The Violation of Vicky’s Virtue

I’d planned to be in London for a couple of nights, however my meeting on the second day had been cancelled. Since my hotel room was fully refundable, I decided to head to the airport and see if I could get my flight swapped to get home the same day. Normally I would have phoned up the Amex travel service but there had been issues with mobile networks across the country and my phone was no exception. I’d caught a BBC news ticker on my way out of the office but it seemed the press had no real information and were just speculating… my favourite kind of journalism! Needless to say the most popular theory was that the UK was under some sort of cyber attack from some rogue state. Normally I would be skeptical, however for the issue to be plaguing ALL the networks seemed like more than a coincidence.

I got off the DLR at London City and made my way down the escalators, tapping out on my way past the ticket offices. I was immediately disheartened to see large queues of people trailing out the main entrance to the terminal. ‘This can’t be good’ I thought to myself as I approached. It seemed like the queue was for the check in desks, so I walked over to the BA customer service desk instead. The lone member of staff there was surrounded by a smaller, but still significant group of frustrated people and was apologising.

“I’m sorry, unfortunately we’re as in the dark about it as you are. All we’ve been told is that all flights are currently subject to an indefinite delay. It’s affecting all airlines in the country.” she added.

I took out my phone and managed to get onto the public wifi hot-spot. As a bit of an aviation geek I had a flight tracking app which I opened up. I’d never seen anything like it – the skies seemed to be almost empty. There were still flights in the air but very few and it was across not just the UK, but all European airspace seemed to be emptying.

“As soon as we have more information we’ll make an announcement. In the meantime, if you booked via a travel agent, I would suggest contacting them as they may be able to provide further assistance.” the member of staff tried in vain to placate the cohort of people around me, to scoffs of incredulity at the suggestion given the lack of mobile phone service all day.

First the mobile networks, now this, there must be something major going on? I looked around the terminal and considered my options. As I scanned the concourse it struck me that there were quite a few more police officers present than I would normally have seen. A handful was pretty standard for City airport but I could count at least 10 dotted around. Maybe they were just there incase any tensions flared.

I had no flight to catch today, no idea when flights might resume and a hotel room in the City waiting for me. So I decided to just cut my losses and come back tomorrow rather than hanging around the airport for who knew how long not even guaranteed to get a flight. As I turned to walk back towards the DLR station I noticed a passenger pointing at the TV screen which was also showing BBC news. The subtitles read:

“Once again, if you are just joining us, we are getting reports of a large fireball being observed by Edinburgh residents.”

I was alarmed, that was exactly where I was trying to get to. I immediately took out my phone to call home but realised it still had no service. Was all this related…

“… I must stress the reports are unconfirmed at this stage and we are not certain if there is any link to the ongoing nation-wide communications disruption.”

I looked around, most other passangers were focussed on the departure boards. Then I noticed a face I recognised walk past me towards the check-in queue.

“Hey Vicky!” I called and she looked around trying to spot who had said her name.

Vicky and her husband were friends of my wife’s from before we started going out. Since getting together, we would meet up as couples now and again and had gone on the occasional holiday together with mutual friends. Vicky and I hadn’t really spent any significant time together apart from our spouses so she had really remained more my wife’s friend rather than mine too. Vicky was petite, with a slim build and blonde hair that she kept cut above her neckline. She had small facial features but large eyes. I thought she was reasonably good looking, in a girl-next-door sort of way, but she’d never featured in my fantasy line-up in the years I had known her. That was until one holiday in the south of France.

We were sharing a villa with a group of friends. It had a pool and this was the first time I had ever seen Vicky in anything other than jeans and a rugby shirt. One morning, as I was laying on a sun lounger she walked past me wearing a modest green one-piece which was in-keeping with her generally reserved almost prudish nature. As she turned her back to me to enter the pool, I saw her suit had ridden up a bit and I got a fleeting glimpse of her backside. She had the smoothest, pale white thighs and a little peach-perfect, toned ass. There wasn’t the slightest hint of cellulite. This, combined with her small chest, made it look like she had the body of a teenager!

