Miranda Kim handed her boarding pass to the gate agent, hoping desperately. She was on the last flight out and she could see the whirling snowflakes outside through the glass behind the check-in counter. The snow was accumulating on the tarmac and many flights on the departures board had already been cancelled.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," said the gate agent. "Your flight is cancelled. We'll re-book you on the first flight tomorrow."
"But where will I stay overnight? The airline will put me up in a hotel, right?"
"No, I'm afraid not, ma'am," said the gate agent apologetically. "Bad weather is an Act of God. We are not responsible."
"But I can't afford a hotel!"
"I'm sorry, ma'am," said the gate agent, clearly keen to get to the next customer. "You can stay in the airport till tomorrow. It's the best we can do."
The gate agent returned her boarding pass and Miranda turned away. She was on the verge of tears. The business trip had been a disaster: she had failed to close a single deal, there was no way she could afford a hotel! She was on probation at work - her boss had already given her two warnings, so he would fire her for this unless she ... gave him what he wanted. He made no secret about his desire to fuck her.
Miranda was a twenty-nine, a Korean-American born in Chicago, with degrees in chemistry and business. She was tall for an Asian woman, five foot nine in her stockings with soft, jet black shoulder length hair. Her eyes were quite narrow, even for a Korean, but her face was so symmetric that they complemented it well. She retained the athletic figure she had developed as a varsity swimmer in college. Her breasts were firm and just full enough to balance her narrow waist and tight ass. Overall, she was remarkably pretty and always turned men's heads.
The business suit she wore was in the modern style - a tight skirt that was on the short side, diaphanous white silk blouse and a short jacket. Her Balenciaga silk scarf was worn loose and did not cover her black silk mesh choker. She wore black stockings, whose tops showed when she sat down and her short skirt rode up. Her black open toe strappy pumps had small leather bows and heels that raised her height to almost six feet.
"My flight's been cancelled too."
Miranda looked around quickly - it couldn't be! But it was. Jack Grierson, her former client, as tall, athletic and well dressed as ever. He had a cocky expression, not looking at all unhappy with the situation.
"What are you doing here, Jack?"
"Like every red-blooded man here, I'm staring at your black lace bra through your translucent blouse."
"How's business?" she asked, trying to ignore his eyes that were undressing her.
"Better and better." He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. "How about you?"
"Terrible! I didn't make a single sale on this trip."
"What are you trying to sell?"
"Firewalls for industrial sites. Our systems are particularly good for continuous process industries."
"What's special about them?"
"They have an inbuilt neural net - they continuously mutate as they respond to hacking attempts. So you don't need to keep buying upgrades every few months."
"So why haven't you sold any?"
"Our systems are very expensive. The competition is 20% cheaper."
"That's too bad. Let me buy you a drink and commiserate. We've both had long days and we're stuck here for the night."
She hesitated before responding.
"I'm way behind on my quotas and my boss told me that if I don't make a sale on this trip, he's going to fire me."
"You should never have stopped handling my account. I was giving you enough business for you to make your quota, month in, month out."
"Yes, but the price was that you also gave me the business in bed. You impregnated me!"
"We had a good thing going. I fucked you, off and on, for almost two years. I didn't see any problems."
"I couldn't go on living a lie with Stan."
He began walking toward the Vino Volo wine bar that was a hundred yards from their gate. She fell into step beside him. He got them a table at the back, ordered a bottle of champagne and they clinked glasses.
"Jesus, I miss you, Miranda," he said. "We had great sex, didn't we? Even when you were heavily pregnant, we had so many positions: you rode me cowboy, reverse cowboy, I fucked you doggie style."
"Sex was never our problem. But I never enjoyed cheating on my husband."
"So is it any better with Stan now?"
"He's a great father to our daughter. He thinks she's his."
"Does he fuck you three or four times a night like I did? Did he get you pregnant with a second child?"
Miranda buttoned her jacket to cover her breasts and hide her bra from his unrelenting eyes.
"No," she admitted after a pause. Then she went on in a more aggressive tone. "But he doesn't force me to have sex at two in morning with another woman's sweat on his body and her fluids on his dick."
"That happened one time! And it was after the Christmas party your company threw for clients. I was drunk."
"You fucked one of the teenage cocktail waitresses at the party. And later came to my hotel room and forced me to have sex with you."
"Hold on!" Jack protested. "I seem to recall you cumming quite a few times that night. And begging me to fuck you harder."
Miranda felt her face grow warm and redden at the memory. She drained her champagne flute to avoid responding.
When the champagne was gone, Jack ordered another bottle. Miranda ate some nuts and olives, but she could feel the wine going to her head. She knew she should refuse, but when the waiter popped the cork on the second bottle she didn't stop him from refilling her glass. She unbuttoned her jacket, disregarding the way Jack's eyes caressed her breasts through her black bra.
"I'm sorry I took you for granted when we were sleeping together, Miranda. You're looking really sexy tonight. Sitting here, all I can think about is how we fucked in the restroom on that flight to London - three times!"
"I'd have happier memories of that flight if we hadn't later discovered that my boss was back in economy. He saw you with your hand up my skirt. He put two and two together and has been pestering me for sex ever since. He figures that if I cheated with one man at work, why not with another?"
"My God, Miranda, must you be so negative? We're together on a snowy night, drinking champagne and can do anything we want."
"Maybe you can. I can't afford a hotel. I'm going to spend the night on an uncomfortable airport chair."
She took a deep draught of her champagne and Jack refilled her flute.
"No need to do that. I've got a room at the airport Hilton. Come stay with me."
"No."
"Come on. You know you want to." He leaned toward her. "And loosen up a little. We're done working for the day."
He reached forward quickly. Before she could stop him, he undid the two top buttons of her blouse.
"There! You look much more comfortable and your silk choker shows up much better."
"You're incorrigible, Jack."
He drained his glass and she followed suit. He raised the bottle, but it was empty.
