The Air Hostess

The Air Hostess

This story concerns the chance meeting and subsequent sexual and emotional relationship between a young man and a much older flight attendant.

I have used the now-outdated term "Air Hostess" in the title and text as I think it will be a familiar one to most readers.

I hope you enjoy the story and look forward to comments.

Sylviafan

I'm not a jet-setting executive or anything like that, but I do travel quite extensively in my job and I spend quite a lot of time airborne or waiting for seemingly interminable periods of time in airports. And that's how I met Faye.

Just for a bit of background: my name's Tom, I'm a patent lawyer working out of an office in Bristol - that's Bristol in the Southwest of the UK. I'm twenty-eight, single and pretty average in most respects. I like running and cycling and reading and music and I'm also a bit of a petrol head; I'm currently restoring a 1975 Porsche 911. Friends (?) tell me that I look like Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate, though he was a couple of years older at the time. And a few inches shorter.

This story starts on a June morning on a flight from Miami to Manchester in a Boeing 787 Dreamliner. I was pissed off that morning for a number of reasons. Firstly, the meeting in Fort Lauderdale with the pharmaceuticals company could have gone better; secondly, I was in Economy Class because there were no spaces in Business Class because my secretary hadn't booked the flights in time (although if I'm honest I probably hadn't given her enough notice); thirdly, I'd only got about fifteen hours in Manchester before my connecting flight to Madrid the following morning and realistically that didn't give me enough time to get home and back so I'd have to spend the night in an airport hotel.

On the plus side, a couple of very slender and attractive air hostesses had greeted me at the aircraft door and I was sitting in aisle seat, which I prefer; to be precise, seat C of row twenty-four, and with nobody in seat B. Nevertheless, I was a bit grumpy and paid scant attention to the safety video or the voice of the captain welcoming us to the flight.

Once in the air, trolley service began at the front of the Economy Class section. By leaning out slightly I was able to look down the aisle where I could see the rear of one air hostess as the service trolley made its progress down the aircraft towards me. I could also see, intermittently, the face and shoulders of her colleague at the other end of the trolley. As the trolley approached me, over the next fifteen minutes or so, it became obvious that the hostess facing me was not exactly a spring chicken. In fact as she got closer I realised that she was probably in her sixties, with a lined face and dyed blonde hair. I was surprised that the airline employed such elderly staff as cabin crew, but she seemed perfectly efficient and capable and she smiled a lot at the passengers.

By contrast, I was mesmerised by the view of the hostess with her back to me. For one thing, she had the most superb legs I think I'd ever seen. Encased in translucent black pantyhose and visible only below her knee-length skirt, they were long and slender, with a graceful sweep of calf and slim ankles. She wore two or three-inch black court shoes which only served to highlight their perfection. Further up, when I could drag my gaze from her legs, I noted slim hips and waist, a crisp white blouse and long, black hair tied in a braid. I couldn't wait to see her face and as I waited I imagined what she might look like.

It was only when the trolley did eventually reach row twenty-four that I got my first look at her and I was so surprised that my stomach did a little flip. She was ancient! No, that wasn't fair, she probably wasn't as old as her colleague, but I didn't think she'd be seeing fifty again. But as she smiled down at me and asked what I'd like to drink, I realised that, regardless of her age and all the makeup she was wearing, she was actually a very attractive woman.

She had an oval face with high cheekbones and dark-blue eyes and a straight nose surmounting a mouth that was full-lipped and slightly downturned, making her look a bit severe, until she smiled and showed even, white teeth, like a toothpaste advert. Her accent was Mancunian and her movements deft and practised. She handed me my red wine with a slim-fingered hand with the nails painted carmine red. A thought had flashed through my mind that the young and attractive cabin staff that I'd seen on arrival were probably serving Business Class. This was rapidly replaced by a thought that I'd just as soon be served by Faye, that being the name on her lapel badge; the other hostess was Wendy.

I smiled back at her and said, 'A red wine please, Faye,' and she gave me an even bigger smile, poured me a plastic beaker-full and turned her attention to the passenger in the window seat.

He was a different proposition altogether; I'd said hello when I sat down but he'd ignored me and stared out of the window, so I'd ignored him too.

