Flight SH 123 to Corfu Ch. 07 of 07

The commitment to the cause, that all of the air hostesses that he would come to attend, would demand -- and he would unstintingly give.

Danny was fulfilled, as he massaged the warm, dark-hosed soles, of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies's hard-working -- overworked -- tired and achy, air hostess feet. Or: "Hostie feet," as air hostess Ann had laughingly called them, when talking to air hostess Diane that morning, on the apron of Corfu airport. "There's nothing like 'em!" air hostess Ann had said.

And now, Danny was inclined to agree, with air hostess Ann.

Sacred.

To Danny, his foot-massage duties, for the air hostesses, were sacred.

Danny knew; understood, that they were his most important duties. Danny would never forget that. Nor, would he underestimate their importance, to the air hostesses ... not, that they would ever let him forget.

Danny attended Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, with his "soothing ministrations." He gave the senior air hostess everything he had. His one hundred per cent. His holding-nothing-back, wholehearted commitment to the cause. The cause: to please, and to satisfy the air hostesses, with a competently administered foot-massage.

And, as he did so, it was an epic struggle, for Danny, not to give in to an almost overwhelming desire. The desire to yield, to the overriding-everything-else, compulsion: to kiss the soles of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies's shapely, beautiful— yes, beautiful, feet.

For Danny yearned for nothing more, in that moment, than to humbly, solemnly kiss the soles of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies's feet. To kiss her feet, in expression of his respect, his reverence -- his adoration. In expression, of his willing servitude. In expression, of his total submission.

"You are a natural, Dawson," said Chief Stewardess Julie Davies. "Quite excellent, for a first-time effort. I shall write a sparkling report, to that effect. And I shall be awarding your marks, as nine out of ten."

Ecstasy.

That was the emotion, that Danny felt at that moment. Ecstasy.

At Chief Stewardess Julie Davies's (highly unexpected!) compliment, Danny's heart swelled almost to bursting. Bursting, with pride and pleasure. With ecstasy.

At seeing her light praise light up Danny's face with such open pride and pleasure -- with such elation, such ecstasy -- the senior air hostess sought to quickly quell his ardour. To bring him back down a peg. To quickly put him, right back in his place.

And so, after glancing over, at the feeble by comparison efforts of Dawson's three colleagues; at the quite obviously less than one hundred per cent concentration, effort, care, diligence -- commitment to the cause -- of their foot-massaging performances, she said, "Well ... at least you seem to be the best of a poor bunch, Dawson."

Danny's elation was not diminished, though, by the senior air hostess's qualifying remark -- but enhanced. He was top of his class! He was "A natural"! And, he'd scored nine out of ten, for his very first foot-massage for an air hostess! His very first foot-massage, for Chief Stewardess Julie Davies.

Danny was ecstatic.

Eliciting— no, actually earning, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies's compliment: "You are a natural, Dawson," was the finest achievement of his life. And nothing -- nothing! -- was going to spoil it. Nothing, was going to spoil his glory.

He may well be "The best of a poor bunch." But, he was hardly to blame for his three former school pals' lack of ... enthusiasm, was he? And she did say, that she was going to "write a sparkling report," didn't she? And she did say, that she was going to award his "Quite excellent," foot-massage performance, for her, as nine out of ten, didn't she?

Who was she kidding? The Foot Masseur of the Month prize was as good as his!

And, at feeling, with his sensitive fingertips, the exciting texture of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies's warm, dark-hosed, tired and achy, post-flight feet, as he subserviently massaged them for her ... and, as she stared right into his eyes, giving him 'that look', as he did so ... Danny was, once again, getting all hot-under-the-collar bothered.

Danny was getting excited, very excited. Over-excited. 'Down there' ...

And, Danny wanted to do 'something' about it -- was desperate -- to do 'something' about it.

Danny wanted to touch himself. He wanted to play with himself. He wanted to pull his penis, in worship.

Danny wanted to pay his reverent 'devotions'. He wanted to make his solemn 'sacrifice'. To Chief Stewardess Julie Davies -- his authoritarian air hostess Goddess.

And, Danny wanted to pay his ... respects, to Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, 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! Because, it was going to have to ... wait until later.

From time to time, the four male stewards, who were still sitting at the counting-up table, glanced over at the amusing antics of their female counterparts. The hosties, they saw, were all certainly making the most of the new perk of their job!

