The Air Stewardesses' Footmen Ch. 05

Ch. 5: Camilla Comes Calling.

It was just after midday on Wednesday. But because Camilla was calling, I had dressed early for work in my BlueSky Holidays cabin crewman uniform of sky-blue jacket and trousers and a shirt and tie of the same colour, and black shoes. And I had dressed fastidiously - I wanted to look my best. I had polished each shoe for fifteen minutes, and I had fastened my tie a dozen times until I was satisfied with the knot.

Time was going to be tight today. But early afternoon traffic was lighter, and it was a short car ride to Gatwick Airport. And besides, Camilla was working today too, and her flight departed at about the same time as mine. So at least Camilla wouldn't have the luxury of time afterwards to glory in and gloat over her total vanquishment of her longtime antagonist - my girlfriend, Gemma.

I looked through the living room window, the third time in as many minutes. Gemma was due home for her one-hour lunch break from her DIY superstore workplace. I wondered if Gemma had used her 'particular influence' yet with her boss Mr Aspinal to give me a job in the loading bay. A job I didn't want. But a job I would have great trouble declining.

My thoughts returned to what I had been thinking about all morning: Gemma's 12:30 phone call from Camilla. Camilla's ultimatum.

Gemma told me she would agree to Camilla's abominable demand for my sake. But the price of her utterly humiliating submission to save my reputation was that our relationship would be on 'a new footing'. And, after what Gemma had put me through last evening, I knew just exactly what our 'new footing' would entail.

My watch told me it was 12:14. I was now in a fit of agitation. I looked out the window again - still no sign of Gemma. It was a 10-minute walk from her DIY superstore workplace. Where was she? Had she cried off? Unable to go through with facing and submitting so totally to her bete noire? No - not Gemma! Gemma would be here. Gemma would see this thing through.

My thoughts drifted again, back to my Rest-day yesterday. By all accounts, Tuesday would be my last real time off for some time.

My cabin crewman colleague Terry had been right yesterday when he'd warned me that Janice or one of the other girls in Crewing would be in touch about my new rostering. I was hoping it would be the Head of Crewing, Janice, but the disaster was that it had been Suzy, a friend of Camilla. I suspected this was no accident, but Camilla's doing, and my suspicion was borne out by what Suzy said. Suzy informed me that today would be the last day of my curtailed 7-day roster. Suzy told me my new work schedules would have me working under Senior Stewardess Camilla whenever possible, starting Thursday.

At all costs, I would have to keep news of this from Gemma.

And to think that I had told Terry I would try to get on the good side of Janice and the other girls in Crewing, in hopes of them passing on a good word or two to our COO, Ms Gina Summers, commending my agreeability. 'Agreeability', being the revised-contracted cabin crewman's new watchword. I would say they could have all the latitude they wanted with my rostering without complaint; count on me as a last-minute replacement without a quibble, and I would waive the privacy protocol that protected me from their home call-up harassment. In short: I would be as agreeable as could be. But, unfortunately, Camilla's friend and contact in Crewing, Suzy, had preempted me and rendered my intended goodwill-garnering gesture null and void. Camilla's crony in Crewing Suzy had also told me to report to her personally for my weekly rosters every Thursday. But, of course, that had to be Camilla's doing as well. Because I knew with certainty that it could only mean one thing: Suzy was going to have me massage her feet. How did I know? Suzy had told me to bring my kneeling mat.

Terry had been right on the money when he'd said we would not get much time off duty for a while because of Crewing's 'creative rostering' in response to the resignation on Monday of ninety-plus per cent of cabin crewmen. Suzy told me that my weekly rosters for the next two months would have at least three double shifts and that Stand-bys would replace Rest-days. Suzy also confirmed something else Terry had told me yesterday, formally informing me that all cabin crewmen must now serve their Stand-by duties in the crew room. While awaiting our possible call-up, we were to be on hand to provide foot massages for the returning air hostesses and polish their after-shift uniform pumps.

To Camilla's outrage, Senior Stewardess Donna had usurped me at the last minute on Monday to work on her flight instead of Camilla's. And today, on the fifth but now the last day of my curtailed 7-day roster, I was down to work under Senior Stewardess Donna on BH701, BlueSky Holidays 14:00 departure from Gatwick to Lanzarote in the Canary Islands. The return flight, BH702, was scheduled to arrive back at Gatwick with returning holidaymakers at 23:55.

Yet another late finish. But now it would be par for the course, as would be massaging the returned air hostesses' feet, their now contractually entitled cabin crewman-provided service. No doubt, Donna would pull rank on her air hostesses again tonight to claim first dibs with me as she had done on Monday night in the crew room. I had once refused Donna an after-flight footrub when she'd told me her feet were killing her. But on Monday night, I could not refuse Donna - and I did not wish to. Because by then, the catalytic events of the day had released from dormancy what I had described in my tell-all confession to Gemma as my new 'appreciation' for air hostesses' feet, and my former reserve to oblige Donna had gone. And neither was I reluctant to provide after-flight foot service to my share of later returning and delayed air hostesses - including, and not least - the flagrantly over-exploitative Senior Stewardess Camilla and some of her example-following cronies.

I reflected that things had moved on apace since Monday when the COO, Ms Gina Summers, imposed her Subservience to Stewardesses directive on the cabin crewmen. That is, the few who were left, after ninety-plus per cent of us had taken Ms Summers' quit-money to resign quietly there and then rather than sign our revised contracts. Revised contracts that, in addition to many other disimprovements and disadvantages to our pay and working conditions, obliged us to assume our regulation issue one-foot square, one-inch thick foam-rubber kneeling mats and silently massage our female counterparts' after-flight feet.

So now, there was only one cabin crewman left at each of BlueSky Holidays' six regional bases. And six of us Gatwick-based: me, Terry, Tony, Glen, Greg, and Daren, who had spent his Day-off yesterday looking urgently online and in-person for another job at one of our rival airlines.

Hence the need for Crewing to radically redo the rosters of the now critically under-numbered cabin crewmen to help cope with the resultant staff shortage. It would take time for the hundred all-female replacements, who wanted to come and work for Ms Gina Summers for ideological reasons, to leave their present airlines and find their feet at BlueSky Holidays.

I looked out of the window again - at last!

I went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. And from the fridge, I got the chicken salad sandwich I'd made.

Here was Gemma.

***

Gemma liked to sit in the living room to drink her tea first while it was hot and then go to the kitchen to eat her lunch at the table.

"Here you are, sweetheart," I said, handing the cup of tea to Gemma. She was sitting at her customary left end of our three-seat sofa, and now I sat down at my end. "I've made you a nice chicken salad sandwich for your lunch, Gemma. It's on the kitchen table under a cover." Gemma said nothing, but she gave me a look full of meaning.

Gemma wore an above-the-knee black skirt of a robust material to work. And so when Gemma rested her left calf on her right knee and her bare heel popped from her well-worn black work flat, displaying her instep too, it made for a pretty sight. But I stared at the bottom of her bare heel, already grimy from a morning of her habitual workplace barefooting. Gemma caught my look. And then I knew we were both thinking back to last evening, and we were thinking the same thing. Gemma said, "And to think, Mason, I have got Camilla to thank for the best sex we've ever had."

In her present state, it wouldn't take much to provoke Gemma. But I couldn't resist saying, "Does this mean you want me to go on working as a cabin crewman?"

"Mason, don't be facetious."

"I'm sorry, Gemma. I'm just on edge. I'm nervous about Camilla's visit."

"You are on edge! You are nervous! How do you think I feel? To save your reputation, I am about to kiss the soles of that bitch Camilla's feet!"

"I know, Gemma. And I can't thank you enough."

"No, Mason - you can't! But you can start by leaving your cabin crewman job as soon as possible. I haven't had a chance yet to speak to Mr Aspinal at work about giving you a job in the loading bay or on deliveries. But I will; I am just waiting for the right moment. You know how I am mean to keep my boss keen. Well, apart from the occasional heel pop, to tease him and to keep his hopes up for more, I have deprived him of his dirty-feet fixes for a few days to make him pine. So, late this afternoon, when he will be at his most vulnerable, I will put on one of my 'absentminded', dishy young tradesman customer stimulated shoe-playing performances for him at my till station. And when I look over my shoulder and catch Mr Aspinal staring after me while I go and fetch the item of stock, goggle-eyed at my late-afternoon dirty bare soles, I will sweetly ask him to employ you."

This development was worrying. I knew Gemma wasn't bluffing. When she said she would do something, she meant it. And I knew just how confident Gemma was in the surety of her foothold, as it were, on her boss Mr Aspinal. Gemma didn't so much have the DIY superstore manager wrapped around her little finger as trapped under her dirty bare heel. Mr Aspinal was Gemma's boss in name only - Gemma was his boss.

