Sharon Goes Back to School Ch. 16

When she had finished swallowing his load, Sharon sat up, wiping unnecessarily at her mouth. She blinked, surprised to find they were not out front of her place, but under a harsh mercury vapor lamp at the regional airport. Unbidden, the memory of her last flight with Shaun to the football game... which had turned into a team gang bang flashed into life behind her eyes. She remembered getting the supposed salve that had gotten her into trouble that night, as well.

"Dave?" He just winked at her question and got out of the car. Sharon got out, acutely conscious of the way she was dressed... a skimpy halter top and a tiny miniskirt without any bra or panties... well any visible panties, anyway. She looked around, skin prickling already because of the winter air. Dave had tossed her the purse she had brought to the club, and then pulled her small suitcase out of the back, along with a duffel she assumed was his. She accepted the case without question, trying to review what was in her purse, not wanting to get in trouble at security as she followed the younger man along the sidewalk leading to the concourse. By the time they were inside, she was embarrassed to realize her nipples, hard from the cold, were clearly visible against the bra top's thin fabric.

"There's a jacket in your suitcase," Dave said casually, after they had walked the length of the concourse, Sharon collecting varied stares from everyone they had passed. He laughed as Sharon scrambled to get the bolero style jeans jacket she had never seen out and on. The jacket was too small to button, but it covered enough. She searched as well for panties, grabbing a pair of bikini bottoms when she saw them. She tucked them into her purse, relieved when Dave said nothing. In fact, when she looked up, she was surprised to find he had not waited, but was standing three people ahead of her in the ticket line. She somehow realized he was pretending he did not know her, and stopped trying to keep up, even though she had no idea where it was they were headed.

When she got to the kiosk, she knew she appeared every bit the bubble headed blonde when the too masculine middle aged woman with a Beatles' mop of hair and Harry Potter glasses asked her where she was flying. Some corner of her mind scolded that she deserved the almost sneer of derision with which the frumpy woman examined her. Sharon pawed through her purse, relieved when she found a ticket tucked into her passport. She blinked, surprised about her passport-- it had been at home the last she remembered-- but handed both to the woman, realizing too late that she should have looked at the ticket. For an awful moment she had imagined they were boarding a flight to South Africa, but Sharon had told herself that was impossible... there was no airline providing service from the small Midwestern airport to international destinations. Somehow the thought of connecting flights did not occur.

"Of course," the snippy woman frowned, unsurprised at whatever she was seeing on the ticket. "Checking a bag?" Sharon was suddenly at a loss. She was not sure if she was supposed to check it or not. At the thought of what Dave might have left in her bag, though, she was determined not to have the TSA screeners pawing through it.

"Yes," she nodded, lifting the case onto the scale. The woman pursed her lips, seeming disappointed when the small bag was easily within the weight limit. She slapped a white tag on the handle, then focused on the noisy keyboard hidden from view, typing for far longer than Sharon thought could be necessary or helpful. She managed to offer the biddy a saccharine smile; if the bitch put her down for a strip search at least she would not have much to put back on.

"You board soon." the woman handed Sharon the ubiquitous open sided envelope with her various papers, "Give the bag to the team over there. It's gate two." She did not smile or offer a thank you or a have a nice trip, shouting, "Next!" as if somehow that would speed Sharon's departure from ticketing. Sharon paused before putting the bag under the expanda-line barrier scooping out any make up products in her purse and putting them in the front pocket of the suit case. The clerk, an overweight balding man waited patiently, which surprised Sharon, until she realized he had taken the opportunity to stare down her top. She smiled at him reflexively, thinking as she hurried toward the gate and security that if he had been good looking or helpful she might have really given him a show.

Dave was not in sight, and abruptly Sharon wondered if he would even be on the flight, shivering at the thought that she was winging off to parts unknown to do God knew what. She considered ducking into the women's room but remembering what the woman at the ticket counter had said, she opted to go through security. She tried to remember if there were bathrooms inside the secure area, guessing that there would be.

