Flight 3

By Alyssa Hyatt

 Skye Blue knew very well that littering was an instant demerit. The last
(and only) time she got caught, her penance was to spend her next day
off rooting around Victoria Park's many rubbish bins for a single used
condom that had been planted by Michelle's boyfriend earlier in the day.
The prize waiting inside? Her front door key. It turned out to be a late
night for the bedraggled flight attendant, even with all the male
passers-by who volunteered their help.

But right at this moment, a possible repeat of that mortifying
experience barely registered in Skye's tiny bimbo mind. She was too
shook up by the sight of her wife standing before her, in full regal
pilot regalia, to think of anything else. Or to address Michelle in a
manner befitting her lowly station as an air hostess, it seemed.

"M-Michelle!" she stammered. "W-what the fuck are you doing here?"
Instantly realising her mistake, she clamped her manicured hands over
her mouth the second the question mark left her collagen-enhanced lips.

Michelle's face turned to stone. Before Skye could squeak out a pathetic
apology, Michelle shot her arm into the depths of her husband's bra and
twisted her right nipple as far as it would possibly turn, causing Skye
to shriek in agony and dance a hilarious little jig on the spot. The
other Layover hostesses burst into fits of laughter from the other side
of the room.

"You will address me," spat Michelle behind gritted teeth, "with the
proper respect." She twisted Skye's nipple just a few degrees more,
causing the dance to quicken. "Do you understand what I am telling you,
airhead?"

"Aargh - yes, Madam, I understand," she wailed. "Please forgive my
stupidity Madam, for I am just a dumb trolley dolly - no good for
anything other than looking pretty and pouring cups of coffee!"


"Don't forget cocksucking" Michelle added spitefully, tweaking the
nipple with such force that it caused Skye's other tit to pop out of its
satin encasing. Cue more giggling for Skye's Layover sisters. Finally,
she released her deathgrip on the teat and soaked in her husband's
humiliation with regalement as Skye frantically blew on her red raw
udder in an attempt to stem the pain. The extreme hormonal regime had
made those big ol' tits of hers incredibly sensitive, Michelle observed
to herself.

"I trust now we've heard enough insolence from you?" asked Michelle,
although the intonation suggested it was no question. In-between sobs,
Skye indicated that they had. Michelle gave her sissified spouse a
moment's peace to stuff her funbags back in their playpen, before
getting to the meat of the matter.

"Look at me, Skye," commanded Michelle. She obeyed. Although Skye
towered over her wife by almost seven inches in her heels, she felt so
tiny in comparison. "You seem surprised to see me in a pilot's uniform,
my dear. But you really shouldn't be. You do remember our first date, do
you not?" Michelle bit her lip as a brief flash of hurt shot through
her, before continuing: "And how you lied to me to get me in bed with
you?" Skye's baby blue eyes fell to the floor in shame as she took a
trip down memory lane.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ace had met his future wife as a passenger on an Imperial Airlines
flight between London and Miami several years ago. Michelle was looking
after the first class compartment of the cabin at the time. As an
aspiring pilot, it wasn't her first choice of career, but scholarships
were expensive so she'd resigned herself to a few year's graft in an
undesirable profession to pay for it. She figured getting a job as a
flight attendant would be as wise a choice as any, because it would
allow her to sample for herself what the long hours and time away from
family would be like. Plus, it presented invaluable networking
opportunities.



But on this particular flight, Michelle was wishing she'd taken her
mother's advice and became a vet. The cabin was stuffy, her bright red
stewardess' uniform tight, chaffing and restrictive, and her feet worn
out from endlessly pivoting up and down the aisle dealing with every
last obnoxious request from some of the rudest men she'd ever
encountered in her life. And the worst of the bunch was a young man sat
right at the front of the section. Michelle had just about managed to
forget about him when his help light flashed on for the umpteenth time.
She sighed, put down the rubbish bag she was empting, and went to attend
to his needs. "It's a good job he's cute," she thought to herself. "Or
else I'd have to throttle him."

"Hey doll, what kept ya?" slurred the man upon her arrival. "I dropped
my bag of peanuts. Could you pick it up for me, kitten?" Michelle looked
across to see said bag lying peacefully in the centre aisle, perhaps no
more than eight feet away from the gentleman's seat. She exhaled
irritably at this needless intrusion into her working day but managed to
retain her sunny disposition. "No problem, Sir."

