peachythrvnduil
New Member
He slid the black Samsonite carry-on into the overhead bin, clicked the plastic latch closed, and settled into his seat with a sigh. Another international flight, another wicked case of jet lag and a digestive tract that wouldn't be right for days. Heading up the European base of LexCorp Worldwide had perks but quarterly conferences in various parts of the world was not one of them. There was nothing worse than leaving his adopted Parisian home for the gritty, dark, always overcast piece of Americana that was Gotham City.
Sighing again, he counted to three before pulling his iPad from his bag. Flight time meant catching up on the massive backlog of unanswered emails clogging up his inbox (342 in all). He hated email. He should have been born in the days before email, or at least born in the days before you had to cc everyone in the damn company just to answer a question about pens.
To: John Sanderson
From: Paul Levinson
CC: Dept - Finance - All
John,
Harrison has asked that-
"Excuse me. That's my seat." The feminine voice was clear and confident. The flirtatious notes in her speech danced through the air and curled around his ear drums. He looked up. Long blonde hair. A rosebud mouth painted ruby red. Wire rimmed glasses framing two bright emerald eyes. Eyelashes thick as a forest fluttered as their gazes locked.
"I'm 4A," she said, gesturing toward the window seat.
"Sorry," he sputtered, getting up so she could slide into the seat next to him. Her black pencil skirt rode up an inch above her knees when she sat down. She wasn't wearing a wedding ring. "You're American."
"So are you," she said, her lips plump and parted. With a touch, the iPad screen went dark. Those emails could wait.
Seven hours flew by as they talked and flirted, their interaction lubricated by expensive airline food and overpriced drinks. His lovely seatmate Lillian was a jewelry buyer for Lord & Taylor returning home after Paris Fashion Week. She was funny, gorgeous, and available. He was beginning to think he was in love.
"If you're free sometime this week - " he began as they gathered their belongings after landing.
"Maybe," she grinned. Alcohol threw off his balance as he tried to lean on the armrest and he missed it by a mile. His jacket slipped off his lap and onto the floor.
"Here," she giggled, handing it back to him. "Good thing neither of us is driving. We're both over the legal limit." He smiled sheepishly.
Walking down the boarding ramp together, he tried to grab her hand and hold it tight. Pulling away, she giggled again and expertly masked a drunken stumble.
"That was good for a girl in heels," he teased.
"One of my many talents." Her voice was low, seductive.
"Let me check in with the office and then we can continue this conversation-" he said as he reached for his phone. The pocket of his bag where he kept his electronics felt strangely roomy. Looking down, he saw his phone but his iPad was gone. "Uh oh."
"What?"
"I must have left my iPad on the plane. I'll be right back." He hurried back toward the ramp. When he emerged 15 minutes later, Katherine was gone.
"Where to?" the surly cabbie asked as she slid into the backseat.
“Hells Gate." He nodded and hit the gas. She ran a hand through her long auburn hair. The blonde wig and wire rimmed glasses were at the bottom of a bathroom trashcan where she'd ditched them before heading out into the City smog. Wigs always started to itch after a few hours but they were necessary in her line of work.
Her flirtation with seat 4B had resulted in $5000 in cash lifted from the wallet in his jacket pocket and one brand new iPad. Not bad for seven hours of work. As a rule she didn't work on planes - too much risk and nowhere to run - but rules are made to be broken. Business men never learned not to flash their cash around when trying to impress a woman and John Sanderson was too good to pass up.
"You from around here?" the cabbie asked.
"Just here on business," she lied as she leaned back against the worn leather seats. The dirty brick buildings flickered by like a slideshow as the cab sped along the expressway, the dark architecture of The city welcoming her home. She looked toward the rooftops, so different in the daylight, and the memory of her last night in the city filled her thoughts.
Cracking the window open to allow the cool October air to soothe her burning skin, the corners of her mouth twitched into an uneasy smile. As the driver dropped her off at the bustling nightclub the young woman slipped into a nearby alley and quickly changed her attire to something more suitable for the environment she was now in. An extremely tight black backless dress now clung to her small frame, hugging all of her curves in the right places, and a pair of red bottom pumps that made her slender legs go on for days even though she was a mere five feet and six inches tall. She decided to give her scalp a break from the itchy wigs and kept her natural auburn red locks down, “That should do.” She mumbled to herself before hiding her belongings behind some boxes. Even if they got stollen she had plenty of money to replace them thanks to her recent job.
The bouncers didn’t hesitate to let the beautiful redhead in and soon the loud music began to vibrate her body and the flashing lights reflected on her porcelain skin. She went to the bartender and ordered a simple shot of tequila, just to ease her a bit. Her bright emerald hues gazed at the various people in the club but soon she heard a deep voice speaking directly to her, another job already? She turned her attention to the stranger and raised an eyebrow in surprise, not bad at all she thought to herself. “Diana.” She said simply, knowing that this fellow was use to young girls practically throwing themselves upon him.