The male TSA agent checking tickets was barely less obvious than the guy collecting bags had been . The first time he shone his special light on her ID the light was three inches to the right, and Sharon looked up to catch him eyeing her cleavage. She smiled at him, as if she expected no less, and thanked him when he winked while wishing her a good time. Not a good flight, she noticed, moving forward in the line. She grimaced when they selected her to go through the new 'nude scanner.' Smiling ruefully, she reasoned that it was not like the agents ogling her would see much more than anyone else in the little airport. She left her purse on the conveyor, belatedly remembering that she had left the little bullet vibrator and the heavier silicone dildo that Dave had insisted she buy at the Lion's Den in her purse. She shrugged, certain that the agents had seen such before.

"Stand on the footprints," the obese black woman manning the scanner said as if Sharon could not have guessed what she was supposed to do from the myriad marking and printed instructions. The agent raised her arms demonstrating what Sharon was to do, and the blonde housewife nearly laughed aloud at how comical the agent's dress shirt looked, buttons straining to contain her rolls of fat. Sharon stepped into the scanner, wondering idly if it would pick up her piercings... or her IUD. There was a low whine and a bar of light spun around her. She started to leave.

"Hold it," a male agent on the other side of the scanner stepped to the door marked 'exit.' Sharon rolled her eyes, having expected that if she was going to be patted down at least they would not radiate her, too. "I need your jacket," the man said, his eyes never getting above her chest as he held out his hand. Sharon shrugged out of the jacket, aware that she was probably going to be the high point of the security guard's shift. He stepped out, ostensibly checking the sewn closed pockets and the buttons as the bar spun around her once more. She stepped out, calmly holding out a hand for the jacket and ignoring the pointing and whispering going on at the monitor to the side.

Sharon shrugged back into the jacket, amazed that the agents at the monitor were more interested in what they were seeing on the screen than in watching her... every other male eye in the room seemed glued to her, but after dancing that was nothing Sharon was not used to having happen. When she went to collect her purse, an over muscled Hispanic female TSA agent was hovering over it.

"Is there a problem?" Sharon asked, careful not to just reach for the bag. The clerk just offered what on a man would seem very much a leer.

"Nope," she maintained eye contact with the blonde housewife as well, "Though I'll say you seem to be ready to take care of yourself." Sharon was shocked that the agent would be so blatant about it. She wanted to look to see if the other agent in the x-ray line was watching them.

"A girl has to be able to do that," Sharon answered coolly.

"Not if she knows the right other girls, if you know what I'm saying," the agent raised an eyebrow. Sharon giggled, amazed that this woman was the one hitting on her.

"I do know some women like that," Sharon answered, tilting her head 'just so,' hoping to seem every part the dizzy blonde. "Why, were you going to volunteer to help me?" She wondered if having contacts in the TSA was something the ZB would want to nurture. She knew better than to not at least make it an option. The agent smiled broadly, and Sharon could almost see the predatory woman's imagining what she would do to Sharon given the chance. It was embarrassing to her married sense of self that the thought left her more than a little aroused. She took the card the agent offered,

"Just call me if you need any... help," the woman smirked. Sharon tucked the card into the front pocket of her bag, extracting one of the gilt Fallen Angel cards that had somehow found their way into her purse after she got back from vacation. She had seen them that morning, and wondered why they were there.

"And if you get that itch, come visit me, and my friends," she said, batting her eyes at the 'roided out lesbian before breezing out of the security checkpoint, searching for Dave or the women's room.

Sharon glanced at the gate, which said the next departure was for Las Vegas. She blinked at that in surprise. She did not know anyone in Las Vegas. She wondered if there was a game there... football was done, but basketball was in full swing, and she thought there was a team in Vegas, as ridiculous as that sounded even to a woman who had never gambled in her life.

Dave was nowhere to be found, and before she could consider crossing the long rows of waiting passengers, a petite brunette stepped up to the microphone by the gate and began to announce that they would be boarding soon. Sharon was pleasantly surprised to find that she was in group A for boarding, then frowned, guessing she would not be able to use the tiny lavatory until they were in the air.

