A/N: This chapter contains NC-17 content. If uncomfortable with such situations or under age 18, please continue to Chapter 3.

Chapter 2: Applying for Membership

The day had gotten off to a lousy start. With too little sleep, unscratched itches and facing another flight during which she'd be fondled, pinched and groped, Laura's fuse was short and her temper threatened to boil over at the least little thing. Remington had fared little better in the sleep department, she assumed, for he'd been veering between querulous and snippy since they'd met up before departing for the airport. The makings of a good day it was not.

And, the day, it appeared, was destined to only go downhill if Biff's appearance in the galley was any indication.

"Laura's been a naughty girl," he oozed, while looking down at her through sunglasses he wore to hide the shiner given to him by Sally the evening before. Stopping short, she dropped her shoulders and blinked hard at his audacity.

"Has anyone ever told you you're incredibly obnoxious?" Laura demanded to know, while attempting to pass him. He stepped into her path, effectively trapping her in the room with him.

"Careful, sweet cheeks," he warned. "Better be nice to the old Bifferino," he continued, reaching out to fondle her hair, "Or I might spill the beans."

"What beans?" Laura asked, even as a chill slithered down her spine at his touch.

"Breaking training. Passenger in your room." Blackmail?! Of all the…

"Put a sock in it, Boff," she told him defiantly, edging her way around him and out of the room.

And, as predicted, the morning had rapidly gone downward from there.

Any number of hands copping a feel here, giving her a pinch here, topped off by a threat from Sally.

"Laura, stay away from Biff. Or somebody might just clip your wings." I've had just about enough!

Utterly exasperated, she picked up her tray of drinks and entered the cabin, just in time for another chauvinistic pig to pinch her bottom, making her hop and gasp. Remington took note with a pair of raised brows, then quickly shifted his gaze back to his magazine as she approached his side.

"Your club soda, sir," she announced loudly enough for others to hear.

"Thank you," he answered in kind, accepting the glass from her.

"Anything to report back here?" she asked, leaning into him.

"The salmon's a trifle salty," he answered peevishly, pretending to peruse the magazine in his hand to avoid looking at her. Laura frowned, resisting the urge to grind her teeth.

"Anything else?" she bit out, as he continued to turn the pages.

"Freddy appears to have an alibi. I bet McBride's our man." Taking a sip of his club soda as a passenger passes by, he gave a disgruntled grunt. "Miss! This is a lime! I wanted a lemon!" he postured, voice raised and handing the glass back to her. She glanced around the cabin to see if anyone was watching, what was left of her patience evaporating.

"But you asked for a lime, sir," she told him, loud enough to be overheard, but considerably lower than him.

"Yes. But now I want a lemon!" he insisted loudly.

"Aren't you carrying this a little too far?" Laura demanded through clenched lips.

"Oh, just thinking of our cover, Laura," he grinned, clearly pleased with his antics. Well, in her eyes, he'd finally taken things too far. He wants to play? Well, he should know by now, I can give as good as I get! After a quick glance around the cabin, she 'accidentally' spilled the entirety of the club soda in his lap.

"Oh!" she cried out, feigning embarrassment. "I'm terribly sorry. How clumsy of me, sir. Here, let me get you a napkin," she offered, dabbing at his leg, then intentionally swiping at a particularly sensitive area of his lap before dropping the soggy napkin in it. His temper flared and with a clenched jaw, watch her saunter away.

After delivering the glasses of Rose still on her tray to the waiting passengers, she took refuge in the galley, where she paced, fisting and unfisting her hands. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, before her feet stilled and she lifted both hands to press fingertips to brow. This is ridiculous, she shouted in her head. They needed to hash things out with each other. He'd been simmering and stewing since that conversation in her office yesterday, as had she. But there was no way for them to have it out here and now, as it was nearly guaranteed there would be many a raised voice throughout.

The fact they'd both gone to bed… frustrated… and woke that way, she admitted, was only making matters worse. She was regretting her decision to hustle him out the night before even more now than she had then. Biff was strong arming her, Sally threatening her and Lorraine? Well, that one was hoping for an opportunity to entice Remington into joining the mile-high club. She dropped her hands from her brows as a thought took hold. We might not be able to have the blistering fight we need to clear the air, but we can certainly put an end to some of our frustration, she thought, a bit of the old Laura peeking out.

