How Are You True?

Chapter 49: An Unruly Surprise

December 1st, 2032 - Somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean

"Nah-ah. This is still cold in the middle, Mrs. Cabello-Jauregui would have your head for that. Cook it again, I'll just send out the appetizers," said the stewardess after cutting open the dipping her finger in the middle of the Japanese Omurice. She wiped off her finger then yanked out a tray to serve the brunch on. "Trish, how's Mrs. Cabello-Jauregui's tea coming along? Is it finished?"

"Ohh it's coming," said Trish, fully aware that the requested blend wasn't correct. Why the fuck do rich people order the most complex shit with your job on the line if unsatisfactory? She felt pretty set up here.

"Is that honeybush banana nut or is that a god damn marigold cinnamon shit show?" the stewardess confronted over her shoulder, reaching down to smell the wooden bowl. Her lips twisted in a sobering scowl. "Oh you better start brainstorming what kind of jobs you'll be looking for on Indeed if you don't change this ASAP. Let's go! Let's go!"

"But there aren't any banana—"

"Improvise. Make it work. Logan, how's the egg coming along?"

The chef worked tirelessly on the small high tech stove with what he had, perfecting a rather challenging dish so easy to fuck up. He used the sleeve of his uniform jacket to wipe the sweat from his forehead, smoke flying up around his face. "Yeah, yeah!" was all he shouted, giving a quick thumbs up.

Another stewardess entered the narrow kitchen, visibly disgruntled. One hand slapped onto the countertop and the other rested on her hip as she leaned, prepared to rant. "You wanna go out there and serve or should I?"

"What's the problem, Amanda?" asked Bernice while supervising Logan closely.

"It's a ten hour flight."

"Were you not aware when you volunteered to board this jet?"

"The length of time isn't the issue."

"And so? What?"

-

The tight bathroom space had been tainted with obscenities and humidity, objects scattered onto the floor and steam fogging up the mirror. It had become too hot to keep any article of clothing on. The lack of freedom to move or spread out resulted in the locked folding door occasionally banging and everything else at close proximity to make a startling sound. There also wasn't any room for silence; animalistic growls, high pitched moans, squeals, heavy sighs and clapping skin bounced off the walls and increased in frequency. Camila was repeatedly pushed against the sink, hands grasping the air and reaching for anything to hold onto, baby hairs sticking to her skin by fault of the thin layers of sweat trickling down...same as her fluids onto the shaft of the strap-on Lauren wore. She fiercely rocked back into Lauren, her breath hitching frantically, jaw hanging open as she stared at their reflection—particularly into Lauren's dark vivid eyes locked onto her own as she pounded and rode her from behind. It took Lauren pressing heated kisses to her ear and whispering sweet nothings into it for Camila's eyes to roll shut, a slave to the tight hot feeling in her core.

"Harder," Camila begged. Lauren fondled Camila's breasts, using it as leverage before ferociously drilling into her, their glued bodies rocking violently into the sink. Camila gave back what Lauren dished to her, slamming her ass into her groin, meeting every thrust with gritty moans falling off her parted lips. She grabbed onto Lauren's hands and forced them down to her inner thighs, whirling her hips in dizzying circles against Lauren. Camila gasped like ice water had been thrown on her, responding in a frenzy to Lauren swiping her nerve bundle rapidly, whining over and over. "LAUREN!"

Said girl lapped her tongue up the side of Camila's neck, nibbling on her skin then grazing her swollen lips up the side of Camila's face. The dull ache between her legs worsened despite the vibrator switched on, stimulating her just right. Lauren grunted and slapped Camila's thighs before grabbing them, cursing beneath her breath. "Say my name again," she husked.