Despite the unknowns, Sharon was excited at the prospect of visiting Las Vegas. Most of her friends had been, some frequently, and they raved about the shopping and the shows. She wondered if it would be warm enough during the day to lay out at the pool. While considering what they might be doing, Sharon got into line with the other passengers in her group and soon enough boarded, choosing to put her purse under the seat so she could get to it when she went to the bathroom. She slid across to the window seat, buckled her belt, and laid her head back, the frenetic pace of the half week since she had gotten back abruptly catching up to her.

She jerked awake with a small cry when the plane bumped, backing away from the gate. Sharon looked around wildly, recognizing she was on a plane, then remembering the hurried trip from Go's in the wee hours of the morning... was it Thursday morning now? The sun still was still not up. She looked to her left, aware that there was someone in the seat right beside her, encroaching on her space.

Sharon started again. It was not Dave beside her, but a heavy middle aged man... a few years older, she guessed. He was decked out in business casual, but had an ample gut stretching the lavender Polo he was wearing. His flabby forearm took the entire armrest to Sharon's left. She was not surprised to find him staring down her top. He flushed and glanced away when she caught him, but not ten seconds later, it happened again. Sharon rolled her eyes.

They listened to the flight attendant go through their spiel, Sharon using the opportunity to look for Dave. He just leered at her from where he was sitting beside a gorgeous woman four rows farther back on the opposite side of the plane. Abruptly the white housewife remembered the flight to the game just a couple months before, and visiting the lavatory became the last thing she wanted to do. She self-consciously pressed her hands against her skirt, glad that in the tight space of the plane no one would be looking up her skirt. Shifting in her seat, she was embarrassed to realize that she had left a wet spot on the seat beneath her... another reason not to get up.

Soon enough they were in the air. Sharon weighed her need to empty her bladder and her desire to get panties on, versus having to squeeze past her seatmate, who kept talking to her while staring at her breasts or legs, and her concern over what might happen when she got to the bathroom. Twice her seatmate pulled his carry out from the seat in front of him, both times his elbow 'accidentally' rubbing against her chest. He seemed to think he might somehow convince Sharon to climb onto his lap and ride him right there in their seats.

When the drink cart came by he insisted on buying Sharon a drink, and then made it a double, ordering vodkas and sprite for her without asking. Sharon drank them, amused that he thought two drinks would suffice. She had been deflecting questions about why she was flying out alone, and asked after his family, considering he was wearing a wedding ring, which made her acutely aware that he should have seen that she was, too. When he asked if she went out to work, it took her a minute to realize what he was asking; he had assumed she was a prostitute, Sharon guessed it was because of her clothing. She angrily answered that she was not a 'pro' even as she realized that actually she was exactly that.

She barely heard what he said in his hasty attempt to apologize, because the question had left Sharon wondering if that was indeed what Dave was planning... why else would he be having her blood drawn and be taking such steps to make sure she was 'clean.' The bastard knew she was clean; he and Shaun had both repeatedly assured her the ZB took regular tests so that they didn't ruin the girls or each others' lives.

She hoped that the drinks had been his weak effort to make amends for his earlier assumption. At least it did help Sharon to relax... flying was not something she enjoyed. Unfortunately it made her need to pee more pressing, until she scrabbled at her seatbelt, grabbed the bottoms she had tucked into her purse, and murmuring 'scuse me,' to her seatmate, literally climbed over his lap, not caring that she wound up offering the already flustered passenger a close up view of her laser scaped bare sex. No one else seemed to notice by the time she was standing in the aisle. She blinked as she passed the row where she had seen Dave before... Both his and the woman beside his seats were empty.

There was of course a single stall at the back, and though she knew she was not supposed to stand in the aisle, the fact that she was willing to do so dressed as she was, and the shifting of her weight and clenched knees left the flight attendants in the back jump seat eyeing her sympathetically instead of scolding her. Sharon later realized she should have known who would come out of the stall, considering the empty seats. But when the door opened and the striking brunette who had been sitting beside Dave spilled out, still trying to button her jeans and giggling at something, Sharon tried to dive into the lav, only to find Dave coming out behind the pretty woman. Sharon's eyes blazed... She did not believe it was a ZB Bitch, the woman was too old to be in college. So Dave freelancing, which was completely contrary to what he had assured her the ZB did.

