Taken At The Airport

"How do I look?" I rub my eyes, trying to keep myself awake. I feel more like a zombie than a human being.

"You look fine, Zoe," Danny says. He

always

says I look fine. My boyfriend is the type of guy who doesn't notice when I make the effort to wear makeup or not.

Still, I want to please him. I have on a black miniskirt and a matching pair of pumps. Not the most sensible attire for flying on a plane perhaps, but I want to look good for Danny. He is the most magnificent person I have ever met -- his nerdy smile is enough to drive the breath from me and I sometimes feel whisked away by the vast knowledge of his words.

I met Danny about a year ago. It was my freshman year at UCLA. I had signed up for an intro CS class, not really knowing what I wanted to major in. I was one of only a few girls in the class, so naturally, I got a lot of attention -- and not always wanted attention. The boys all pretended to act helpful, but I knew they were all just trying to get into my pants. Danny was different though. He was one of the TAs, and he treated me with dignity and respect. He was also tall and wore cute glasses, so when he asked me out on a date, I pretty much said yes right away.

"Are you ready?" Danny asks, offering back my suitcase.

No. No, I am

not

the least bit ready. It is only 5AM and I am dead tired. My eyes are red and my feet hurt and I really shouldn't have worn these heels. I would have preferred a later flight -- something closer to noon, but between our rent and all the student loans, Danny and I don't really have the money to splurge on expensive plane tickets. Hurray to living in Los Angeles.

I force a smile at my boyfriend and say, "I'm ready, let's go."

I take my suitcase and follow him towards the security gate. Usually, there would be a huge line, but it's a Tuesday and it's 5AM so instead there are

just

a couple dozen people. That's LAX for you. Danny and I get into the queue and begin waiting and waiting and waiting and-

"Have your boarding pass and ID ready!" shouts a Latina TSA agent. She is a portly woman. Her bellowing voice hurts my ears. I look around and realize we are about halfway there.

"Well, the line isn't too bad," Danny says cheerily. "I was worried we might miss our flight."

I look at my phone. "We still have an hour."

"I'm actually getting kinda nervous. I've never been to Seattle before."

"Don't get too excited. The weather sucks and it rains all the time."

"Sounds like paradise. As a boy, I used to play outside with my friends whenever it rained. We would lie out on the grass, stick out our tongues and taste the rain droplets as they fell from the sky. I remember my father would yell at me for getting my clothes all wet. I understand now why he was mad -- he had to do all my laundry -- but to me, it was like swimming in the air."

"I get it, but trust me... as someone who grew up there, it gets old."

Danny cocks an eyebrow.

"There's nothing more depressing than going outside every day and seeing nothing but clouds. I know some people enjoy it. I'm just not one of those people. My parents wanted me to go to UDub, but I was just so sick of living there that I made it my mission to move out of state."

"And then you met me," he smiles. "Are you excited to see your parents?"

"Ughh."

Danny chuckles. "I take that as a no?"

"I'm not, but they definitely are. They're simply overjoyed that their little princess has

finally

found a man. I have been gushing about you over the phone for months, saying you're the

best boyfriend ever

and things like that."

"Best boyfriend ever, eh? Aren't I the

only

boyfriend you've ever had?"

I poke his chest. "Yeah, and there's nothing embarrassing about that."

Danny grins. "Oh, of course not."

I put my hands on my hips. "It's not my fault my parents were so overprotective. You won't believe the things they did in high school to keep the boys away."

"Well, hopefully, they like me."

"Don't worry, they definitely will. Both my parents are nerds and you fit right in. You don't drink or do drugs. You never break the rules. You're inoffensive and you've got a respectable degree. You're pretty boring honestly, and in my parent's eyes, boring is good."

I can already imagine my mom's eyes lighting up when she sees Danny. My dad would be in the corner saying

Bet you can't wait to get married

because he's the type of fool who believes in love at first sight. He's always telling me about how he met my mom by accident at a chess tournament. They were on competing sides, high school rivals, and it was a hard fought battle. When my dad won, he felt so bad he invited her back to his hotel room for some drinks.

Suffice to say, they did more than just have drinks. I guess that makes me an oops baby.

Marriage... I think it's much too early to be talking about that. That's not to say I don't love Danny -- I do. But I'm only 19 years old. Surely, I should get my degree first?

Danny says, "I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted."