She bent over as far as her tight skirt would allow, and that's when the
man's masterplan came together. He delivered a sharp pinch right on the
hostesses' rear end, causing her to yelp in pain. She turned round
sharply to admonish the grinning chauvinist, who was showing little
remorse for his crime. "Sir,," she spoke calmly but firmly, "the Cabin
Crew aren't your personal playthings. We're here to assist the pilot and
ensure the safety of the passengers, and your unnecessary distractions
are prevent-"

"Oh hush, sweetheart. Believe me, this plane will get to its destination
regardless of whether you rush around like chambermaid on crack, or
spend the rest of the flight powdering your nose in the toilet" He
paused to sip his beer, before slipping in not so subtly: "Believe me,
I'm a pilot myself."

She was busy re-assessing her decision not to throttle him when the
final sentence pricked her ears up. "You're a pilot, Sir?"

"Only the best in the world, honey. I fly for Europa Airways."

Europa Airways! They were the biggest commercial airline in the world.
Not even Imperial Airlines, with all their wealthy Russian benefactors,
could compete with Europa. Only the very best pilots could hope to find
gainful employment with them. Michelle saw networking potential.
"I...I'm hoping to be a pilot one day, Sir. Once I've saved up enough
money..."

He smirked inwardly at the thought of it, but his outward demeanour gave
her a little more hope. "You're a bit too pretty to be a pilot, aren't
you?" he asked, his seductive brown eyes gleaming. Her face turned as
red as her blazer.

"But I see potential in you, sweet tush. Europa could do with an up-and-
comer like you in their ranks." Ever the master orator, he paused for
dramatic effect and pretended to mull something that was on the tip of
his tongue. "Now I think about it, they do give out bursaries for
talented youngsters. It won't be as easy as me clicking my fingers, but
I might be able to pull some strings."

'He'd do that for me?', thought Michelle. Perhaps this guy wasn't such a
jerk after all. "That's really kind of you to offer, Sir, but..."

"You can call me 'Ace', dollface. Why don't you come into my, ahem,
'office' and we'll discuss your prospects in more detail?" he suggested,
pulling her down forcefully into his lap and closing the curtains to
block out the prying eyes of the elderly couple across the gangway.
Michelle swivelled round to face him, her legs straddling his. It was
hard to miss the bulge in his trousers - you could probably see it from
the ground.

 Ace reached behind his new-found playmate and pulled out her hair clip,
causing her long mane of jet-black hair to tumble down her back. Then,
his strong arms began to gruffly explore her curves. Michelle hesitated
for a second, but offered no resistance. She wasn't that kind of girl
normally, but she really needed that bursary and ehhh, he WAS kind of
cute. He expertly unhooked her bra with a single flick of his hand and
from there, the negotiations began.

A harsh slap to the cheek brought Skye back to the present day. "But the
bursary never came, did it, 'Ace'? Against all the odds I fell in love
with you, thinking I was your one and only and that you wanted to help
me out - but you didn't have any intention of doing that, did you? No, I
found out much too late that you were too much of a misogynistic pig to
ever allow your wife to get above her station in life."

Michelle slapped her husband again, before any excuses could dribble out
of her ruby red mouth. "When we married, it was like you thought you
owned me. You halted my pilot training, ordered me not to cut my hair
and banned me from wearing anything other than skirts or dresses. Even
in Winter! Well!" Her voice was hoarse now with pure hatred. "Look who
wears the trousers in our relationship now!"

Embarrassed by the reminder, Skye instinctively fiddled with the hem of
her latex mini-dress. There was no doubt who was the power-dresser of
the couple now. If clothes maketh the man then they also maketh the
woman, and the woman Ace McLaren had become was straight out of a cheap
porn flick.

A third slap rang out, leaving Skye on the verge of tears. "But I'm sure
you secretly wanted me to continue on with my training, didn't you, dear
hubbie? You just never got round to pulling those strings in-between
pulling on all those sluts' g-strings. That's why I took the liberty of
restarting my course with the money you had saved in that off-shore
account. You know, the one that you never got round to telling me
about."

Skye's eyes expanded as wide as saucers. "Oh...oh, poo!" she uttered in
total panic. Shit! Michelle found out about that? That was his
contingency plan! As soon as this demented woman got bored of ruining
his life and allowed him to be a man again, he intended to rush straight
to his guys and withdraw the several thousands of pounds he had saved.
Not a fortune compared to what he once was worth, but enough to get him
back on his feet again. But now he was completely broke! As poor as a
church mouse! He wouldn't even have enough to buy a pair of trousers!