Grabbing the stack of napkins she'd promised him, she scrawled a note on the top one. Quickly preparing a club soda on the rocks with lemon she dropped it on her tray and strolled out of the galley. She took some satisfaction in the way his eyes narrowed as they followed her approach, trying to anticipate if another soaking was about to be 'accidentally' delivered.

"Your club soda, sir," she announced demurely, setting it on the table before him, "As well as the napkins I promised." With not so much as another word, she continued towards the back of the cabin. Brows raised, he watched her walk away, thoroughly perplexed.

That is, until he saw her handwriting on the napkin.

We need to caucus, immediately. Bathroom on the left.

His brow furrowed as he wondered what clue she'd tripped across in the last handful of minutes that would have her willing to risk blowing their covers.

"Oh, Miss," he called while holding up a finger as Wanda walked past.

"May I help you, sir?" the petite and slightly nervous blonde inquired.

"I've had a bit of an accident with my drink," he told her, indicating his wet lap. "Could you direct me to the restroom so I might clean up a bit?" Wanda graced him with a smile.

"Straight back to the rear of the cabin," she directed as he stood.

"Much appreciated," he thanked her, then walked in the direction she'd indicated. Without so much as a backwards glance, he slipped into the restroom Laura had specified, and closed the door behind him, securing the latch before turning around to face Laura.

"A bit snug for a luxury airline, don't you think?" Remington observed.

"I've been doing a little thinking about the… tension… between us, Mr. Steele," Laura began. His shoulders stiffened, feeling suddenly as though he were being ambushed. He hadn't even suspected she'd want to have it out, while in their respective roles and in the loo of all places.

"Do you really think, given the task at hand, that now's the time to air our dirty laundry, Miss Holt?" he asked defensively.

"Oh, I'm not referring to the talk we clearly need to have. I mean the obvious… frustration… we've both been feeling since last night." His brows furrowed as he tried to discern her meaning, when her impish smile gave him a strong clue.

"Are you suggesting we…" he made a waving motion with his hand, "…here?" He was clearly stunned by the suggestion. She took a step towards him, which was all the small room allowed, and reached for his tie, loosening it.

"Are you a card-holding member of the mile-high club?" she wondered aloud. Swallowing hard, still quite unable to believe what she was suggesting, he shook his head.

"Can't say I've ever cared to apply for membership in the past, although I might question, given your… proposal… if you may tout a card yourself." He watched as she drew his tie from around his neck and tossed it aside, only for her hand to return so her fingers could begin releasing the buttons of his shirt.

"Nope, first time applicant," she answered.

"Laura, far be it from me to ever attempt to suppress your…" he a bit nervously again, afraid he was about to bodge this, "…uninhibited side, but what happened to 'you don't want me to lose my job'?" he wondered, his pulse rate picking up speed with each button she released.

"As if I'll get on this meat wagon in the sky again. What's the worst that could happen? Ketchum is informed we were caught in the bathroom together?" she offered, as her hands grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to pull it out from under the waistband of his trousers. "We needed to discuss some clues we'd uncovered. The chauvinistic pig would probably just congratulate you, anyway."

"Are you—" With a frustrated huff of breath, her hands fell to her sides.

"We don't have much time before one of us is missed, Remington. If you don't want to –" Her words were cut off when his hands slipped into her hair and his mouth descended on hers, the kiss hungry, possessive from its inception. His free hand slipped between them, releasing the single button of her blazer, then he groaned into her mouth when her hands found the bare skin of his back and she lightly raked her nails downwards.

Tearing his lips away from hers, he carefully studied her face, wanting to make certain there would be no regrets. What he found was skinned flushed by excitement, eyes dazed with unconcealed desire, a chest heaving with rising passion, and the tip of a tongue darting out to taste where his lips had just covered hers. Taking it all in, he'd already accepted a quick shag in the loo was a foregone conclusion when a stealthy hand grazed his hip, before talented fingers grasped his rapidly hardening shaft with a firm grip. Brushing her hand aside, lest she make this quicker than it needed to be, his nimble fingers quickly unclasped the pin securing the scarf at her neck and dropped it upon the meager counter. In no time, his dexterous hands had relieved her of blouse and bra, and his lips had zeroed in on the sensitive peak of a breast. She moaned low in her throat, a sound echoed by him when her nails lightly scraped over his nipples.

