There's something about travel that changes you. When you're between here and there, you're not who you usually are. There's always more opportunity all around you, new people to meet, new doors to go through, new places to explore. You're unmoored from your typical routine, your daily connect-the-dots, always drawing the same pictures day after day. Home, work, shop, friends, repeat. But when you're traveling, you can be someone else. You can do whatever else you want, while you're away. That's what I love about it. That's really why I do what I do. It's like the rules don't just change, they go away entirely and you're completely free.
The D.C.–Dallas hop was not one of the best flights to be assigned. Pretty much any hop in or out of D.C. has all kinds of... well you know the type. We call them sweethearts, because that's what they almost always call us. Politicians, lobbyists, lawyers, anyone who works in Washington and thinks they're the sexiest thing who ever smirked at a flight attendant. I had one of them offer to share his "ice cream" with me once. I think they all follow an unwritten rule: the older and less attractive they get, the more appealing they believe we think they are.
The D.C.–Dallas red-eye was not my first assignment, but it was the one where I earned my white wings.
Sorry for all the jargon... I'm actually not supposed to talk about the white wings. But pay attention to the color of your air hostess' wings the next time you fly, at least, those of us who wear uniforms with the little metal wings over the breast. Usually they're just decorative. Most of the time they're gold or silver. A lot of airlines have their hosties wear uniforms that don't have wings, they go by another special indicator that's unique to them. A special color scarf, or maybe a tiny pin fixed to their namebadge. But look carefully. If you're very lucky, and you see a hostess wearing wings that are white, she is special. She belongs to a very select class of hostess.
Maybe you've heard of Lisa Robertson. She tried to get her white wings with a pretty famous Hollywood actor. She not only failed—although she did get to fuck him, the lucky girl—but she was canned almost immediately by Quantas, and she was humiliated in the press for years afterward. That's not how it works. She should have known better. It's planned. It's coordinated. You don't get to just crash that club... you have to be invited. I feel bad for her though, because in her situation, I can't say I could have done anything differently.
A lot of hosties talk in whispers about it when no one else is around... quite a few of them actively "pledge", if you know what I mean. They say they want their wings and are always joking—but not really joking—about their in-flight boyfriends or BOBs, trying to get the other hosties to set them up for their debut. The debut is their first time. The first time they fuck a passenger in flight.
In order to earn their white wings, though, they have to not only be invited, there are things they have to actually do for the initiation to have been successful. You don't just fuck a passenger, you have to present the correct poise, affect the right composure. It's about attitude, skill, and chemistry. My own debut happened without my realizing it was happening. I had no idea what was really going on. All I knew was that I was that I had little choice but to obey.
The Denver hop was heavy in back, light in front. There are two classes in the planes that my airline flies: business class and executive class. There is no economy class on these planes. Business seats were full of people; the executive class was nearly empty, with the exception of three men wearing expensive suits. One of them I had seen before, and talked with him a little bit on a previous flight between Dallas and Washington. His name was Gavin. I didn't get his last name, he told me he flew to Denver any chance he got so he could ski. He worked for a government contractor having something to do with biological testing for the FDA, I think. Whatever it was, he traveled in style, and I claimed him as my in-flight boyfriend... something us hosties do when we're lucky enough to get to cozy up to a cute guy on a flight.
The Boeing Business Jet, or the "Beeb" as we call it, is based on the 737 and is a narrow-body, twin-engine, medium range airliner similar to what most everyone has flown once or twice. But Beebs are completely different on the inside. I love when people who have never flown on one before come aboard the first time: it's like their first experience in a limousine. They gasp and smile, astonished at the luxury. And our aircraft isn't even one of the nicer ones... there are BBJ2s and 3s that make ours look like a motor coach. And they recently announced plans for the MAX-8 and MAX-9. That takes it to a level of opulence most normal people couldn't even imagine. Not even in the movies.
That's not to say our plane is cheap. Ours has plush leather recliners with sofas in the executive class, a couple of fully-stocked galleys, high-speed internet, private televisions with video on-demand and a full-size lavatory with shower.
I had been working the business class the past few weeks with Deana and Jessica, and I hadn't seen Gavin in a few months. I was disappointed; I kept looking for him, hoping he'd be headed out for a ski weekend, but week after week went by and I saw no sign of him. Executive class girls were generally a bit more experienced than me, in the service for five years or more, and although no one talked about it, there were stricter standards when it came to body shape, hair, age and even voice. You "age out" of executive class at 36. Anyone who was paying attention understood that those women were the "elite" of the cabin crew.