Ha ha ha ha! Talk about power going straight to their pretty little heads! thought Chief Steward Colin Clark ... Not, that it was all that funny, actually.

Just a few weeks ago, thought Chief Steward Colin Clark, these air hostesses wouldn't have said boo to a goose. But, since the Authoritarian Female Party came to power, they've been ruling the roost, in here.

And, you'd have to be a fool, a damn fool, to say anything to them; to say anything to them, about their ... attitude.

You'd have to be a fool, to complain. Because, next thing you know, you could find yourself out of a job, and on to the dole ... And finding yourself earning your Unemployment Benefit payments, by working as a community servant ...

And now, the hosties were giving the techies hell.

Chief Steward Colin Clark and his fellow stewards could almost feel sorry for the techies ... but not quite.

After all, they were here for a reason. A very good reason. They didn't want to go to work. They didn't want to earn their living. No -- as Julie had just said: they preferred to sponge. Sponge, from solid citizen, hard-working tax-payers!

Though it was more about ingratiating themselves with the hosties, nonetheless, the four male stewards couldn't help but smile and smirk, chuckle and snicker, and laugh and joke among themselves, at seeing just what those poor sods, the Air Purification Technicians -- Ha! 'Air Purification Technicians'! -- were actually being reduced to.

What the techies were reduced to, after having been forced to sniff; to sniff up and absorb into their lungs, the stinky foot fumes of two contingents of female air passengers, on the more than three-hour-long flights to Corfu, and back -- so that the Sunshine Holidays passengers wouldn't have to.

And now, after having gone through all of that ... all of that humiliating torment, as if that wasn't 'motivation' enough for them, they were now being callously dominated, cruelly controlled -- ruthlessly subjugated -- by the hosties. Hell, it wasn't half cruel -- but you had to laugh!

And, if that didn't get the workshy, malingering, sponging so-and-so's looking for a job -- nothing would! Ha ha ha ha!

The four male stewards laughed and joked. Tittered and snickered. But, if you listened to them closely enough, you might detect that their hilarity had an underlying ... forced, quality to it. That their mirth was strained. Their chuckles, edged with a false note.

Because, if they weren't careful; if they didn't watch their mouths -- and if they didn't kowtow -- to the air hostesses ...

At hearing the derisive, contemptuous comments; the ribald asides of the four male stewards, the faces of techies Costello, Pierce, and Wallace, respectively, blushed beetroot-red, with shame and humiliation. Blushed crimson, as they compliantly sat, cross-legged, at the dark-hosed, tired and achy, post-flight feet of air hostesses Diane, Ann, and Carol, respectively.

Danny, on the other hand, was by now oblivious to the male stewards' derisive looks; to their contemptuous comments. He didn't see them, or hear them. His mind -- as well as his hands -- were otherwise occupied. Fully occupied. One hundred per cent, committed. Committed, to performing his sacred duties.

Reluctantly, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies finally called a halt, to the foot-massaging services of techies Dawson, Wallace, Pierce, and Costello. "All right, you lot, it's time for you to clean our shoes, while we count up our day's takings," she said.

"Clean the shoes of the air hostess, whose feet you have just been massaging -- if I can call it that! From what I've been seeing, only Dawson, here, seems to have any real potential; any real aptitude, for the art of foot-massage. Well done, Dawson ... Now, there are my uniform pumps. Pick them up, and take them over to my locker -- number six. It's open, and has cleaning and polishing cloths and brushes inside. I want you to polish my pumps to within an inch of their lives, Dawson. And I warn you: I'll be checking the quality of your work when you're done.

"Remember, Dawson, I expect one hundred per cent from you, at all times -- never forget that. And that applies to all techies!" she added sternly, looking at Danny's three former school chums: Eric, Kelvin, and Alan -- his fellow Air Purification Technicians ... And, poor opposition, thought Danny, for the Foot Masseur of the Month award.

Danny; his face blushing crimson from Chief Stewardess Julie Davies's extra compliment, said obediently, "Yes, Miss Julie," and he proudly proceeded to do her bidding ... For he was doing the bidding of a Goddess.

With her uniform issue, two-inch heeled, dark-blue pumps in his hands, he headed for Chief Stewardess Julie Davies's locker -- number six.