"Laura," he gasped, around the small globe in his mouth.

She buried a hand in his hair, pressing his mouth more firmly to her breast even as her other hand began to work the buckle of his belt. As he shifted to suckle the hard tip of her other breast, he exhaled hard when she released his raging erection from his pants. The feeling of his breath blowing across the excruciatingly sensitive, moistened tip of her breast, had her hand clasping the base of his shaft harder than she intended, while obliterating what was left of her patience.

"Remington," she breathed her urgency against his ear, when he stood to seek the zipper of her skirt. She shook her head, almost violently. "No time," she whispered breathily.

Nodding his head, his hands skimmed over her cloth covered hips and outer thighs before grasping the hem of her skirt and pulling upwards, until it gathered at her waist. In no time, he divested her of her panties, as his eyed their surroundings.

"Not much room," he muttered quietly, before covering her lips with his again. She tore her mouth away.

"Think of something." Her voice was tight with unsated need, and with a nod, he grasped her waist, and sat her on the edge of the narrow counter, then pulled her slightly forward.

His lips claimed hers as their own again. Drifting a finger down her hot, wet, cleft he hummed his satisfaction at finding more than ready for him. Positioning himself at her entrance, he thrust firmly, burying himself in her warm, moist depths. His mouth swallowed her cry of pleasure at finding him filling her completely. He nibbled on her lips, as a hand found a plump breast to knead, withdrawing and pressing forward again, only when her legs wrapped around his hips. He'd only just begun to move within her, when her frustrated growl made it clear the position selected was not offering the friction she was craving.

"Put your arms around my neck, babe," he whispered against her lips.

When she did as requested, he carefully turned them, a nifty trick given the pants and briefs wrapped around his ankles, until her back pressed against the opposite wall. She hummed deep in her throat, when with a tilt of her hips, his movements stroked that most sensitive of places within her. Repositioning her legs so they lay against his hips, he braced the back of her knees over his arms, and planted flattened palms against the wall, providing the traction he needed. Thrusting his hips hard and fast, he drove his length in and out of her, taking them both quickly to the edge. His lips trailed along her collarbone, while one of her hands delved through his hair and the other caressed his back. He felt her muscles tightening around his shaft as he drew the skin at the base of her neck into his mouth, pulling firmly, releasing it in time to capture her cries of pleasure when she began to shudder from the intensity of her orgasm. Not until she'd quieted did his lips leave hers, so he could bury his face in the crook of her shoulder, muffling the calls of her name, as he thrust as deep within her as he could, his body tensing as he came. His mouth sought out hers again in the aftermath while her fingers raked through his hair.

It was with great reluctance that they separated, him easing her to the floor and holding on until she found her footing. Grasping her face in the palms of his hands, he lifted her chin so he could taste, nibble, savor her lips again. They couldn't help their quiet laughs when their eyes caught their images in the mirror: her, completely nude save for the skirt rumpled around her waist and a pair of stockings, him with his shirt hanging off his shoulders, and, unseen, his pants and briefs tangled around his ankles. Quickly cleaning up, they helped one another right their clothing, and in short order, they appeared as they had before their rendezvous, save for some unavoidable wrinkles.

"Wait for a minute or so before you leave," she told him quietly. "That should give me enough time to slip into the store room for a few supplies." She reached for the handle of the door, only to find his hand pressing against it, keeping her from opening it. Stepping into her, he cupped the back of her neck, drawing her lips to his again. The kiss was as tender as the prior had been voracious, and he lingered endlessly, his way, she knew of conveying to her they may have just indulged in a quick shag but it was never just a shag, not between them. She brushed her lips against his cheek when the kiss ended.

"I've got to go," she told him quietly, pressing up on her tip toes for one last, glancing kiss. Then she slipped out the door.

Sally found her a minute later, seemingly having searched her out. Laura looked up from where she was stooped down, removing two bottles of club soda from a cabinet, then stood and reached into the cooler for a bottle of Rose.

"We're almost out," she offered, before exiting the small room and returning to the galley on the other side of the plane.

As far as she could ascertain, no one was any the wiser to her disappearance, and frankly, she didn't care if they were.