Flying In (closed for prettyserpentine)

[LassardLost]

Trent Simms had been on his phone for the last fifteen minutes.

[Yes. Close the Gentix deal. Thanks Maninder. Fantastic job on thi-] his text was interrupted.

“Excuse me, sir, if you don’t mind placing your phone into airplane mode for the take-off?”

Trent looked up to greet the source of the male voice, and smiled, returning to his phone immediately.

[Fantastic job on this quarter. I’ll see you in New York later this evening.]

Complying with the flight attendant’s request, he slipped it back in his pocket.

“You know, I never understood why people needed to be so attached to their phones.” A voice next to him came.

Trent looked at the woman sitting next to him, a bemused look on his face. What the hell was going on? He had travelled the airline in first class almost weekly for the past several months, and he had never once been bothered by a flight attendant about his phone, and he had certainly never had anyone comment on “excessive phone use”. This was rather delightful!

Trent smiled broadly at the middle aged woman, a well-kept brunette who had just enough wrinkles beside her eyes to tell of her motherhood. She wore a pearl necklace and a cream blouse, along with a respectable navy blue skirt. She held a book in he hand.

Trent could tell she was somewhat taken aback by him. Perhaps she wasn’t expecting a man who knew how to navigate a social situation because of his fifteen minute texting-tirade. He had to admit he did think people – himself included – looked a bit autistic with their faces buried in their screens. Trent would know, as his brother had Asperger’s.

“You know what, you’re absolutely right.” Trent switched off his phone and dropped back into his gray suit jacket inner pocket. He extended his right hand, “Trend Simms, pleasure to meet you.”

The middle aged woman smiled, and probably even blushed. She certainly wasn’t expecting a man she had just criticized to agree to her criticism. It also helped that Trent was a rather alluring male figure. At thirty eight, he carried himself with a kind of diminutive confidence – exuding a type of humility that was immediately attractive to people. Yet in addition to this, perhaps because of his physically strong build, or a glint in his eyes, or something else entirely more mysterious, Trent Simms quite naturally commanded respect.

The middle aged woman hesitantly placed her hand into Trent’s, which he shook with a perfectly balanced firmness, and it told the woman, you’re safe with me.

“I – I, I didn’t mean to-“

“Please,” Trent shook his head, kindly dismissing her apology, “don’t worry. I’ve always felt like the women around me keep me in check. I don’t know where I’d be without people like yourself – who speak their mind when they see something is off.”

The woman smiled from ear to ear, yet somehow still looked like she didn’t expect her own response, she nodded, tugged on her skirt (which showed no outward signs of needing to be fixed) and returned to her book, shuffling her legs in her spacious first class seat a bit as she did, blushing more than ever.

Trent was satisfied. With a small smirk on his subtly tanned face he turned back to face the front of the airplane. The woman next to him shifted her legs again, turning her back to Trent as she tried to read her book.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be pulling back from the gate shortly,” the pilot’s voice crackles through the intercom, “please watch our fantastic flight attendants as they guide you through the safety procedures associated with our craft this evening.”

This would probably be Trent’s last commercial flight. Medix Systems, his company, had done exceedingly well the last quarter, and his next flight would likely be on his own jet, which was in the works. It wasn’t that he felt he needed the private jet per se, but his board had advised him so to keep up the image of the company. Trent had thought the idea unusual, but the board had more experience in the field than he had by at least 150 years combined, and Trent had no problem taking their advice on this one.

Trent leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes. He wouldn’t be sleeping much once he got back to New York.

 

[prettyserpentine]

Kristine Betts smoothed down her flight attendants' suit and hung up the phone. Paul, the chief attendant, was heading towards her with a smile on his face. He'd just come through first class, ensuring everyone had their seat-belts fastened and electrical equipment off.

"They're just performing the last checks now, and then we're good to go!" Kristine said, adjusting her hair that was neatly wrapped in a large bun. They finished checking off their safety lists and Paul called through to the rear cabin, telling them the safety announcements were imminent. Kristine lifted her inflatable jacket, an oxygen mask and made her way to the front of the first class cabin as Paul began rattling off the announcement. She kept her eyes front and centre as she performed the usual routine. Show them how to work an oxygen mask and put on their life jackets. First class never really paid attention but she noticed one woman sitting awkwardly in her seat, a battered copy of 'Fifty Shades of Grey' in her lap. Kristine had to resist the urge to roll her eyes and caught the man beside her with a smirk on his face. She wondered if he minded that his wife was reading that kind of material.

She was just removing the life jacket as Paul was informing the passengers of the in-flight offers and the meal. They would be in the air for around five hours. Then the captain's voice boomed out again.

'Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of myself and the cabin crew, we would like to thank you for flying with us today, and we hope that you have a pleasant flight. Also, we have a special announcement to make today, again, on behalf of myself, the entire flight team, we would like to wish one of our flight attendants a Bon voyage. This is Kristine's final flight with us today... And it's also her twenty-ninth birthday. So happy birthday from everyone, and all the best in your new ventures.'

Kristine's face went scarlet as people started to clap. She turned, glaring at Paul as the plane started to taxi down the runway. As she made her final sweep of first class, people kept congratulating her and wishing her the best. She was kind and thanked them, becoming flustered as she returned to the cabin, buckling her own seatbelt and sitting next to Paul as the plane started to take off.

"So, have you sorted out your tuition fees yet?" he asked.

"Not entirely. I haven't got much saved, but I might ask my folks. Either that or sell my apartment, find somewhere smaller."

"Why do you want to leave anyway? I mean, you don't like the travelling?" He smiled. "It's such a glamorous life..."

She laughed, crossing her legs and adjusting her knee length skirt as she felt the plane lurch upwards into the sky. "I just want to start to think about meeting someone. Settling down. It's hard to do that when you're in LA one day and Hong Kong the next. And I've always wanted to go back to school."

The phone next to her rang and she answered it. It was James, the pilot. He was chuckling.

"Jimmy, that was definitely not funny!" She squeaked. Paul laughed as the plane started to steady. Kristine scolded James and ticked off all his flight checks.

"Come on Kristine, time to give First Class their drinks."

Paul and Kristine manoeuvred the drinks trolley down through first class. People were always pretty free with their cash in this cabin and it was down to half when they got back up the other side. The woman reading Fifty Shades didn't want anything. The man next to her smiled and placed his order. Paul poured him his drink and Kristine smiled sweetly at him. When they were moving back up, Paul offered to help Kristine pay for her tuition and she almost tripped over the cart.

"No. Way. Lending friends money is a terrible idea. I'll manage. Besides, I can always come back to... all this splendour..." She giggled, locking the drinks trolley away and taking her seat again. She pulled out a book, a brand new edition of ghost stories and Paul teased her. She'd lost her old one. He poked her hair with a pen.

"Right, I'm headed down to check on the others a bit. Try and not burn the place down."

And off he went. Kristine looked into the metal door of one of the trolleys and smoothed back her dark hair. Her brown eyes stared at her reflection, the snug blue flight uniform, her pearl earrings. She felt a pang of sadness that this would be her final flight. She had grown to love the job, but now on the brink of her thirtieth year, she felt it was time to try and settle.