"Now I think about it, you didn't get round to a lot of things, did you,
Miss Blue? Perhaps I won't get round to removing these," teased
Michelle, slapping the underside of Skye's udders with such ferocity
that they sprung out of their confines once more and struck the
stewardess on her dimpled chin. Michelle was merely playing with her
food here. She had no intention of letting Skye go back to her former
life. After a decade or so after she'd outlived her shelf life as a sky
high prostitute, she'd decided she would probably sell Skye off to Pam,
or someone. Whoever had the most sadistic plan going forward. Perhaps
she'd hold interviews. Ace had made a lot of enemies in his short time
on Earth, so it was going to be a seriously competitive bracket of
entrants.

But as wet as all this tormenting was making her, Michelle realised that
it was important to keep that tiny carrot affixed to the end of that
enormous stick if she was to keep her servant girl onside, so she
changed the subject. "Oh, by the way dear, do you like my new haircut?"

She removed her pilot's cap, revealing her new short pixie hair cut.
Just a few months ago, Ace would have had her over his knee for daring
to have such an unfeminine 'do, but now she was willing to tell this
crazy bitch whatever she wanted to hear, just to avoid further
punishment. "It's very beautiful, Madam. I love it!" she lied.

"Hmpf. I was going more for handsome, but that'll do." She pulled out a
packet of peanuts that had apparently been resting in her hat and
dropped them symbolically in front of her. She gave Skye a nasty leer.
"Pick them up, kitten."

Neither the symmetry nor the poignancy of the moment was not lost on
Skye. She gulped and then bent down at the waist, once more exposing her
panties to the world. The tip of her inch long nails had just about
brushed past the packet when she heard an ear-shattering CRACK, followed
by a searing pain on her bubble butt. The force of the blow was enough
to rocket her forwards, her bulbous breasts breaking her fall like
airbags.


Tears trickled down Skye's beautifully re-sculpted face as she gingerly
picked herself back up to her feet. Although she could feel her wife
burning a hole in the back of her head with her gaze, she was reluctant
to turn around and let her see that she'd been crying. There was still
some residue male pride in that oestrogen-ravaged body of hers.
Eventually however, Michelle grew tired of waiting for her toy to
compose herself and pushed the issue. "What do you say, Skye?"

"Th-thank you for punishing me, Madam."

"Oh, it wasn't me, blossom. Meet my co-pilot, who'll be mentoring me on
my first flight. I believe you've already met."

Skye turned round apprehensively and the sight that greeted her gave her
the third (or was it fourth?) heart attack of the day - and it was only
half past nine! There standing next to her estranged wife, wielding a
riding crop was her former arch-nemesis, an insufferably camp man named
Randy McCloud. He worked for Imperial Airlines, and truth be told, was
probably a better pilot than Ace ever was, but Ace used to pull his
political weight to keep Randy's reputation in check. The airline
industry was still a pretty homophobic one at the top and Ace knew how
to turn that to his advantage. Seven consecutive 'Pilot Of The Year'
awards were testament to that.

 "Well, don't just stand there staring hungrily at his crotch, Skye. Dip
your wings in deference to the the 2011 Pilot Of The Year!"

And with that, the blonde performed a soul-crushing curtsey, and the
last Y chromosome turned off the lights.

---------------------------------------------

As a rare treat, Randy and Michelle allowed Skye to stay in the cockpit
during the pre-flight preparations - a real honour for a lowly bimbo
stewardess such as herself! The only concession was that Skye had to
make herself useful whilst the pilots talked through their grown-up
stuff, and Michelle had just the job for her. As Randy ran through the
take-off protocol one last time, Skye found herself on her knees in the
space underneath the flight deck, enthusiastically slurping and sucking
away at her former professional rival's dick like it was a chocolate-
coated banana.

"It's good to see you two getting on so well, Randy" remarked Michelle.
" Ace used to bitch and moan about you all the time when he got home
from work, but it seems he had a soft spot for you all along."

"Well, 'Chelle, hun, you know what they say: girls will gossip"

"Ha ha! That they do. I guess my macho husband was always a bit of a
sissy deep down! Good job I was around to help you unlock your girlish
potential really, wasn't it Ace?