"Flattered definitely," I giggle and kiss him on the cheek. "You may be a nerd but you're

my

nerd. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Zoe."

As we're waiting in line, I notice a middle-aged man staring at me -- more specifically, at my chest. Instinctively, I cross my arms to protect myself. It bothers me that people stare at my tits so much; I can't control how large my breasts are.

There's an animal part of me that enjoys the attention though. That tingle of undeniable excitement. To be so desired as to be envied. My friends are always telling me how pretty I am and how they wish they could have a body like mine -- tiny waist, wide hips, and a shapely ass. They say I have the type of perfection that only a rare combination of good genes and diet can create. Why work so hard to maintain your figure, if you don't bother showing it off? I can't say I disagree.

"Have your boarding pass and ID ready!"

Yes, yes, I heard you, lady. Stop shouting already.

I hand my driver's license to the TSA agent at the stand. He looks at the license and then at my face before nodding.

"Ticket on the scanner please."

I place my phone screen side down on the scanner waiting until the indicator light changes color.

"Over there, please." the TSA agent points to the leftmost lane.

I move to the lane with my suitcase. Danny follows closely behind me. There is another line before the conveyor belt. Luckily, this line is shorter.

"Take your electronics out of your bags," shouts another TSA agent, a stout middle-aged lady.

I pull off my coat, revealing the halter top underneath. I take off my jewelry and heels and put them along with my purse in one of the cartons. Then, I lift my suitcase -- with some help from Danny -- onto the conveyor belt. I watch my belongings ride along the conveyor belt and towards the x-ray machine.

Satisfied that my stuff is accounted for, I walk towards the full-body scanner.

"Step forward, miss." The TSA agent on the other side beckons.

As I get closer to the TSA agent, I begin to feel apprehensive. He is a big man.

Very big

. Maybe 6'7 and 250 pounds. Bald. Muscular. He looks like he could be a hybrid of an NBA player and maybe Kratos from God of War. He has a full beard going from ear to ear and sharp blue eyes that make me want to cower behind a wall.

Still, there's something intriguing about him. And not just because he's hot... although he's definitely that. He's different. Powerful. His imposing size makes him dominate the room around him. The blue TSA uniform fits tightly around his broad shoulders and well-defined biceps. He has the usual TSA ID card clipped to his neck cord, but half of it is tucked away in his shirt pocket. I guess he doesn't want people to know his name.

He looks at me, those piercing eyes seeing past my face and into my soul. It's as if he can probe into the deepness of my mind, leaving me trapped, hypnotized by the sheer magnetism rolling off of his unyielding gaze.

Nervously, I step onto the scanner. I look down and see the outline of footprints on the ground.

"Turn to the side."

I turn to my right.

"Spread your legs with your arms over your head," he demands. He speaks good English, but he has a slight Slavic accent. His voice is deep. Strong. Heavy with authority. I can tell he likes ordering me around.

Stay calm Zoe. Don't be intimidated.

I lift my arms into a diamond shape above my head and place my feet on the footprints. The side of my body is turned towards him. He can see the sinuous outline of my petite body from head to toe -- my long brown hair flowing down to my waist, the swell of my breasts jutting out from my chest, the curve of my slender waist going down to the roundness of my ass, the slenderness of my long legs and the smallness of my bare feet.

"Lift your hands higher."

I lift my hands higher. My breasts lift further up on my chest. My halter top feels thinner than ever. My nipples perk up underneath the sheer cloth.

"Higher."

"My hands are already up."

"

Higher!

"

The power of his voice compels me to obey. My arms stretch upwards even further until my elbows are taut. The awkward posture forces me to push my ass outwards. It is as if I'm being put on a display like a mannequin in a lingerie store.

I can see him lick his lips as he ogles my curvaceous profile.

God, could you be more obvious?

I want to scold him for being a perv but I don't want to cause a scene -- and frankly, I am a bit intimidated by him -- so I just keep quiet. I steal a glance towards Danny. He isn't saying anything, but from the frown on his face, I can tell he is uncomfortable with how the agent is treating me.

The scanning device spins around me. I look towards the TSA agent expectantly.

"Okay, miss, step forward."

I walk out of the body scanner.

Phew

. I figure I'm home free when suddenly he puts his palm in front of me.

"Stop. I'm going to have to pat you down."

"What! Why?" I protest.

