Ten years after I finally worked up the courage to make a profile on Literotica, here I am with another story. It wasn't always smooth sailing. I had some embarrassingly bad early efforts. There were poorly written stories with typos, grammatical mistakes, bland characters and ridiculous plots. I tried and tried again until the Internet took pity on me and gave me a red H. Looking back, I'm thankful for those early efforts, terrible as they were. They remain as a testament to trying over and over again.
My output has tapered off considerably from what it was a decade ago when I could put out a story a month, to struggling to put together a decent story a year now. So, I hope the wait was worth it and ten years of trying with mixed results have finally yielded something worthwhile. Thanks to all my readers, old and new who have stuck with me so far, despite all the ham-handed plots and the abandoned storylines.
A massive vote of thanks to my editor duo of norafares and Bramblethorn, and my beta reader, EditorAlix. If you have not read their work yet, you're missing out.
DISCLAIMER
: All events in the story are fictional. Any similarities to real-life people, corporations, or incidents are merely coincidences. All characters involved are adults. There is graphic violence ahead.
* *
The first thing Heather noticed about the man who opened the door of her vehicle was the machine gun he had pointed in her direction. In all fairness, it was the most important part of her predicament, much more so than his pockmarked face.
He barked at her, not that Heather understood a word of it. Finally, realising his ineloquent pleas were not having the desired effect, he reached inside and yanked her out by her hand. Heather saw a few more men waiting outside, all similarly armed and looking menacingly at her.
"Look, gentlemen, will the one of you who knows English tell the others that it is a terrible idea to kill an American citizen on foreign soil?"
Her statement led to a round of heated discussion among the men around her. She reached into her suit. This caused a brief flutter and all the men trained their guns on her again.
"Relax, I just need a smoke. I'll be right here if you need me."
She lit up one of the remaining cigarettes in her pack and sat down on the open seat. The crisp sunshine beat down on her from the nearly cloudless blue sky. It was neither too hot nor cold, a happy medium that her fellow New Yorkers would spend extravagant amounts of money to vacation to.
All in all, it was a good day... with the small exception of the men with machine guns.
* *
ONE DAY BEFORE
DAY 0
"Excuse me, ma'am, but we are about to begin our final descent," said the stewardess sweetly. "Could you please put away your laptop, fold the tray table and straighten your seat?"
She waited with a wide grin frozen on her face for an acknowledgement. It was as if the passenger was not quite aware she existed.
"Excuse me, ma'am," she tried again, her finger hovering inches from the shoulder of the errant traveller. Finally, accepting it would need to be done, she tapped her politely. It had the desired result. The mass of reddish-brown hair swept around and revealed an expression bordering on irritation. The woman looked about the age where she would take offence to being labelled as "mid-thirties".
"Didn't see you there," she said. "How long till we land?"
"About half an hour. Could you straighten your seat and fold the tray table please?"
The redhead promptly complied. The first-class cabin came with a partition. As far as she was concerned, there was no one else on the plane. Except for the stewardess who made her presence known from time to time.
She settled back in her padded rest and looked at the stewardess. A horrified expression was writ large on her face as she stared into the passenger's lap. The redhead looked down to see the head of a pack of cigarettes sticking out of her pants pocket.
"Sorry about that," she said, pushing the pack inside.
"You can't have that on this plane. How did you get it past security?"
"Luciana," the woman read off the badge. "I've spent eighteen hours on two flights and two airports. I really couldn't care less what I can and cannot have on this plane."
The stewardess was taken aback by her tone. She made a motion to step back before the woman went on.
"I'd think twice before reporting me. The best you can hope for is a small fine, that too is doubtful given the people who are flying me in. It might make me change my choice of airline. That's over thirty first-class tickets a year that will go straight to your competition. You don't know it just yet, but you're actually doing your bosses a favour."
The stewardess was clearly beyond her depth. The redhead made room on her spacious seat and beckoned her over.
"Grab a couple of glasses and a bottle of that red you gave me with dinner last night."
Luciana returned a moment later and settled down beside the redhead.
"Now if you won't tell, I won't tell," she said conspiratorially, offering her open pack. The stewardess eyed her with a raised eyebrow before quietly picking one. The redhead lit hers and took a long drag.
Two tall glasses of red wine were poured out on the now unfolded tray table. Luciana lit her cigarette off the tip of the passenger's. They sat side by side and smoked in silence.
"Cheers," she exclaimed, clinking glasses. "There's something you should know about me, Luciana."
The stewardess pricked her ears and listened.
"I'm a very light sleeper. Last night, I did wake up briefly when I heard some rustling outside the partition. Now you wouldn't happen to know what that was about, would you?"
Luciana clapped her hand over her mouth. She had tried to resist the temptation, but this was the most secluded spot on the plane. Just outside the premium first-class partition.
"Not that I minded," reassured the passenger, taking a gulp of her wine. "You do look beautiful when you're busy lip-locked with your crew."
Before Luciana could react, the redhead kissed her on the lips. She tasted the bitterness of nicotine and alcohol. The redhead kissed her deeply and tilted her face to push her tongue into her mouth. The stewardess remained frozen in place.
As suddenly as it started, the passenger disengaged from the kiss and took another long drag of her cigarette. Luciana looked bewildered. Her lips still held the smell of the kiss. She looked at the passenger again, who now looked completely oblivious about what she had done.
The stewardess took a large gulp of liquid courage before moving to kiss the redhead again. The passenger held out a hand and blocked her. She tried again, only to be met with the firm hand of refusal once more.
"Like you said, we're about to land," said the passenger, pointing outside the window. "You should have tried your luck earlier."
The stewardess looked disappointed and was about to get up when the redhead held her hand again.
"Do you have a layover in Belgrade?"