* * *

About half an hour later, after they had finished counting up their day's takings, the four air hostesses: Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, and air hostesses Carol, Ann, and Diane, respectively, came over to their lockers to see what kind of job techies Dawson, Wallace, Pierce, and Costello, respectively, had made of cleaning and polishing their uniform pumps.

Upon neither herself or her three colleagues being able to find fault with the shoe-cleaning efforts of their appointed techies, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies said, "Okay, then. You are all done for the day. You can go home.

"Don't forget: you are to report to your placements, on alternate days. So -- unless you happen to find a job tomorrow ... you should report to the Sunshine Holidays Information Desk, on Wednesday, at six a.m.

"You'll have four different air hostesses to supervise you -- we've all got forty-eight hours leave. And don't be late, or there'll be trouble. If I find out that you have been late again, Dawson ...

"Now, get lost, the lot of you!" ordered Chief Stewardess Julie Davies disgustedly. "I'm sick of the very sight of you, you sponging, workshy, job-dodging, parasitic, useless bunch of—"

"Tanya, has David replied to your e-mail yet?" asked Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis; two, of the four air hostesses who were now breezing into the Sunshine Holidays crew room; three techies, trailing at their heels.

"No," replied air hostess Tanya. "He probably can't be bothered."

"Knowing him," responded Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, "the idiot's probably deleted it by mistake. Send your e-mail again, Tanya."

"Okay, Jane, I will. But I'll tell you what: he'd better reply this time!" said air hostess Tanya, hotly.

"I'm sure he will, Tanya. I— I ... I don't ... ruddy well believe it!" exclaimed Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, suddenly curtailing her conversation with air hostess Tanya.

"Danny Dawson? He's here ... as one of the techies? Oh my God! I can't believe it. It's too good to be true! Oh, just wait until I see his sisters, Elaine and Melanie! They are going to laugh their ruddy heads off. Ha ha ha ha!" laughed Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, gleefully, in anticipation of imparting such delicious news: Danny Dawson -- an Air Purification Technician!

"Hmm ... I take it then, Jane, that you know Air Purification Technician Daniel Dawson?" said Chief Stewardess Julie Davies dryly.

"Oh, I know him, Julie. I know Danny Dawson, all right! I know he has always been a right pain in the you-know-what, to his sisters -- if even half of what Elaine and Mel have told me about him, is anything to go by. And he's certainly always made a pest of himself whenever I've been round to visit his sisters. Oh, I wish he'd been operating on my flight, today! I'd teach him some manners ...

"Anyway, Julie, never mind about Danny Dawson, I've got more important things to think about. One of my own techies, Lee Speakman, has failed to turn up. So I'm going to have to operate the flight to Izmir, with only three Air Purification Technicians On Station.

"This is such an unnecessary problem," went on Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, in annoyance. "And an avoidable one. One that should have been foreseen; never have been allowed to happen.

"In future, we should have a couple of techies stationed in the crew room, on stand-by duty -- drag the lazy sods away from their TVs, and get them doing something useful. And, if it turns out they aren't required to operate on a flight ... well, we can certainly put them to good use in here, can't we?" she said reasonably.

Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis went on, "First thing in the morning, I'll put it to Crewing. They'll see the sense of it; sort it out, for us. No problem at all. Still ... that doesn't solve my problem now, does it, Julie?" she complained.

Now, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies prepared to step in and save the day.

This, was exactly the sort of situation she was waiting for. Hoping for.

She had been wondering, when her first opportunity to take advantage of Dawson's ... handicap, would arise. Wondering, when she might be able to benefit, from his ... Achilles heel. Wondering, when she would get her first chance, to exploit his foot-fetishism.

While ostensibly airing her appeal to all four, of the Air Purification Technicians under her charge, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, all the while, directed her gaze -- directed 'that look' -- at just one of them: Danny.

"Right then, you lot," began Chief Stewardess Julie Davies. "You have all heard what Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis has just said: This is an emergency.

"Now ... I want a volunteer ... And I know, you won't let me down ... Brownie points, are up for grabs here; a good word, in your Satisfaction of Conduct report ... Well, don't all shout at once!" she said sarcastically, when none of her four techies spoke up, nor raised a hand.

