Making it to Gold status and finally obtaining Lounge access has changed travel life for me, forever. No more revolting loos, queuing with coughing travellers, screaming babies or holding my breath for the stench. I don’t know how I arrived at this point in my life - lacking some patience and becoming a hygiene freak, but all the same here I am, I’ve matured into my ‘comfort’ stage of life. I had no idea though, the doors to something a little more exciting were opening.
There are other benefits to being a Lounge member asides from the nice loos of course - comfortable seats that accomodate my generous booty, free flowing wine, snacks, and most importantly of course: hot guys in suits.
This particular journey was a trying one, even in the comforts afforded by the Lounge. I try to make it to the airport with reasonable time - so I can access the Lounge, feed myself for free and slow my heart rate before making the next uncomfortable leg of the journey in the sky. I made it, just - only to find my flight delayed and the Lounge unusually busy. Desperate for my next caffeine hit, I queue at the coffee station for my skim flat white, trying to stay chill amongst the self importance of busy business people who seem unused to being made to wait. There’s a little bit of jostling so I head to the back of the waiting herd to find peace. Spilling out the back, I make eye contact with a guy doing the same. We grin at each other, acknowledging the absurdity of the crowd we find ourselves amongst - two people floating to the quiet in the shouting chaos. I wait until I hear my name - I wince a little, hearing my real name yelled across a room of client-looking people makes me so uncomfortable, but I take the risk for my precious, milky caffeine injection.
I find myself a cushy seat near the window, by sheer luck. I set myself up with my iPad - the thing I use to manage my entire life, and get down to doing some admin and journalling. Sipping my (pretty awful) coffee, I notice a familiar face in my line of vision - it’s the guy from the back of the coffee crowd. He is on his laptop, deep in his own world. I look closer at him this time. Hmmm, he’s pretty hot actually. In a tailored grey suit, no tie, shirt unbuttoned down to his chest, revealing some curly hair and the hint of a chest tattoo. There is definitely something about a professional looking man with just a little hint of ‘bad boy’. I smile to myself and keep writing, sighing my way through another flight delay announcement.
I fetch myself a wine, what else is there to do, and return to finish journalling. I hear a laugh and look up, Coffee guy is laughing at something on his laptop. He looks up to make eye contact, embarrassed to realise he was laughing out loud. He mouths ‘sorry’ through his smile, and I return his smile and mouth ‘it’s ok’ through the noise of the lounge. Slowly though, people are filtering out as flights gradually leave - I guess some must be actually leaving on time. He points at my empty glass of wine while holding his in the other hand, and mouths ‘another?’ I nod and smile, and he comes to fetch my glass. Nothing strikes me as odd here, it’s not like he has to pay for it, however the next time I see him, he’s sitting next to me, laptop in hand, and two glasses of wine. Hmm, ok, I seem to have made a friend.
Justin, he says, holding out his hand for a shake. I’m very unused to hand-shaking so I awkwardly shake his hand and introduce myself, real name of course. ‘Lounge folk, hey?’ He says, with a laugh. I agree, and ask him what he’d been enjoying on his screen. The chat flows, and so does the wine. Another flight delay announcement, his flight to a different destination isn’t until a bit later. He tells me he is always early just to get some work done in ‘peace’, though today that might have been an unfortunate choice. I feel like he is flirting with me, but I never can really tell. I’m feeling some heat in my cheeks, his hazel eyes are alive and sparkling, his hair is light in colour but thick and his cheeky smile feels genuine. It’s nice to relax into some new company who I don’t ‘have’ to entertain. It’s becoming clear he is trying to make an impression, and for once it’s nice to just be in a moment and not stress about expectations or being polished. Someone is entertaining me, for a change.
Justin brings more wine and some cheese and crackers. I’ve long forgotten my journalling and could really line my stomach at this point. As he sits down, he places his hand on my knee. I’m in a shorter length summer dress, and the unexpected skin on skin contact gives me an exciting jolt. I smile and touch his leg in a light 'Thankyou' gesture as I dig into my cheese.
From here, not as much talking ensues as you’d expect, for what happened next. I wash down the cheese with more wine, aware of his gaze, and in that moment, I knew I had an opportunity I didn’t want to miss. How long has it been, since I did something spontaneous, since I used my sexuality in a way that wasn’t just to make money? Do I still have it in me? I look up at him with the best flirty, wordless smile I can muster, and in a blur of a moment, I realised we were going to fuck. A business party behind us had been chatting and groaning about the delayed flight. Justin strains behind him to ask one of them, ‘hey mate, can you look after our stuff? We just have to go to the counter’ and with a nod from the guy behind, and a wink to me from Justin’s cheeky face, he grabs my hand, so naturally as if we had always been a couple, and we hastily walk/skip our way to the facilities.
I’m grateful as anything in this moment firstly that the crowd had dissipated so we wouldn’t be seen by a queue, secondly that this was a nice lounge and not any other average bathroom on the planet, and thirdly that I had the foresight to grab my ‘miscellaneous pouch’ (just ask me for a nurofen, nail file, pawpaw, tissue or condom, I’m your girl) from my bag. Leading me into an oversized shower cubicle by the (sweaty now) hand, he shuts the door and turns to me. ‘Are we really doing this?’, he asks, and I look at the floor for a second and look up rather coyly, before giggling a response ‘hell yeah we are!’.
