Natasha, the tired flight attendant

Four damn shifts in a row, your feet are killing you. The crappy hotel room just across the cargo entrance of LAX smells like wet underwear and dried cum. That’s what you get when you work for the cheapest low-cost company of the west coast. All planes being grounded you’ll have to spend a few more nights in this shithole.

But actually, you don’t mind, if Shirley hadn’t changed her shift with yours you would have been in New York last night and now you’d be dead. All in all, you’re pretty lucky.

Savanah knocks on the door, it’s time to have dinner at the airport and maybe grab a drink or two afterwards. You give on last look at your reflection in the stained mirror. Your Slavic traits make you still hot at forty. Maybe you will find a stranded traveler looking for some fun and drag him back to your hotel. As you exit the room, you see in the distance a plane landing. Maybe one of the last long-haul flights that didn’t manage to be rerouted outside the US. You shrug and take the direction of the cab that will take you and your friend to terminal 2 A where you know a little sushi place that will be perfect.

***

Just as you remember them the sushi are excellent. That is for airport sushi. Savanah has been rambling about Washington and New York, just like everybody else to be honest and she’s getting on your nerves. You’re human, you did cry a lot this morning when you heard the news but now you have detached yourself from the news. You idly gaze at the terminal through the window when you spot a weird looking woman coming in the direction of the restaurant. Her top is torn to shreds, she's covered in large red stains. When she steps into the restaurant your eyes meet hers. Suddenly she looks perfectly normal. She walks straight to the bathroom. You sip some more of your beer and forget about her.

Ten, maybe fifteen minutes later you feel the beer pressuring your guts. You excuse yourself and off to the bathroom. The moment you push on the door a loud moan receives you. For a moment you hesitate but the call of nature is too strong. You close the door behind you and lock yourself in the empty stall. You pull down your skirt and panties and sit.

You hold your breath and Relief!

The couple next door is going hard at it.

Two women by the sound of it and some S&M judging but the faint complaint of one of the participants.

In an apotheosis of screams, they finishes.

Suddenly you realize that blood is pooling at your feet.

The door next door opens.

What will you do?

Play dead hopping that the killer… ??? !!! ?!? … does not realize that you’re here.

Finish and get out, you’re being ridiculous, it can’t be blood.