Home > fantasy, submission, writing > Baggage Claim

Baggage Claim

December 26, 2006 Leave a comment Go to comments

Since it has become the unofficial tradition of my family to celebrate on Christmas Eve, Christmas day itself is actually rather drab. A few more presents always appear Christmas morning, but afterwards things are usually fairly mellow. Today was no exception – I haven’t changed out of my nightgown.

This Christmas Eve was interesting, however. It is the first time I have gone into any kind of religious building for any kind of religious service. My mother ushered my brother and I to church Sunday morning for a new kind of holiday experience. Along with some other relatives, we listened to carols sung by the choir, then a guy talked extensively of the church’s various community services for the less fortunate on Christmas. Another guy appeared (yes, my religious terminology is very extensive) to talk about the first Christmas and read passages from the Bible.

But by far, the most moving part of the service for me was the choir singing in the beginning. Besides reaffirming for me the incredible power of music, I was also struck by how much more I felt connected to those that filled the pews as we all stood, listening.

So, I’ve now fulfilled my desire to attend a church service. I’d also like to attend a synagogue and temple service, but considering how long it took me to actually make it to church, that may be a tad ambitious.

After church, we drove to Borders so I could pick up last minute gifts…along with every other person in town. I also got myself a little Christmas gift – The Story of O. I finished reading it today. Still absorbing it…

Finally, there is this little piece of fiction that appeared in my head last night. For some reason, I always get these ideas or images, and an inkling of an urge to write, just as I’m getting comfortable in bed. And, invariably, I’m always too lazy to get up and get it down on paper or computer and out of my head. Here’s a draft, I guess. I am never really satisfied with anything I write…

She grew increasingly more nervous as the plane landed, taxied, and pulled up to the gate. The nearness and tangibility of the airport, runway, even of the soft misty rain, all brought with it the concreteness of her immediate future. In the air, it had been much easier to remain calm, assured, and confident. To imagine the events unfolding in her head with the indifference of an outside observer.

Heart in her throat, she jumped up as soon as the seatbelt sign turned off, startling the man seated next to her by the window. He raised his eyebrows and looked up at her.

“Happy to get off the plane, eh?” He asked. She smiled distractedly, might have nodded in reply. Her mind was projected towards the terminal, towards a meeting planned in the most straightforward manner, yet full of uncertainties…. She grabbed her small travel suitcase from the overhead bin – all that she had been told she would need was inside – set the airplane pillow and headphones on her seat, waiting impatiently as passengers ahead of her collected their own belongings and their children, shuffling slowly down the aisle.

Finally she walked out of the gate, past peering and eager faces, past those holding names on cards and pieces of cardboard, past expectant searching eyes. He would not be there.

She walked quickly, heart thudding almost painfully against her ribs, resisting the urge to glance frantically around, to jump at every coat that brushed her arm. Over and over, she narrated her instructions to herself as she navigated through the crowded terminal, towards the baggage claim area. The seats across from the fourth carousel, the seats across from the fourth carousel

The baggage claim was packed, and Carousel Four was no exception. She struggled through a maze of people, carts, and luggage, and when she finally found the row of seats that hugged the wall opposite the belt, her heart sank to see it completely full. She looked at the screen hanging above the carousel – a plane had landed half an hour ago. Surely the area would empty soon. She hoped.

After a brief eternity of waiting, which lasted fifteen minutes, she managed to snag a seat. Finally. But now, her final instruction beckoned, and her pulse quickened again. She glanced to her left and right. What would these people think? What if airport security saw her? What if…?

With a deep breath, she pulled the black silk handkerchief from her pocket. Her hands shook slightly as she folded the cloth into a triangle, then again lengthwise several times, till it formed a long flat strip. She raised the band of cloth to her eyes, the crowds of people disappearing as she knotted the handkerchief securely.

She let out her breath. Suddenly, unexpectedly, she found a deep calm welling up from within. Even as her other senses began to sharpen, making up for the loss of sight, allowing her to hear the steps of hundreds of people, the crinkle and sigh of lifted suitcases; to smell the sweat and perfume of those walking past; to feel, even more acutely, the smoothness of her skirt against her legs and panty-less ass; even as she grew more aware of all of this, she felt her heartbeat slow, her breath deepen. Her hands stopped their agitated movements – one found the handle of her suitcase and gripped it tightly. The other rested, palm up, on the seat.

And she waited, no longer caring what curious looks she must be getting, what whispers might be directed at her. She had no idea how quickly time was passing. She didn’t even realize that she was smiling. And those who saw her, however troubled or curious they were, did not dare approach her.

Slowly, as people retrieved their luggage and went on their way, the area emptied. She vaguely noticed the lessening of noise and traffic. But she was on a different level of consciousness now, almost as if in a meditative trance.

The sound of one pair of footsteps echoing in the now empty baggage claim penetrated her mind as if from far in the distance. They were approaching…she could sense the change in atmosphere that marked a physical presence nearby. She shook herself mentally, trying to clear the serene fog that had settled over her. She did not dare move.

The footsteps stopped, and she thought she could feel a slight rise in the immediate temperature, caused by the heat emanating from another body. Fabric rustled softly, the source of heat drew nearer. She raised her head slightly, thinking its target to be her blindfold. She felt an electric shock as skin came in contact with her…a hand grazing her cheek, fingers curling at the nape of her neck. Then, lips against hers, and when her mouth parted in surprise, a tongue that took advantage of it, probing deep.

Her breath no longer her own, she melted into its new possessor, giving it willingly, and she was lightheaded when the lips finally released her, allowing her air. She panted shallowly, head tilted upwards, and the fire that had been brewing within her for so long – perhaps since she had stepped foot on the plane – roared into life and consumed her as she heard that familiar low, soothing voice inches from her ear, no longer separated by a phone line.

“Good girl.”

Advertisements
Categories: fantasy, submission, writing
  1. wordslut
    December 26, 2006 at 6:57 pm

    Oooh. I can feel the anticipation … and I can relate!

  2. nell
    December 27, 2006 at 3:09 am

    WS -Yes…I love the anticipation. Thanks! That’s exactly what I was going for.

  3. His fucktoy
    December 27, 2006 at 10:28 pm

    Hi lovely you!

    Funny, that i have, for a long time now, always found choir music (i guess it extends to generalized church music with exception to gospel) soothing.

    Choirs from a distance sound better too. Take my word on it *w*

    As for your fantasy, definitely worthy of getting up to scribe! Sheesh- i wanted it to be me! i was on edge and wondering and i think my mouth was open too. Wonderfully scribed.

    i think you should get up to scribe at every opportunity! Why hesitate?

  4. nell
    December 28, 2006 at 2:28 am

    Toy -I’m glad you liked it. Thanks!As for why I hesitate…oooh, it’s so hard to get out of bed when it’s so comfortable! I’m so lazy…

  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: