The Air Hostess

I slowed as the sensations eventually subsided then stopped. I lay for a while on Faye, kissing her lips and cheeks and her neck while she stroked my back and nibbled my ear. Then she gently disengaged.

'Sorry, I'm leaking.'

She scrambled out of bed and went to the bathroom and I was stricken with a sudden fear that she wouldn't come back, would go to her room instead. But she did come back and I held her in my arms and kissed the top of her head.

'That was utterly fantastic,' I told her. 'I have never experienced anything quite as intense. Or as unbelievable. I'm still struggling to believe that tonight happened. Well, today, the flight and everything.

'Not too bad for a geriatric trolley-dolly then?' she teased me. 'It was good for me, too, Tom. Better than good.'

'Do you,' I started, 'I mean does--'

'Do I make a habit of picking up passengers for casual sex? Is that what you wanted to know?' Again, I sensed her smiling in the dark. 'Oddly enough, no. I genuinely wanted to thank you at the coffee bar. It was only when we got back here that I began to fancy you.' She paused. 'Maybe it was the wine. I was hoping you'd make a move on me. It's so undignified if I have to do it.'

We laughed and I kissed her.

'I actually dried my hair and went to bed full of good intentions,' she went on. 'But then I thought if I don't do something I'll always regret it. I've had a pretty miserable time the past few months and I thought I'd give myself a treat. And it was lovely. Actually, Tom, it was fantastic!

'Will you hold me now please, until I go to sleep?'

I don't know what time it was when I woke; it was still very dark. I was aware of Faye getting up to use the bathroom and now she slipped back into bed with me and I snuggled up to her from behind and she gave a little mew of pleasure. I put an arm around her and cupped one of her breasts and she wriggled her bum against me and I grew very hard, very quickly, my erection pressing into her buttocks.

'Do you want me again?' she whispered.

By way of an answer I rolled her onto her back and she opened her legs and I gripped my shaft and guided it to her pussy. Faye was very wet again and I slid easily in and she gave a low moan and locked her legs over mine and I started fucking her very slowly and gently.

This time it did go on for a long time. In the warmth and intimacy of that darkened bedroom Faye and I copulated for long minutes and with tiny movements that stimulated her clitoris and sent shivers up my spine. We kissed slowly, too, and caressed each other, stroking and nuzzling sensitive areas of skin until we were both moaning and our faces were slick with saliva and I was sliding my groin up and down a sopping, lubricated mat of her pubic hair.

Right at the end, Faye started thrusting her hips against me as she started to come and that did it for me. I couldn't stop the rush of sensations as my climax started and I gave a couple of harder thrusts as I ejaculated into her and then, suddenly, it was over and we were kissing and stroking as the sweat cooled on our bodies and pulling the duvet over us and sleep came quickly, shrouding my senses and dragging me down into the deep, deep dark.

It was light when I woke. My watch, on the bedside table, indicated that it was just after seven. Light was filtering in through the curtains and the shower was running in the bathroom. As I lay back, contemplating the ceiling, the shower stopped and a couple of minutes later Faye came into the room in a shiny black bathrobe.

'Would you like some tea?' she asked. Her hair was dry so I assumed she'd worn a shower cap. Funny how these details stick in one's memory.

'God, yes. I'd love a cup. Why don't I do it while you get dressed?'

'No, that's ok. You jump in the shower and I'll put the kettle on.'

There seemed to be some subtle sub-text here, but I couldn't see it, mussy with sleep as I was. So Faye disappeared into the kitchenette and I went and showered. When I got back, she was sitting up on the duvet, naked, nursing a steaming mug; another mug was on my bedside table. It was the first time I'd seen her naked in any sort of light. Climbing into bed beside Faye, I thought I was beginning to understand the subtext.

'This is what I look like without all the makeup,' Faye said unexpectedly. I looked at her. Certainly she looked older; the lines on her face were more apparent, and she looked more vulnerable, more innocent even. But she was still very attractive, perhaps in a subtly different way, a more fundamental way that transcended clothing and cosmetics. Her skin was very pale and contrasted starkly with the black of her hair and her dense pubic bush. Celtic ancestry sprang to mind.

