Randall heaved his carry-on bag on to the conveyor belt, slipped his laptop out of its cover, and placed it with his belt and other loose items in a plastic tray.
He was early for the flight to Denver, but it was better that way. Gave you time to do people-watching. Girl watching. For a moment he visualised the blonde last night at the Valley club. Just right, thin and a little bony, the way he liked them. She had accepted the bonds, but he could tell that she did not really like to be dominated.
Domination was what he liked. Last night's girl did not like it, but she needed the money. He smiled. That gave him a sense of power. Control. That was where he wanted to be.
That little shiver when he penetrated her, and she was unable to react, that was a tell-tale. He touched himself, smiling at the memory.
The metal detector was silent. Sometimes it reacted to something, maybe the fillings in his teeth. His bag was still in the machine, the operator was staring at the screen. Oh damn. The machine often picked up something suspicious, but there was nothing. Maybe the frame or the wheels? He should get a new one.
She looked at him. A dark, well-padded woman. Not his type at all, too voluptuous. The uniform blouse did emphasise her ample bosom. She gestured at her colleague to take over the screen.
"Your bag? Open please." He did so, noting her husky voice, her air of command. Definitely not his type. She snapped gloves on her hands, the rubber making a suggestive sound.
She glanced at him. "Mind if I look? Anything you want to say now?"
He shook his head, and, as she bent down to examine the contents of his bag he noticed the blouse open, exposing her cleavage. Nice firm breasts, moving against the thin fabric. No bra? Her jacket was spread over the back of the chair. Well, a show to pass the time.
She moved her hands expertly along the sides, under the packed clothes, and he watched her breasts move as the muscles underneath worked. Nice. He moved a little to one side and was rewarded by a glimpse of a dark aureola. Getting better!
He moved a little more to get a better look, easing his crotch as his hard-on began to strain against his jeans. Her movements stopped. He glimpsed the quivering nipple, then looked up, into dark brown eyes. Furious eyes. She stood up and commanded: "Arms up. Legs spread."
Coming around the table she stood behind him and expertly patted him down. Neck, back, waist, sides of the legs, ankles, up between the legs, then his front. A hand brushed his erection and she stilled.
"In there. With your bag. Move!"
He scurried into the examination cubicle, not knowing what to say. Not knowing how to regain control. She entered behind him, her face drawn with anger. The latch clicked.
