Airport Layover
"A delayed flight becomes an unexpected adventure when a fit stranger suggests exploring the airport's quiet corners"
Stansted at 4 AM during a seven-hour delay was a special kind of purgatory. Everything was closed, everyone was miserable, and the vending machine had just eaten my last two quid.
"Fuck's sake," I muttered.
"Same mood."
She was sitting two seats over—slim, dark hair, eyeliner smudged from sleep. Pretty in a tired, rumpled way.
"Delayed too?" I asked.
"Eleven hours now." She stretched, yawning. "Malaga was supposed to be fun. Now it's just... this."
"Shit timing."
"Story of my life." She moved to the seat next to me. "I'm Cassie."
"Dan."
"Dan." She tried it out. "Normal. I like normal." She looked around the empty terminal. "Want to go explore? I'm going insane sitting here."
"Explore what?"
"Dunno. This place has to have more than WHSmith and angry passengers." She stood, offered her hand. "Coming?"
The "exploration" led us through increasingly empty corridors until we found a gate that wasn't being used—no flights scheduled, lights dimmed, completely deserted.
"This is nice," Cassie said, flopping into a chair. "Quiet."
"Bit creepy."
"Creepy can be good." She pulled her legs up, looked at me. "So. Dan. What do you do when you're not stuck in airports?"
"Marketing. Boring stuff. You?"
"Nurse. Definitely not boring." She smiled. "I've been working nonstop for three months. This holiday was supposed to be my reset."
"And instead you got Stansted."
"Instead I got Stansted." She paused. "And you. Which isn't terrible."
"High praise."
"Take what you can get." She was quiet for a moment. "Want to do something stupid?"
"What kind of stupid?"
"The kind that makes this delay worth it."
She kissed me—soft at first, then more urgent. She tasted like airport coffee and impulsiveness.
"Here?" I managed.
"No one's coming for hours. I checked the screens." She was already pulling at my jacket. "Unless you'd rather talk about marketing."
"Definitely not."
The empty gate became our private space.
She straddled me in the uncomfortable airport chair, kissing me like we had all the time in the world. Which, technically, we did.
"Been wanting to do something crazy for months," she breathed. "Never had the chance."
"Happy to be your chance."
"Smooth." She pulled off her jumper, revealing a simple white bra. "Now less talking."
I unhooked her bra, took a nipple in my mouth. She gasped, arched into me.
"Fuck—yes—more—"
She was slim everywhere, all sharp edges and soft skin. I explored with hands and mouth while she moaned.
"Need you," she whispered. "Properly."
She climbed off, shimmied out of her jeans, climbed back on. No underwear—she'd removed them while I wasn't looking.
"Efficient," I said.
"Nurse skills." She sank down onto me. "Now shut up."
We fucked in that empty departure gate while the airport slept. Every sound echoed, every moan felt amplified. The thrill of potentially getting caught made everything more intense.
"Close—already—touch me—"
I found her clit, rubbed while she rode me. She came silently, biting her lip.
"Keep going—don't stop—"
She came twice more before I finished. We sat there, catching our breath, listening for footsteps that never came.
Back at the main terminal, our flight was finally boarding.
"Well," Cassie said. "Best delay ever."
"Much better than WHSmith."
"Everything's better than WHSmith." She kissed me quickly. "Sit next to me on the plane?"
"Obviously."
"And maybe..." She grinned. "We can explore Malaga together?"
"I thought you were going with friends."
"They can spare me." She took my hand. "You're more interesting."
We boarded together, already planning the next adventure.
Best delay of my life.