I took in the rest of her body as she lay back against the pillows. She'd told me last night that she was fifty-two, but there was scant evidence of middle-age in her body. The skin was smooth and taut, her breasts full and round with dark areolae and big nipples. Her stomach was flat, her waist narrow, hips swelling in an intensely feminine way. Her long, slender legs stretched out down the bed, ending in small feet with red-painted toenails.

Faye had a half-smile on her face as she watched my eyes run greedily over her form. 'Do I pass muster? I think perhaps I do,' she added, looking at my cock which had grown rigid as I looked at her, the purple glans straining at my foreskin.

'Do I?' I asked.

Faye shrugged her shoulders. 'You're young and good-looking and fit and... and you're twenty-eight!' There was a hint of pathos in her voice as I put down my mug and held my arms out to her, wanting to touch her, to hold her and be close to her. Faye put her tea down and came to me and we held each other for a long time.

In fact we held each other until Faye reached for my penis and started stroking her long fingers up and down my shaft. 'Lie down,' she told me, gently disengaging from our embrace. I did as she asked and Faye knelt up and bent her slim frame over me, her head descending to my loins, her long hair tickling my stomach.

I shivered as her hand gripped my shaft and I felt her lips slide over my glans, her tongue exploring the ridges and wrinkles and crevices of my frenum. She masturbated me slowly as she fellated me, her fingers gripping then relaxing, her lips circling my shaft, taking the first two or three inches inside her, using a gentle suction so that it felt like my soul was being sucked out through my urethra. I'd never had oral sex anything like it before. It was a revelation! I lay quietly, stroking her back with one hand, feeling the softness of her hair, running my fingers down the ridges of her spine.

I don't know how long I'd have lasted but after a few minutes of this exquisite, slow sucking, Faye straightened up and then lay down next to me.

'Would you go down on me, please Tom?' she asked, softly.

There was nothing that I wanted to do more, at that moment, so I knelt up and Faye drew her feet up and opened her thighs and I knelt between them and lowered my head to her pussy. I've always loved cunnilingus; the taste of a lady's secretions, the feel of the labia under my tongue, the wetness and intimacy. Faye's pubic hair was dense and thick but it was neatly trimmed around the labia rather than running wild down her thighs and up towards her navel. Her lips were golden and swollen, parted slightly to reveal a hint of pink wetness. Parting her outer labia with my thumbs I licked the length of her cunt, from perineum to clitoris. She tasted marvellous; a mixture of musky and sweet with a faint lemon hint, which I guessed was her shower gel. I licked and sucked greedily and Faye grunted and moaned and gripped the backs of her thighs, her red nails digging into her flesh, her knuckles white, bending her legs further over, exposing herself to me in all her glory. I sucked and lapped and slid my tongue into her as far as I could and she writhed and gasped and bucked as my tongue flicked briefly over her anus with its fringe of silky black hair.

At the end, I concentrated on her clitoris, licking and sucking the little bud and even taking it gently between my teeth. Fay started hissing 'Yes, yes, yes, I'm nearly there!' Then she was coming and her thighs were clamping my head in a vice-like grip and she was shuddering and shaking as the orgasm overwhelmed her.

Before she'd fully recovered, I'd entered her and I was thrusting deep and hard, ramming my cock in and out of her cunt, kissing her fiercely with my juice-soaked mouth, pinning her arms down onto the duvet as my orgasm grew and spread and roared through my brain in a mist of pleasure. And as the sensations ripped through me I looked down at Faye beneath me and she stared at me with her wide dark-blue eyes and I thought I'd never before seen such a beautiful woman.

Then it was over and I was on my back, gasping for breath and Faye was comatose next to me.

After a few minutes she rose and disappeared into her bedroom. I contemplated another shower but that seemed selfish in someone else's house. So I went and shaved and splashed some water on my face and dressed and went into the sitting room to wait for Faye, browsing through her bookcase as I waited.

She came in about half an hour later, transformed into the ravishing air hostess I'd met yesterday. Her makeup was expertly applied, her lips full and red, her white blouse crisp and immaculate. Best of all she was wearing black pantyhose and heels.

She smiled at me. 'Sorry to keep you waiting. It all takes a bit of time nowadays. Shall we go now? I thought we could have some breakfast at the airport.'

I wondered if she was anxious to get me out of her flat, but something she said in the car on the way to the airport seemed to suggest not. I'd mentioned something about not showering after our sex this morning and she said: 'No, neither did I. I'll be able to smell you on me all day.'

