Lynne Heitman - First Class Killing

He stared for a long time. His thin lips parted enough that I could see the tip of his tongue playing across the edge of his straight white teeth. His eyes shone with a quavering anticipation, and when his weight shifted from one foot to the other, I knew I had him. Now, what to do with him?

I turned to drop my bag in the nearest chair. “So, you have a thing for flight attendants.” Before I could turn back, he was on me. He had slipped in and clamped his arms around me from behind, one arm pressed against my throat.

“Whoa-”

My first thought was that he wanted to hurt me. His arms were rigid and inflexible. But then I felt him awkwardly but persistently grinding his hips against me.

“I wanted to do it onboard the airplane,” he whispered. “I wanted to be in the Mile-High Club, but they said they didn’t sell those. They said I could get the uniform instead. They promised me that.”

He was much stronger than I would have guessed, and though he might not have wanted to hurt me, the faster he pumped, the tighter he squeezed my throat. I could feel his excitement mounting. I could feel his control slipping away and my head getting lighter. I reached up to pull on his arm, then thought of a more vulnerable target. I worked my arm around behind me, grabbed a handful of his most excited appendage, and squeezed through his pants. Hard.

“Owww!”When he released me, I released him. I spun out of his grasp and backed away, where I could observe from a safe distance.

He looked up, genuinely perplexed. “What was that?”

I rubbed my throat where his wristwatch had dug in. “I thought we were playing rough,” I said. My voice was squeaky from the pressure on my larynx. “Isn’t that what you were doing?”

“No. That hurt.”

“That’s the point, sweetie. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and powder my nose.”

As I headed for the bathroom, I spied the Spectravision tent card on top of the TV. Dirty movies. Perfect. “Hey…” I took the card and tossed it onto the bed. “Do you like to watch? Pick something to set the mood. I’ll be right back.”

I left him still holding his crotch and reaching for the remote.

There was no lock on the bathroom door, so I sat on the floor with my back against it and tried to calm down. My face felt hot, and the tiles were cold, and I closed my eyes and tried to split off, to make myself into two different people. That must have been what these women did, anyway, split off and disconnect from their bodies. How else could they do this night after night? One puny, horny guy had grabbed me from behind, and I was reeling.

I pulled my phone out of my bag and held it against my chest as though it could absorb the shuddering of my heart. I listened for the sound of the movie to begin on the other side of the door. For the first time, I began to really consider what Harvey had said about being in over my head.

The moment the cheap porno sound track kicked in, I flipped open the phone and called Harvey ’s number. This time, he picked up right away.

“Alex?”

“ Harvey, you were right. I shouldn’t have come here, but I did, and if you don’t give me something in the next thirty seconds that I can use, I’m in trouble. Please tell me you’ve been working on this. Please tell me you found something.”

“I was sitting down to call you. I think I have what you need.”

As I listened, I felt all the tension in my shoulders drain out. My core temperature came down from triple digits. After I hung up, I stood in front of the mirror and reorganized myself. I straightened my hair and smoothed my skirt. When I came out of the bathroom, my date was lying on the bed, staring at the small TV screen. Judging from the bulge under the sheet, he had started without me.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said.

“I can see that. I’ve been thinking about you, too…Reverend Cole.”

I WAS OUT OF THE GOOD REVEREND’S HOTEL room in half an hour, which was not soon enough for him. He had readily agreed to vouch for me with the powers that be and insisted on making the required contact right in front of me so I would have no reason to doubt him. I insisted he do it with his pants on.

I tried to pry more information out of him, but he was a basket case. He had only the Web site we already knew about. His ID and password were temporary since he was new. My guess was, it had expired after he’d booked. Since this was his first time, that was all he had to offer. Judging by his horrified reaction, it would be his last.

Feeling good about the successful operation, I called Harvey on my way back to the crew hotel. He managed to act as excited as Harvey can, only once referring to the dangerous circumstances. He never mentioned our disagreement, but something had shifted in our relationship. I could feel it. He knew he could no longer trust me. I had meant what I said when I told him I wouldn’t go in unless we were both comfortable. In the end, I had done what I always did-exactly what I wanted. It had worked, but at what cost? I hadn’t meant for it to happen, which only proved something else. When it came down to it, maybe I couldn’t trust myself.

Yawning and creaking from the long, tense day, I unlocked the door to my own hotel room, pushed through, and dropped my key on the dresser. I wasn’t listening for the door to close behind me. I wasn’t thinking about it at all until it didn’t close. When I turned, it was already too late. A big man in a yellow sport coat had followed me in. With one large hand on the door and one foot already in, there was no way he could be pushed back out, but I tried anyway, throwing all my weight against the formidable metal and wood door. It was no contest.

He reached his other oaken arm up and pushed back so hard the door slammed into my head, and I was on the floor. When I looked up, he was inside my room. With a calm manner that I found chilling, he closed and locked the door. The snap of the dead bolt as it slipped into place was like a rib cracking in my chest.

Oh, God.

Phone. They were usually…it was across the room on the far nightstand. I crabwalked backward to the bed. I was on it, across it, and down the other side in seconds. The base of the phone went flying when I grabbed the receiver. I crouched low and peeked at him across the top of the bed. He lingered at the door with his back turned.

Where the hell was theO? I couldn’t think. There was a sea of information plastered across the front of the phone. Housekeeping…messages…bell stand…theO. It was there. I punched it, punched it, punched it. The line began to ring. It kept ringing, the sound teasing me into thinking someone would pick up. Answer.Someone, please answer.

He was moving toward me now, buttoning his jacket on the way, a jacket that was the color of lemon chiffon pie. I looked around for anything that wasn’t nailed down. Lightweight floor lamp. Heavy chair. Clock radio. Fight or run? Notepad. Magazine. Pencil. Run or fight? Pillows. Runwhere?

He cleared the corner of the bed. Since his hands were at my eye level, that’s where I focused. They were big. His nails were smooth and square. His only adornment was a ring large enough to fit around a bratwurst. Gold with a red stone, gaudy like the rest of his attire. I was halfway to my feet with the receiver pressed to my ear. I reached down around my thigh, found the cord that led from the base of the phone to the wall, and started to wrap it around my hand.

“Hang up the phone.” His voice was heavy with a choppy accent that sounded eastern European.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to hang up the phone.”

“Um…” I needed a few more twists of the cord. It was slow work because of the way my hand was flopping and jerking. “Who are you?”