"Gemma, I am going to meet all of your stated punishment demands and reparation requirements - every one of them. At work today, I will buy another kneeling mat for home use, and on the days when I'm home, I will kneel in silence before you and massage your feet while you watch your early evening soap shows. And then, before you take your shower, I will lick clean your dirty feet after your all-day barefooting at work to afford you a higher form of worship than I accorded Camilla. And as soon as I can find the time, I will buy and set into the ceiling retractable handhold loops so that you can confidently trample my body and safely stand on my face for as long as you like."

"And believe me, I am looking forward to all of that. And our new soap-time routine will continue for as long as you so stubbornly refuse to find a daytime job despite my repeated pleading. But, Mason, have you forgotten something? To demonstrate your remorse for your hideous disloyalty, you promised to assume all household responsibilities as well."

"Gemma, I will honour my promise to you. You won't have to lift a finger to do a thing ever again. You will soon forget how to work the washing machine, forget what the inside of a supermarket looks like, forget how to make the bed - because you will soon grow accustomed to leaving all of that tedious drudgery to me - which is the least I can do. Because not only that, when I am home, I will be your attentive servant, at your beck and call. Gemma, I'll..."

Gemma's phone was ringing. I looked at my watch to see the time was 12:30. It was Camilla. Camilla was very punctual. Camilla had told me that her mother lode of photos and videos would arrive in Gemma's email at 6:30 p.m. yesterday, and they had come in on the dot.

Gemma's phone was on the coffee table in front of us, but Gemma hesitated to answer it. One aspect of Camilla's decisive-victory demand was the super-respectful telephone manner with which Gemma must accord Camilla. Camilla was determined not only to nullify her longtime antagonist but to milk her victory to the full, wring Gemma dry of her self-esteem. So that by the time she had later finished with Gemma, she would be so cowed as to never again so much as raise her voice to Camilla, let alone raise her hand. Camilla's prearranged phone call was to set just the right tone. Gemma gave me another meaningful look, and then she picked up her phone.

"Hello, Camilla. Thank you ever so much for calling. It is lovely to hear from you. Mason has explained to me the non-negotiable requirements of your proposal, your reasonable one-time ultimatum. I accept your kind terms, your sensible solution to our longtime antipathies. As per your stipulation, Mason is here to witness the significant event. And so now, Camilla, with the good grace of an acknowledged well-beaten loser, I cordially invite you, my superior and my conqueror, to my house. I will cooperate fully with your chosen victory rite to celebrate my total surrender to you. I will go to my knees and beg you to allow me to kiss the soles of your feet." Camilla said something in reply that I didn't hear but that caused Gemma to wince in deep embarrassment and acute humiliation as she put her phone back on the coffee table.

Outside there was the loud honking of a car horn. I went to the window.

I saw Camilla's car parked at the kerb. She must have phoned Gemma from her car. Camilla's car was a red convertible, and she'd put the roof up because it was a nice day. Camilla was checking her flawless appearance in her rear-view mirror. Camilla then looked my way and saw me gazing at her through the living room window. Camilla pointed to the front door.

Accordingly, I went to open the front door.

It would not be a nice day for Gemma.

Camilla was here.

***

Camilla's beauty was enough to stop men in their tracks and often did. But now, pristinely turned out in her SkyBlue Holidays air hostess uniform, Camilla was truly a sight to behold.

I recalled Camilla's command to me Monday night in our crew room. Whether at work or outside of work, to respectfully address her as 'Miss' Camilla.

"Hello, Miss Camilla," I said. "Please come in."

I led Camilla to the living room, and Gemma silently mouthed at me incredulously, 'Miss' Camilla?

I went to stand loyally beside Gemma. Gemma and I looked at Camilla.

"Well, look at the two of you," said Camilla. "The Ginger Ninja and the pathetic whinger!"

Gemma said, "Camilla, can we just get this over with?"

Camilla sighed regrettably and said, "We will have to. Time is short - but that is my fault. I curse my impetuosity. Because unfortunately, in my overeagerness to inflict upon you my chosen coup de grace, I was too impatient to set a later date, which would have allowed me to rejoice at much greater length in your profound misery. You can't imagine, Gemma, how I have looked forward to this. Finally, I can put paid to you for good and get you out of my hair. And what a way to do it! Because Gemma, in five minutes, you will be too crushed even to raise your voice, let alone ever raise your hand to me."