"Yrrrth Mrrrdrrrm. Thrrrnk yrrr frrr  trrrrning mrrr intrrr r
srssy!"

With practice, Skye had become a skilled cocksucker, but she had yet to
master the ability to speak coherently whilst an erect penis was
thrusting into her mouth like a piston. Nonetheless, the rest of her
performance was to Randy's satisfaction. Her blow job technique was
flawless. In-between slurps, she'd expertly run her tongue up and down
his shaft, keeping him on the brink of orgasm, just as she'd been
trained. Ace had always been a quick learner, and it was a trait that
continued to serve him well in his new life. Skye was as skilled a sex
worker as Ace had been an aviator.

Randy let out a satisfied grunt. "Oh, she IS good, Chelle. You were
right about that! As an admirer of the male form, I can't say Ace's new
look is entirely to my liking, but this new attitude of hers is a
definite upgrade!"

"Did you hear that, Skye? The nice man paid you a compliment. Show your
gratitude!"

"Thrrnk yrrr, Mrrr  MrrrrClrrrd"

Michelle watched in silent satisfaction for a moment as Skye's blonde
tresses bobbed up and down violently between Randy's legs. Such an eager
BJ Queen! She was sucking off that thing like her life depended on it.
Perhaps she thought it did. The sight of her husband's oral desecration
was capped, literally, by the oversized pilot's hat that constantly
slipped down past Skye's eyes as she licked and sucked on Randy's flight
instrument. It made her look like a silly little girl who was playing at
being a pilot.

"Oh god, she's VERY good, Michelle," Randy panted. "With a mouth like
that, are you sure she's single?"

"Heh. Well, she was married once, but that pretty mouth of hers got her
into a spot of bother. Why do you ask, are you interested? Maybe I can
set you two up. I think it's about time Skye went steady."

" Wrrrrrrt?"


Randy ignored Skye's contribution to the conversation. "Well, shemales
aren't usually my bag, but I could do with a beard, especially with all
these public appearances I'm going to have to make now I'm the number
one pilot in the world." He stopped to let out a gratified moan. "Plus,
I could get used to having blow jobs like this on tap! What do you say
we head out to Soho next Friday, Skye? I think we have a spare Imperial
Airlines uniform that's just your size"

"Buuhhht..."

"She'd be delighted, I'm sure," interjected Michelle on Skye's behalf.
"Isn't this exciting, Skye? You have a new boyfriend! Perhaps there will
even be wedding bells in the air if you play your cards right"

"Imagine Ace as a blushing bride!" laughed Randy. "Mincing down the
aisle as she prepares to become Mrs Randy McCloud!"

"How humiliating would that be," pondered Michelle out loud. "To be
forced to love, honour and obey your worst enemy!"

This had gone far enough! Skye loosened her lips from around Randy's
member and worked up the courage to tell her two tormentors than in no
uncertain terms, that she didn't want to go on a date with him. But what
terrible timing! She got as far as "I do-" before a thick sea of hot
spunk spurted down the back of her throat, leaving her gagging on the
floor.

"She said 'I do' already!" Michelle howled with amusement. "Control your
ovaries, woman! You're not at the altar yet!"


-----------------------------------------------------

Finally, the passengers were aboard and the flight was scheduled to
take-off. Skye Blue couldn't help but note that the build-up to this
flight had been quite unusual, though. Normally it was her job as the
perky air hostess to greet the passengers as they entered the plane, but
for reasons unknown to her Randy was currently fulfilling this duty
while she remained in the cockpit, diligently cleaning Madam's shoes
with her tongue as she read her morning paper. Skye's new-found woman's
intuition told her that the reason behind the change in routine almost
undoubtedly spelled bad news for her. Her intuition also told her not to
raise the subject with Madam.

Neither party said a word until it was nearly time for Skye to head out
into the cabin and deliver the safety instructions to the passengers.
Michelle fumbled around in her handbag and fished out an item from
within, an action which naturally piqued the interest of her put-upon
slavegirl.

"Now, Skye, the reason you're in here is because today's clients are
very important people, and we want to give a professional first
impression. I mean, we know how insatiable you can be when you're in the
company of a gentleman, sweetheart - we've all seen the camera footage!
We want them to be able to at least get into their seats before you
attempt to jump on their cocks!"

Skye responded with a sullen pout. She was instructed to act like a boy-
crazy hussy at all times when around her passengers, or else she'd be
hit with a veritable hailstorm of demerits. She just couldn't win. "Now,
Miss Blue, look up at me."

