NICOLE – LEAVING FOR CHICAGO

I don’t know what it is with me and airports and sex. Maybe it goes back to that shameful teenage stunt I pulled on what-was-his-name. I have a standard airport travel uniform: short pleated skirt and my high top Vans. If it is cold, like today, I would wear tights, or the thigh high socks I got on now. If it is warm, I go bare legged. I let my hair down and I wear dark glasses. Just in case. But on the long endless terminals to the gates, I am transformed and shamelessly attracting attention. Just like last night, I am not on the prowl, but I need the reassurance of the Kavorka, the lure of the animal.

I stride through the long route to the airport lounge, sign in and find a large sofa chair in the middle of the in- and out-going traffic. I sit down, my skirt slides up. I cross my legs; I show a lot of thigh. I have some coffee. I start to relax. I am flipping through magazines when I hear the first vibrating buzz of my cellphone. Alex. I read his messages. There are three. Um, I must have just picked up cell service. He makes me smile. I start typing back when another message buzzes. And another. I erase what I started typing. I read his messages again.

I know he is mine. My so very, very sexual man. And I want to keep him, and keep him wanting. There are specific occasions when he is this serious. I struggle momentarily, fighting hard to unlearn the jealousy. I can tell by his words the unprecedented level of his satiation, how he must have reveled in her seduction and her body. I wonder how hard he got and how many times by now he has entered her. My jealous, off-balanced arousal burns hot in me.

I look at the time. About half an hour before I need to get to the gate to board. Not enough time to use the shower and cum. I probably should not cum anyway, despite the screaming ache between my legs. I want him to smell me a mile away. I want her to know she is contending with the Kavorka. I laugh at myself and realize a couple of fellow travelers have sat down across from me. They smile at me as I laugh. I think, why not? I stare at them innocently while I uncross my legs slowly, flirtatiously rocking my thighs together, and apart. The two of them are awkwardly trying to figure out if they should initiate and exchange small talk. I bend down, at my ankles, to adjust and straighten my socks. I am making my ache hurt deeper. I get up and adjust my socks at my thighs, giving the two amateurs a fleeting glimpse. Then grabbing my luggage, I leave the lounge. I need to get to Alex. I need his cock inside me.