"Whoa, lady!" Dave caught her shoulders, keeping her away and pretending he did not know her, "I mean, I'm flattered and all, but I already got taken care of, so..." The brunette giggled at his joke, further angering Sharon.

"Sir!" one of the flight crew said sharply, "Only one person in the lavatory at a time." Dave just snorted and followed the smaller woman back to their seats. Sharon hesitated at the doorway, nose wrinkled at the certainty of what had just happened inside. "Here, ma'am," the other flight attendant had offered Sharon several wipes, "I'd be cautious about that too, after seeing that," she said, then seemed to realize how Sharon was dressed. Sharon found herself blushing, and hurried inside. As she closed the door she hear the second stewardess say to the first, 'It's amazing who takes these out to Vegas.' The other snorted, 'Yep, but you know what they say...' and the women had laughed. Sharon emptied her bladder over the next thirty or forty seconds, then gingerly removed the panties from her ass, embarrassed at how much fluid proceeded to pour out of her bottom into the tiny commode. She wiped the best that she could, wishing there was a place to simply discard the panties Go had put inside of her, and ultimately, after rinsing them in the tiny sink and wringing them out, Sharon left them tucked between her ass cheeks, pinned in place by the swim suit bottoms. She took a deep breath, glad she would no longer be flashing people, and exited the stall to find her seatmate standing there, as if he had somehow decided she might invite him along to join the mile high club.

At least it had distracted the flight attendants, and it made getting back into her seat easy. He had seemed more distracted but more distant when he got back, and she found herself wondering if he had fapped to mental images of her. The thought threatened to become arousal and she forced it away, trying to understand how even that could be exciting to a married mother. She shut her eyes, pretending to sleep, and then managing to nap, waking when they touched down, shortly ahead of the sunrise.

Sharon had waited alone for her bag, trying not to glare at where Dave was flirting with the woman he had banged in the plane's lavatory. At least there had not been someone with a 'Mrs. Sharon Sobel' placard waiting to take her somewhere when she exited the jet way into the hustle of McCarren airport. Signs everywhere advertised an endless variety of shows, several of them obviously very racy and with '18 and over' warnings. Clusters of slot machines were scattered through the airport, as well. Sharon found herself wondering what souvenirs she should get for the family then abruptly realized she could not tell them where she had been... She doubted Chris would be happy to hear she had jetted west to a city they had never visited with friends from school. And if she had to elaborate... that just she and Dave had flown out..? The thought made the white housewife shiver.

As before Dave was nowhere to be found when she collected her bag. It was a nervous handful of minutes before she remembered that her phone was off. She turned it on and seconds later a list of texts began to drop in. Dave was supposedly looking for her, was upset he could not find her and she was not responding to her texts. His final text was that she could just get herself a cab. Sharon scrolled through the texts, looking for the destination. She repeated the search while standing in the queue for taxis, surprised at how long the line was, and at how cold it was outside in the desert in the morning. The sun was peeking over the horizon when she slid into a cab, ignoring for the tenth time the guys trying to pick her up, 'Hey, lady, you can share my cab... you can share my room!' 'Hey chica, you comin' our way?' 'Damn, come with me and I'll have already hit the jackpot.' The cab pulled away from the curb before the driver looked up, asking where she was headed. Sharon looked down from the deep black skin of the Somali cabbie to her phone,

"Uhm," dammit, there had to be a message telling her where to go. She started to text Dave, wondering why she had not done that first.

"I know, lady," the man's clipped English accent was strange, "You here for AVN." Sharon vaguely remembered that... She nodded without really thinking about it. "No problem, pretty lady, I get you there." He had been driving... and looking back at her, that whole time. Sharon cried out and he looked back out the windshield, barely missing a woman in the crosswalk. He turned through an orange light, heading not toward the city, but lopping up onto the highway. He looked back at her, offering a broad smile, "See, you safe. I get you there." They had been driving for a few minutes when his head suddenly snapped around, eyes locking on her face, as opposed to what she had gotten used to from every other man that night.