Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Airport Scene 1 By Sirkeljerk (http://sirkeljerk.diarlyland.com)

   Amanda just could not believe that filth they were putting in Cosmo
these days.  Not that she disapproved mind you, she was just shocked.  She
thought about all the times she had bought it in high school, hoping to
impress some boy, always lured in by the fantasticized claims - "69 Ways to
Make Your Man Happy In Bed" "Guys tell what they REALLY want!" "Make
yourself a Hottie to catch that Hunk!" With the smut they were putting in
now, you almost didn't need a man, Amanda thought as she smiled to herself
and rubbed her crossed legs together as she read about Juan the lawnmower
boy and his blood engorged protuberance.  Now this is a nice way to pass
the time until that stupid flight gets here, Amanda thought.

   Amanda was at DFW waiting for her flight to Seattle.  Business left her
in airports a lot, so she was relatively immune to the constant delays and
seemingly endless hours with her tight little butt parked in a faux leather
airport lounge seat.  Cosmo was sort of a new indulgence on these trips. 
For her first year as a salesgirl for Machtech, Amanda spent all her time
reading sales manuals and trade journals, desperate to impress her bosses.
They had been impressed, in more ways than one by the thin little nymphette
with the long brown hair always stylishly done up in meetings, gigantic
tits for such a small thin frame, tastefully wrapped in satin bras and
stylish blouses.  With that nice firm, high ass encased tightly in a classy
business suit skirt, more than one boss had surreptitiously readjusted his
trousers as Amanda reported on her efforts to sell the company's hardware
to more or less interested clients.  Oh and the clients, they really got an
eyeful of the sexy salesgirl.  Amanda had thrown herself into the job whole
heartedly after the incident with Dr.  Marcus.  All the passion that had
boiled and bubbled within her during that brief nonrelationship was now
continually brought to bear, in a slightly different manner, on small
business owners across the country.  Many would find themselves signed up
for literally dozens of things which they barely new the use for after an
hour of having been hypnotized by bouncing breasts and wiggling ass as
Amanda rushed around setting up this demo or that.  Amanda had one of the
highest cancellation rates of any salesperson for Machtech.  But enough of
the men either never came out of her spell or realized they needed the
equipment anyway, that she had also been very successful.  Amanda was not
without knowledge of the particular charm of her body, and certainly
dressed to accent it in a tasteful way, but she did not know quite how
deadly a weapon it was and would have emphatically denied being sexy.

   Recently though, the passion that she had funneled into selling
Machtech's gizmos had been fading and with it her sales numbers.  She had
been called in to the home office last week and asked if she needed to take
some time off, if she'd been having any problems.  Amanda had emphatically
denied it and reassured the bosses that she would turn the trend around.

   But, perhaps her ability to sublimate her sexual needs into selling was
crumbling.  More and more, Amanda found herself drawn to Cosmo, trendy
bars, and even the occasional porno through the in-room movie system in
whatever hotel she happened to be in when the desire overwhelmed her.  She
found herself more and more distracted by the moisture between her thighs
in stranger and stranger situations.  Just last week she'd been in a public
park, watching people going about their daily lives.  Here a young couple
was kissing, there a father was spanking his screaming kid, and all of a
sudden, she had felt an overwhelming urge to fuck.  Amanda had draped her
coat over he lap and fingered herself to a grunting orgasm, hips arched
high off the bench.  A man had seen her and come closer watching as she
fucked herself and still she could not stop.  She had collected herself and
hurried away afterwards.

   So, if she was honest with herself, she was finding selling hardware
accessories for small businesses to be less and less interesting, unless,
by chance, the small business owner was 6 foot something, with big arms and
dark eyes.  But in those situations she found herself sputtering and acting
like the idiot that she secretly thought herself to be.  And more and more,
Dr.  Marcus was in her thoughts, and especially in her dreams.  Two nights
ago Amanda had woken from a dream that she could not remember, but the good
doctor's dark eyes were burning in her head and both her hands were already
buried in her sopping wet pussy.  She'd masturbated just to the thought of
his eyes for the next hour, bringing herself to countless orgasms, and
making herself late for that day's first sale call.

