Chapter 51 - The Parking Lot Incident

🔹 1. Airport Morning Rush 

The airport buzzed with the electric tension of a weekday morning—sunlight pouring down in unforgiving waves, shimmering off the windshields of rows and rows of parked taxis, sedans, and shuttles. The air smelled of rubber, oil, and heated asphalt. Voices barked out over walkie-talkies. Carts clattered. The echo of rolling suitcases filled the walkways.

Divya blinked against the light and adjusted the knot of her necktie. Her coffee was lukewarm, her blouse already sticking to her back, and her patience was thin.

She and Geeta walked side-by-side, crossing the staff entrance from the terminal toward the long-term crew parking. The sun had turned the cement lot into a shallow oven, and neither of them had said a word since exiting the terminal doors.

Divya finally broke the silence. "She's late again."

"Of course she is," Geeta replied sharply, her words snapping like elastic. "Fifteen minutes and counting. She does this every other day now."

Divya kept her tone neutral. "You know she'll just laugh it off. She always does."

"Yeah. With that stupid smile like she owns the fucking airline."

Divya let out a quiet exhale. Geeta was right. But Jasmine's attitude wasn't what bothered her. It was how… untouchable she had become.

Ever since that weekend Ryan started showing up in the picture, Jasmine's schedule had become erratic—and her aura, magnetic. She came in late, barely reprimanded, her skin glowing and her lipstick too fresh. And no matter how Geeta grumbled, Jasmine never explained anything. Only smiled.

That smile made Divya's stomach tighten.

She tried not to notice how long Jasmine's hair had gotten. How tight her skirts were fitting. Or how good she looked after being absent for just a few hours.

"Maybe she's already outside," Divya offered, trying to shake the tension crawling under her skin.

Geeta gave a short grunt. "If she's not flirting in the lot again, I'll be shocked."

🔹 2. The Car in the Corner 

As they walked into the side section of the staff lot, the traffic noise mellowed slightly, dulled by the high walls and intermittent patches of shadow from structural pillars. A dozen parked staff vehicles were lined up in their usual spots.

But something stood out.

Divya slowed her steps. "That's Ryan's, isn't it?"

Geeta followed her gaze. "Son of a bitch…"

A gleaming black convertible sat angled near a large concrete pillar, the top down, polished to a mirror-like sheen. The red leather interior flashed like heat under the sun. Even from a distance, it looked arrogant. The way it was parked—diagonally, across two marked spaces—reeked of indifference.

Divya squinted. "He's not supposed to park there, is he?"

"Does Ryan follow any rules?" Geeta muttered.

The closer they walked, the clearer the details became. The driver's seat was reclined slightly. No one else seemed to be around this part of the lot. A pair of airport baggage staff pushed a cart across the far end, but they were too far to see what was happening under the pillar's shade.

And then the sound came.

Soft.

Wet.

Slrk.

Then again.

Slrrrp. Gag. Slurp.

Geeta stopped.

Divya did too.

Both froze.

A male moan followed. Thick. Low. Pleasured.

"Fuck… Jasmine…"

Divya felt the blood drain from her face and rush straight between her thighs.

Geeta opened her mouth—nothing came out.

They took two steps forward at the same time. Slowly. Silently.

Rounded the edge of the pillar.

And saw everything.

🔹 3. Full View – Jasmine's Performance 

Jasmine was kneeling on the passenger seat of the convertible.

Her back arched, chest low to the leather, head bent forward between Ryan's legs. Her skirt was hitched up completely, the lower curves of her ass exposed to the daylight. One heel still clung to her foot. The other had dropped to the ground.

Her blouse was open—her breasts pressed against the seat, pushed up by her posture, her nipples brushing the warm leather.

Ryan sat casually in the driver's seat, his pants unzipped, shirt half-unbuttoned. His head tilted back, eyes closed behind tinted lenses, one hand on the steering wheel, the other buried in Jasmine's hair.

Jasmine's head bobbed up and down in slow, deliberate rhythm.

Slrk. Slurp. Slrk. Gag. Moan.

Her mouth moved wetly, hungrily. The sounds were obscene—echoing in the heat, swallowed by the sun and silence.

Divya felt her throat close. Her skin flushed instantly.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't move.

She couldn't look away.

Jasmine's lips glistened. Saliva dripped down her chin, streaking onto Ryan's thighs. Her hair stuck to her cheek. Her moans were muffled but exaggerated, loud enough to be heard across the row.

Then she opened her eyes.

And saw them.

Her lips curled around his shaft as she moaned even louder—long, sultry, wet.

She didn't stop.

She didn't flinch.

She just sucked harder.

Ryan noticed them too. Smiled lazily.

"Didn't expect company so soon."

Jasmine pulled off with a wet pop. Her face was flushed. Her lips were red and swollen.

She licked the head once, slow and teasing.

Then said, "Morning briefings just got interesting."

Then she dropped her mouth back down.

Her head moved faster now. The sloppy sounds filled the hot morning air. Her ass rocked with every motion.

Ryan groaned—deep.

Jasmine moaned louder, twisting her hand at the base, slurping as she took him deeper.

She knew she was being watched.

And she was performing for them.

Divya stood frozen.

Geeta beside her. Breathless. Red.

The sunlight burned on her skin, but she didn't move.

Jasmine gagged once. Then again. Moaned. Let her spit trail from her lips.

Her thighs squeezed together. Her free hand dipped between them—rubbing herself slowly as she kept up the rhythm.

Ryan's voice was low. Commanding.

"She's watching. Make her jealous."

Jasmine glanced up at Divya.

And winked.