Turbulence - (18+)

8.

GATE A6 SHAY

New York (JFK)

Justin's demanding words played in my mind for the umpteenth time as my fingers strummed my swollen clit, as I orgasmed for the third time since the night he fucked me. My nipples hardened as a cold draft of night air blew against them, so I pulled the blanket over my body and rolled over. I tightened my grip around my pillow, envisioning Justin taking me all over again, but just as I was about to replay our night all over again, my cell phone rang.

I didn't bother looking to see who it was. I groped its frame and hit the side key to silence it.

Minutes later, it rang again and I groaned-silencing it once more. It was no use. It rang again-sounding even louder this time, and I forced myself to look at the screen. Unknown number.

"Hello?" I didn't attempt to hide the annoyance in my voice.

"Why aren't you at the airport, Miss Taylor?"

"What?" I sat up. "Who is this?"

"This is scheduling with Elite Air." She hissed. "And unless I have the wrong number for Shay Taylor, which, I'm sure I don't, I need you to answer me. Now. Why aren't you at the airport?"

"I'm not..." I hit my lamplight and glanced at my alarm clock. It was only five in the morning. "I'm not scheduled to fly out until Thursday. A turn to Philly and then Reagan International."

"No, you are scheduled." She snapped. "For a very important meeting. We sent you two emails this weekend, updated your employee portal, and left a voicemail yesterday regarding the change."

I swallowed. I'd thought nothing of those normal update emails, deleting them as soon as they appeared. I started thinking of possible excuses I could give as to why I hadn't listened to them or bothered to check my status for an entire weekend, but the woman on the line beat me to it.

"You have an hour to get to JFK," she said, "Come in uniform to the conference room in terminal six." She hung up without another word.

***

Fifty minutes later, I pushed my way to the front of the city bus and nearly ran into a family of four attempting to get inside the airport. I headed straight for the crew line at security-holding up my badge as the TSA agents waved me through.

Please don't let me be late. Please don't let me be late...

I rushed from terminal to terminal, adjusting my neck scarf with every step, frantically counting down the seconds in my mind. By the time I made it to the conference room, I had exactly one minute to spare.

There were twenty other flight attendants inside, all dressed in the same Elite Airways issued navy blue blazers and skirts. Every set of lips was stained in the same shade of Chanel red, every bun was perfectly coifed and positioned to the right, and every wrist bore the official glittering bracelet with the company's signature charms: A white dove and a globe.

I spotted an empty seat near the back of the room and made my way over. Before I could ask the girl next to me if she'd received a phone call this morning as well, the door opened and a beautiful African American woman walked into the room.

Dressed in a form fitting navy blue dress and dark grey heels, she flipped her long, wavy hair over her shoulder and glanced at her watch. Her hazel eyes scanned the room as she took her place at a centered podium. Her lips were stained in a light pink, and from the way she smiled her set of pearly whites, she reminded me of the picture perfect models in all the Elite Airways commercials.