She obeyed, and before she could blink, Michelle reached out and dabbed
something onto both of her contact lens with the tip of her finger. To
her horror, Skye realised she was blind! She began to thrash around in
panic, but a slap to the face soon settled her down again. "Oh, don't be
so flighty, Miss Blue. It's only while you give the safety
demonstration, then I'll remove them. The safety instructions are a
vital part of the flight, don't you know, and I don't want you getting
distracted by all those trouser bulges on display. You used to tell me
you could do my job blindfolded, well here's your chance, hot shot!"

Skye had no response to that, because the time for talk was over.
Michelle hauled the screaming flight attendant to her feet by her hair,
and then guided her towards the service curtain by pinching her rump
until she was across the threshold.

Returning to her seat, Michelle mimed the pinching action to Randy with
her fingers and said matter-of-factly, "You know, I quite enjoyed that.
I can see why men do it so often."

-------------------------------------------------------

Miss Skye Blue stood nervously at the front of the plane's central
aisle, acutely aware that all eyes in the cabin were affixed firmly on
her shapely body. But were there one pair of eyes, or a hundred? Thanks
to whatever it was that was gunking up her bright blue contacts, it was
impossible to tell. She stood attentively with her hands crossed in
front of her, with a big vacant smile on her face which belied the fear
she was feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her tight, tight latex mini-
dress left almost nothing to the imagination. Dressed as she was, she
was being literally thrown to the wolves. She didn't know how many
wolves there were, but with her long, long legs and heaving bosom on
display, she knew that they'd be hungry. Ravenous, even.

After a few moments, Michelle's familiar voice rang out over the PA
system. "Good morning, gentlemen, and welcome to this non-stop Layover
Airways flight from London Heathrow to Las Vegas McCarran International
Airport. At this time allow us to introduce to you your in-flight
entertainment unit, Miss Skye Blue"

Clapping. Even a wolf-whistle. Skye dipped her wings in appreciation.
The spiel continues.

"Miss Blue will be attending to your EVERY need during the flight. There
is no request too vanilla and no request too depraved, so please feel
free to ask! Now, each of you have been issued with a remote control -
should you require Miss Blue's services, please feel free to press the
red button in the middle of the remote. That will send an electric jolt
to a receiver that has been surgically transplanted in her backside"

OUCH! OUCH! OUCH! They always test it out during that part of the
speech! At least Skye now knew how many passengers were aboard - three.

"Each passenger has also been issued with a key that will unlock your
stewardesses' chastity belt - but we must advise you that we'll be
counting them up again at the end of the flight, so don't lose them!
Now, in the case of an emergency, your nearest exits are here and
here..."

Skye performed the classic sweeping hand gesture, indicating where they
were. ."..and in the case of a sexual emergency, your stewardesses'
entrance holes are here and here."

After she'd finished pointing out the location of her orifices to the
men in attendance, Skye rooted around blindly on the floor for her next
prop - a ballgag dressed up to look like an airline seatbelt. Michelle's
voice continued on calmly and professionally. "Fasten your stewardesses'
mouth gag by clipping the buckle and pulling until snug. If you need a
condom, simply pull on the safety lever in front of you and an emergency
pack will drop down from the panel above your head. Please remember to
affix your own condom before attempting to fit anybody else's."

It continued: "Any electrical items inserted inside your stewardesses'
bottom should be switched off for take-off and landing. Thank you for
flying Layover Airways, and we trust you'll all have a very, very
satisfying flight." With the ordeal over and done with, Skye scampered
back behind the curtain to have her sight restored and to refresh her
make-up one last time before take-off.

------------------------------------------------------

When Flight Attendant Miss Skye Blue re-emerged from the curtain, she
was the very definition of sex on legs. She was on company time now, and
her job description was to walk, talk, suck and fuck like her client's
wet dream come true. Holding a tray of complimentary champagne glasses
high above her head with her left hand, she planted her other hand on
her right hip and pranced through the cabin, rolling her hips in an
exaggeratedly sexual manner as she moved.


Every single flounce, every single flick of her hair, every single
movement of her body was designed to advertise her sexual promiscuity to
any and all men in the nearby vicinity. A neutral observer would have
never guessed in a million years that behind Skye Blue's saucy veneer
lay a red-blooded, heterosexual male.


