Sitting at the gate reading my book, my name was called to the podium. Since I hadn't placed my name on any waitlists, I was more than a little mystified. I placed the book back in my workbag, and walked up to the podium.
"Ms Montgomery, there is a problem with your checked bag," the gate agent said. The poor girl was terrified, trying to maintain a seriousness about her.
I adjusted my bag, standing a bit straighter. My mind raced. Recalling the recent lists of "not approved for checked luggage" nothing came to mind. Okay, must be some random check then, and have to get thru this.
She led me back to the inner sanctuary of the airport. Each terminal at our airport is the same, so this area I recognized quite well. Even though I never worked in this terminal, it echoed the familiar lay out of my long ago first job.
A man turned around to look at me. With out stopping to be polite, he led me back to a secluded office.
A rising dread filled me. My heart pounded in my chest. Again I ran thru the contents of my checked luggage. I took a large breath, and walked into the small-enclosed room. Windowless, it could be a prison cell, empty and cold.
He sat behind the table, my bag next to him. My knee high, leather boots laid out, black skirt, and black low cut sweater laying on top of them. Pretty outfit, all black, ready for the funeral.
"Ms Montgomery, are you aware of TSS restrictions for prohibited items in checked luggage." He glanced up from his clipboard to catch my eye.
All the e-mails I've read for our clients passed before my mind. I'll admit, I've never read the full content. Better to plead naΓ―ve then try to defend myself.
"No." I tucked my feet underneath me. I wanted to adjust my t-shirt. The low cut top always makes me nervous that the lacy edge of my bra might be showing. But this isn't the time to show my fright, my nervousness.
"It is posted at security, ma'am." He handed me a flyer. I glanced down. Do I pour over the details, or do I keep my attention on him? His eyes glared into me.
I looked down at the words as they spun before my eyes. What had I done wrong? Shampoo, conditioner, make-up. There was nothing unusual in my bag! I tried to focus on the bullet points. No weapons in my bag, no knives, or corrosive substances. I flipped it over, looking for a clue, something. I found nothing, and set the paper down to look back up at this bastard.
What was going on? I straightened up, and looked at him, my eyebrows coming down a bit.
"What is the problem?" I had had it with this game. There was nothing wrong in my bag, nothing at all!
"Ma'am, is this yours?" He pulled up the zip lock bag of my toys. Dildo, and jackrabbit vibrator. I felt a blush rise from my chest to my cheeks. My toys!
I am a woman, and I enjoy my toys. Was there a problem with it? My chin jutted up, "Yes, those are mine."
My lips were set into an angry glare.
"Please look under section 1.5 on the flyer I gave you."
I wanted to flip off an angry quip at this ass hole. How dare he have a problem with me taking sex toys with me! Don't try and tell me other women don't do the same.
Instead I took a breath, and picked the flyer back up. Snide remarks vied for attention, but instead I read. The section covers weapons, knives, scissors. It seemed to apply mostly to items taken on board a plane that can be thrust into a person.
I set the paper back down. "There is nothing here that applies to those items."
"Young lady, I will determine that." His voice was angry, controlled. I felt a wave of fear rush thru me. A burning developed in my breasts as I sat higher. My lips buttoned up tight in frustration.
"Are you saying these items are not dangerous? Are you questioning me?"
I stared at him. There was no good answer to those questions. Instead I choose silence. Better to give this jerk more room to hang himself. I'm not falling for this crap.
He opened the zip lock bag, and took out the Dildo. His paws all over my toy! "Are you telling me this has never been thrust into a person, like a knife, driven up to the hilt?"
He fingered the balls on the toy, and turned to look at me. Standing up, he kept fingering my toy.
I was flabbergasted. Suddenly I have gone from fuming mad to being turned on. This guy is playing with my toy. I couldn't deny the warmth growing between my legs. My glare doesn't have quite the fire that it had seconds ago. Instead it has become confused, watching his hands.
"And what about this one?" He put the dildo down to pick up my jackrabbit. Messing with the controls he flipped it on. The clit vibrator sang out, and the whole toy began to dance. I watched it, my eyes becoming wide.
"It's a thrusting weapon." He looked down at my legs tightly wound together under the chair. My ankles are crossed, and tucked under me, my knees now clenched together.
"Do I need to demonstrate what I mean, so that you understand what sort of weapon this is?"
"No, thank you." My eyes narrowed, flashing at him in anger.
"Oh, I think I do! I don't think you understand the gravity of your actions young lady."
I breathed in, looking for my logic and intelligence. I had to get out of this some how. This man had rape on the mind. And though one part of me agreed that could be fun, that wasn't on the books for today, and not with this bastard!
"Excuse me!?" I finally respond.
"Since you don't understand that these are weapons, I'll show you."
"No you will not. You will give me back my toys and let me board my plane." I spat out. I looked him straight in the eyes daring him to say otherwise.
"I don't think so." A cruel smile played over his lip.
I looked at him. Taking a moment to take stock of his character, the situation. No flying off the handle.
"What are you going to do?" I asked thru tight lips, shoulders thrown back. I am a proud woman. This bastard didn't scare me.
He walked over to me, holding the dildo. He fingered it, and looked me up and down. I stared at his eyes, refusing to be frightened. I would not wilt under him. He couldn't keep my eyes. My willingness to return his anger, to not be cowed- it got to him.
He brought a finger to my face, ran it around my lips. I froze.
The dildo came to my face. "Lick it! I'm going to show you this is a weapon. I'm going to thrust this into your face, and pump it."
I lifted my face higher. I didn't speak a word, but it was obvious what the answer is. Hell no you wont!
He pushed the toy against my lips, and I fought back against it. Grabbing hold of my face, he tried to push the toy into my mouth. My hands flew to my face to defend myself.
Then the logical portion of my brain kicked in. Oh yes, defensive training here. Both hands turned out, palms. And I used a quick jab straight to the groin. Quick, with both hands, palms as the hitting surface. He pulled back, doubling over. I stood up, quickly raising my right leg. Knee flew up, and foot flicked up to follow the hands.
The chair fell over behind me as I stood to my fighting position. He was now groaning in front of me, not paying attention. I glanced behind me for the door. I knew not to turn around. My hands held in defensive position in front of me, I shuttled back towards the door, my eyes never leaving him. In a graceful move, I put my bag on. And I backed up to the door.
It was locked! My hand behind me tried to wiggle it. Flipping around to face the door I realized it was locked with a key! CRAP!
Now I had goaded a bull, and was trapped in the room with him. Obviously he had the key. He looked up at me, eyes wild.
Bending my knees slightly, I came down to full fighting position. Hands flat, ready to fly and hit. He growled at me. I saw his hand flick to his waist and out came a set of handcuffs. My eyes opened in surprise. Oh no, this could go really bad. I tried to think this thru, remember my training. Chain punching is the best defensive and offense. It's hard to get thru. And keep the feet moving so that the attention can't be focused in one place.