Kristine: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y_sYDpeBh...g8/s1600/kristinehermosadyesebeldsweetbox.jpg

 

[LassardLost]

“What does this mean, Trent!?” Trent felt the blow before he heard the sound of his mother’s hand against his face. He held his face in disbelieve, hot, painful tears welling up in his eyes.

“I – I – I’m sorry, I don’t know…” he stuttered. He truly had no way to wrap his head around this.

“This is NOT what I expected from you. How could you do this? I just don’t understand. We didn’t raise you like this!” Trent felt the intensity of his shame drip down his cheek in a warm tear, the salty taste of it trickling into his mouth.

“I’m sorry…”

“Sorry? Say sorry to the girl that you were…” his mother’s eyes welled up with tears as she covered her mouth with both her hands. She started sobbing, covering her face, lowering herself to her chair.

Trent stood silently before her. He was thirteen. Hannah was one of his classmates from school. Trent enjoyed the company of many of his female classmates, as well as male – but Hannah wouldn’t flirt back with him the way the others would. She wouldn’t smile at his stupid jokes. She didn’t respond to him.

Trent had tried to do it in the locker room. He had slammed her up against her locker while she was getting dressed, feeling her clean-shaven pussy. It was like he had been taken over by a need that he didn’t even know he had. The assistant coach, Ms. Parksinon had walked in on his attempt and stopped him, and the police had been called.

~~~~~~~~

Kristine blushed as her name was announced, and Trent immediately noticed her. She was actually quite stunning. Her pale hair contrasted with her deep brown hair, which matched with her brown eyes. She moved with grace, and she had an energy about her that was youthful and free.

Trent pulled the airline magazine in the side pocket of his seat, and pretended to peruse through it. Once in a while he would look at at the front where Kristine was talking to the male flight attendant who had told him to turn his phone off. He watched her bend down and close some trays. A subtle exhale escaped his lips. She was a beautiful woman indeed.

Trent had his fair share of women. In fact he could not remember the last time he had been refused. It was usually a simple matter of a dinner. But some times he simply wanted a good fuck, without all the pomp and circumstance. And right now, as he looked at Kristine, that was exactly what he was in the mood for.

Kristine walked down the aisle, the male flight attendant a little ways behind her.

Trent’s ears perked up as he heard the male flight attendant – Paul – offer Kristine help with her tuition.

Trent had just found his flight in.

The next time Kristine was walking by, back towards the head of the cabin, Trent called out to her.

“Excuse me, Kristine was it?” Kristine turned around with a pleasant smile. Trent offered his own, looking directly into her magnificent eyes.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with – Paul, is it? The other flight attendant? I have a personal interest in education, and in people who make the decision to go back to school later than the conventionally… mind if I ask what you’re planning to study?”

~~~~~

Trent’s mother sat across from the Principal, Trent sitting behind her to the left. The Principal continued, “The thing about this young man – and it’s why it surprised everyone – is that he is always so affable on first – and for that matter second and third – impression.” The Principal turned to Trent, a pained expression on his face. “You have so much to offer son.”


[OOC: Trent]

 

[prettyserpentine]

When she was going over the paperwork for the in-flight meals, Kristine realised that the Fifty Shades lady and the man next to her weren't in fact married. She wondered then why he had been smirking. She found herself stealing a glance at him as he read the magazines. His fair, peppered hair, his strong features and tanned skin. He was quite handsome. And rich, she surmised, if his suit was anything to go by. His name was Trent Simms. She was sure it sounded familiar.

Kristine glanced at her watch, frowning. It had stopped and she groaned inwardly. She took it off her wrist and decided to do another quick walk of first class, in case any of the passengers needed anything.

As she was returning to the flight attendants' section, the man beside the Fifty Shades lady called for her attention. Kristine turned automatically, her usual kind smile on her lips, until she looked into his eyes.

He had the most breathtaking grey eyes. The kind of pointed gaze that just stripped a girl down to her soul.

It took Kristine a moment to find her wits again. She gave him her wide smile, resting her perfectly manicured hand on the back of the seat in front.

"Yes, sir. What can I help you with?"

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with – Paul, is it? The other flight attendant? I have a personal interest in education, and in people who make the decision to go back to school later than the conventionally… mind if I ask what you’re planning to study?”

His question surprised her a little, and her smile changed from the kindly to the shy. She blushed a little before answering.

"Literature, sir. I'm thinking about going on to teach. I've always loved books. Maybe something editorial. I guess I'll just see where the wind takes me." Her smile was fond and familiar.

Mrs Fifty Shades got up to go to the smoking section, leaving her book in her chair. Kristine looked at it and shook her head, giggling a little. "Not that kind of literature, mind. Perhaps more classical."

For the briefest moment Kristine remembered the reason she had dropped out of college, the reason she had chosen a career where she couldn't form an attachment, where she was flying from pillar to post every other day.

"I dropped out," she said quietly, by way of explanation. Her face became a little haunted, her body language guarded. "And then got this job. But that was a long time ago." Her smile returned, but it was clearly defensive. She tried to banish the unpleasant memories, straightening up and smoothing her jacket down.

"I'm sorry, sir. You didn't ask for my life story," she smiled softly, holding onto the chair a little tighter as the plane shifted. "Is there anything I can get for you?"

 

[LassardLost]

I'm sorry, sir. You didn't ask for my life story. Is there anything else I can get for you?

Trent smiled warmly at Kristine, ignoring her standard flight-attendant parlance, “It takes a certain type of courage to talk about the difficult times in one’s life, even if superficially and that too with a stranger. Don’t apologize.”

Trent motioned towards the book next to him. “As for the Fifty Shades,” he leaned in closer and lowered his voice, “I’d rather read Dostoyevsky.” He winked at Kristine, leaning back in his chair.

“So you’ve saved up enough by working all these years?”

 

[prettyserpentine]

His response made her feel at ease and she relaxed a little, grinning amiably at his quip about Dostoyevsky. She even laughed a little, her eyes sparkling.

"I know what you mean. I'm more of a Dickens or Bronte girl myself. But you know, if it helps you through the flight I don't judge," she smirked, shrugging her shoulders a little.

His question about her savings would have made most women uncomfortable, but Kristine was nonplussed. "I've saved a little. But I've never been good with money. I'll probably just sell my place and rent somewhere close to school. I'm not fussy. I mean, it's just me now, so I don't take up much space." She glanced around, someone was calling her name. "Please excuse me, sir."

Kristine smiled at the passenger, an older man who asked her for a blanket. She hurried off to retrieve one from her cabin and brought it back, draping it over the old man and tucking it in around his frail frame. He thanked her, and told her she would be a good match for his grandson. Kristine laughed, a hiccup of a sound, and said that she was grateful for the compliment. When she turned back, the handsome passenger, Mr Simms, looked up from his magazine and smiled at her. She found herself smiling back, her stomach fluttering a little.