'I'd like a glass of red and a glass of white,' he told the air hostess in a nasal whine. 'There's a chance that one of them might be drinkable.'

No please or thank you. I was shocked at his bad manners and looked up to see what the air hostess's reaction was. She just ignored his rudeness and handed over his drinks. 'I hope you enjoy them, sir,' she smiled at him, with apparent sincerity.

The flight was a little under eight and a half hours and the time dragged heavily. I couldn't find a decent movie to watch and none of the music appealed to me so I went into my cabin case in the overhead locker and got out my laptop and started writing up notes from the Fort Lauderdale meeting. This took me until dinner time when Wendy and Faye appeared again with a hot meal and I got more smiles and a peek at Faye's bosom as she leaned over to put my meal on my tray.

I know it sounds weird, but I've always quite liked airline food. I like the little packages of things and the tiny bread roll and miniscule packet of cheese. The chap in the window seat was less impressed. I'd handed him his meal and he'd poked at it for a few seconds and as the trolley moved away from our row he spoke up in a strident tone:

'Excuse me! No, this is all wrong! I ordered the vegetarian option!'

'I'm terribly sorry, sir,' said Faye. 'I haven't got your seat down for a vegetarian. Would you like me to see if there's a spare one available?'

'Well of course I would!' he bleated loudly, turning a few heads in the nearby seats. 'You surely don't expect me to eat this!'

'I'll see what I can do, sir, but it'll be a while I'm afraid.'

'Yes,' the window seat sighed, 'I suppose that's what you get when you employ geriatric trolley-dollies.'

There was a strained silence immediately after this delivery and I felt my anger rise.

'How dare you talk to the cabin staff like that,' I said, half turning to him. 'Their job's difficult enough as it is without mannerless bastards like you insulting them!'

'It's fine, sir, really,' said Wendy.

But I hadn't quite finished yet. Leaning further over towards him I hissed: 'If there's another rude remark out of you, I'll be waiting for you outside the terminal building.'

He feigned indifference and stared out of the window, although his face flushed a deep red; I sat back and let my anger subside. I looked up at the air hostesses, ready to apologise for my outburst but they just smiled again. Then, just before moving on, Faye mouthed 'thank you' to me and then they were gone.

Apart from a couple of flying passes to collect rubbish, and the obligatory round of duty-free sales, I didn't see Wendy or Faye again for the duration of the flight. We landed at seven thirty, on schedule, and I disembarked without incident and made my way through border control and into the arrivals area; I had no hold luggage.

Once there I slowed down and looked around. Everyone else was heading for the exits but I was in no hurry. I didn't even know where I was going to spend the night, but I supposed it would be some characterless airport hotel. I walked over to the coffee bar and sat down at the counter and ordered a café latte. Then I pulled out my phone and started reading the emails I'd received during the flight.

Sometime later, I was aware of the clacking of heels behind me and someone coming to stand by my side at the coffee bar counter.

'I thought it was you.'

I turned to see Faye, the air hostess, standing there with a half-smile on her face. She was wearing a matching blue jacket over her white blouse and a blue and white silk neckerchief. Next to her, on the floor, was a small, wheeled cabin case, similar to mine.

Out of the context of the aircraft she looked subtly different. Smaller somehow, with less authority, but still with poise and elegance. I looked at her and my stomach did a little flip again. She really was a very good-looking lady, if you didn't mind a few miles on the clock.

'Hello again,' I said.

'I wanted to thank you,' she began, 'for sticking up for me and Wendy. We're supposed to be used to abuse from the passengers but it's hard to just ignore it. And we didn't hear a peep after you'd threatened him,' she grinned. 'Not that I'm advocating passengers get involved in disputes with the cabin crew, you understand.'

'He was a vile little man,' I said.

'A little generous perhaps,' she replied and we laughed.

'Would you like a coffee?' I asked.

Faye paused. 'Yes, that would be nice, thank you.'

'My chance to serve you,' I grinned.

She asked for a cappuccino and climbed onto the stool next to me and we waited in a slightly awkward silence while it was delivered.

'I suppose I should ask why you're here instead of heading off into the wide blue yonder,' Faye said, sipping her drink. 'You're not waiting for your friend from the window seat are you?'

'Good Lord no. I'm just wondering what to do with myself for the next fifteen hours.'

