Flight SH 123 to Corfu Ch. 07 of 07

In fact, thought air hostess Carol incredulously, how on Earth the A.F.P.'s placement scheme, in general -- their Work Motivation Programme -- had survived all of the street marches; had survived the verbal brickbats of all of the banner-waving, flag-flying, placard-carrying protesters ... she had no idea.

How it had survived all of the uproar and outrage, of the Human Rights lobbyists; survived the attempted interventions, of those confounded meddlers at the head of the European Union; survived the strangled, censorious outcries of various other watch-dog, focus group, busy-body do-gooders ... she would never know.

But here, was the very proof -- the amazing reality -- of the placement scheme's successful introduction ... right under her very own feet: Wallace. Air Purification Technician Wallace.

Alan Wallace: a layabout, sponging, job-dodging malingerer, thought air hostess Carol, who she was actually forcing -- yes, forcing! -- to sniff the dark-hosed soles of her hard-working, hot and sweaty, tired and achy, stinky feet. "Nnnnnn! Nnnnnnnnn!!" complained Wallace, in acute distress and outraged protest, as if in timely confirmation of her highly gratifying thoughts.

Oh! Air hostess Carol was glad -- so very glad -- that she had voted for the Authoritarian Female Party.

Britain was looking better already. Even in the short time since the all-female member Party were elected to power, there were obvious differences, visible improvements. At last, things -- things that had been neglected for so long, under previous governments -- were now getting done. And were seen, to be getting done.

And -- above all: the changes. All of those female-friendly changes. All of those extremely welcome, and long overdue, changes for the better.

Changes, that empowered the country's females. Changes, that invested the females of Britain, with authority. Authority, that British females now seemed to emanate; seemed to wear about themselves, like a visible aura.

Prime Minister Caroline Flint, was a woman air hostess Carol admired greatly. And, she had actually got to shake hands with her, this morning, when the new PM had personally presided over the inaugural flight ceremony. How about that!

"Nnnnnn! Nnnnnnnnnn!!" complained Alan Wallace again. Moaning and groaning, in outraged protest and acute distress, as air hostess Carol covered his nostrils with her nylon-covered toes; the nylon-covered toes, of each overworked, tired and achy, sweaty, stinky foot, in turn.

"That's right, Wallace ... smelly, aren't they? ... stink, don't they?" air hostess Carol goaded.

"That's it, Wallace, keep on sniffing my stinky feet ... Inhale, Wallace, deep breaths. Sniff right between my toes ... I said deep breaths, Wallace -- or I'll stomp your stupid face with my heel! Then, you'll have something to moan about, you pathetic wimp! Go on, you sad little whinger, keep on sniffing ... Sniff harder, and inhale deeply, I said! -- or I'll stomp you, I will, I'll stomp you ... That's it.

"Well, Wallace ... I bet you'll be looking for a job, after today! Ha ha ha ha! But first, just think of all of the fun still to come ... just think of all of the female passengers' stinky feet, you are going to have to sniff -- all the way back to Manchester! Ha ha ha ha!" air hostess Carol taunted, doing her best to stress out Wallace even more; doing her best, to pile on his misery.

As Danny listened to the exultant tones of air hostess Carol, his heart seemed to be leaping madly about in his chest, and thumping, thumping, thumping.

Thumping, as he listened to air hostess Carol's exultant gloating. Thumping, as he listened to her cruel goading -- her cruel goading of Al, his former best school pal.

Danny listened; his heart, thumping, thumping, thumping ... as air hostess Carol demolished what little was left remaining of Al's spirit.

Al was in pieces. He was falling apart, crumbling -- and air hostesss Carol was his wrecking-ball. His nemesis.

Danny listened, as air hostess Carol succeeded, and succeeded brilliantly, in goading Al to tears of humiliation.

Listened, as she made Al wretched, with her gloating, cruelly barbed words. Listened, as she made him miserable, from her soul-crushing subjugation. Listened, as she made him despair.

Danny wished that he could feel sorry for his former best school pal. But he couldn't. He just didn't have it in him. This whole thing; this incredible, amazing situation, was just way too exciting. It was just totally blowing Danny's mind.

Whoever would have thought, wondered Danny in amazement, that female air passengers would be instrumental, in 'motivating' benefits claimants into work?

And whoever would have thought, Danny wondered delightedly, that air hostesses would be ... deployed, in the A.F.P.'s Work Motivation Programme? Deployed, in the Air Purification Technician placement scheme?