Pull yourself together, Kristine. It's never gonna happen! She started to do the rounds again, ensuring everyone had what they needed. As she passed by Mr Simms, she paused.

"If you get bored with that magazine, maybe she'll loan you her book," she giggled. "Or there are a few books in our trolleys. Nothing as exciting as Dostoevsky. You might have to settle for the typical airport paperbacks." Her eyes twinkled as she smiled, her cheeks colouring. She reached up, adjusting a pin under her bun. "Just give me a call if there's anything you need." With that, she smiled her hostess smile and returned to her seat, crossing her slender legs and pulling her book out of her bag.

 

[LassardLost]

If you get bored with that magazine, maybe she’ll loan you her book… … Just give me a call if there’s anything you need.”

And then that smile. Trent’s brief interaction with Kristine had only served to clarify the course of action he was debating on taking. There was really not any other option. Her confidence, her beauty, her smile, her body… everything about her got Trent going. A young woman who had plans to take on the world. What a story.

Trent took out a small piece of paper and began to write.

“Kristine,

I have to say I admire you for your tenacity as well as your easy-going presence. I’m sure you will do well in anything you choose to apply yourself to. I’ve seen many people in your shoes who don’t use all the talents available to them to get where they need to go. I run a multi-national so I know.

I think you and I have something that the other would benefit tremendously from. Please don’t be offended by what I am about to write, it is simply business proposition. You took this job so that you could be in a position where you wouldn’t need to form any attachments, among other reasons. That doesn’t mean that you can’t enjoy the perks associated with being detached, does it?

I will write you a check, right now, for your entire first year of school. In exchange, all you need to do, is to spend twenty minutes with me in a private place of your choosing. We’ll both enjoy ourselves, and then we get off the plane and go our separate ways. You’ll never see me again, and I’ll never see you again. Twenty minutes.

Although it is a very unconventional offer, and I know very well you’re not “that type of girl”, I think you know that this is an offer you’ll regret if you turn down.

And regret is just not worth it, Kristine.”

Trent was pleased. He folded the paper and pushed the call button.

Kristine came over, fixing her hair and smiling again in the process.

“How may I help you?” That smile again.

“Kristine,” he motioned for her to come closer. She looked a little unsure, but bent down a bit further. Trent motioned some more, leaning up towards her. “Give me your ear.”

Kristine looked at him cautiously, but leaned in more in compliance.

Trent whispered, “I want you to take this piece of paper back to your seat. Don’t show it to anyone. Read it, and let me know your decision.”

He sat back in his seat, and as Kristine tentatively took the piece of paper from his hand, Trent smiled at her, a certain twinkle in his eye – it was the same look he had used a million times before. It said, You know you’re attracted to me. And I know you are as well.

 

[prettyserpentine]

His breath on her ear had sent shivers down her spine and she imagined a trail of words pouring against her skin from his silver tongue. She hurried back to her seat, clutching the paper, before sitting down, checking Paul was still down back, and unfolding it.

She read it three times before she really believed it.

The first part was flattering. He complimented her on her tenacity. It had made her smile. She had read on, finishing it. Then rereading it. Then a third time. That's when her hands went cold.

Kristine's stomach knotted. Twenty minutes, for thousands of dollars? She couldn't believe he thought she was worth that amount of money for such a short period of time. She thought about her tuition, the books, not having to sell her studio apartment. All the fiscal things. This could set her up for a year, maybe longer if she was frugal. She started going through bills and finances in her head before sensibility set in.

No. She couldn't.

But it was her last day... Who would know?

No, it's ridiculous. She couldn't. This was essentially prostituting herself. It made her feel cheap.

Or empowered? Twenty minutes for all that money. And they'd never see each other again. Wasn't her dream worth it? And it might not be so bad... He was quite handsome... More than quite.

Then she started thinking about everything that could be done in such a time span. Her legs shook where she sat. What if she said yes? What if she went into the attendant's bathroom and met him? What if she changed her mind... Said she couldn't do it, what if he tried to persuade her... with that mouth, those whispers...

Kristine gasped, folding her arms over her breasts. Her skin was electric, her nipples reacting to her sordid thoughts. She imagined her reluctance and him, taking her, making her enjoy it.

Kristine crossed her legs. This was crazy. He was probably joking. It's probably like something out of that Fifty Shades book. She laughed, standing up and blushing as she realised her panties were a little damp. She scribbled a note on the back of his, folded it up and set it on a tray, setting a glass of bourbon on top of it.

Regret is just not worth it, sir.

She sashayed down the cabin, leaning across Mrs Fifty Shades and offering him the bourbon. He took it, looking at her with those eyes, that expression that made the dampness even more noticeable. She tried to suppress the laughter that threatened to bubble out of her nervously.

"Enjoy," she mouthed, walking back up the cabin again. She wondered how he would take the note. She wondered herself what it meant. It was open-ended. She glanced down the cabin as she opened the door to the attendant's little bathroom, closing it behind her.

Kristine didn't lock the door.

She looked at herself in the mirror, her cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling in shivering excitement. She swallowed. This was crazy. This was so unlike her. She whipped around, her fingers reaching for the lock...

 

[LassardLost]

Trent smiled as he read her response and watched her swing her ass back to the attendant’s bathroom, glance at him once more, and walk in.

But it was more than just the words that had told him that he could follow her. It was her body language. The shiver he detected as he has whispered into her, the smoothness of her movement as she placed his drink on his table.

Trent stood, straightened his suit and walked casually towards the attendant’s bathroom door. Pausing as if he had forgotten something, touching his pockets, he looked back to his seat. No one was looking at him directly.

He quickly pushed through the door, seeing Kristine’s hand near the door handle and her startle, as she looked wide-eyed at him. He closed the door fast, but quietly, so as not to draw too much attention, and with one hand reaching back to the latch, locked it, all the while looking deeply and intensely into Kristine’s eyes. In his eyes she saw a different man, a man who knew exactly what he wanted. And there was a moment’s delay before she realized that the object of his desire was none other than her.

Trent wrapped his arm around Kristine’s waist immediately, not even giving her an opportunity to say anything. He buried his mouth into the side of her neck, breathing deeply and kissing her there, letting his tongue slide out and lick her from the base of her neck all the way to her jaw line. His other hand coming around her back, his fingers spread wide moving up her spine and finding his way to her neatly pinned bun, undoing it to let her long hair drop down her back.

He was going to make use of every one of these twenty minutes.

 

[prettyserpentine]

He touched her, holding her to him and her blood ran cold. Her hands were freezing.

She was nervous, gasping as she felt the hot breath on her neck, his kisses. And then her hair tumbled down as she backed against the little counter with the sink in it.

"Someone might hear..." she whispered. Her voice had changed. She sounded almost girlish, like a teenager. She tried to square her shoulders but trembled as his fingers trailed down her spine, making her shiver against him and gasp.

Trent looked at her, those grey eyes staring right through her melting brown ones. She was putty in his hands and he knew it. He pinned her against the sink, sweeping her hands behind her back and holding them there in one of his. She breathed erratically, squirming.