"There's something there that I have to check." He points to the crotch area on the figure on the computer screen.

I look at the screen and examine the scan of myself. Sure enough, there is a small dark spot where he's pointing, but it's not something that should have triggered any alarm bells. It's more than likely just a glitch. I roll my eyes. For all his size, the guy is very transparent. I know he just wants to have a chance to grope me.

I cross my arms. "You're mistaken, sir. I don't have anything hidden underneath my skirt."

"Maybe so, but I can't let you through if I see anything suspicious. Those are the rules."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Yeah, well, I think you're just making all this stuff up." I try to walk past him, but he blocks me with his arm.

God, he's big

. The girth of his biceps looks bigger than my waist.

I glare at him. He returns my gaze with his piercing blue eyes. He is so tall and so intimidating. Powerful men have this way about them. A way that makes you feel like you're the one to blame when you're not obeying their every command. I can feel my resolve falter.

I sigh. "Fine, whatever, let's just get this over with."

"Spread your arms."

I lift my arms languidly to either side. Beaming, the TSA agent shoves his hands underneath my armpits. I groan as he begins roughly grabbing at my breasts -- lingering there for a hot second over my nipples -- then my waist, my belly, and then down to my hips and thighs. My breath quickens and I can feel my chest rise and fall. I want him to stop but I am helpless to resist.

His hands slip underneath my skirt. He is kneading his thick fingers over my thighs.

God.

His fingers are so strong. So firm. My supple flesh just yields to his touch. His hand is moving higher up my thigh. Higher. Higher and closer to...

Damn it, Zoe. You're not actually getting turned on by this, are you?

I breathe a sigh of relief when he finally stops.

Danny stomps towards the TSA agent. "Hey, I don't appreciate you touching my girlfriend like that." He adjusts his glasses and squares his shoulders as if gearing up for a fight.

The larger man turns to Danny. He sizes up my boyfriend and it's clear from his face he's not impressed. "I am only doing my job, sir."

"Doing your job? By groping my girlfriend? Do you see what she's wearing? A halter top and a skirt. What could she possibly be hiding? This is fucking bullshit."

"Please don't swear sir. If you have a problem, take it up with my supervisor."

"Oh, I fully intend to." Danny seethes.

"Just forget about it, Danny." I look towards the TSA agent. "Am I good to go now?"

The agent strokes his beard as he looks at my breasts with a lecherous smile. "Sorry, no, I'm going to have to bring you in for further questioning."

"More questions? But I don't have any weapons on me. You just patted me down."

The TSA agent shrugs. "You've been selected for a random security check."

"Random my ass," Danny snorts.

"But I haven't done anything wrong," I say.

"It doesn't matter. The computer says I need to bring you in for questions, so that's what I'm going to do. For all I know, you could be a terrorist."

Danny chortles, "A terrorist?

Her

?" He motions his hand over my petite body. "She couldn't hurt a fly."

"I don't make the rules." The TSA agent grabs my wrist and begins pulling me. I try to struggle away but it's no use. His grip is way too strong.

"Where are you taking her?" Danny demands. He steps in front of us trying to put on a brave face. It's admirable but I can tell he's intimidated by the much larger man.

"Step to the side, sir. I don't want to have to use force." The TSA agent sighs as if he's talking to a disobedient pet.

"No. Not until you let my girlfriend go."

"Suit yourself," the TSA agent says, pushing Danny to the side as if he were a small dog. Danny cries out in agony, skidding onto the floor like a hockey puck.

"Come with me, miss." The TSA agent pulls my arm, dragging me behind him.

We stumble into a small conference room. There is a desk in the center with a chair on each side. The large man pulls down the blinds of the window and locks the door. Then he turns to me.

"Take a seat, miss."

I sit down, quivering in the chair.

He is so tall and so strong, and I am absolutely terrified. I can see the bad intentions in his eyes.

He's going to rape me

. I'm not naive. I've seen stories like this on TV, about men tricking women into having sex with them. Usually, the guy ends up getting caught, but I've watched enough true crime flicks to know that it never ends well for the girl.

Should I try to fight back? No, that would be stupid. If he flung Danny to the side like that, what chance do I have? I'm just a 5'4 girl that weighs 110 pounds. I can't fight someone as big as him. He'll snap me like a twig.

