I give an old friend a ride to the airport. Things get interesting. Nonlinear series.
| I pull into Bobbi's neighborhood right on time and wait for a phone call. I avoid driving all the way up to her house yet, just in case her mom is anywhere on the premises. That's a long story that I won't get into, but I'll just say I'm not welcome.
My phone rings, it's her. "Hey, are you close? I'm not there yet. I'm an idiot." She says, before I say anything.
"Yeah, I'm just down the street. Take your time. I'm here but I'm in no hurry. It's your flight."
"Well, don't be. I've got music. I'll just creep around your neighborhood. There's gotta be some interesting houses or something, I haven't been in here in years. I'll be fine." I say, and hang up the phone.
Her mom's neighborhood isn't a gated community, but the residents sure act like it is. I'm parked by a fence so I'm not in anyone's way. The place is well-kept, grass is green, landscaping is done well. The road through the neighborhood curves around and there are a few circular streets so that every few houses there's a nice little parkway to make them feel special.
Everyone driving in glares like it's obvious I don't belong there. If those driving stared any harder, they'd probably run into me. The only people who don't give a shit are the Mexican guys who drive in to mow someone's lawn. No wonder the lawns look so good. It's that kind of place.
Just as I'm thinking of driving around somewhere more comfortable, like somewhere outside of her neighborhood, my phone rings again.
"Ok, I'm sorry, I'm almost there. I'll be ready when I get there. Thank you so much." She says, and it's one long word.
"Sounds good," I say, casually, "I'll be there soon. Ducking. With sunglasses on." I say the latter because it's true, but also because I'm hoping she'll find it humorous and calm down a bit. It works, she giggles.
"Sorry my mom is insane. I'm almost there." She hangs up the phone.
I've known Bobbi for years. Before she moved out of town we had an interesting relationship. I was somewhere between the older brother she wished she had and rampant fuck buddy when she wasn't seeing anyone else. It was those "anyone else" fellows who helped in her decision to move away. She was always attracted to boys who ended up being, at the very least, bad influences.
Now I only see her on the rare occasion she's in town, usually around the holidays. We get lunch and reminisce. We make each other excruciatingly, awkwardly horny. This week has been no exception.
We went to lunch the day after she came into town, at one of her favorite places, a little hipster restaurant with a varied menu. We talked about life and school and work and all the other basics of catching up. She's not dating anyone and neither am I. She recently kicked her roommate out because his cat was tearing up her stuff and he never paid rent anyway. I gave her a ride home, during which she told me her plans for the night, which included meeting up with the only other person she has to see when she's in town, a friend I've only met once or twice by the name of Christina.
"You should come out," she told me, "We'll probably get drunk and make out a lot. You wouldn't want to miss that, would you?"
"No, no I would not. But it would drive me absolutely crazy if that's all you did. And I know that's all you would do, just so you could watch me suffer." I said. She just laughed as she got out of my car. I didn't end up going with them. Just the thought of her teasing me like that spiked my sexual tension through the roof; I didn't think I should be in public.
Revenge in mind, I got out of the car. "Hey, I forgot to get a hug. Who knows if I'll see you again before you leave." I ran up her driveway and met her in the front door. Her mother was out of town. Texas, I think, or somewhere equally horrible. We embraced, and I savored the feeling of her lithe form under my hands. As I started to pull away, I dipped my hands down to her waist and dug my nails into her hips as I brushed my lips across her collar bone. Her sharp intake of breath let me know that my plan worked. Even if the feeling of her skin on my lips served to rile myself up even more, at least I took her with me.
She talked me into giving her a ride to the airport today. It wasn't hard; in fact I might have offered out of some mixture of self-torture and a genuine desire to see her again. So here I am, the memory of a few days ago fresh in the grin on my face. I pull up a little closer to her house, across the street and down a ways, just in case. Her mom, who hates me for some reason I've still never been very clear about, has come back from her trip. I don't know if the grouch is home.