"Sir... We can't. I can't do this..."

He smiled as she called him 'Sir', and ignored her as he unbuttoned her jacket and then her blouse. He slowly kissed along her collarbone and down, his teeth trailing along the top of the lacy white cup of her bra. "No regrets, Kristine..." His voice was low, almost like a whispered growl and she suppressed a groan. He smiled.

God, he was handsome. Her chest rose and fell heavily. Eighteen minutes, give or take. His hands flexed around her wrists as he parted her legs with his knee. She looked at him, like a doe caught in headlights as he trailed his fingers up her thigh, brushing along the outside of her panties with his knuckles. He smirked as he felt the dampness.

Kristine swallowed nervously, looking at his mouth. Part of her wanted to run,

Another part of her wanted to kiss him. She shivered, hissing a breath in between her teeth as she felt his knuckles.

He said her name again and her eyes fluttered, just like her heart did. "Sir, please..."

Trent Simms groaned, slipping a finger inside her panties and stroking Kristine. She gasped. He stared into her eyes as he brought his finger up, resting it on her lip.

"Please?" He said. "Kristine... You're begging already?"

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she pulled at her hands, but he held them too tight. He chuckled.

"Now. I believe tuition can be quite expensive," Trent whispered with a smile that made her knees tremble and her heart thud. He trailed his finger down over her throat and between the soft round flesh of her breasts. "Quite expensive indeed..."

 

[LassardLost]

Trent tugged Kristine's bra down under her breasts, exposing her erect nipples, pushing her breasts up over the scrunched cups of her undergarment. She looked like such a refined slut like that to Trent, and with her every sentence and feigned protest ending with "Sir", his cock was bulging hard against the inside of his suit pants.

Trent dove into her breast, ravaging her with his tongue, flicking over the erect nub and swirling around it, taking his teeth gently over the sensitive prong. Kristine helplessly arched her back, pushing her further chest into his mouth, her hands still tied behind her back by his grasp.

"Sir... " she gasped. But with each passing moment her resolve - which was minimal to begin with - weakened. Trent dropped his fingers into Kristine's panties and slid them inside her, causing her to let loose a airy moan.

Trent released her breast and looked into her eyes, which were falling into a haze of lust. He brought his lips to graze against hers, and spoke in a heated whisper. "Look at you Kristine. Your nipples were hard as rock. Your pussy so wet. What does that tell you about yourself?" Trent didn't give her a chance to respond. He leaned in and kissed her. Hard. His tongue snaking into her mouth, his soft lips playing with hers, tasting her.

Pulling his hands out of her panties he unbuckled his pants and let them drop around his feet, and then pulled his boxers down, bouncing free his eight inch hard cock, its tip glistening with wetness. He moved Kristine's underwear aside with two fingers, her skirt having ridden all the way up around her waist, an placed his tip against her throbbing, wet pussy - and pushed.

 

[prettyserpentine]

It felt so good. Everything he was doing to her felt so good. She could have cried. And when he kissed her, his mouth swallowed up her final mute protesting whimper as his tongue stirred against hers, possessing her.

It had been six years. With every push Trent made, Kristine wondered if he could tell. She was tight, slick and she gasped against his lips as the head of his cock popped inside her. She sucked on his bottom lip as he pushed into her a little more. She whimpered as she felt him stretch her.

"Fuck..." He breathed against her lips, kissing her again, his hand releasing hers as he lifted her up to sit on the sink. She spread her legs to allow him more ease into her. He gripped her cheeks as he continued to push inside her. A pink glow crept over her skin. "Look at you, Kristine." His hands roamed over her legs. "You want this just as much as I do, don't you?" He wrapped her hair around his wrist and tugged, kissing and licking her neck, feeling her pussy quiver around him.

Kristine hesitated. "I...-"

But her retort was cut short as Trent thrust into her. Hard and deep. She buried her face against his shoulder and he pulled her hair, arching her head back. "God Kristine, you are so worth it..." He started to circle his hips and she put her arms around him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he fucked her. She couldn't speak.

She was too busy trying not to enjoy it. Trying to stop herself.

But she couldn't. Instead, Kristine leaned back, bucking her hips against him. She closed her eyes, bracing her arms against the sink. Her breasts bounced with every thrust and she rolled her hips, feeling his hands on her thighs, his fingers moving up her stomach, pinching her nipples before he tugged on her hair with one hand, arching her neck, and his mouth was on her, imprisoning a nipple between his teeth as his other hand held her bottom, never ceasing his rhythm.

His heavy balls were slapping against her mutely and she could feel that familiar heat, the tension curling deep inside her. It had been so long... too long...

Trent lifted his head, his hand intwined in her hair as his lips brushed against her ear. Her legs were hitched over his hips.

"I'm going to make you come," he whispered, half smiling as he felt her pussy twitch. "Come on, Kristine... Come for me, you beautiful little slut..."

Her mouth fell open, uttering a tiny noise. Her heart sank. She was a slut. She was doing this for money. She opened her eyes, and turned her head to look at him. Those captivating grey eyes looked at her, filled with primal, raw lust. She gasped as she felt his cock swell.

"I want you to come on me, before I spray that tight little pussy of yours with my hot cum. That's it baby, let go..." He moved his fingers down to circle her clit as her breathing began to become more erratic. "Yes, that's it... Oh god yes." He growled against her ear, fucking her deeper, harder. His other hand lifted, holding her chin. "I want you to look at me when you come. This is for me." Her eyes began to unfocus... Her body began to tense...

 

[LassardLost]

Trent held Kristine’s hair tightly from behind her head as he looked into her eyes, fucking her deeply. He knew he would cum soon. He could feel her tensing, and she began to release tiny moans of ecstasy as he felt the initial shocks of pleasure surge through her pussy walls. “FUCK!” He let out as he rammed his cock hard and deep, all of him buried completely inside her, and exploded.

Trent pulled his little slutty flight attendant’s head against his, their lips grazing against each other’s as their bodies bucked and shook – he grabbed her from behind and pulled her into him as tightly as he could as he gushed wave after wave of hot cum into her unprotected pussy, semen dripping out the sides of her around his cock.

“Ohhh God you are such a perfect little whore!” He growled as he felt her repeatedly squeeze around him, Kristine herself slammed with wave after wave of unbelievable pleasure, her orgasms wrecking her, a hot tear streaming down her face, her fingers digging deeply into Trent’s back. She could feel his cock bucking inside her, seeding her from within, the hot wetness filling her and confirming that yes, she was most certainly a slut.

Trent kept his cock inside her and moved his hips in a circle. He held her face between his hands and looked into her eyes. She was breathing heavy, like an animal in heat that had just been had.

“You have it in you don’t you? You have an insatiable need. I can see it in your eyes. I could feel in how you moved your hips against me when I had my unprotected cock inside you.” He leaned in and kissed her.

 

[prettyserpentine]

Trent did the most unusual thing then. When he broke the kiss, he adjusted her bra, and buttoned up her blouse carefully, like a lover would. Kristine couldn't look at him directly. She felt horrible. He kissed her forehead.

