The waiting was the hardest part.

Prompt, “The waiting was the hardest part.”
Must be the very first line of the story.
Word Count = 1000

         The waiting was the hardest part.  Like waiting for water to boil or grass grow, there is an anxiety that grinds at the human spirit.  But finally the plane taxied up to the terminal, and the stair way was up to the door, upon opening Angela was the first to step out.  The wind whipped her thick black hair to and fro.  Her furrowed brow smoothes as she sees me, she smiles; I shudder seeing her race down the stairs in her short skirt and high heels. My gaze is drawn to her gorgeous legs.  Man did I miss her.

         “Angela, I’ll meet you at the exit!”  I point to the opening in the gate.  The flight attendant is running after her with a carry on bag.  She forgot her luggage?  At the chain link fence she grasps the wire, I clutch her hands with mine through the links and we kiss through one of the openings. 

         “Baby I missed you so.”  I can see the joy and relief in her expression.  She looks over at the opening in the fence.  “Let me come to you.”  She scurries off.  We are running side by side; the fence is the only thing separating us.  Just before the opening two uniformed guards stop her and ask for her passport. 

         “Officer, what is the problem?”  They ignore me, towering over her as she rummages through her purse.  She presents her passport and one of them takes it back to the guards shack beside the opening.  “She hasn’t done anything wrong, what is happening.”

         The other guard returns, “Sir please wait in the terminal, Ms Margolis will need to be searched and questioned.”  She was just two feet from me, I could smell her perfume, I touched her hands and kissed her lips.  Now I watch her being driven off in one of those electric security carts.

* * *

         In the terminal, my sister Stephanie watches me walk past the food court.  “So where’s Angela?”

         Steph can sense my nervousness, “She’s in customs, they pulled her out and took her away.”  Panic is setting in, it’s probably nothing, Angela is as pure as the driven snow.  “It’s just a mistake, she did nothing wrong!”

         She pulls out her cell phone and quickly dials a number. “Warren, you at the desk…”  She puts her hand up at me.  “Good, did they just bring in an Angela Margolis…?  She’s what…?  I’ll be right over!”  Steph slams her phone shut and starts to trot across the open waiting area towards the door marked SECURITY.  “Marty, stay there, I’ll get her.”

         I call out after her.  “Steph, What The Hell Is Going On?”  But now she is in a full run.

         My fiancée is finally home and she is being held by customs, my sister who is a security guard at the airport is running, with a worried look on her face.  I can do nothing but sit here and wait again.  If she ever wants to go back to Columbia again, I’ll divorce her.

         I am waiting again, two cups of rotten coffee and a stale donut, my stomach is turning and I’m nervous as hell.  My cell starts to jangle off my belt.  “Hi, Steph.  How is she?”

         “She has a story for you.”  She chuckled.

         “She Ok?”  Her attitude is soothing my nerves, she seems calm and in good humor.

         “Believe it of not she was strip searched and…”  I can hear Angela in the background arguing with Steph not to say anything.  “And… she was cavity searched.”  The echo in the room sounds like a bathroom.  “They took all her clothes and I am seeing more of your fiancée than you ever did.”  I thought, ‘Steph, you have no idea what we’ve done!’

         I can hear Angela shouting, “Shut up Stephanie.”

         “Can I talk to her?” 

         “She is in an isolation area on the other side of the room, I’m not allowed anywhere near her.”

* * *

         Two more donuts and four cups of coffee; the security door swings open and out comes Angela.  Two large plastic tote bags, wearing a t-shirt, cut down shorts and flip-flops.  Stephanie was right behind her; Angela dropped the totes and ran out of her footwear directly for me.  When she hit me she knocked the wind out of me, besides knocking me off my feet.  We lay on the floor in the middle of the terminal, lips locked, her hips square on mine, her arms about my head and my hands flat on her butt.

         We had gathered a small crowd, Steph hovered over us with her cell camera, “These should make some good wedding pictures.”  I didn’t realize it but subconsciously I let my hand slide up under her t-shirt and was rubbing her bare back, my other was digging into her shorts.  A thought crossed my mind, ‘Now this was worth waiting for.’

         When she got up and slipped back into her flip-flops, there was a small round of applause from the gathering.  “They do an encore at three.” Steph joked.

         “So, now you’re an international spy or drug lord?” 

         “There were two Angela’s on the plane, we both have long black hair and we both came form the same village.”  Steph picked up one tote and I the other; we started for the exit. 

         I grinned at her, “So, how exactly did they determine you were not the mule?”

         She immediately turned crimson, “Oh shut up!”  And she elbowed me in the ribs.

         “The other girls name is Marius” Stephanie started to hail a cab. “They discovered two full condoms up her butt and two more up her who-who.” 

         “What happened to her clothes?”

         “They got a little rambunctious with the search. They’ll send a check to cover everything.”

         A uniformed starter ushered the three of us on to the end of a line.  “There is a line for cab service.  You have to wait.”

         The waiting was not the hardest part.