It embarrassed Skye to her core to have to act like such a wanton slut,
but she didn't have a choice in the matter if she ever harboured hope of
regaining her lost status as an alpha male. The numerous surveillance
cameras around the cabin were providing a direct feed to the pilots in
the cockpit and Michelle had made the situation quite clear: if she ever
suspected that Skye Blue had been anything less than a compliant,
pleasing bitch to her passengers, then Skye could kiss goodbye to what
remained of her male genitalia for ever!

Skye was so busy perfecting her catwalk model strut whilst balancing the
teetering tray of glasses that she neglected to look directly at her
passengers until she was less than two metres away. Scanning the seats
quickly with her baby blue bambi eyes, she noted  that she didn't
recognise the two men to her left, but when her fluttery eyes swept
right towards the third and final gentleman, she almost spilled the
champagne down her cleavage in shock! There, sitting in front of her,
undressing her latex-clad hourglass figure with his trademark sleazy
salesman leer, was Richard Hanson, Europa Airways chairman - and Ace
McLaren's former best friend! Oh, poo!

Miss Blue's pretty little head swam with conflicting emotions as she
tried to take in the enormity of this situation. Her first thoughts were
of salvation. Richard wasn't just Ace's closest friend, he was one of
the richest and most influential men in the entire world - if anyone
could get him out of this emasculating bind, it was Rich. Oh, how could
Michelle be this stupid? Skye made a promise to herself: once this mess
was sorted out and she'd got those titanic tits removed from her chest,
she'd fuck that bitch over, both figuratively and literally. After he'd
sued her arse off, Michelle would need to spend eight hours every night
fucking strangers under a streetlamp just to keep up with the interest
repayments! Skye's locked-up cockette twitched in its prison at the very
thought of it.

But her moment of triumph evaporated when she suddenly remembered that
she still was under the gaze of the cameras. Explaining to him how it
came to be that she was working as a ladyboy prostitute would be a
delicate operation and she needed time to not only get her point across
but also convince him he was telling the truth. In short, she needed to
make him like her so much that he would agree to meet her away from the
work place. But in this body, there was only one service she had to
offer that he'd be interested in. And that's when the reality of the
situation hit home - shit! He was going to want to have sex with her -
and she wouldn't be able to say no!


"Hey, sweetheart. Earth to Toots, Earth to Toots," snapped Rich,
clicking his fingers irritably in front of Skye's spaced-out face.
"Sorry...Sir," came the meek reply. "I was just thinking about...umm..."

"What I'm packing downstairs, I bet," he sneered, indicating at his
crotch - which was visibly in the upright position. "Well, don't get
flustered, babe - you'll meet him soon enough, and he'll 'fly' you
straight to heaven!" He laughed at his own joke. Rich had clearly still
not taken Ace's advice to drop the cheesy chat-up lines, but on the
other hand, Ace didn't take Rich's advice to never marry, so it worked
out even in the end.


Most girls would have thrown their drink over him and left, but Skye
Blue wasn't most girls. She laughed affectedly at his awful joke,
touching her bosom lightly with her limp hand, and complimented Sir on
his wit.

"My name's Richard, but you can call me Mr Hanson. And this" he motioned
towards the rotund gentleman sitting to Skye's left, "is Mr Tarasov, the
chairman of Imperial Airlines. He flew in from Moscow this morning so he
must be feeling pretty low on energy. Why don't you strut over there and
show him some sugar while I go over these documents?"

"As you wish, Mr Hanson, Sir" complied Skye, relieved to have earned a
temporary reprieve from sexually servicing her closest friend. She bent
down to pour him a glass of champagne and then, without warning, he
grabbed her by the scoop neck of her dress, pulled her in close and
French kissed her! "I'll be back for you later, hotstuff," he promised,
before dismissing her with a wave of his hand and a condescending pat on
her butt.

A red-faced Miss Blue thanked Mr Hanson for his attentions and minced
across to greet and attend to the needs of her other guest, Mr Tarasov.
Perhaps he just wanted a cuddle and a chat? Judging by the way he was
looking at her, and the way he was rubbing his crotch through his
trousers, Skye suspected not. Brrr. Even by her standards, satisfying
this slob was going to be a unenviable task.


The Russian oligarch might have been rich but he was not an aspiration
figure. His portly frame threatened to overspill not only from his
business suit but also from the generous dimensions of his luxurious
seat, while his receding hairline and general poor hygiene made him look
much older than his years. Such a contrast to Mr Hanson, whose virile
blond locks, athletic body and toned buttocks made Skye shudder
with....oh god, what were these hormones doing to her?