"No regrets, remember?" His fingers cupped her chin and she could see softness in his eyes. She nodded, even though her lip was quivering. He pulled out of her, pulling up his boxers and pants and fastening his belt. She smoothed her skirt down. He slipped a piece of paper into her pocket. That was the moment Kristine knew what she was, and hated it.

She didn't know what to say to him. He seemed a little concerned, but had this unwavering air of confidence. Trent Simms was in a different world to her- a successful businessman, who obviously knew how to get what he wanted. Kristine felt the hostess shell come around her.

"You should get back to your seat," she said, her voice almost robotic. "I'll get cleaned up so no one suspects anything."

Trent buttoned his suit jacket again, nodding. He turned to her, running a hand down her cheek. "I meant what I said. As long as you apply yourself, you will do well. You're a remarkable woman." He put his hand around her shoulder, dipping her back lightly and kissing her again, taking her breath away.

"I would have give you thirty minutes," she whispered breathlessly.

"I would have paid two years tuition for the twenty," he said with a smirk, unlocking the door and carefully slipping out. She locked the door again, sitting down on the toilet, her head between her knees. It took her a few minutes to get ahold of herself. Panic swept through her but she had enough self control to reign it in. She reapplied her makeup, used the facilities and redid her hair. She looked just as she had before. And it was then that her facade chose to crack.

Kristine looked at herself in the mirror, and smoothed down her jacket. She felt the paper in her pocket and pulled it out, unfolding it. Ten thousand dollars. For a twenty minute fuck in an aircraft bathroom. Her hands were shaking.

'If I destroy it... Then I'm not a whore...' she thought. And she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The young, insecure girl who had picked the wrong night to walk home from a sorority party alone.

I know you like it, Krissy. I know you do. What does that tell you about yourself?

"Oh god..." Kristine balled the paper in her hand, her stomach turning. She retched and knelt by the toilet. A knock came to the bathroom door.

"Kristine? Are you alright?" It was Paul.

She took a moment, putting on her best voice. "Yeah, I'm alright. Last day, you know? A little tension headache."

A pause. "Well... Alright then." And then silence.

Kristine stood up, glaring at herself. She ripped the check apart and flushed it, looking at herself defiantly, pushing back the scared, damaged youth. She wasn't some whore, some cheap fuck, she was better than that. She looked down at the one remaining piece of paper in her hand. The corner with his name written on. She reminded herself that someone in the world thought she was worth no regrets.

When she came out of the bathroom, almost a half hour after Trent had, she was herself again. Just a little bit colder.

 

[LassardLost]

Trent had expected his little escapade with Kristine to have the effect it showed on her body language. She had the same flight-attendant smile, the same walk, the same tone – and yet none of those things were truly the same. The subtleties of body language always amazed Trent, and he was, necessarily, an excellent reader of them.

He didn’t push anything further with Kristine for the rest of the trip. Instead, he chose to conduct himself as if absolutely nothing had happened. At least when Kristine wasn’t looking.

In reality, Trent was hooked. Every time Kristine walked away from him back to the front of the cabin, Trent eyed her, images of their fucking in the bathroom surging through his mind. She had become so pliable in his hands. She was truly beautiful. Her body was like that of a goddess. And there was something else. A reluctance in her that he detected was somehow different than the other women he had been. Sure, many women liked to to be “reluctant”. But Kristine was different. It was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. All he knew, was that it mesmerized him, attracted him, turned him on like nothing else.

The flight finally landed in New York City, and the first class folks were as usual the first to get off. Trent nodded politely to both Paul and Kristine as he stepped of the plane, and walked through the gate into the waiting lounge. He turned off to the side and sat down, letting everyone empty out of the plane. He waited for about forty-five minutes, until the last trickle of people and now staff were coming out. Kristine came out first. She saw him immediately, and quickened her pace in the opposite direction.

Trent picked up his back and started after her, catching up with her.

“Kristine.” He said looking at her. She was cold to him, and did not return eye contact.

Trent didn’t care. “How about that second year?” He offered with a straight voice, as if he was offering a business proposition.

 

[prettyserpentine]

When everyone had got off the plane, Kristine relaxed remarkably. The other members of the cabin crew popped a bottle of champagne to celebrate her last flight. The pilots joined them for a little soirée. Night was falling and Kristine was looking forward to going out for a few drinks to celebrate.

When she was walking through the terminal, toting her bag, she saw him. Her legs were by no means short, but she couldn't avoid him, groaning inwardly as he approached her. His voice was toneless as he propositioned her for her second year's tuition. She looked at him softly, wondering if she shouldn't tell him she had destroyed his check.

"Mr Simms, I really couldn't. Thank you for the offer though. It's very kind. But there's really no need. Your check should last me into my second year." She walked confidently through the airport and he accompanied her. She turned to him, smiling and placing her hand on his arm. He was very wealthy. She could tell by his suit, his smile, the way he held himself. He probably wouldn't even notice the fact it was a check that would never be cashed. "Thank you. For your help, and for those twenty minutes." She was thankful. It had reminded her who she was. How strong she could be. But also how weak. It had been nice to feel admired.

Kristine leaned in, kissing him on the cheek. She took her hat off and unpinned her hair. Paul wolf whistled from a little way behind them.

"Nine thirty at the Russian Tea Rooms, Kristine! See you there!"

She waved at him, smiling blindingly. Then she turned back to Trent, winking slightly. Almost reflexively. "I hope you had a pleasant flight... Sir." She walked away, linking arms with another woman, leaving Trent standing alone.

She didn't even turn around.

It was hard for her not to.

 

[LassardLost]

~~~~

"Stop it, Trent."

"Come on Hannah, you like. I know you do."

"No. I said STOP." Trent groped down Hannah's pants, her wrists pinned behind her against the lockers, his other hand holding her in place.

"Look! You're wet! It's already happening." He tried to kiss her but she turned her face.

"No! No, please stop!"

"TRENT SIMMS! GET OFF THAT GIRL RIGHT NOW!" Trent's heart leapt into his throat. It was Ms Parkisnon. She came in and pulled him off. Trent's eyes still fixed on Hannah, who cried against the locker, holding her crotch. He would have her. One way or the other he would.

~~~

Trent stood in his spot as he saw Kristine hurry off to be with her friends for the night. He had been rejected, but not badly. His initial read of her as being cold towards him perhaps seemed off, as she had seemed quite genuine about her gratitude for the twenty minutes.

"Enjoy your celebration!" He called out after her. And then added under his breath, "I'll see you there."

Trent picked up his bags and got into the limousine that was waiting for him. It took him to his hotel, where he had a permanent suite set up as an understanding between the hotel management and his company. There, he showered, changed into more casual clothes - a slightly off-white button down shirt and khaki pants with brown shoes.

