A young man in jeans and a TransFlyte golf shirt watched the last piece of luggage get picked up from the baggage claim carousel by a middle-aged businessman. He saw the single remaining girl's exasperated expression, even from a distance. When the carousel stopped, she stared at it as if trying to make it move again.
Finally, she turned and glanced around the nearly empty baggage claim area. It was late evening. Few, if any more, flights would be arriving that night. When it looked like she might leave, the young man walked out of the shadows.
She looked at him once. Then twice. She saw the logo on his shirt and turned to face him. He was close now.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"Are there any more bags from flight 346?"
He had been told she was cute. The guys in Orlando had lied to him. She was gorgeous: light brown hair with even lighter streaks through it; a perfect tan; full breasts under a tight top; tiny waist; body-hugging jeans; and, long legs.
He found himself staring into her incredible eyes, saying, "No. That's it, I'm afraid. Missing one?"
"Two, actually," she said with disgust.
"Maybe they came on an earlier flight."
Her face seemed to physically brighten at the words.
"Really? Where would they be?" she asked.
"Upstairs. Behind the ticket counter. We have an office where we store them," he said nonchalantly.
"Can we check?"
She was nearly walking before she finished asking.
"Sure. I'll take you," the young man volunteered.
His leisurely pace didn't suit her, but if he took her to her 'lost' luggage, it would be worth it, she supposed.
"Been on vacation?" the man asked.
"Yeah. A cruise," she answered.
"Wow. That would be nice. It's turning so cold up here."
The got on an escalator.
"I'll need to give them your name," he said, looking back over his shoulder at her.
"Amanda Peters."
"OK, Amanda. I'm Joel."
"Hi."
At the top of the escalator, they turned left and made their way to the TransFlyte ticket counter. The near total absence of customers made the normally bustling scene seem almost eerie to Amanda. Joel led her beyond the TSA scanners and to the side of the ticket counter.
"Wait here. I'll be right back," Joel told her.
He closed the office door behind him and looked at the man behind the desk.
"Holy shit, Tom. This one is flat out gorgeous," Joel said. "My cock's throbbing already."
"Relax," Tom said with a smile. "We've got all evening. Did you see how dead it is out there?"
Joel nodded, fully realizing the consequences of the statement.
Before he could respond, a tall girl in her early twenties, about Amanda's age, came through the office's back door.
"Well?" she asked.
"Hey, Angie. She's here. She's beautiful and she's VERY anxious to get her luggage," Joel told her.
Angie sat on a couch and grinned. "How anxious?"
"I'm pretty sure she'd do almost anything to get those bags," Joel said.
"OK," Tom interrupted. "You guys know the routine. If it looks like she's going to panic, back off. Let's do it."
Joel turned, opened the office door, and called for Amanda to come in.
Tom was a thirty year old supervisor for TransFlyte and had worked with Joel and Angie for nearly a year. The trio hit it off immediately and found themselves killing time during slow periods with open discussions about their sexual fantasies. Angie, being the youngest as well as an attractive blonde, was often the target of the men's pestering; but, she took it in stride.
Tom initiated the 'baggage diversion program' six months earlier. It took some cooperation from his friends at the airlines in other cities, but the compensation he paid them in the form of confiscated liquor and cigarettes was well worth it.
When he saw Amanda enter the office, he knew the price would be very high. He stared at her model-like figure and stunning face while Joel closed the door behind her. Angie was equally transfixed on the couch, restlessly crossing her legs as she watched.
"Hello, Miss...um, Peters. Correct?" Tom said, staring at a piece of paper on his desk.
"Yes," she replied.
"It seems there was a mix up with your luggage," Tom said in a monotone voice.
"Do you have them?"
Tom looked at her intently. Without fail, this was the point where he could begin to tell if the 'victim' was going to cooperate. More than once, luggage was turned over to women who appeared ready to get combative.
"We do."
"May I have them?" Amanda asked.
"It seems, Amanda, that there was a problem with some of the contents of your baggage," Tom said.
"A problem? Like what?"
Tom nodded at Joel, who vanished into the area Angie had come from. A few seconds later, he returned with Amanda's bags in tow. He placed them beside Tom's desk.
The supervisor rose from his chair and stood by the bags.
"You realize, of course, that bags are randomly checked for drugs, explosives, and so forth," Tom said, beginning to unzip the largest of the bags. "This bag was one of those."
Amanda's stomach turned from anger as she watched the bag being opened.
"You know damn well there's nothing like that in there," she said.
"But we didn't at the time," Tom said, laying the bag completely open.