She raised her black eyebrows questioningly.

'I've got a connecting flight to Madrid tomorrow at eleven-thirty. It's much too far to go home and back so I'm wondering which of the airport hotels to go to.'

'Well don't go to the budget one. The rooms are like survival pods in some post-apocalyptic future. And it's not cheap either, despite the name.'

I laughed again. She had a way with words, a turn of phrase, which tickled me, especially delivered in the local accent.

She was silent for a few moments, sipping her drink and looking at me with her dark-blue eyes. Eventually she spoke:

'Look, this probably sounds weird but I've got a flight out tomorrow too, around midday. My flat's not far from the airport. I could put you up in my spare room and save you a hundred quid. My way of thanking you for what happened on the flight.'

'Are you sure?' I asked, surprised.

'Yes,' she said, firmly.

'Well, thank you... That's extraordinarily kind of you.' I hesitated, not knowing what else to say.

'I'm Tom,' I said eventually, holding out my hand.

'Faye,' she said and I felt her slender fingers grip me and squeeze gently.

She finished her coffee and we stood up. 'Follow me, Tom.' I grabbed the handle of my case and fell in step behind her, admiring her figure and those superb legs as she clicked across the concourse towards to exits.

She led me through the exit doors and across several dropping-off and picking-up lanes and into a multi-storey carpark. We took a lift to the top, where there was apparently reserved parking for cabin crew, and led me to a rather battered little Vauxhall. With the cases in the back she got in the driver's seat and started the engine.

'That's a relief,' she said as it burst into life. 'I'm never sure if it's going to start when I've been away for a few days.'

She drove efficiently and competently, navigating the labyrinthine confusion of Manchester Airport's many roads before heading towards the city. Twenty-five minutes later she pulled up in front of a semi-detached Victorian villa and we pulled the cases out of the car.

'In case you're wondering, I've just got the top floor,' she said, noticing me staring at the substantial property.

It was an attic conversion, and we had to haul our cases up two flights of stairs to reach her front door. Inside she showed me to a little bedroom with a three-quarter sized bed that took up most of the floorspace. I left my case in the room and followed her out into the sitting room with its sofa and television. There was also a bathroom, a tiny kitchenette and her bedroom.

'What would you like,' she asked, a cup of tea or a glass of wine?'

'Could I have a cup of tea and then a glass of wine, please?'

She smiled. 'A man after my own heart. Do you like pasta?'

So we drank our tea and sipped our wine and Faye rustled up a dish of carbonara which we ate on our knees as there was no table, me perched on the settee and Faye in the only other easy chair. And we talked. We talked about our jobs and our friends and family and I learned that Faye had been married but her husband had cheated on her so she'd divorced him. She had a daughter who was two years older than me and who lived in Scotland and had two children of her own, making Faye a grandmother, she said, with a grimace.

I don't think I've ever felt such a strong connection to someone after such a brief acquaintanceship. I loved the way she talked and the things she said and the questions she asked me. We laughed a lot and found out that our likes and dislikes were similar, especially in books and films.

In no time at all it was ten o'clock and the bottle of wine was empty.

'I'm going to tidy up before I turn in,' she said, getting up and stretching. 'So go ahead and use the bathroom first if you want. There should be plenty of hot water if you want a shower. I've put a towel on your bed.'

I stood up too and we looked at each other. Faye was still in her work uniform, although she'd taken her jacket and neckerchief off. 'Thank you for your kindness, Faye. You've been extremely generous to me.'

She smiled at me. 'You're very welcome, Tom. And thank you, you've been a bit of company for me this evening.' Faye had told me how difficult it was to maintain a relationship while flying all over the world and I had gleaned from this that she was unattached, although I was struggling to see why. The more I got to know her the more I liked and admired her. And yes, she was fifty-something, but she was very attractive and had a lovely figure and a most interesting personality.

'What time did you say your flight is tomorrow?' she asked as I headed for the bathroom.

'Eleven thirty.'

'I'll get you to the airport for nine-thirty,' she promised and we said good night.