It was 9 o'clock. He got back downstairs to his Limo and instructed the driver to head to the Russian Tea Rooms. There was no reason Trent had to suffer the absence of Kristine. His mind circled around again and again with images of their flight-bathroom tryst, her body, her moans, her desire... that thing that made him want her even more... whatever it was. He looked out the window at the passing cars as the Limo navigated the streets of the city that never slept. He hoped he, and Kristine, wouldn't be sleeping much tonight. He didn't have to be at the meeting tomorrow until 11am, which would give him plenty of time to sleep in after a good romp in the hotel room with his new-found flight-attendant.

The limo pulled up to the place and Trent walked in, tipping the man who took his coat generously as he did. He found a spot at the bar, ordered a drink, and waited. Every so often casually looking to his side to scan the place for any sign of Kristine.

If she would accept his offer for a check, why wouldn't she simply enjoy a guy at the bar? It was after all, a more conventional way to meet someone she'd already been intimate with, and would perhaps afford her a more normal context by which to see her benefactor, and soften her to his advances.

 

[prettyserpentine]

Kristine threw open the door to her apartment.

"Honey! I'm home!" She tossed her keys in the bowl on the halt table. "Oh that's right, I'm not married." She dropped her handbag to the floor, kicking her shoes off as she sat down lazily on her couch, switching on the TV. News reports about stock shares were on. Some company that was manufacturing revolutionary new test kits to scan for tumors, their stocks were soaring. "Exciting," she said, stretching. She wriggled out of her jacket as the door opened and closed again. Paul threw himself down on the armchair, dropping his hold all on the floor. They'd decided in the cab to swing by his place and get his things. Getting ready together was more fun.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened today?" He cocked his head, raising his eyebrow. "We're off the clock, and you've officially left. You're an ex-hostess."

She turned to him. "A guy on the plane today asked me to have sex with him and he'd give me ten thousand dollars."

Paul burst out laughing. "Be serious." A pause. "You're fucking with me... Jesus Christ, Kristine..."

She gave him a shaky smile.

"You didn't, you didn't do it though?" He looked at her. "Oh my god..."

She shrugged.

"Did he give you the money?"

She looked contrite. "I tore it up. I felt bad about taking it. I'm not some tramp." That hollowness came into her eyes again. Paul saw it and knew what it was.

"Who was he?"

"Mr Simms. Trent Simms."

Paul's jaw dropped and he guffawed with laughter. "Now I know you're fucking with me." Kristine scowled at him, protesting her truth. Paul pointed at the TV. "Him?! That guy?"

And there he was. All perfect suit, designer stubble and that killer gaze. Kristine blinked at the screen. She knew he was wealthy...

"Trent Simms, behind Medix? You fucked him. In an airplane bathroom?" He started laughing again.

Kristine got out of her seat, throwing a cushion at him. "I'm going for a shower."

"Yeah, you better. Wash the smell of 'successful millionaire' out of your hair."

Kristine showered and towelled her long dark hair dry. It dried in big, chocolate coloured curls that shone in the light. She wrapped a towel around herself and painted her nails black, applying her lipstick and makeup. She chose blood red lips, a slightly darker shade than the dress she was planning on wearing. As she folded away her skirt for the last time, a scrap of paper fell out of the pocket and she yelled triumphantly, striding into the bathroom where Paul was drying himself.

She shoved it at him. And there, in scratchy letters was the corner of the check. Paul's jaw dropped.

"Kristine..."

She looked shy and small, raising her shoulders defensively. "I know. You don't need to tell me. I'm terrible."

Paul put his hands on her shoulders. "You aren't. Stop that." How could he tell her what had happened to her wasn't her fault when she had blamed herself all these years. Instead, he pulled a bottle of expensive champagne out of his bag and popped the cork. Foam shot out and he aimed it at the shower. "To you, you minx!" He raised it and took a drink. Kristine followed suit. Straight out of the bottle.

They got tipsy, and dressed. He in a white shirt and navy pants with shiny shoes. She wore a cut red lace dress with black heels and nude nylons, and a matching black clutch.

They were late. It was almost ten when they arrived, other friends greeting them as they bustled around. Kristine liked New York. It was busy and loud and never stopped moving. It was the perfect place to get lost. And that's exactly what she'd been doing for years. But now things were changing. She was changing.

"Paul, over here!" A tall man with well manicured hands waved to them from the far corner of the bar. He patted his seat and Kristine sat, crossing her slender legs. The man kissed Paul fondly on the cheek and order cocktails for them all. Others started to filter in. Airport staff, pilots.

It took her some time to realise she was nervous, glancing around, making conversation. Ignoring the men who looked at her. She always ignored them, except for earlier today, and she wanted to forget about that. Paul started to tell the story of her tryst to his companion. Of course he carefully left out the name, not wanting to get in trouble. Greg laughed.

Kristine sipped her Bellini and smiled sweetly, almost shyly as Greg proclaimed how that was completely out of character for her. There was that air of concern again, and then Paul told an amazed Greg how it had been her first man in over six years. Greg asked about the last man, and Paul steered the subject like a professional. No one would have even noticed Kristine's discomfort unless they had been paying particular attention to her. She took another sip of her pink cocktail, when she froze. Her eyes lifted across the bar and she felt her skin prickle.

That killer gaze. She shivered, imagining his lips, his breath on her skin. She couldn't tear her eyes away.

"...ten thousand dollars! And she tore the fucking thing up! Can you believe that?"

The grey eyes seemed to have a flash of disbelief, maybe confusion, in them. Her own deep brown eyes widened as she spilled her drink on her thigh.

"Shit! Shit... Oh I need to go to the ladies... I'll be back in two minutes," she said, hurrying away.

Kristine glared at herself in the bathroom mirror, willing herself to act like a regular human. She squared her shoulders, wiped the cocktail off her thigh, and reapplied the red lipstick. As she exited the bathrooms, she saw him waiting. She ducked around some of the other patrons, trying to avoid him...

"Good evening, Kristine. Fancy seeing you here." That voice. She suddenly wished she had worn thicker panties.

"Mr Simms, how nice to see you. What a coincidence," she said pointedly, raising an eyebrow. "We have to stop meeting like this." She smiled thinly. "Really."

He chuckled, offering her his seat at the bar. Greg had taken hers, but at least she was in their eye line. He ordered her a Bellini. He'd paid attention. She watched him with an almost scrutinising gaze, holding her drink, resting her arm on the bar so it wouldn't shake. She crossed her legs, suddenly painfully aware of all the skin across her neck and shoulders.

"So. I hear you destroyed my check?"




The dress: http://img0.etsystatic.com/023/0/7380081/il_570xN.484654444_c2bj.jpg

 

[LassardLost]

Trent swirled his drink around his cup lazily as he asked but he didn't need to wait for Kristine to respond to know the answer to his rhetorical question.

Kristine looked absolutely stunning her frilly red dress. It had immediately occurred to Trent that for this woman to tear up $10,000 meant that he was dealing with something very special. Special, and challenging. Why would she have done such a thing? Her behavior during their tryst in the bathroom had indicated to Trent she longed for his command, yet the tearing of his check a most defiant act.

Trent leaned a bit closer to Kristine and lowered his voice just enough so that others around wouldn't be able to hear.