I see a car drive up and Bobbi jumps out of it, reaching the front door before the car door closes. The car drives away and she runs out of the house with her suitcase. I see her turn back at the door to yell some goodbye at her mother and then she's dashing down the driveway. She's wearing a blue and white polka-dot shirt with a small jean skirt. She looks good, if a little like she slept in her clothes and just woke up, which she probably did.
I drive around the little oval-shaped median in front of the house and pull up to her driveway at her gesture. She all but throws her bag into my trunk and dives into the car.
"Well, that was dramatic," I say as I drive away. "We aren't in that much of a hurry, are we?"
"Oh shit," she says, "I don't know. I left my phone so I had to go back and get it. My ride was pissed, so I'm anxious. And I want to get out of that house, you know how she is."
I nod my assent. Then I burst out laughing.
"I never thought I would be almost thirty and still terrified of someone's mother." I say. She laughs harder than I do.
We talk about nothing for a while, catch up on the few days since I saw her last. As usual, it was an adventure of drinking, snowboarding and partying.
"I don't want to leave, but I have to. It's so easily get in trouble here. Plus I have school and a real job now!" She says. She puts her hand on my leg and squeezes, "you should be proud of me! I'm kind of like a real adult." I give her the guffaw she's looking for.
"Hey, thanks for taking me to the airport. Like, what do you want for gas money?" she says.
"Oh, please. I'm doing this cause you're a friend, I don't want anything for it. Don't mention it."
"Dammit, I knew you would say that. Fine. Thanks." She says. "Oh look, you're right, we're actually here early. Hey! Pull over. Pull into that 45 minute waiting area. We've got time and I don't want to hang out in the airport by myself. Boring."
We've got an airport that was recently moved further out of town, and there is absolutely nothing but land around it. I should say they built a new one and tore the old one down, though it would be really interesting if someone could move an airport. The 45 minute waiting area is really a huge parking lot with restroom buildings at either end. The first parking spot I see is nestled between two big trucks. She hops out of the car and says, "ok, I'll be right back, don't leave me here!"
She runs off in the direction of the restroom. I fiddle with the music a little, but I don't know what to listen to, so I end up putting it back on shuffle. Soon she returns, looking much less like she just woke up and with more of a bounce in her step.
"Much better. I needed to wash my face. Why didn't you tell me my hair was everywhere?" she says.
"Oh, I thought that was the look you were going for. An Amy Winehouse sort of thing." I say, earning myself a glare. "Ass." She calls me, "Anyway, show me your dick."
She laughs at the shock on my face. "What, it's been years. I miss it." She closes the door and grabs for my zipper. I start to protest, but it's half-hearted. Less than half-hearted, come to think of it. She unzips my pants and I'm exposed. Just as abruptly, she leans over and takes it into her mouth.
"What, hey! Not that I'm complaining, but you know I didn't expect this, either!" I say, after a moan. I had dreamt of being with her again, but I never thought it would happen, especially not in an airport parking lot before she leaves town for months.
"Shut up, you better not be suggesting this is payment, fucker. Just like you, I'd do this anyway. We've been teasing for too long. Now shut up and enjoy it, I don't have much time."
I try to say, "No, no, not at all." But I'm not exactly sure what comes out. Somewhere between words and a moan, I stop trying to speak coherently. I tilt my seat back and lean in to the center console. I reach over, running my fingers down her back to cup a butt cheek in my hand and squeeze. She's wearing nothing but a tiny thong under the skirt. I rake my finger nails up her thigh, eliciting a moan of the pleasure of pain. Pulling aside her thong, I rest my middle finger along the length of her crevice and massage slow circles with three fingers. I can tell she's been planning this, she's already wet and her juices coat my fingers instantly.
I continue to massage slowly, increasing pressure and speed randomly. She starts to arch her back, pushing against my hand. Her tempo increases and she massages the base of my shaft, tracing her nails up under my shirt.