   Amanda stood and dumped the Cosmo in her purse, trying to clear her mind
of the disturbing thoughts.  The more she thought of the doctor, the more
incompetent and useless she thought herself.  She had not seen him in over
a year, since he slowly shut the door on her as she masturbated for him,
naked, on his doorstep.  Amanda had called his name over and over as she
orgasmed while his new bitch toy beat her mercilessly with fingernails and
fists.  The police had been called by neighbors, horrified, and surely
fascinated, by the sight of a 17 year old girl beating a naked grown woman
bloody on the doorstep of the married doctor.  The cops had draped Amanda
in a blanket, tended to her bleeding body, and given her a ride home.  They
asked her to stay away from the doctor, appealed to her sense of safety. 
She had no intention to stay away, though she did not tell the cops that.
They did not understand her need, didn't understand the doctor's love.  The
next day someone had knocked on the door and delivered papers instructing
her that Dr.  Marcus had gotten a restraining order against her.  Even then
she would walk by his house out in Paradise Valley, sometimes ten times a
day, stopping several times each day to look in his windows.  It had been
during one of these times, when she was staring in his living room window,
tears falling down her cheeks while she looked at the couch where she and
the doctor had first fucked, that the cop had tapped her on the shoulder.
She'd been arrested, sentenced by a judge to a night in a detention
facility.  It had been for her own good.  Her parents had been alerted,
despite the fact that she was 26, and they had come and moved her back to
Boston, checked her into a mental facility for a short stay.  Her dad had
hooked her up with Machtech, signed her contract without even asking her.
Told her on no uncertain terms what she would be doing.  In the contract
was a provision that she never be asked to sell within a 100 mile radius of
Phoenix and that none of her flight connections ever stop in that city. 
While everyone she worked with knew of the odd provision, Amanda herself
did not.  And after a while, the job had absorbed her and she thought of
the doctor less, though never not at all.  But now, he was there again,
always in her mind, in her lust.

   She shook herself again, trying to chase the thoughts away, and
stretched her lithe body, looking around the lounge.  Her nipples were
particularly sensitive today and the friction against her bra sent tingles
all the way down to her pussy.  Hmmm.  The flight, she noticed without
surprise, was delayed again.  Two more hours in DFW was about par for the
course.  Amanda thought briefly of looking at the customer reports for
Seattle but shelved the idea.  There was only one new customer she would be
pitching to.  Maybe he would be hot.  Probably not, but a girl can dream
right?  It would be nice to meet some guy, she thought, someone to lay
with...Amanda's brain paused in mid thought.  She had been scanning the
other passengers in the lounge, and in the surrounding lounges as she
stretched.  She saw and then didn't, someone, her eyes returned to the
spot. A man.  Sitting in a dark suit.  Closely trimmed dark facial hair,
dark olive skin, slight gray in an otherwise full head of hair, big
muscular shoulders.  It couldn't be, she thought, heart suddenly racing,
vision blurring slightly, pussy moist, nearly dripping.  She looked harder.
Straight posture.  Long nimble fingers.  Black shiny shoes.

   A vision popped into Amanda's head unbidden.  Dark night and asphalt all
around.  Gravel poking painfully into her naked knees, scrapping her hands.
Puddles reflecting the glow from halogen parking lot lights.  A pair of
shiny black shoes with a smudge on the left one, right near the bottom of
the laces.  A deep male voice instructing her.  Ordering her to clean the
spot.  The night air blowing up her skirt, tickling her pantyless and
dripping wet pussy.  Her clit throbbing as her tongue made contact with
smudge, pressing hard on the shoe that tasted of polish and dirt, working
the spot away with pressure and saliva, grinding the dirt into her taste
buds, rubbing the saliva off with her cheek, the shine returned as the
voice laughed and said good girl.  Then a long white cock, shining in the
same light.  In her mouth, filling her mouth, all warm and hard, down her
throat as she gagged, tears of joy as cum flooded her dirty mouth.  A
warmth at the compliment, at the cum, starting at her clit and spreading
through her body...

   Back in the airport, Amanda sat hard, the man, or vision, now blocked by
other seated passengers.  Panic rose in the young woman's chest and she
gathered her things quickly, and then rushed down the concourse in the
other direction, heart beating wildly, the taste of dirt and cum roaring in
her tastebuds and her clit throbbing madly between her legs.  Desire and
panic controlled Amanda as she rounded a corner in the concourse and ducked
into the women's washroom, rushing to a stall.  Back to the stall door,
Amanda rubbed herself once, through the material of her skirt, hard, flat
pressure against her mound with the flat of her hand, and came, juices
soaking her panties, grunting loudly, screaming once, and then biting her
tongue, which mixed the acrid taste of blood with the phantom flavors of
dirt and cum.  Her knees buckled and Amanda sank to the floor, sobbing
quietly.