty piece of delicate cloth and with the other, takes himself to where she is now warm, wet and literally dripping. Her back stiffens, as he leans against her and locking her stare, he slides slowly into her. The change is her face is something that will stay imprinted in his mind until he takes his last breath - her eyes mist; her mouth opens slightly; and, the tip of her tongue appears - he is not sure if she actually smiles. He fills her, pushing up into her with a smooth motion, stopping when they are completely joined. “Yes,” is all he hears and he permits himself to only now, lose it completely. All the suppressed frustration, longing and lust from the last couple of hours, flood his body and he rams into her with repeated thrusts. Their eyes hold each other; arms braced on either side, elbow to elbow, so that the only contact is him inside her and his chest on her back.
It is soon that he sees her building climax in her shadowing eyes and as they unwilling close, her body shudders and a lone moan escapes her lips. He cannot resist to take one arm to encircle her, offering comfort as she cums - in waves of passion that constrict him tighter inside. As her eyes open, a single tear leaves a trail down her cheek and with an unaccustomed feeling, he cums; he cums so emphatically, emptying inside her, in a series of jerks that leaves them both totally spent and out of breath. Still looking at her, he senses her withdrawal, as he slips out. Slowly, she turns to face him and once again reaches up to take his face in a hand, which he now notices, bears a wedding band - she smiles, as she lifts her mouth to softly deliver the lightest of kisses on his lips. Silently, they adjust their own clothing and she moves past him to open the door and leave. He allows a polite length of time to pass, before following her and he returns to his seat. He notices that she does not look up when he returns to sit down and seems now almost indifferent to his presence. Not sure if he just imagined what had happened, he settles with the pillow to sleep, not needing the blanket, because his body is still smouldering.
“Sir, we have landed,” wakes him and for a moment he is unsure of his surroundings. The flight attendant smiles down at him and hands him a note, “The lady behind you asked me to give this to you.” A single folded piece of paper. He opens it knowing she has already disembarked and with a feeling of departure looming, he reads...........
“It was a rare Pleasure. I hope you slept well. Thank You xx”