But not even those were as elite as the ones wearing white wings. Once you earn those wings, you keep them the rest of your career. Sometimes you move up to private charter planes, and those experiences are harshly confidential.
Deana was the one working the front of the plane on our hops. She's the lead flight attendant, the A. Jessica is the B, and I'm the C, because I had the least seniority. I liked Deana a lot, she and Jessica were good friends, and I always liked to hang out with them on layovers. We'd go to bars or clubs, sometimes catch a movie. They were lots of fun, I could tell they'd been friends for years, and Deana seemed to take me under her wing a little bit, like a sorority "big" does with her new sister. She was patient and sweet with me. She knew I liked Gavin, even though I wasn't working his class, she took over for me back in business class so I could spend more time with him during that flight.
So imagine my surprise when I see Gavin board. He recognized me and gave me a big smile, as though he had been looking for me as well. I was almost giddy as I went through the usual preflight briefing. Deana knew I was excited, too, but there was something different about her smile that night. I wasn't sure what it meant, it was mischievous and sly, like she knew something she wasn't going to tell me. After we had finished pre-flight, I made sure to sit with her in the jumpseats as we taxied and took to the air.
"What are you smiling about?" I asked her.
"Cause your man is here," she answered coyly. "You've been missing him."
"I'm going to get him to invite me skiing," I said. "You watch."
"Oh I have no doubt. He'd be stupid not to want to take you home with him."
I'm sure I had a smile on my face like a silly young schoolgirl. "You going to be up there all night tonight?"
"Not tonight, no," she smiled. "I'm going to let you finish the beverage service, and then I think I'll help Jessica do ICS in business and let you have a few minutes with him. If he's sleeping, though, don't wake him."
"I won't," I promised, but I knew in my heart he wouldn't be sleeping tonight.
"There's a pregnant woman in the exit row, did you notice?" Deana quizzed me.
"I did, and I asked her if she could handle helping out in an emergency, and she swore to us she can, so Jessica and I let her stay there."
"Do you know the regulation about that?"
"There isn't one," I said confidently, even though I knew I could have been wrong. But I was pretty sure there wasn't.
"There isn't," she smiled to me. "You're fine."
I know I was extra cheerful with the pax that night, taking drink orders and passing out menus for late-night snacks. We don't push a beverage cart on our plane, thank god. Drinks are served in glassware, and Jessica is a talented mixologist. We have two galleys, but since a lot of our hops are late at night, most people aren't interested in eating much and the smell and sound of food isn't helpful when others are trying to sleep, which is what we try to encourage people to do. Once everyone who wanted drinks had been served and everyone was either comfortably tucked in to sleep or watching a movie with their headphones, I slipped into the executive class and looked for Gavin. I turned and took a last look at Deana. She winked to me and nodded, and I pulled the curtain closed behind me.
The other two men he was traveling with were asleep. Gavin was reading a book by a tiny booklight he had brought with him, wearing a beautiful black suit that looked like it cost more than my car back in Boulder. He smiled when he saw me. I felt like I was sneaking into someone's house, and I know I was radiating with excitement to see him.
"Hi," he whispered. "I really hoped I would get to see you tonight."
"Hi Gavin," I answered softly as I moved to stand by his seat. "How are you?" I tried to rein in my enthusiasm for him, but I don't think he was fooled.
"Just perfect. Heading to Breckenridge to see the Ullr Fest and do a little skiing." He closed his book on his bookmark and put it aside, turning in his seat toward me. I gestured toward the empty seat between us, and he nodded. I slid into the seat and crossed my legs, letting my short, dark navy blue pencil skirt slide up my thighs a bit. Part of me was tempted to be more modest, but I didn't move to fix it. I enjoyed watching his eyes glance for the slightest of moments at my legs, the tops of my stockings showing just along the hem of my skirt.
"Have you been out of Washington since I saw you last?" I asked him.
"Yeah, all over. Portland, San Diego, Barcelona. Sometimes I forget where I'm even going until I actually get there."
"That sounds exhausting. But I do know the feeling. Jet lag is a curse."
"I don't do too badly, especially when I know I'm going to like where I'm going." He gave me another warm smile. I could feel the butterflies storming in my chest, unable to help but imagine what his lips might feel like pressed tightly to my own. The lights in executive were low, what little illumination there was coming from the gentle running lights along the upper slope of the walls, bouncing a warm glow against the cream colored surface, and the tiny chain of aisle lights along the floor. The hum of the aircraft covered our voices from disturbing the other two men who seemed to take no notice of our conversation.