"I said hurry, dammit." She breathes. Before she's finished saying it, I plunge two long fingers inside her so her sentence ends with a gasp. I push into her as far as they will go before pulling them out and stimulating her clit. I reach around with my other hand and draw my fingernails up her back from the top of her skirt. My fingers dip back into her and I repeat. Her hips start to rock with my thrusts and she slides her mouth all the way down my shaft ,giving her tongue a workout.
She starts to rock back harder onto my fingers and I know she's close. I pick up the pace and push my fingers in as far as they'll go, straightening them at the end for extra pressure. She moans into my stomach and I feel her tighten on my fingers. She comes hard, muscles pulsating on my fingers, as though she's trying to pull them in. Through her orgasm, she's still moving her hand rapidly on my cock.
As soon as she can talk, she says, "does this still work, I wonder?" She takes it all the way in with one swift motion and I moan, on the verge. She stays just like that for a few moments, sucking and rubbing with her tongue. After a second, she bites the base of my cock, not hard.
I thrust my hips forward and throw my head back against the head rest as the sexual tension of the past few days spews forth as she all but sucks the life out of me. "It has been awhile, huh?" She says, once I stop twitching.
I pull away from the airport after dropping her off thinking that was the best start to my day I've had in years. The grin has turned into a goofy smile that spreads all the way across my face. I start humming along to the music.
I shouldn't be surprised when my phone rings again, but I am. It's Bobbi. "Hey, I just found out my flight was delayed, turn the fuck around and get your ass back here, now."
"What? Why, what happened?" I say. Waiting for the response, I switch lanes into the one that says "return to airport."
"I don't know how, but we're going to find somewhere in this airport where you can fuck me." She says, "I'm still horny as hell. Find a place to park and call me when you're inside."
I don't generally do as I'm ordered, but I make an exception. I drop the phone in my lap and drop my foot on the gas. After a few seconds of acceleration I come to my senses; cops love airports. So many people who took too long to get ready speed through the twists and turns that airport roads always seem to have, and pay for it. I have no flight to catch, per se, but what I have planned could easily be ruined by a speeding ticket. I slow down to a good, safe speed about ten over and try not to let my desire make my foot too heavy.
I all but run through the entrance, thinking that it might be hard to find her, since I don't know which airline she's flying. It seems luck is on my side and I needn't have worried. Bobbi tries to tackle me as I make it through the second set of doors into the terminal.
"I told you to call me, but coming through the right entrance works, too. I have no idea where to go." She says. She grabs my hand and starts bouncing down the hallway, away from the trains and check-ins and security. "I saw a janitor around here somewhere. You always hear about people doing it in janitor's closets, right? Let's see if that really works."
Sure enough, we turn one more corner, and there's a guy walking away from us with a bucket of water and a mop. He turns as we almost run him over and I see his badge, hanging from a retractable cord, says his name is Kurt.
"If that's all he has to do," I say, as quietly as I can, "he won't be gone long. Unless he's already finished and is now returning the mop, there won't be time. Let's follow him." Soon, he pulls out a key and opens a non-descript door in the wall. We duck into a newsstand and pretend to look at merchandise plastered with local landmarks. The old Russian-looking lady behind the counter eyes us suspiciously, but immediately goes back to reading her romance novel.
Kurt pushes the bucket into the room, which I can see is not nearly as cramped as I had imagined, and follows it in. It's more small warehouse than closet. We hear water running from somewhere inside before the door shuts with a click.
"Try it, if it's unlocked the water will mask the sound." I say. Bobbi dashes over and tries to push the door open, but it doesn't budge.
"Fuck," she says as she almost pounds on the door. Luckily, she thinks better of it. She stalks back over to me and says, "alright, now what?"
"I have no idea. This whole thing was your idea in the first place. Wait, here he comes." I say. We resume idly browsing. He looks tired, but friendly. Through the static of his radio I hear "wet cleanup: ladies room terminal C. Kurt, I think that's you, no one's over there right now."