"It felt good didn't it? Freeing yourself of the knowledge that you had just fucked a man for money?"

Trent grazed his fingers along the inside of Kristine's crossed calf. "I really admire that. And it has done nothing to make me regret coming here tonight. In fact," he leaned close to Kristine's ear and spoke even more softly, "what you done, my dear Kristine, is terribly arousing." And then further lowering his voice but bringing his mouth to just graze her ear, "but I know how you moved when we were together. I know how you responded when I called you a whore. I saw how your wrists had longed to be held my mine. There's something deep that I satisfy in you Kristine. And I want to do it again."

Trent sat back down on his barstool keeping his eyes locked with Kristine's continuously telling her the same thing he had just told her ear, by his eyes.

 

[prettyserpentine]

Kristine held his gaze impassively, and when he informed her he wanted to do it again, she knew he was serious. The way his fingers skimmed along her leg made shivers run down her spine. He was sexy, commanding, dominating. Everything she wanted in a man but had denied herself for years. She looked down at her drink, sipping it before raising her eyes to him again. He was still looking at her with those breathtaking eyes, like molten silver.

She crossed her legs the opposite way. "Well, Mr Simms, you can't." She ran her fingers down the buttons of his shirt, shifting in her seat so the candlelight caught the arch of her neck. She saw Trent eyeing her like some kind of jungle cat, waiting to pounce. She stood up, her body touching him. Her crotch pressed against his thigh and she radiated heat. Her lips grazed his ear. "You can't... because I don't belong to you. I'm not one of your possessions, one of the little rich girls you can fuck whenever you want." She lifted the drink and drained it. "And I'm not your whore. I'm not anybody's whore. Thanks for the drink."

"It's only a matter of time," Trent said lowly. "You will belong to me."

Kristine focused on Greg and Paul, walking towards them with confident strides.

"Who was that?" Paul asked her.

"No one," she said, glancing at Trent. He was still watching her. It was unsettling, and she found herself wondering if she was on his good side what sort of a protector would he be. "Let's dance," she demanded, pulling the two men onto the dance floor and dancing between them. She couldn't stop herself from scanning the crowd, every once in a while her eyes would catch a glimpse of his and her heart would shudder. He was a powerful man, even his presence here exuded that. And he wanted her.

Kristine put her arms around Greg's neck, grinding against him. She caught Trent's eye again and he looked angry. It had an effect on her she didn't expect. She felt nervous, and a little cold. Greg swept her around the floor, dancing with her in a tango. When it ended with a flourish, Greg had her in his arms, bent back, her hair almost touching the floor. She fanned herself, grinning a big, carefree smile.

"Greg... Wow..." The music changed and the mood became a little darker, more intimate.

"May I cut in?"

Greg looked to his left and nodded, bowing his head slightly and handing Kristine's hand to none other than Trent Simms. She would have rolled her eyes if she could tear her gaze away from his. He pulled her to him, his hand on the small of her back, pressing her slender form against his. She could feel everything.

"That was unnecessary, and I didn't like it," he said menacingly. Kristine wondered was he hurt, or jealous. A part of her felt guilty.

"I told you, I'm not yours to order around. I don't owe you anything."

He spun her aggressively in his arms, dancing with her so closely their hearts were practically in rhythm. "Kristine my dear, I know you liked it..."

I know you liked it...

Kristine almost jerked out of his arms. He looked a little surprised, but continued dancing, leading her around the floor. "I'm not like that," she said, frowning. "Don't assume that I am..."

 

[LassardLost]

"I don't assume anything about you. I I only say what I see." The two continued dancing Trent holding Kristine firmly, telling her with his grip but he did not want her to go anywhere.

"Your actions speak louder than your words, but that being said," Trent spun her around, catching her again. "You obviously did not get where you are in life by fucking men in bathrooms."

The music changed to a heated hip-hop beat. Kristine seemed to want to leave the dance floor but Trent wrapped one arm around her lower back has he changed his body movements. She could feel him pushing up against her as his eyes bore into hers.

"Don't think for second that I have some sense of entitlement because of my wealth, Kristine." Trent wrapped one hand gently around the back of Kristine's neck, his face a hair breadth distance away from Kristine's, their bodies making muted movements below them as the music went on. "You have to deal with the fact that this man wants you. Why is that so hard for you to accept?"

 

[prettyserpentine]

"You only say what you see?" Kristine looked at him, her eyes wounded. No matter how hard she tried she could never shake the feeling that she was bad news. She tried to move away but his grip was firm, and it was obvious to her that she wasn't going anywhere. Much as she would have liked. Trent spun her again, pulling her body back to him. "What does it matter to you how I got to where I am? I am my own person. I fought hard to be where I am. Not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Not everyone gets off on air stewardesses calling them 'Sir.'" Her words were sharp and caustic as the music changed to a darker, dirtier beat, her eyes accusatory.

Trent's hand slid down to her lower back, their bodies touching each other. The dancing changed, it became dangerous. Kristine fought for control over her body and her emotions, desperately trying to remain cold and detached.

"You have to deal with the fact that this man wants you. Why is that so hard for you to accept?"

Kristine looked at his questioning eyes. Their faces were so close, his arms around her, holding her to him like a lover. Her own hands were resting on his chest. His heart beat firm and steady. She was glad he couldn't feel hers. It didn't occur to her that his hand was on her neck, his thumb brushing her pulse.

She let herself get lost in his eyes for a moment. If she was honest with him, maybe just for this moment...

Kristine turned her head, looking around frantically for Greg and Paul. Trent scowled, turning her head back to look at him. Her eyes were wide and she could feel him dancing against her. She could feel him growing hard. She exhaled slowly, regaining her composure.

"I'm not in the habit of giving men what they want. Nor am I in the habit of fucking men in bathrooms." Kristine blinked slowly and then met his gaze again. Her eyes were softer this time. "I know you... want me. I can't say I'm not attracted to you somehow." Her cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling.

'Dammit Kristine, control yourself,' she thought. "But that was a one-off. Trust me. You don't want me. You wouldn't." 'Twenty minutes was all I could give you...‘

She looked around again, just with her eyes. They were off the dance floor, behind a huge column in complete darkness. She looked back at him, searching his eyes.

Kristine wanted him, and she knew he could feel it. She slipped her fingers up, along his neck. "I need to leave," she whispered, lowering her lips and kissing that pulse point on his neck. His fingers tangled in her hair. She moaned against his throat, kissing up to his ear. "Please, let me go." His hand in the small of her back gripped her behind and she felt the cold marble of the column behind her as he pushed her against it, his lips finding hers and kissing her... hard.

Kristine whimpered, her hands slipping behind him and into his hair as he kissed her. It lasted for what felt like an age before he broke it.

 

[LassardLost]

Kristine - everything about her - her eyes, her body language, her tone - told him that she wanted him. Yet she denied it. There was something else that held her back. And Trent didn't know why, but he wanted her like he'd not wanted a woman before. Was it simply because she defied him? Because she wouldn't melt into her hands like the others? But she was melting into his hands, and she continued to do so as Trent pushed her up against the pillar behind her and kissed her. He pulled back, holding her face with his hand, his other hand around the small of her back.