I’d never thought about her in a sexual way until that day, but that all changed in a split second. Every night of that holiday I laid in bed thinking about her and during the day I looked for any opportunity to watch her in her bathing suit, hoping for another view of that cute little butt! Ever since, whenever we would meet up, I’d be checking her out. I noticed how the tight fitting jeans she wore accentuated her perfect little butt. Being markedly taller than her, sometimes I also found an opportunity to surreptitiously look down her top if it had a wide enough neck. In that department, as I say, she didn’t have a lot going for her – I could she wore padded bras and I assumed there wasn’t much else underneath. Certainly I’d never been able to see anything. Nevertheless, that ass though… I would tap that little cutie in a heartbeat given the opportunity.

Over the years since, I’d got to know her a little better and as we both worked in corporate environments, we could generally relate to whatever challenges were going on in our respective offices. It gave us some common ground to chat about things that neither of our spouses could really relate to. Vicky and I’s conversations were never flirtatious, but we did become more familiar with each other and we would sometimes mock our respective spouses’ playfully. It started to feel like we were building our own friendship.

I knew from my wife that Vicky’s husband tended to take her somewhat for granted – frequently doing his own thing with little regard for responsibilities at home or what she might like – this was especially true when it came to childcare. She never gave the impression she was unhappy in her marriage but I couldn’t help but wonder if Vicky was just a dutiful wife who always put the needs of her family above her own. About six months ago I gave her a lift into town and we were alone in the car together. She confided some work difficulties to me and I tried to be supportive. I got the impression I was the first person she had really talked to about the stress she was under. Afterwards it felt, not awkward, but it seemed like she caught herself opening up to much… perhaps in a way that she felt wasn’t appropriate for our relationship. Maybe it was all in my head, but I think there was a level of emotional attraction that she was resisting because unlike her husband, I had taken the time to actually listen to how she felt and sympathise with her. We had never had occasion to be along together like that since, but even with our other halves present, she seemed a little more standoffish and cautious about how we interacted. I felt a tension.

“Hey!” she replied, monetarily surprised “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yeah, just down for work. You?” I replied.

“Same. Came down this morning. What’s going on?” she asked looking around a bit confused.

“Looks like all flights are grounded. Did you see that?” I asked, pointing to the TV.

Vicky turned to the screen and look of alarm flashed across her face as she read the headline. I immediately felt bad that I’d drawn her attention to sensationalist journalism, given how little anyone actually seemed to know about anything today. For all I knew it was just some poor soul had a gas explosion in their house.

“I’m sure it’s nothing too serious.” I said, trying to downplay things, but I also harboured an underlying feeling of unease about the various events of the day.

The subtitles below the TV anchor provided some new information:

“Okay, we are now going to go live to Downing Street, where the Prime Minister is making a statement.”

The image cut to a wood panelled room where the PM stood at a lectern, flanked by two other suited individuals. As we stood looking at the screen the PM began a prepared statement in which he confirmed that the nation was currently under an attack which had targeted critical national infrastructure including telecoms and air traffic services. He said that it was not currently known who the perpetrators were, but that the National Cyber Security Centre was working to attribute the source. However, before he was able to complete the canned briefing, another suited individual walked up to the podium, whispered something in his ear and he abruptly left the other pair to complete it on his behalf. Leaving the briefing room in total chaos as the press tried to ascertain what was going on by hounding the unprepared IT boffins. The TV anchor attempted to fill the gap by recapping what was known so far – which was very little.

As we watched, the familiar chime of the airport tannoy system sounded and I turned around and looked up to the ceiling, as if I would be able to see anyone making the announcement.

“Attention please, this is an announcement for all passengers. Due to ongoing air traffic control disruption, all flights in UK and European airspace have been grounded. All flights scheduled to depart London City Airport this evening have been cancelled. Passengers are advised to leave the airport and contact your airline or travel agent directly for further travel information. I repeat, all flights scheduled to depart London City Airport this evening have been cancelled. Passengers are advised to leave the airport and contact your airline or travel agent directly for further travel information.” The announcement ended to the groans of hundreds of frustrated and bewildered passengers who started to look around at each other and inspect their phones.

“Doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere tonight.” I said to Vicky, who was still staring at the TV with a worried expression on her face.

