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I wasn’t sure if the expression on her face was annoyance or relief, but she’d pulled out her clipboard and written me up for “failure to comply with protocol” before heading to the hotel herself.

As the sound of passengers and rolling luggage sounded outside the bathroom’s doors, I considered leaving—letting Jake know that I wasn’t cut out for this after all. I pulled up my text messages, starting to type, but he suddenly walked into the restroom.

“Hi...” I said. “Are we going to your hotel now? It’s not the same Marriott, is it?”

He looked confused, setting his carryon against the wall before walking over to me. “Who said anything about a hotel?”

“You...You said we would meet up in whatever cities our layovers intersected and decide where to go from there.”

He stared at me, and the reality suddenly dawned on me.

“You want us to fuck in here? Are you serious?”

“Why else do you think I would ask you to meet me in a half-constructed bathroom, Gillian?”

“So you could give me directions for the next destination, maybe?”

“This isn’t a goddamn stealth mission.” He looked into my eyes. “It won’t always be in the actual airport, but I have a flight in three hours and we don’t need to waste any time.”

“You’re that insatiable?”

“Yes.” He smiled, sliding a hand under my dress and gently touching my panties. “And so are you, apparently.”

I didn’t say anything. I backed up against the door of a handicap stall, trying to think this through. It was bad enough I was going to be blatantly breaking the no-fraternization rules by sleeping with him, but I had no idea the chances of getting caught were going to be this intensified.

Still smiling, Jake reached behind me and unlocked the door to the stall, pulling me inside. He lifted me up and set me on the third step of a paint ladder.

“Why are you so nervous?” he asked.

“I’m not nervous.” I was still shaking. “I just...I thought this was going to be more civilized and away from the possibility of people walking in on us.”

“Gillian, you’re what? Twenty-six years old?”


“Okay, you’re twenty-nine years old,” he said, looking more content with that answer. “I think you can handle having private sex in public places.” He caressed my cheek with his hand. “I would never pick somewhere where we would be caught.”


He pressed his finger against my lips. “Construction ends at five o’clock. It’s currently seven. We’re in Terminal 4, the international terminal. The last flight that will leave from here is currently boarding at the gate far down the hall, and airport employees aren’t allowed to enter construction zones for fear of injury.”

“So, you’ve done this before?”

“No.” He spread my legs and gently pulled my panties down to my ankles. “I’m just very well-versed in airports and I think you need to relax before we start this arrangement.”

“I can relax...”

“I’ll make sure of it.” He took my panties and stuffed them into his pocket. “In the meantime, let’s agree to start over after today. Can you do that?”

He didn’t wait for me to agree with him, though. He pushed my dress up past my stomach and spread my legs a little further. Without saying another word, he lifted my left leg over his shoulder and buried his head between thighs, devouring my pussy for so long that I went completely weak at the knees, that he had to cover my mouth to muffle my screams.

I clawed at his back as his tongue brought me to orgasm twice in a row, leaving my pleasure etched onto his skin.

When he finally finished, he had one hour until boarding so he simply put me back together and walked away, saying, “I’ll email you for where you need to meet me in Charlotte next week. And for the record, the taste of your pussy’s come is incredible...”



Charlotte (CLT)—> Atlanta (ATL)—> Montreal (YUL)

Subject: Charlotte

How’s your week going so far? (Mine is very stressful and hectic.)

Subject: Re: Charlotte

This email isn’t about fucking. (Emails are only supposed to be about fucking.)


Subject: Charlotte (The Correct Email)

Meet me in Terminal C when you land. Gate 15.


Subject: Re: Charlotte (The Correct Email)

Regardless of if **emails** are only supposed to be about “fucking,” would it kill you to say, “Hello, Gillian” or “Hope all is well, Gillian” before launching into where you want me to meet you for sex? I thought we agreed to be cordial...


Subject: Re: Re: Charlotte (The Correct Email)

We also agreed not to have pointless conversations. Terminal C. Gate 15.

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Charlotte (The Correct Email)

If you don’t start being cordial with me after today, I can promise you that I won’t come meet you anymore.


Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Charlotte (The Correct Email)

And I can promise that you have no idea who you’re fucking with...



Subject: Atlanta

You were supposed to meet me at E3 thirty minutes ago.


Subject: Re: Atlanta

I’m still waiting for you to ask me about my day or say hello first...