That, air hostesses would have a special role? That, air hostesses would actually play a special part, in helping to remove benefits claimants from the register of unemployed?

The air hostesses, not only supervising their charges, but actively participating, too, in the ... cause. By giving benefits claimants, an extra -- and, even more persuasive -- nudge in the right direction: Towards finding gainful employment.

And Danny listened; straining to catch every single word as, in seats 50 A and 50 B, air hostesses Ann and Diane, respectively, were similarly belittling, similarly deriding, similarly tormenting -- similarly humiliating -- Eric Pierce and Kelvin Costello, respectively ... Giving Eric and Kelvin, "A good seeing to."

Danny wished he could feel sorry for Eric and Kelvin, too, but ...

From their lowly, worm-eye view vantage points in the aircraft's under-seat space, secured by their ankles, wrists, and neck onto their service vehicles, Danny and his three former school pals each stared up at the face of the air hostess, who was availing herself of passenger transfer interlude 'access', to him. Availing herself, of her 'quality time'.

Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, seated in seat 50 D, was gratefully and gleefully availing herself of access, to the conveniently positioned, mouth-sealed, fixed-in-place face, of Danny -- Air Purification Technician Dawson.

And, the senior air hostess was certainly making the most, of her 'quality time'.

*

Danny now wondered, if he and his three former school chums had actually been pre-chosen, by the air hostesses. That the four air hostesses, had actually taken their pick, of their techies.

After all, Danny, in his eavesdropping on air hostesses Ann and Diane, had supporting evidence of his suspicion: Air hostess Diane, saying to air hostess Ann: "And I'll be having Costello. Having Costello, as my own, personal ... footman. Ha ha ha ha!"

And, mused Danny, if this was the case, that meant ... that must mean, that, if there was some sort of ... pecking order, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies -- presumably having first pick, as her entitlement as the senior air hostess -- had chosen him.

Danny had concluded (and believed), after evaluating his evidence, that Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, for some reason, actually had a preference, for him.

*

Danny had never dreamed, that it could ever be like this.

He was staring up at the face of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, who was smiling -- with pleasure and gratification -- as she took full advantage of the brand-new perk of her job: passenger transfer interlude access, to the Air Purification Technician of her choice.

As the saying went: 'Rank has its privileges'.

And, it had so happened, earlier that morning in the Sunshine Holidays crew room, that Chief Stewardess Julie Davies had pulled rank on air hostess Carol.

For, air hostess Carol, after winning the 'drawing of lots' with her colleagues of equal rank, air hostesses Ann and Diane (by dint of cutting the higher value playing card from the pack), had chosen Danny Dawson.

Air hostess Carol had wanted to 'punish' Danny, for almost making them miss their take-off slot.

Originally, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies had chosen Alan Wallace.

Of the four techies, she thought Wallace looked to be the most vulnerable of them, and she was looking forward to crushing his spirit ('motivating' him into finding gainful employment), during her passenger transfer interlude 'access', to him.

But, after they had landed at Corfu, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies had a change of mind ...

She'd had a change of mind, after talking to one of the disembarking passengers.

A change of mind, after a blue-eyed, white-blonde haired girl, called Marie, who'd sat in seat 22 D -- line D, being Dawson's catchment of 50 seats -- had said some extremely interesting things to her.

Danny thrilled, to the awesome feel of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies's warm, dark-hosed soles, firmly rubbing into his face. Thrilled, to the amazingly exciting -- intoxicating -- aroma, of the senior air hostess's dark-hosed, in-between-the-toes foot scent. Thrilled, to the wonderful, extreme close-up sight, of her beautiful, shapely -- incredibly sexy -- feet.

Just like her three colleagues: air hostesses Ann, Diane (who'd come third in the 'drawing of lots', and had chosen Costello in preference to Pierce), and Carol, who were thoroughly enjoying their passenger transfer interlude 'access', to the mouth-sealed, fixed-in-place face of the techie under their feet: Pierce, Costello, and Wallace, respectively, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies was also giving the imprisoned face of the techie under her feet, Dawson, a well-deserved "seeing-to" -- the bone-idle, work-dodging sponger!

And ... as she had discovered, after talking to the lovely, white-blonde haired girl, Marie ... foot fetishist.