“No…” she smiled, trying to hide her concern, “…guess I better try and find a hotel.”

“You and a thousand other people!” I joked, unhelpfully.

Seeing an increasing number of people walking towards the exit, I thought quickly, realising the DLR was about to be overrun by a huge number of people needing to get back to central London. I looked at Vicky trying to join the public wifi on her phone in the hopes of sorting out some overnight accommodation.

“We should get on the DLR now, before the queues get crazy” I said.

“I don’t know where I’m going yet.” She replied.

“Just head to Canning Town or Bank, then it’ll be easier to get wherever you need to.” I suggested, “if you wait you could be stuck here for hours.”

Vicky looked around at the hoards of people now moving out of the terminal and realised I was right. We moved quickly back towards the escalator, skipping the Oyster terminals already surrounded by a mass of people. Vicky, who is probably the most honest person I know, protested but I dragged her by the arm insisting it was better to just pay a penalty fare and get on a train asap. My approach meant we were able to get onto the platform just as a relatively quiet train arrived. Once we had boarded it, Vicky once more returned to her phone but soon discovered she had no service and no wifi between stations.

“I don’t really know where to go.” she wondered, sighing “I can’t get any signal to find a hotel.”

“Look, why don’t you just come to mine and get a room there, the rates are OK.” I suggested adding “Probably best to stick together given the situation.”

I wasn’t sure why I said the last bit, I guess I just had a nagging feeling that things were worse than we realised. I regretted saying it because as I heard the words come out of my mouth I realised it sounded patronising and a bit melodramatic. However, Vicky actually looked a little relieved at the suggestion and nodded in agreement.

It took about 30 minutes to make our way to my hotel via the tube and when we entered the lobby it was busy with lots of people and suitcases. I guessed there were a large number of travellers now unexpectedly stuck in London for the night. There were already long queues at the main reception but the priority lane was unoccupied and I had status with this particular brand. I ushered Vicky up to the desk beside me.

“Hi, I’m checking-in and I’d like an additional room for my friend”” I said, handing over my credit card.

“Of course” replied the member of staff tapping my name into her keyboard, “welcome back, I can see you have a deluxe room booked for two nights. Unfortunately we are fully booked this evening so I’m afraid I don’t have any additional rooms. Sorry.”

Vicky’s face fell again. I asked the staff member to find out if there were any rooms in any of the chain’s other location in the city but she informed us that everything had sold out in the last hour or so, apart from a suite which ran at £2000 per night and neither of us had any faith that our employers would ever reimburse us for that, regardless of the circumstances!

“Here are your room keys, you’re on the sixth floor. Do you need any help with your luggage?” the girl concluded, motioning to the elevators.

“No thanks.” I replied.

I walked away from the desk back to Vicky who was now standing by some occupied seats staring at her phone.

“Any luck?” I asked.

“No, I don’t think the wifi is working here.” she replied despondently.

“Here. Take my room – I’ll find something else.” I said, offering her the keycards.

“No! I’m not taking your room. I’ll find something I’m sure.” Vicky replied scoffing at the suggestion before adding “Thank you though.”

“Well… it’s not ideal, but why don’t you just share with me then? If you’re OK with it.” I offered, not seeing many other options.

“That’s OK, I’m sure I’ll find something.” Vicky replied politely, one more adding “Thanks for the offer though.”

“I’m not sure you will, look at this place!” I said skeptically, “Come on, it’s late, I really don’t mind! We’re grown ups.”

Vicky looked hesitant but lacking any better options she reluctantly accepted the offer. Entering the quiet lifts from the noisy lobby was a welcome change in ambiance as we rode up in silence together to my floor. I surveyed the room as we entered but was disappointed to find there was no couch. A deluxe room doesn’t pass for much in London, event with Platinum status!

“I’ll take the floor, you can have the bed.” I said, hoping that agreeing the sleeping arrangements up front might put Vicky more at ease with the situation.

“Eh, no way! It’s your room, I can take the floor.” she retorted.

There was a bit of a back and forth before I realised that for all the room was lacking in a couch, the bed was actually huge and Vicky was small.