Scene 4: Changing Room Confession
POV: Divya Rana Location: Crew Changing Room, Airline HQ – Lower Level Time: 5:15 p.m.
Divya was the last one in the locker room.
The others had already changed and left for briefing.
She moved slowly—deliberately avoiding her reflection in the wall-length mirror. Her hands trembled slightly as she unzipped her uniform, revealing a sweat-stained white blouse and lacy lavender bra beneath.
The bathroom stall where she'd cried earlier still echoed in her mind.
So did the moans from the guest room.
The cum on Jasmine's face.
The smile.
And her own fingers—soaked, twitching, still ashamed.
She was pulling off her blouse when the door clicked shut behind her.
She turned.
Jasmine.
Alone.
She didn't speak at first.
She didn't need to.
Her presence coated the air—sweet perfume and something darker.
She was already half-undressed, jacket off, shirt hanging open, showing a dark inked trail starting beneath her left breast.
The barcode at the base of her neck was visible above her spine.
She walked to her locker, back turned, calm and controlled.
Then she said:
"You've been watching me."
Divya froze.
Her voice caught in her throat.
Jasmine turned, eyes meeting hers through the reflection.
"Every time."
Divya's mouth opened—then closed.
She looked down.
Ashamed.
"I—wasn't—"
"Don't lie," Jasmine interrupted softly.
She stepped forward.
Closed the distance.
Now just feet away.
"I don't mind," Jasmine whispered. "I wanted you to."
Divya's lips parted.
Breath shallow.
Jasmine's gaze dropped—first to her trembling hands, then to her bra, then to her flushed cheeks.
She reached out.
Her fingers brushed Divya's wrist.
"Do you like watching me?" Jasmine asked, her voice like honey poured over sin.
Divya nodded. Slowly.
Tears welled up.
"I—I hate myself for it…"
Jasmine stepped closer.
Their chests almost touched.
"Don't," she said. "You're not broken. You're just waking up."
Her hand slid lower.
To Divya's waist.
Fingers brushing the waistband of her skirt.
"You want to know what it's like?" Jasmine whispered."To stop pretending you're better?"
Divya whimpered.
She nodded again.
"Yes…"
Jasmine pulled her skirt down an inch.
Then another.
She leaned in, her lips near Divya's ear.
"You know I haven't worn panties in two weeks, right?""I let a man cum inside me on the tarmac during cargo loading."
Divya gasped.
Her thighs clenched.
"I walked onto the plane still dripping.""Sat next to a passenger and smiled while his cum soaked my thighs."
Divya's body trembled.
Her hand reached behind her, bracing against the locker.
"I'm not like you…" she whispered.
"Not yet," Jasmine said. "But you will be."
She took Divya's hand and pressed it to the curve of her hip—directly over her tattooed vine.
Then whispered:
"He didn't even ask my name."
Divya moaned.
Pressed her forehead against Jasmine's collarbone.
Her hand shook against Jasmine's skin.
"I want that…"
"I know."
They didn't kiss.
Not yet.
But Jasmine's fingers curled around Divya's jaw and tilted her chin.
She stared into her eyes.
"Don't touch yourself tonight," she said."Wait. Let it burn. Let it grow. Let it break you."
Then she walked away, skirt still riding low, thigh tattoos exposed like a whisper of things to come.
Divya collapsed to the bench.
Sweating.
Sobbing.
Throbbing.
She didn't touch herself.
But her panties were soaked.
And her thighs would stay clenched all night.
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Scene 5: Rooftop Sunset
POV: Divya Rana Time: 6:47 p.m. Location: Oberon Gold Tower, Rooftop Terrace
The sun bled orange across the Abu Dhabi skyline.
From the rooftop terrace of the hotel's VIP wing, you could see the whole city—glass towers catching the light, the silver-blue haze of dusk rolling in like a veil.
Divya shouldn't have been up there.
It was technically restricted.
But when she'd followed Jasmine into the private elevator, waiting until the door slid shut behind her and dashing into the stairwell… she hadn't been thinking.
She'd just been burning.
Burning from the locker room.
From Jasmine's touch.
Her breath.
Her whispered instructions.
"Don't touch yourself tonight… let it grow. Let it break you."
And now Divya was breaking.
Jasmine stood near the railing.
Alone.
One hand resting casually on the ledge, the other swirling a glass of wine.
The breeze pulled strands of her hair loose, fluttering across her neck like a lover's fingers.
She wore a white blouse.
Unbuttoned.
Tied at the waist.
No bra.
Beneath it, her breasts swayed freely with every shift, the curve of inked vines curling across her ribs.
Her skirt clung low to her hips, sheer enough in the setting light to hint at everything.
She was barefoot.
And radiant.
Divya stood behind the tinted access door, watching.
Her body pressed to the glass. Her heart a drum.
She couldn't walk out there.
Couldn't speak.
But she couldn't leave either.
Jasmine took a long sip from her glass.
Then set it on the ledge.
Her hand didn't return to the wine.
It slipped beneath the knot of her blouse… and slowly into her skirt.
Her eyes closed.
Her lips parted.
She sighed.
"Mmm…"
Divya's hand shot to her mouth.
She gasped—but kept quiet.
Jasmine was fingering herself.
Outside.
Above the city.
Unapologetic.
Her fingers moved slowly.
Teasing circles beneath the fabric, which now rose inch by inch as her hips began to roll.
The wind caught the hem of her skirt, lifting it just enough to reveal bare thighs—smooth, glowing, inked.
Her other hand slipped upward, brushing her breast, tweaking the nipple, pinching it gently until she whimpered.
"Use me…" Jasmine whispered to no one."Fuck me. Fill me. Take it all."
Her thighs trembled.
Divya couldn't breathe.
She slid down to her knees.
Behind the glass.
One hand pressed between her legs, but she didn't touch herself.
Not yet.
Not after what Jasmine said.
"Let it burn."
She let it burn.
And it hurt.
Her pussy ached with need.
Her clit throbbed behind the soaked fabric of her panties.
She was crying again.
Not from sadness.
From want.
"Break me…" Divya whispered.
Jasmine's body arched.
Her back tightened.
Her hand worked faster beneath the skirt, hips rocking harder now, moans growing loud, carried by the wind.
Divya's body spasmed in sympathy.
"Please," she mouthed. "Please do it to me. I want to be like you. I want it all."
Jasmine came with a long, ragged moan.
Her legs shivered.
Her mouth opened in a silent scream.
And then—silence.
The city shimmered around her.
She opened her eyes.
And looked straight at the glass door.
Right at Divya.
"Next time," she mouthed.
Then smiled.
Divya sank forward, forehead pressed to the marble floor.
Her hands clutched her thighs, knuckles white.
She was done pretending.
Done resisting.
Done lying.
She whispered one last plea:
"Please… make me yours too."
===============================================Author's Note:
This month's expected minimum of 5 chapters has already been satisfied. You got 9 chapters this month. I'll only provide more chapters if I want to or if I receive some donations. Otherwise, you will have to wait for a month's end. I have followed this for the past few months.