Skye placed the champagne bottle into a holder next to Mr Tarasov's seat
and introduced herself to him, dipping her wings in subservience as she
did so. Tarasov returned the gesture (sans curtsey, of course) and
proceeded to bore her to tears for the next few minutes with boastful
tales of his wealth and importance. Miss Blue, ever the professional,
was attentive and alert and hung on his every word. It was quite the
contrast from the last time they met, at last year's Airline Leaders'
Summit, when Mr Tarasov approached the daring young pilot everyone
called Ace at the after party with an offer of work, only to be  met
with a torrent of abuse.

"How dare you offer me work, you disgusting, bloated Ruskie" Ace boomed,
loud enough to be heard over the music. "Imperial is what, the second
largest airline in the world? To me, that just means they're the largest
loser. Your tinpot outfit couldn't afford me even if they sold marketing
space on your belly, you fat fuck. You've got more chance of touching a
woman's tit than you have of gaining my services"

As Skye held that thought, Mr Tarasov's clammy fingers seized the
initiative and grabbed hold of her right hooter. "Honk, honk!" he
laughed in that thick Russian accent of his. "I tell you, comrade
Hanson, I wasn't sure about this idea of yours to hire a shemale
hostess, but this he-she is really something."

"You should learn to trust my judgement better, Mr Tarasov," peering
over his papers. "After all, we're going to be business partners soon.
Plus, if you really want to see what she can do, you should check out
some of the instructional videos on your personal TV set."

"Hahaha! I might just do that!" he roared and turned his attentions back
to his ladyboy servant, but Skye's eyes had wavered to the enormous 6"7
young man  who was sat on his own at the back of the cabin in tracksuit
bottoms and a Tapout! T-shirt. He looked up over the MMA magazine he was
idly flicking through, noticed Skye gawking at him and flashed her a
disdainful look. When Mr Tarasov explained that Vlad was just his
personal bodyguard and that she should not concern herself with him,
Skye's relief was palpable. He looked like he could have ripped her in
half!

Michelle's voice rang out over the tannoy. "Cabin crew, two minutes
until take-off." Miss Blue turned to take her seat, but Tarasov grabbed
her wrist tightly, causing her to yelp in that high-pitched womanly
voice of hers. "Why don't you stay here, princess?" he offered in a tone
which suggested refusal was not an option. Nonetheless, safety
procedures meant Skye had to fight her corner. "I apologise Sir, but I
must return to my designated-"

Her sentence was interrupted by a sudden, violent and as it transpired
quite deliberate jolt as the plane braked suddenly, causing Skye, ever-
vulnerable because of her skyscraper heels, to fly directly into the
path of Mr Tarasov's lap. When she landed, his bear-like hands wrapped
themselves around her, making escape impossible.

Skye squirmed and wiggled and jiggled for a brief few moments in an
attempt to escape her rotund suitor's clutches, but she soon resigned
herself to her fate. Her attention switched to whatever it was she was
sitting on that was poking sharply into her buttocks. "Please fasten
your seatbelt Sir, I think I may be sitting on the buckle!" offered
Skye, before realising that the brute was holding either side of the
seatbelt in his hands. That was no buckle!

Tarasov clipped the belt over the combined waists of himself and his
blushing playmate as the plane began its taxi, and by the time the craft
was in the air, Tarasov was making full use of his in-flight
entertainment unit, biting and kissing Skye's ears and neck aggressively
while kneading the stewardesses' breasts roughly like they were lumps of
dough. Skye responded as per the Layover Airways employee handbook
dictated; by panting and moaning like a bitch in heat. By the time they
reached altitude, however, Skye was horrified to discover that her
nipples were as hard as bullets and that her moans were no longer
voluntary.

"Well, we're on our way, then" said Mr Hanson, raising his champagne
glass. "This calls for a celebration."

"Couldn't agree more, my friend," replied Tarasov, discarding the
ravaged flight attendant for a second to return the gesture.

And then he tipped the entire glass down Skye's décolletage, popped open
the top few buttons of her dress and began to savagely lick and suck on
her champagne-coated cans. Skye could feel her right hand being forced
down Mr Tarasov's trousers as her left grabbed hold of the handle on the
overhead locker above her for balance. It was going to be a long flight.