I showered briefly and dried myself and brushed my teeth. Slipping across the landing to my room, with my towel around my waist, I got under the duvet of the spare bed, turned out the bedside light and composed myself for sleep. I was exhausted and mildly jet lagged, but despite this I struggled to relax. Instead I lay listening to Faye as she washed the dishes and used the bathroom. I heard the sound of the toilet flush, then the shower started and I imagined her naked body under the flow of water. Then there was the sound of teeth brushing and finally the bathroom light clicking off and a creak as Faye's bedroom door was shut. After a few minutes I heard the low hum of a hair dryer. It seemed to go on for a long time and I imagined her sitting naked at her dressing table, brushing her thick, black hair as she played the hot air over it.

Eventually this noise ceased and all was quiet, apart from the sound of distant traffic. The room was very dark and warm and I felt the first tendrils of sleep creep though my brain...

Suddenly I was awake again and alert. It was the faint creak of Faye's bedroom door that had disturbed me. I waited for the bathroom light to come on but instead my door was opened and a figure slipped quietly into my room and got into bed with me.

'Faye?' I felt short-breathed with a mixture of excitement and disbelief.

'I'll go if you want, Tom,' she whispered, but I'd really like to spend the night with you, if you want me to.'

'Oh God, yes!' I croaked and reached out for her and she came into my arms and she was gloriously naked and warm and soft and I felt almost faint with desire. I found her mouth with mine and we kissed and I remembered her full lips with their red lipstick and I opened my mouth and she opened hers and I slid my tongue into her liquid depths as her arms came around my back and her fingers gripped me and we worked our mouths together for long minutes, tasting, exploring with our tongues, our naked bodies together, my erection pressed into her flat belly, each of us making little groans and grunts of satisfaction as we kissed.

After what seemed an age, but was probably only about ten minutes, I broke the kiss and looked down on her upturned face, just discernible in the gloom.

'You're gorgeous,' I told her.

'In the dark?' she replied and I sensed her smile.

'No, you truly are.'

She responded by pulling my face down to hers, mashing our lips together, grabbing a handful of my hair and pressing herself to me. My cock strained with desire and a flash of carnal lust surged through me. I found one of her breasts with my hand, full and heavy and surprisingly firm. She groaned as I stroked and massaged her, finding her big rubbery nipple and squeezing it between finger and thumb and making her gasp.

She responded by sucking my lower lip into her mouth and clamping it gently with her teeth. At the same time she reached for my cock and gripped the rigid length with her long, slim, red-tipped fingers, stroking me, smearing the sticky fluid that was leaking from me, coating my glans.

I broke the kiss again, pulling my lower lip free from her teeth. Then I lowered my head to her breast and took the engorged nipple in my mouth, sucking, licking, biting down until she squealed 'bite harder.' So I bit harder and Faye writhed and wrapped her legs around me in a frenzy of passion.

'Have me. Have me now,' she gasped.

So I got on top of her and she opened her legs wide and I guided my bulbous cockhead to her pussy and rubbed it up and down her labia, feeling her lush pubic growth, feeling the juices of her desire, finding her hole, pushing in, hearing her cry out and grip my shoulders with her hands, her nails digging into my flesh.

I slid deep into Faye's sopping cunt in one long, slow thrust, my pubic bone grinding against hers as I penetrated her to my full extent. Pausing for a while, I kissed her lips and neck and ears and then I started a slow fucking motion, coming almost all the way out and pushing home again, hearing the squishing, sucking noises that signalled our mutual desire. The feeling was exquisite. Almost unbearably pleasurable. I went slowly because I wanted it to last all night, wanted to fuck my middle-aged air hostess until dawn's light touched the room.

Underneath me, Faye rolled her hips to meet my thrusts in a deliciously wanton manner. She was groaning and gasping with every thrust and when I changed my angle of entry slightly to rub myself against her clitoris, she cried out and gripped my buttocks, her fingernails sinking into my flesh with delicious pain.

'Kiss me as I come,' she gasped, urgently and I leaned down and pressed my mouth to hers and she pushed her tongue deep into my mouth as her orgasm washed through her and I felt her tremble then relax.

There was no way I was going to stave off my orgasm with this onslaught of eroticism. And suddenly there was no way I wanted to wait. I wanted to squirt my semen into Faye's vagina, pump into her until I was dry. The familiar tingling started at the base of my spine and in my balls and swelled and grew until my whole body was wracked with unbearable pleasure and my cock was jetting spunk deep into her cunt.