Chief Stewardess Julie Davies sighed, in pleasure. Sighed, as she luxuriated in massaging her warm, dark-hosed soles upon techie Dawson's captive face. Sighed, as she relieved the soreness, and soothed the aches, and revitalised her poor, tired and achy, overworked hostie feet.

In open adoration, Danny looked into the eyes of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies ... who's own eyes were locked onto his, as though she was reading his every thought.

And, as she hugely enjoyed -- revelled in -- for the very first time, this brand-new perk of the job, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies continued to stare down into Dawson's eyes, as she recalled what Marie, the breathtakingly beautiful girl with the white-blonde hair and blue eyes, had said to her before disembarking from the aircraft ...

*

She had listened, dumbfounded, as Marie had told her she was absolutely certain that Dawson had enjoyed sniffing her -- in the girl's own words: "stinky feet."

Marie said she knew her feet were stinky, knew for a fact, because she and her sister Lisa had smelled both their own and each other's feet, to see who's feet were stinkiest -- and Marie's feet had "won."

Marie had asked her, if there was "Any chance of getting the same Air Purification Technician again, in two weeks' time, when I come home from Corfu?"

In response, she had told Marie that, if she was operating on that flight, then yes, she would make it happen. And if she was not, then she would see if it could be arranged; would speak to Crewing, to see if she could somehow arrange to have Dawson operating on that flight. See if she could wangle it, for Marie.

Marie had then said: "It's funny ... but I'm sure I know him, from somewhere. His name seems familiar, too -- and my sister Lisa has a friend, called Elaine Dawson ... Dawson -- you said his name is Danny? ... He seeems quite a ... quite a cute boy, really -- and I love it, that he likes sniffing my stinky feet! Ha ha ha ha!"

Marie had then told her that she would love to become a Sunshine Holidays air hostess, herself.

Air hostess Carol had told her quite a lot about the job. She'd said she loved the job. The only real drawback, air hostess Carol had said, was that her feet were always hurting, because of all of that constant walking up and down the aisle in her uniform issue pumps, seeing to the passengers.

Were there any vacancies at Sunshine Holidays, at the moment, Marie had asked, hopefully. And, if there were, what did she think of her chances of being successful, if she applied for a job?

In response, she had assured Marie that, if she applied for a job as an air hostess with Sunshine Holidays, the job would be as good as hers. She would be a shoo-in. She was just the sort of job candidate, that Sunshine Holidays were looking for.

She -- Chief Stewardess Julie Davies -- at being so impressed, and at being so taken with the girl; so taken, with her attractive, fun-loving, outgoing personality, had said she would put in 'a good word' for her with the Personnel Manager.

And so she had taken Marie's mobile phone number, and promised to call her when Sunshine Holidays were recruiting again.

"Promise! Promise!!" Marie had exclaimed excitedly -- almost squealed -- when told about the air hostesses' new perk of the job: passenger transfer interlude 'access', to the Air Purification Technicians.

*

And, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, at looking down into Dawson's eyes, and at feeling his seemingly crazed sniffing -- his devouring -- of her dark-hosed, in-between-the-toes foot scent, was inclined to agree with the beautiful, white-blonde haired girl's conclusion.

Marie was right: Dawson does, actually like sniffing our stinky feet. He does, actually love us rubbing our sweaty, stinky soles all over his face. Dawson does, love it. He absolutely loves it.

Of that, as incredible as it seemed, to her, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies now had not the slightest of doubts. Not anymore. Not after experiencing, for herself, Dawson's ... behaviour.

And, certainly not now ... when she could actually sense ... yes, she could actually sense, that ...

Dawson was now getting very hot-under-the-collar bothered. He was getting excited, very excited -- over-excited. 'Down there'.

And, she sensed, Dawson wanted to do 'something' about it -- was desperate -- to do 'something' about it ...

She sensed, that Dawson wanted to touch himself. He wanted to play with himself. He wanted to pull his penis, in worship ... In worship, of her!

She sensed, that Dawson wanted to pay his reverent 'devotions'. He wanted to make his sacred 'sacrifice' ... Make his 'sacrifice', to her!

And she sensed— no! She knew -- knew, for an absolute fact, that Dawson wanted to pay his ... respects, to her, now. Now! Now, in the here-and-now! Now, in the moment! -- in real time -- and not have to wait until later, when he got home, and replayed in his mind, the ...

But, he couldn't! Oh no, he couldn't! He couldn't -- because she'd denied him! She'd restrained his wrists to his service vehicle -- and denied him!