He growled, "Don't think you know anything about me, either, Miss Betts." He kissed her again, his hand pulling her ass into his crotch. He slid his mouth down the side of her face into her neck, kissing again and again. Then he worked his way up her neck, to her ear. "I want you. I know you want me. Everything about you tells me it's true. But there's something keeping you back. I can see it." He let go of Kirstine's face and let his hand rest on her hip, his other hand doing the same on the other side, suddenly his whole body posture becoming gentler. He kissed her, softly this time, in the corner of her neck.

"Why would you think I wouldn't want you... Why not even try?"

Trent ran his fingers through Kristine's hair and kissed her again. She still appeared shocked, half melted, half panicked, as if cycling between the two.

Trent grinded his crotch, with his hardness, against Kristine. She gasped. "Feel that. That's for you..." Trent lowered his voice, looking deep into Kristine's eyes, his nose almost touching hers. "I know you're not a whore, Kristine. I know that. But you can't deny this. Don't - deny it Kristine." His last few words took on he tone of a command, as if he couldn't help but let that side of him come up to the surface.

 

[prettyserpentine]

Trent's body language changed. It seemed softer, less intimidating. Even his tone took on a softer edge as he held her hips gently. Kristine wanted him. She wanted the gentle Trent, she wanted the commanding Trent. This man knew what he wanted, and he knew exactly how to get it. He knew completely how to turn the charm on and off. Kristine's hands travelled down his body, slipping around his waist and feeling the muscles she had clung to back in the cramped little bathroom cubicle. She imagined how it would be to have an entire night with him. A long weekend. Her face flushed as his hands travelled up and into her hair, pulling her into a kiss. It was almost tender, blossoming into need and desire.

Kristine couldn't help it. She groaned against him and he slowly separated his lips from hers. She could feel him pressing against her. How hard he was.

"That's for you..."

Kristine made a muted, quiet groan. His face was directly against hers. Her eyes travelled over his handsome features as their bodies pressed together. She was getting wet, and squirmed beneath him. How could he find her so attractive? She wasn't a socialite and she didn't have money. He seemed to grow harder as she squirmed.

"Don't deny this, Kristine. Don't- deny it." His voice lowered, his eyes never straying from hers. The words were punctuated with menace and it sounded like he was giving her an order. A command. Such an authoritative tone, it made her want him even more. She wanted his hands to slip up her thighs, lift her dress and just sink inside her, right there against the marble pillar. Kristine moved her head slightly and kissed him again, intimately. She poured too much of herself into the kiss, her lips parting with desire, holding him to her. She kissed him carefully, submissively, gently.

"I can't deny it, Sir." Kristine felt him stir against her groan and he growled against her neck, his hands gripping her hair as he pulled her head back to kiss that spot below her ear. Her body arched against his with excitement. "Trent," she whispered longingly, "I... I need..." No. She couldn't. "I w-want..." Her hips ground against his, her tense body craving relief. Kristine's mind was swimming with lust. She imagined all the ways she wanted to touch him, and whimpered with need.

She had to stop this. She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, steeling her resolve and stiffening her body. "I need to use the ladies' room," she said, her voice shaking and unsteady. Her body slid out past him. Her nipples were stiff and she knew he could see. She retrieved her purse and quickly headed to the ladies' room. She dipped her hand in the cold water and ran it along the back of her neck, avoiding looking at herself in the mirror. She had to go home, had to get out of here. A hen party had congregated, and Kristine slipped into their midst as they left the bathroom, standing in the corridor in a large, loud, irritating throng. Kristine looked up the corridor to the door back into the club and then glanced the opposite way.

A fire exit. Perfect. Kristine pressed on the bar and as it opened, the fire alarm went off. She ran up the alleyway, out onto the street and hailed a cab. When she was inside, she sent a text to Paul feigning a headache. She got home, curled up in her bed and tried to forget the way Trent had stirred her feelings. She tried to convince herself it was just a game.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg finished off his second bourbon and looked around for Kristine but couldn't see her. He lowered himself back into the booth and leaned over the table. Paul slid into the seat opposite, setting another bourbon in front of Greg and a bottle of beer for himself.

"So tell me, does Kristine often screw guys on the plane?"

Paul almost choked on his beer. "Never. I honestly can't believe she did it." His eyes seemed to change. His hands fidgeted with his beer.

"Paul? What is it?"

He frowned. "That's the first guy she's been with since I've known her." He looked somber.

"What is she... a nun or something?" Greg chuckled but it disappeared as he looked at Paul, who leaned across the table, lowering his voice.

"She doesn't do this." He looked around covertly. "I've known her for four years. And what I'm about to tell you never leaves this booth. She's never told me herself. One of her girlfriends from college told me. We used to screw. Her name was Abigail. Nice girl. Great ass."

Greg took a sip of his bourbon.

"Anyway. I googled it and the story's true. The reason she dropped out of college. There was a missing person's report filed. She never made it home from some sorority party. Took them two days to find her. Tied to some bed in a frat house attic."

"Fuck off," Greg paled.

"You never heard this, Greg. I'm not kidding. She's never told me." Paul looked around, seeing no one he knew except other drinkers. "They got DNA of half the frat house in the room. Three guys did time for it. One of them was her boyfriend." Paul looked as Greg sat back, totally shocked. "The news reports are all on google. I shit you not."

Greg shook his head. Paul finished his beer. "I've always tried to keep an eye out for her. But that's what I'm saying. She doesn't do relationships. She doesn't do casual shit. Hell, I doubt she even sorts herself out. She's uptight. It's understandable."

"Where is she anyway? Ladies room?" Greg craned his neck and looked over the back of the booth. He noticed the guy who had cut in to dance with Kristine on the other side, so Greg nodded at him, glancing at the door of the bathrooms. He would have heard them. Greg was troubled. He got out of his seat and in two steps was standing in front of the man.

"Greg," he said, extending his hand.

"Trent," said Trent, shaking it. They both had an iron grip.

"Seen Kristine?"

That was the moment the fire alarm went off, and the evacuation started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Kristine was enrolled in her classes and had thrown herself into her studies with determination and the same rigorous dedication she applied to everything she enjoyed. It was her own method of repression to quell the desire she felt, the desire Trent Simms had awakened in her. It had been a week, and nothing. Kristine had half expected him to call or find her, but he hadn't. She wondered if he had that kind of power. Then she remembered that her life was far from a fairytale.

New York was a massive city, he didn't even know which school she was at. Part of her was disappointed, but she knew no matter how much her heart wanted it, this was the right decision.

Wasn't it?

It was a Tuesday morning in October. Kristine was hurrying across the campus, her books gathered in her arms. Her long, dark hair was tied in a high ponytail and she wore tight fitting jeans, simple black ballet shoes and a high cowl-necked cream jumper. She decided to take a short cut through the medical science building.

She was walking down one of the corridors when she thought she heard her name being called.