We got to the airport rather early and dawdled over breakfast at one of the food outlets. Conversation was a bit sluggish and we said nothing about meeting up again. I was ambivalent: one the one hand, she was extremely attractive and good company and with a great body, one the other hand she was twenty-four years older than me; I couldn't imaging introducing her to my parents. Were her parents still alive even?

Filled with these somewhat uncharitable thoughts I paid the bill and we stood up and took the handles of our cabin cases.

I thought Faye looked sad as we walked towards the departure lounge but I said nothing. Eventually she stopped and turned to me.

'This is where we say goodbye, I guess. I go through the aircrew gate.'

'Well thank you, Faye. It's been a very great pleasure meeting you and thank you for putting me up and everything.' It sounded inadequate but I couldn't think of anything else. Or rather I could, but it was more than I could cope with at that moment.

Faye delved into her handbag and passed me a slip of paper, torn from a notebook. Then she went up on tiptoe and kissed my lips and, turning around with a final 'Goodbye', she clacked her heels over the departure lounge and into history.

I looked at the piece of paper. It had "Faye" written on it in a curling, feminine hand, and a phone number.

***

Madrid was a washout, both professionally and meteorologically. I spent a lot of time thinking about Faye and how badly I'd treated her. But I didn't call.

I didn't call when I got home, either. Partly because I was really busy at work and socially, but mainly because I was frightened.

About a week after I'd said goodbye to Faye in the departures lounge of Manchester Airport, I picked up my phone and keyed in the number she'd given me. It was a Thursday evening and I had no idea if she was at 39000 feet over the Atlantic, or asleep in a hotel in Adelaide. The phone rang six or seven times and I was about to disconnect when she answered.

'Hello?'

'Faye?'

'Yes.' Cautiously.

'It's Tom.'

There was a pause, then: 'I didn't think you were going to call.'

'I was frightened,' I admitted.

'Frightened?'

'About my feelings. It was all so sudden.'

Faye said nothing.

'Are you free this weekend?'

'Yes.' Another pause. 'Would you like me to come down to Bristol?'

Epilogue

This all happened about four years ago, but the memory of that first weekend together will remain with me to my last breath. She got to my house on the outskirts of Bristol at seven o'clock and as she stepped out of the car I thought that I'd never before seen such an elegant, desirable lady. We screwed until we were exhausted and then we ate and went out and I showed her round the historic city of Bath and we walked in the hills and then we went home and fucked again and before either of us realised it was Sunday evening and she was driving away in a cloud of exhaust smoke, waving furiously from the driver's window.

I went to Manchester the following weekend and on the Sunday I told her that I'd fallen in love with her and she cried and I cried a bit too and we talked into the night, mainly about our age difference and the problems it might cause, but we agreed that we'd give it a go anyway.

And four years later we're still together! And I'm still shatteringly in love with Faye and I think she feels just the same!

My parents were great, as it turned out; they're not judgmental people, but I thought they'd have something to say. I underestimated them. They welcomed Faye with open arms.

I was more worried about meeting Faye's daughter, Shona. But that was ok too. She thought it was hilarious that I was younger than her. She still thinks it's hilarious that she's older than her stepfather - yes, Faye and I got married two years ago; she's now Faye Ashton instead of McMahon. I was right about the Celtic ancestry.

We quickly got fed up with the separation caused by her job, and Faye resigned from the airline and moved down to Bristol, where she got a job with a travel agent. She was a natural, with her looks and personality and knowledge of the world, so now she manages all the shops in the Southwest of the UK and is likely to be appointed to the board later this year. She earns more than I do, for goodness sake!

And what about the sex? Has time staled its infinite variety? No chance! Faye and I go at it like rabbits every night and twice on Saturdays and Sundays. And it is the most delicious pinnacle of sexual fulfilment imaginable. We experimented quite a bit after Faye moved down to Bristol. She introduced me to the delights of anal sex and bondage. Now there is nothing in the world she enjoys more than me tying her spreadeagled to the bedposts, inserting an anal plug, and fucking her pussy until she comes, arching her back and straining against her bonds. Afterwards I may roll her over and replace the anal plug with my penis. I adore ejaculating into Faye's arse!

All in all I am the luckiest person in the world!

The End