She sensed, that Dawson could have cried.

For such, she thought, must be the terrible torment, of his anguishing, sanity-threatening frustration.

*

Thanks to Marie, Dawson's ... affliction, had been brought to Chief Stewardess Julie Davies's attention.

Though, whether she would have discovered Dawson's foot fetishism, for herself -- or rather, would air hostess Carol, who had originally chosen him (only to have rank pulled on her), have discovered it, and then subsequently passed this invaluable nugget of knowledge on to her -- she honestly couldn't say.

In any event, it was surely inevitable that it would have come to light sooner, rather than later. Probably, very soon after they returned to their crew room. After all ... it wasn't something that Dawson would be able to hide for long. Not, in a crew room full of Sunshine Holidays hosties; most of them complaining, to anyone who would listen, about their tired and achy feet.

But, at her being given some insight, by Marie, and now, also some actual experience, as to what was actually going on with Dawson, under her feet -- and, under the feet of those female passengers, who summoned him -- she felt such a delicious sense of power. Power at having such first-hand knowledge.

Such first-hand knowledge, of Dawson's weak link. His ... vulnerability.

Because knowledge, was power.

And, at her every opportunity, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies would cheerfully take maximum advantage, of Dawson's ... handicap.

Whenever the occasion called for it, she would take full advantage, of his ... Achilles heel.

Every chance she got, she would ruthlessly exploit Dawson's foot fetishism.

This golden nugget of knowledge, that Chief Stewardess Julie Davies now possessed, acted on her, like some kind of wondrous sedative. Acted on her, like some; all's-well-with-the-world, soothing balm.

An ineffable feeling of well-being, seemed to flow over her, and radiate through her. Like some bliss-inducing exotic elixir, her precious knowledge relaxed her, calmed her, soothed her.

Because knowledge, was power.

Sighing contentedly, blissfully, she protected her ... investment: Ensuring, that Dawson was getting enough of the scent; especially, that extra-stinky, in-between-the-toes scent, that he so loved. And so craved.

And ... that she had an unlimited supply of.

Sighing contentedly, blissfully, and enjoying the rather pleasant tickling sensation that Dawson's maniacal sniffing caused (just as Marie told her, it did), Chief Stewardess Julie Davies wondered when, and how (but not 'if') her first opportunity to use Dawson's ... failing, might present itself.

Wondered, how her very first chance to capitalise on Dawson's ... weakness, would come about.

And, how soon.

Because, if she was any judge, there was one thing for sure: Dawson would not -- unlike his three colleague's: Costello, Pierce, and Wallace -- be visiting his local Job Centre, first thing tomorrow morning, and begging the Job Centre staff to find him a job -- and quick!

No. Because, if she was any judge, Dawson had already found his vocation. Danny Dawson: former would-be 'career claimant' ... but now, career Air Purification Technician.

Strictly speaking ... she should report her discovery; the matter of Dawson's foot fetishism, to his Job Centre. After all, his being here was clearly defeating the object of his placement. He was supposed to be getting motivated into finding gainful employment -- he wasn't supposed to be enjoying himself! Strictly speaking, he should be assigned to a different placement ... Strictly speaking.

Looking serenely out of the starboard window, through half-closed, dreamy eyes, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies saw that a couple of airport buses were now approaching the aircraft. The signs displayed in their windows, she saw, read: Flight SH 124 to Manchester.

Time to get moving ...

With great reluctance, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies removed her dark-hosed feet from their extremely agreeable resting place -- techie Dawson's trapped face -- and she put on her uniform issue, two-inch heeled, dark-blue pumps. "Come on, girls -- we've been enjoying too much of a good thing! Let's have a tidy-up. We'll have to be quick though -- the Manchester-bound passengers are here!"

A moment later, via the S.A.P.S. computer, the heads of the four Air Purification Technicians, that were protruding into the foot spaces of seats 50 A, B, C, and D, were automatically lowered back down into the dim and dismal under-seat spaces of the Flying Pencil's fuselage; the one-foot-square panels, closing over their faces.

Next to Danny, aboard Service Vehicle C, Al, upon realising what was about to happen -- again -- as best as he was able, in the circumstances, immediately voiced his expressions of outraged protest and acute distress: "Nnnnnn! Nnnnnnnn!!"

For Alan Wallace, it was going to be a long, long flight back to Manchester.