He notices the expression on my face. "Please relax, miss. I won't hurt you if you do what I say. I just want to ask you some questions." His voice sounds sincere, and I almost want to believe him. Maybe, things will still be fine. Maybe, he really is just here to talk.

I nod. "Okay."

The TSA agent sits down on the chair across from me, crossing his legs. He takes out a notebook and puts it on his thigh.

"Now, let's start with your name."

"Zoe. Zoe Kuschel."

"Zoe," he says, trying my name out in his mouth with a smile. "A cute name for a cute girl." He writes it down in his notebook. "How old are you, Zoe?"

"I'm 19, sir."

His eyes gleam at my answer. He curls his lips, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. I can tell it pleases him that I'm only 19.

"What do you do, Zoe?"

"I'm a student at UCLA."

"What are you studying?" The TSA agent taps his pen on his chin.

"I don't see how that's relevant."

"Well I dunno, you could be studying chemistry to learn how to cook meth. Just answer the fucking question."

"'Jeez, no need to swear. I am studying to become an animator."

He leans back in his chair with a chuckle. "That's your dream?"

I'm not sure how to answer. Who doesn't second guess what they want for their career? I watched all the Pixar movies as a girl. I remember watching all the behind the scenes videos and being awed with the technology. I am a total sucker for learning about how things are made. But recently, I've heard about how abusive the industry is towards its employees -- especially women, and now I'm not so sure I want to get involved anymore.

"Seems like a shame for a beautiful girl like you to be hidden away behind a computer all day." There is condescension in his voice, and I feel unrightfully judged.

I frown. "What's it to you?"

"It makes me sick when people waste their lives on mundane things. You want to slave away for some corporation? Be a perfect little housewife for your husband? Raise a bunch of children who inevitably will grow up to despise you?"

"That's none of your business. Just finish with your questions so I can get out of here."

"Alright then," he says bemused, shaking his head slightly. He writes something in his notebook. "Let's continue. What is your purpose for traveling today? Is it for business or pleasure?"

"Neither, I'm visiting my parents in Seattle."

"Ah,

pleasure

then."

I roll my eyes. He isn't as slick as he thinks he is.

"What would your parents think if you brought me home?"

"I would never bring a brute like you home."

"Just hypothetically."

I glare daggers at him. "They'd

kill

you."

The TSA agent chuckles, clasping his hands over his belly. "You're funny, Zoe. Now, listen to me." His voice loses its playful edge and becomes rough. "I'm going to need you to take your tits out."

"What?" The suddenness of his demand shocks me.

"You heard me miss. I need to make sure you're not hiding anything in there. What if you were hiding a knife between your tits?"

"That's ridiculous!" I exclaim. "Breasts aren't

pockets

. Why don't you try sticking a knife up your ass you ignorant asshole."

"Now look who's swearing?" he says, raising a bemused eyebrow. "Please comply. You don't want me to have to use force, do you?"

I shake my head.

"Then take off your clothes."

"Okay fine, I'll show you my damn tits."

Not really having a choice, I pull off my halter top. When I finish unclasping my bra and free my tits, the TSA agent smiles appreciatively. He whistles, clearly impressed by what he sees. I can feel his hungry eyes crawl all over my naked skin. The cold air in the room causes my nipples to perk up.

The TSA agent pulls his chair next to mine. Grinning, he puts one of his hands in between my cleavage, sliding his fingers around the circumference of my breasts. His touch is surprisingly soft. Gentle. My heart is beating like a caged bird trying to escape.

"Mmhmm," he says. He tickles a fingernail over one of my areolas. "Mmhmm." I try to suppress a moan as he suddenly pinches it. Why does this feel so good? I should be slapping this man, but instead I'm getting turned on?

He licks his lips. "Well, everything seems to be in order here."

"Satisfied?"

"Almost." He pulls out his phone and takes a picture of me.

"Hey!" I glare at him.

"I need to submit this photo for evidence."

More like you want nudes to masturbate to later

. My blood seethes inside me. I want to make him pay for treating me like this, but what can I do? I'm just a weak girl and the guy is double my size. No, the only option is to keep playing along with his perverted game.

The TSA agent admires the photo of me on his phone. "My, you look gorgeous! You know, you remind me of that porn star... What's her name? The one with large brown eyes and huge knockers like yours?" He furrows his brow. "Ah, it doesn't matter." He grins at me. "The point is, you're way hotter than her. She may be a 10/10 but you're more like a 100/10."