I looked at my watch: 12:35.

"Miss Camilla, I don't think we have that long. We should be leaving soon for work. Gemma too," I said.

"You! Shut up! How dare you speak? Last night, you were my after-flight footman. And when we return to our crew room tonight, you will be again! You will be on your kneeling mat, serving the air hostesses of my crew and me. And before you sign off duty, you will polish our uniform pumps."

"Miss Camilla, I am not rostered to work under you until tomorrow. Today I am rostered to work under Senior Stewardess Donna. On our 14:00 departure BH701 to Lanzarote."

"Well, Duckster," Camilla said, retrieving her smartphone. "That's what you think! I'll soon sort that out - I'll give Donna a taste of her own medicine."

Gemma said indignantly, "Camilla, stop calling my fiance Duckster!"

Camilla ignored Gemma's protest and tap dialled a contact on her smartphone. "Donna, tell whoever is on Stand-by to work on your flight to Lanzarote... Why? Can't you guess, Donna? It is because Cabin Crewman Mason Mallard is now flying under me, as it were, working on our 13:50 departure BH625 to Izmir... Yes, I know it means you will now be without a cabin crewman to order about on your flight. Goodbye, Donna."

It was like deja vu. Except that Camilla had very neatly turned the tables on Donna.

Camilla said, "There you go, Ducky. You are working under me today. And for the foreseeable future. My friend Suzy in Crewing will see to that. Suzy spoke to you yesterday? To report personally, to her, for your weekly rosters? And to take your kneeling mat?"

"Yes, Miss Camilla."

Gemma said irately, "Just what is all this 'Miss' Camilla nonsense?"

Camilla said, "Gemma, your boyfriend and fiance Mason is my after-flight footman. Mason assumes his kneeling mat to massage my feet in silence. He then cleans and polishes my after-shift uniform pumps. Mason reverences and obeys my friends because I have told him to. On my authority, Mason will massage my friend Suzy's feet every week when he reports to her personally at Crewing for his new rosters every Thursday from tomorrow. So, how else should he address me? And Gemma, now that my true superiority over you has now finally come fully to the fore, you also should respectfully address me as 'Miss' Camilla."

"Never!" cried Gemma in a voice almost high enough to crack the living room windows.

Camilla said, "Gemma, your voice is high, but your bravado falls rather flat. Your defiance rings hollow, don't you think, given that you are about to submit to me so totally by going to your knees to beg to kiss the soles of my feet?"

Gemma stared sullenly at Camilla and said nothing. After all, what could she say? I took hold of Gemma's hand and squeezed it in moral support.

Camilla said, "Oh, don't go getting all lovey-dovey on me, you two."

Gemma didn't realise she was crushing my hand as she stared daggers at Camilla in her barely contained fury. I began to wonder if Gemma could hold it together. Was she asking herself if it was worth it, putting herself through this unspeakable trauma for my sake? But then Gemma's bone-crushing grip started to relax a bit as she fought to regain self-control.

Camilla said, "So I'll stand here, Gemma, shall I? Facing the wall, where I can place my hands to steady myself while you pay your foot-kissing homage to me."

Affecting indifference, Gemma said, "Whatever."

Camilla said sharply, "Gemma! You agreed to cooperate! You will get into the spirit of the occasion!" Camilla then turned her back on Gemma and said, "Now, Gemma. You know what to do: Get to your knees!"

Gemma obeyed Camilla's command without a word, kneeling directly behind her tormentor. Gemma just wanted to get her hideous ordeal over with and done. The sooner she complied with the cruel commands of her conqueror, the quicker she would get her out of her house.

Camilla looked down over her shoulder at Gemma. Their eyes locked, and the two most important women in my life stared at each other. And then Camilla, smiling, eased her left foot from her uniform black three-inch heel pump and raised her dark nyloned sole behind her and up to within an inch of the kneeling Gemma's waiting face.

Camilla said, "To think, Gemma, that I have got you on your knees at my feet - just as I have had your boyfriend and fiance, Mason. Not that he was any challenge. Just take a minute first, Gemma, to look at the sole of my foot. Mason thinks my feet are desirable. Last night in our crew room, I am sure Mason kissed the soles of my feet more ardently than he has ever kissed your lips. Gemma, what does that say?"