"I want one of you," she went on, still staring at Danny, "to volunteer to serve under Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, and to operate on her Izmir flight. Now ... I can't order you to do it -- you've all fulfilled your requirements for today." Her eyes, now boring straight into Danny's, and giving him 'that look', she then said, "You must volunteer ... of your own free will."

Danny wanted to put up his hand. He wanted to cry out: 'I'll do it! Me! Let me! I'll do it!!' Danny wanted to volunteer -- more than anything! -- but he couldn't bring himself to speak. Couldn't bring himself to raise his hand.

How could he? What would his former school chums think? What would they say? Surely, he would no longer have their good opinion. They would be finished with him, as a friend. Cast him adrift. Ostracize him. Disown him. And then, word would get around ...

Still staring fixedly at Danny, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies went on, "I must warn you. Whichever one of you ... who volunteers to serve under Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, and to operate on her Izmir flight, you will be late getting back. Very late.

"The return flight from Turkey is due to arrive back in Manchester at one a.m. Then, of course, when you return to the crew room, you will still have to attend one of the air hostesses -- the same one you served under, during the passenger transfer interlude at the destination airport.

"You will still have to perform your post-flight foot-massage, and your shoe-cleaning duties, for her. Until about two a.m. Volunteering, does not exempt you from these duties.

"So it's going to mean a very long, and tiring day ... for one of you," said Chief Stewardess Julie Davies; her eyes, still riveted upon Danny's face. Still giving him, 'that look'.

"So ... still, no volunteer?" she asked.

Danny's former school pals: Eric, Kelvin, and Alan, were wild-eyed with dread. Looking anywhere, except at Chief Stewardess Julie Davies; above all, avoiding direct eye contact with her, at all costs. They feared, too, that if none of them volunteered, she would 'volunteer' one of them, herself.

Perfectly comprehending Danny's awful dilemma, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies was enjoying herself hugely. She knew she had Dawson, right in the palm of her hand. She was playing with him. Toying with him. Making him squirm.

"You were late this morning, Dawson. You almost made us miss our take-off slot. And then you wasted even more time, dawdling about at Corfu ... Volunteer to operate on Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis's flight to Izmir ... and I'll wipe your slate clean. I won't make any note of your misdemeanours today, when I write up your Satisfaction of Conduct report ... And, I'll tell your Job Centre, about your volunteering now. They will record your good behaviour, for future reference. In your file."

When she saw that Danny was still too afraid to speak; too afraid of incurring his three peers' decidedly adverse opinion of him, should he actually put up his hand and volunteer, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies decided it was time to prompt him ... to play her trump card.

Chief Stewardess Julie Davies stepped right up to Danny, whispered in his ear ... and gave Danny the shock of his life.

"Dawson," she murmured softly, so that no one else in the Sunshine Holidays crew room had a clue what she was saying.

"Dawson ..." she whispered, her breath, warm and tickling on his ear, "... volunteer now, to operate on Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis's flight to Izmir ... and I'll make you a promise. Volunteer, and ... and the next time you operate on one of my flights ... I'll ... I'll leave your hands untied ... Do you understand, Dawson? Are you taking that on board? I said I'll leave your hands untied ... I won't restrain your wrists, to your service vehicle ..."

Danny was shocked. Stunned.

And it showed. It showed, in his suddenly crimson, sweat-breaking-out-on-his-forehead, face.

Neither Danny's former school pals, nor anyone else in the Sunshine Holidays crew room, had an inkling; had not the remotest idea, as to what Chief Stewardess Julie Davies had whispered to Danny.

It was for his ears only. It was strictly between the two of them. It was ... their secret.

Oh my God! thought Danny. She knows! She knows!!

And she says she'll leave my hands untied, the next time I operate on one of her flights! She's promised! Oh God! Oh God!! I'll be able to ... Oh God oh God oh God!

Danny no longer cared, what his friends were going to think, or what they might say. Or what anyone else, might think or say. Or about word, spreading. Let them all think or say whatever the hell they liked! Let them, spread the word! He no longer cared. Chief Stewardess Julie Davies's ... deal -- her promise! -- was just too good to turn down! She was going to leave his hands untied!!

Danny numbly nodded, indicating his agreement to Chief Stewardess Julie Davies.

Turning to Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, Danny said, "Miss Jane ... Miss Jane, I'd ... I want to volunteer, to operate on your flight to Izmir."