"Of all the damn time-copy, I'm on my way." He says, clicking his radio off and vanishing back into the room, grumbling to himself. As the door starts to swing closed again and I hear the water come on behind it, I dash for it, trying my best to channel the stealth of an ancient ninja. I try not to think about the likelihood of security watching me via some camera I've yet to notice.
I make it to the door before it shuts completely. As I vanish into the room, I look back at Bobbi, who is definitely not doing a very good job pretending to look normal. Her death grip on the magazine she's holding as she stares at a point somewhere beyond and above me probably means she's going to have to buy it before the angry Russian lady will let her out of the store.
The room, as I'd hoped, is filled with shelving and miscellaneous equipment spread randomly, some of which looks like it hasn't been touched since the first Die Hard movie came out. As the water shuts off, I try my best to stop breathing from my place behind a wheeled dumpster. Luckily, it doesn't smell at all like trash, just old dust. Kurt wheels his bucket backwards out the door and doesn't even glance in my direction. The door shuts again with a click, and I count the next twenty pounds of my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest before I even think about moving.
I creep over to the door and listen for a second or ten at the seam. I don't hear anything, so I reach out to touch the handle just enough that the latch releases. Bobbi almost throws the door off its hinges and yanks it back into place. I catch the slamming door and latch it slowly, taking one last look outside, hoping to see nothing, which is exactly what I see.
"What the fuck took you so long," she says, "he's been gone forever. Take off your fucking pants!" She looks around the room briefly and makes her way toward the same corner where I hid. She throws the crinkled magazine somewhere behind her.
Again, though I'm not used to doing so, I comply with the order. My pants hit the floor unceremoniously as she drags me back to the corner. I fight to escape her clutches long enough to grab my pants and bring them with us, earning me a scowl and a low growl.
"I thought I was going to have to sit through that whole fucking flight dripping through my skirt. Not to mention months in Maine. You. Inside me. Now!" she rants through the rustle of her own clothes flying off. Not for the first time today, or even the past twenty minutes, she jumps on me. Her thighs slap down on my hips as she lands, wrapping her legs around me. Intense heat emanates between them.
My cock, rising slowly and steadily since the order was given to remove my pants, reacts strongly to that primal heat, making the final spring to life to slap against her entrance and nestle itself there. She gasps as I reach my hand up through her hair to get a firm grip and yank her head back. I reach around her back as she writhes against my loins and hold her tightly against me.
Her head held fast, I lean forward to run my tongue down the side of her neck, nibbling from ear to throat. A low, strained moan escapes her lips and she struggles to push herself down onto me. I don't let her move. My grip on her hair tightens as I pull her head back even further, running my teeth along her collar bone. The head of my penis slides back between her lips until I can feel the entire length of her labia. I hoist her up against my belly, feeling the heat of lust pulse against me. Another low growl escapes her throat as the movement slides her up off my cock.
I let a chuckle out as I take her left breast into my mouth, swirling my tongue around her nipple. Her legs lose their grip as she wiggles. Slowly I allow her body to slide back down, tracing my tongue up from her nipple to her mouth. I kiss her hard as with one smooth motion I thrust all the way inside her. She screams into my mouth as her body shudders against mine.
"I forgot how easy that was," I say, chuckling again. I hold her in place, flexing my hips forward in time with her shudders.
"Shut. The fuck. Up." She says, between gasps. "It's been a long time."
She links her fingers behind my head. She pulls herself up to get a better grip with her legs, rocking back and forth, grinding herself further onto me. I move my hands down to support her buttocks, holding her up when she pulls herself up, and letting her drop back down onto me, her thighs slapping against my hips.