We are all whispers and gasps now, not wanting to be caught, though the element of risk is certainly adding to the atmosphere. He’s kissing me urgently and grabbing my ass over, and then under my dress. I paw at his chest and his shoulders, taking off his suit jacket in a surprisingly elegant motion and unbuttoning his shirt so I can see his fit, heavily tattooed chest and grab at his hair. God I love chest hair. I would love to tell you this was an eleborate fuck fest but we worked with what we had and this situation felt somewhat urgent. His hand finds its way inside my thong and I’m wet, I’ve been wet from the first flirty look he gave me in the lounge. His fingers inside me while I stand, I’m riding them back, pleasuring myself with them, as I wrestle with his belt, Gucci? and the complicated way his pants seem to undo. I feel so alive, grabbing for this stranger’s very, very hard cock. It’s thick to the touch and I’m already imagining it inside me as his fingers work their magic fucking me. I’m torn between waiting to cum now or fucking him like I so want to, but I draw it out for a bit while I stroke him, he’s softly moaning, the excitement of the impulsivity is clearly getting the better of us both. He shifts to pull back his hand, but I hold it there because I’m starting to cum. I scream without a sound, just squeezed air and release, and he has to use his other hand to stop me stroking him, so he doesn’t lose himself right now too. We hear people coming and going from the bathrooms outside, which only adds to our arousal.
‘Fuck that was hot’, he whispers in my ear, before kissing and nibbling at it. He removes his hand and sticks his used fingers in my mouth in a rather dominant manner and I suck them clean, to his pleased surprise. I follow the theme and fall to my knees, enveloping him in my mouth, ‘careful’ he says, ‘I’m so close’… I push him to the back of my throat and just keep him there for a moment. ‘Fuccccckkkkkk’ I hear him say under his breath. Slowly he gets used to me, holds the back of my head, gently, almost gentlemanly, keeping the hair out of my face, and he rocks inside my mouth. He’s whispering all manner of sacrilegious words, I do not remember them all. I lick and suck at his smooth balls, I gently worship his cock, not too urgently, knowing how close he is and wanting to still feel him inside me. ‘Now’, he says, ‘we have to get back soon’. I don’t want it to end, but I grab a Durex from my little pouch and roll it on, with such speed I could see he was a bit impressed. The little chair in the shower looks like a handy prop. I turn around, put his hands on my hips for a cute little bear hug before lifting my dress, bending over and hearing him gasp. ‘Oh my god, that ASS’ he says, maybe a little louder than he should have, and I let out a gasp of my own as he bends down and softly starts to rim me. I fucking love being rimmed and his tongue is bringing me to heaven and I beg him, ‘please, you have to fuck me’. Pants around his ankles and his belt clinking against the floor, he pushes inside my pussy and starts to fuck.
Fucking when you are this aroused, when you’ve cum, when you’re this wet and cock hungry - nothing feels quite like it. He fucked me so urgently, so desperately, I could’ve cum again (and I have cum again, many times with the confused memory) if the nature of the situation hadn’t meant this was a quickie by every definition. Even with the condom, I felt the heat and pulse of his orgasm. I felt his knees soften and heard the faintest, strangled whimper behind me. The sound and feel of having a stranger cum in me, here, unexpectedly, stayed with me for many orgasms to come. I felt used in the best kind of way, in that moment. I turn around, and kiss him, and we both giggle. We have to separate, he needs to go to the Lads and get rid of the evidence, and I need to fix my face in the Ladies and put myself back together. He checks the hall like a skulking criminal and we both sneak out to our respective bathrooms.
I arrive back in the lounge first, the business fellas behind us are packing up and didn’t notice me. The flight is finally being called and I have to go. He’s not back yet and I feel like such a slut but I’m not missing my flight! I wait, because hell, I haven’t even got his number! A minute passes and he’s still not here, so I put my pouch and iPad back in my bag and make a beeline for the exit. Thanks hot coffee guy I think, I’m off on tour!
I’m still in Lala Land when I disembark, I float out of the terminal still damp-knickered, with my luggage and hop straight into a cab. I take a breath and turn my phones back on. I notice a Beem pop up on my Petra-Phone, PING, for $1000. I raise an eyebrow wondering who that’s from. I open the app and read the message attached. ‘Thanks Petra for the ‘coffee’, Justin xox. FUCKKKKKKK. The elation dies away, and my heart finds itself in my throat. I reread the message, heart pounding, ‘Petra’…. HE KNEW. HE KNEW IT WAS ME.
My phone, PING, another Beem, another $1000, ‘for the next round of coffee in Brisbane, Justin xox’. My head is spinning, I feel like an amazing personal moment has been taken away from me, I feel sick. All the hotness dissipates into anger and confusion. PING, another $1000. What is happening? ‘For the hottest ass in Australia, whichever name she uses, xox’. I never got his number and I have no way of responding. I am sitting in the cab gobsmacked. PING, PING, PING, PING the app announces for each $1000. I look out the window and let the moment settle in my mind. He has crossed a boundary, the biggest one! But this is definitely the most expensive quickie this man will ever have and the most money I’ve made from 10 minutes and an orgasm in my life. PING. Holy shit.
Several months later, I sit in the lounge, the memories now faded and far from my mind. New Tiffany sunglasses sitting on my head, about to leave the Brisbane sun again for adventures further afield. I collect my skinny flat white with minimal drama this time, and find a vacant seat by the window. I open my updated iPad to journal and tap my Apple pen against my forehead in thought, caffeinating and getting ready for a long travel day. PING. My brow furrows. I look up, in the direction of my phone, seeing a notification for $1000, and catching the gaze of an attractive hazel-eyed gentleman just across from me, with just the hint of a tattoo visible on his chest.
PETRA FOX
Twitter: @foxandthefeline
Instagram: @foxandthefeline
Web and wishlist: petrafox.com.au
Beem: @petrafoxbne