Sighing again, he counted to three before pulling his iPad from his bag. Flight time meant catching up on the massive backlog of unanswered emails clogging up his inbox (342 in all). He hated email. He should have been born in the days before email, or at least born in the days before you had to cc everyone in the damn company just to answer a question about pens.
To: John Sanderson
From: Paul Levinson
CC: Dept - Finance - All
John,
Harrison has asked that-
"Excuse me. That's my seat." The feminine voice was clear and confident. The flirtatious notes in her speech danced through the air and curled around his ear drums. He looked up. Long blonde hair. A rosebud mouth painted ruby red. Wire rimmed glasses framing two bright emerald eyes. Eyelashes thick as a forest fluttered as their gazes locked.
"I'm 4A," she said, gesturing toward the window seat.
"Sorry," he sputtered, getting up so she could slide into the seat next to him. Her black pencil skirt rode up an inch above her knees when she sat down. She wasn't wearing a wedding ring. "You're American."
"So are you," she said, her lips plump and parted. With a touch, the iPad screen went dark. Those emails could wait.
Seven hours flew by as they talked and flirted, their interaction lubricated by expensive airline food and overpriced drinks. His lovely seatmate Lillian was a jewelry buyer for Lord & Taylor returning home after Paris Fashion Week. She was funny, gorgeous, and available. He was beginning to think he was in love.
"If you're free sometime this week - " he began as they gathered their belongings after landing.
"Maybe," she grinned. Alcohol threw off his balance as he tried to lean on the armrest and he missed it by a mile. His jacket slipped off his lap and onto the floor.
"Here," she giggled, handing it back to him. "Good thing neither of us is driving. We're both over the legal limit." He smiled sheepishly.
Walking down the boarding ramp together, he tried to grab her hand and hold it tight. Pulling away, she giggled again and expertly masked a drunken stumble.
"That was good for a girl in heels," he teased.
"One of my many talents." Her voice was low, seductive.
"Let me check in with the office and then we can continue this conversation-" he said as he reached for his phone. The pocket of his bag where he kept his electronics felt strangely roomy. Looking down, he saw his phone but his iPad was gone. "Uh oh."
"What?"
"I must have left my iPad on the plane. I'll be right back." He hurried back toward the ramp. When he emerged 15 minutes later, Katherine was gone.
"Where to?" the surly cabbie asked as she slid into the backseat.
“Hells Gate." He nodded and hit the gas. She ran a hand through her long auburn hair. The blonde wig and wire rimmed glasses were at the bottom of a bathroom trashcan where she'd ditched them before heading out into the City smog. Wigs always started to itch after a few hours but they were necessary in her line of work.
Her flirtation with seat 4B had resulted in $5000 in cash lifted from the wallet in his jacket pocket and one brand new iPad. Not bad for seven hours of work. As a rule she didn't work on planes - too much risk and nowhere to run - but rules are made to be broken. Business men never learned not to flash their cash around when trying to impress a woman and John Sanderson was too good to pass up.
"You from around here?" the cabbie asked.
"Just here on business," she lied as she leaned back against the worn leather seats. The dirty brick buildings flickered by like a slideshow as the cab sped along the expressway, the dark architecture of The city welcoming her home. She looked toward the rooftops, so different in the daylight, and the memory of her last night in the city filled her thoughts.
Cracking the window open to allow the cool October air to soothe her burning skin, the corners of her mouth twitched into an uneasy smile. As the driver dropped her off at the bustling nightclub the young woman slipped into a nearby alley and quickly changed her attire to something more suitable for the environment she was now in. An extremely tight black backless dress now clung to her small frame, hugging all of her curves in the right places, and a pair of red bottom pumps that made her slender legs go on for days even though she was a mere five feet and six inches tall. She decided to give her scalp a break from the itchy wigs and kept her natural auburn red locks down, “That should do.” She mumbled to herself before hiding her belongings behind some boxes. Even if they got stollen she had plenty of money to replace them thanks to her recent job.
The bouncers didn’t hesitate to let the beautiful redhead in and soon the loud music began to vibrate her body and the flashing lights reflected on her porcelain skin. She went to the bartender and ordered a simple shot of tequila, just to ease her a bit. Her bright emerald hues gazed at the various people in the club but soon she heard a deep voice speaking directly to her, another job already? She turned her attention to the stranger and raised an eyebrow in surprise, not bad at all she thought to herself. “Diana.” She said simply, knowing that this fellow was use to young girls practically throwing themselves upon him.