I walk her over to an empty shelf, treading clothes haphazardly strewn. I grab her wrists from around my neck and push her back into the shelf, about chest height. I slide my fingers down her ribs and under her legs. I hoist her up and dive in like I'm starving. I am, in a sense, it has been a long time. Far from long, my tongue has had to develop its own style. I put it to work. She gyrates into my mouth as her hands struggle to find purchase on the shelf beside her. I alternate flicking my tongue randomly on her clit and sucking skin into my mouth. Her heels dig into my back as she pulls herself into my face.
"Hands." I say. She gives me her hands. I pick her up off the shelf and lower her onto the next shelf down, grinding my teeth into the top of her vagina. She untangles her legs from behind my head, my hands slide down to her waist, and I start a frenzy of thrusting into her. She's holding on to the shelf above her, pushing against me with every thrust, moaning loudly. The clatter of some piece of equipment falling off the shelf brings me back to reality. I have no idea how much time has passed.
"Oh yeah, we're at the airport. How much time do you have?" I say.
"Oh, shit, my plane! Keep going!" She yells at me. Her grip tightens and she pulls herself backward, shouldering a box of bags and a bag of paper towels out of her way. She leans back, reversing her grip on the back end of the shelf she's on.
"Fuck me, now." she says, and for the third time, I comply with a direct order. I grab her hips and pull myself all the way into her. She grabs my shirt from the shelf next to her and bites down on it. The buildup of sexual tension over the past few days has reached a crescendo. She starts a series of small shudders. I pull all the way out, taking her off guard, and thrust hard all the way in three or four times in quick succession, earning a small, stifled scream from each thrust. With each thrust, I dig my fingernails into her so that little pools of blood coat my fingertips. Bobbi orgasms, pulsing against me. Her canal tightens, ripping my orgasm from me. The line blurs between my flesh and hers and all that remains is the shared sensation of orgasm, emanating from deep within our shared reality. I lean forward, resting my head on the next shelf above as her heels continue to drum her aftershocks on my buttocks. Neither of us move except for aftershock twitches and panting.
"Well, that was quite a show!" says a devil with a woman's voice, behind me. I stumble back over the clothes strewn on the floor behind me and barely catch myself on the unused trash bin. Bobbi sits up so quickly she nearly bangs her head on the shelf above her.
Another devil, this one a man, says, "I sure wish my wife was that athletic."
Kurt is standing just on the inside of the door with a stern looking woman and a younger man behind him. The men each have a silly grin that would be comical if I wasn't so terrified. The woman is wearing a sly smile that is my fear. She looks like someone who might love to dish out punishment, and not of any good variety. She turns from us to shoot a frosty glare at Kurt.
"Oh, what the hell, I wish my husband was that athletic. Now, we've all got work to do." She says, and my relief is palpable. "Let them dress with some privacy and get them out of here." She winks as she turns to leave.
"You're lucky she's as much of a voyeur as I am, or we'd all be in trouble." Kurt says. The younger man nods enthusiastically and tries in vain to peel his eyes off Bobbi. She stares right back at him until he turns bright red and shakes himself out of his trance. He spins to look at the wall, as though watching us fuck was completely natural, but Bobbi standing naked in front of him is cause for embarrassment. He clears his throat a few times and says, "sorry, um, I'm sorry. You can dress now. Um, I'll show you the way out, uh. You said you have a flight to catch? I can, uh, give you a ride if you need one. Sorry."
Bobbi laughs, and it's infectious. All four of us laugh and the tension dissipates. We dress quickly and Bobbi and I don't exactly walk straight.
"I would love a ride, walking is a little difficult." She says. She runs over to me and headbutts my chest, throwing her arms around me. She squeezes hard and says, "I did miss you. See you next time!" And runs out the door to hop on the young janitor's cart and Kurt and I watch them drive down toward security. Kurt claps me on the back and disappears back into the room. I'm left standing alone in a hallway, wondering if what just happened really happened. I decide it did, and turn to leave the airport with a maniacal grin on my face and mentally cross two things off my bucket list.