"I don't mean to keep you up, if you want to sleep," I offered quietly.
"I'll sleep in a little bit. But what I'd really like right now is a drink."
"You weren't served a drink? Oh, I'll get you one. What would you like?" I was surprised at first that Deana had not served him, but smiled to myself when I realized she had deliberately left that privilege to me.
"A Jack and Coke would be perfect."
I smiled, happy at the opportunity to do something just for him. "Let me get that for you." I rose and hurried to the forward galley. Usually I would get Jessica to mix someone a drink, but I knew how to mix Jack Daniels and Coke in a glass together.
The only problem was finding them. I grabbed a glass and entered the passcode on the tiny little keypad and opened the liquor cabinet, but couldn't find any Jack Daniels. I must have moved every bottle in there, hoping there was a bottle of Jack behind it. No luck. I really didn't want to have to go back to the aft galley because then Jessica would know I was mixing a drink, and besides, to have to walk past Gavin apologizing would feel completely stupid, and tonight I wanted only to be perfect for him...
I hadn't heard him coming up the aisle behind me as I was hurriedly shuffling bottles around in my desperate hunt for whiskey. I don't know how long he was standing in the doorway leering at my body as I was crouched in front of the little cabinet with my butt in the air. But when I straightened up, I saw his silhouette standing mere inches away and I almost gasped in surprise.
I was about to say something, but he came at me and kissed me fully on the lips. I gave a soft, surprised moan, still holding the pint glass in my hand. His hands slid behind my head, fingers slipping into my wavy auburn hair and held my face to his, his lips conquering mine with no reluctance. It only took me a moment to relent, and I gave a soft whimper, returning his kiss in full. I carefully set the glass down on the countertop and wrapped my arms around him, our lips devouring each other's. He ran a hand down my back and pulled my waist tightly against him, making his desire known. At that moment I didn't care that I was working, didn't care that we were thirty thousand feet from anything resembling a bed. I wanted him so badly in that moment, all I wanted was to forget everything else but him.
We kissed for several passionate minutes, our hands pulling at each other, our bodies pressed tightly together in the dark little enclave. At last he broke the kiss and looked into my eyes. "I want you," he breathed. "I want you right now."
"Yes," I heard myself say. "I want you too."
"Will you do what I say?"
It was an unexpected question. But my lust had taken over me and I couldn't refuse him. "Yes. I'll do whatever you want," the words seemed to tumble out of my mouth before I could stop them.
"Take off your jacket," he commanded.
I felt a pang of fear run through me, as the thought of being caught in flagrante delicto with a passenger is something that usually keeps hosties from doing what I was about to do, and I liked my job. I wasn't worried so much for Deana or Jessica, but the captain was on the flight deck behind a closed door that could open any moment, and the forward lavatory was right across from where we were. But I definitely was not thinking straight, and all I could think of was feeling his cock reaching into me, again and again, harder and harder.
I quickly unbuttoned my navy uniform jacket and pulled it down my shoulders, laying it on the counter. His hands worked quickly to open the buttons on my pristine white blouse, exposing my simple black bra and upper chest, leaving the bottom tucked into my skirt. His lips fell upon me and I inhaled breathily, struggling to control my voice to keep from anyone hearing me. His mouth clutched at my throat, his teeth testing my skin, sending rushes of pleasure through me. I clung to him for support and he bent me backward, kissing, suckling and biting at my neck before lowering his mouth down my chest and tasting the upper part of my breast that my bra didn't cover. His teeth moved over the mound and bit down at the apex, through the lycra fabric, finding my rapidly stiffening nipple. I sighed as another wave poured over me, my nipple ablaze with pain-pleasure as his teeth strengthened their pinch.
He let go and breathed hot breath over my chest. "Good girl. Now take off your panties."
Without hesitation I slid my hands down my thighs and pulled the hem of my skirt up my legs, the cool air teasing the newly exposed skin of my upper thighs. I found the waistband of my black nylon panties and wriggled them down my legs, stepping out of the loose undergarment, catching one on the heel of my pump. I balanced myself with a hand on the counter and lifted my heel free, then offered Gavin the balled-up undergarment. He took them and brushed them beneath his nose, inhaling, and then slid them into one of his suit pockets and reached his hand between my legs, feeling my exposed sex. My eyes darkened and I gave a breathless sigh as I felt his fingers probe me, thick, strong fingers of a powerful man who takes want he wants. I felt another rush of pleasure sing through my body and my head fell back, his finger finding my opening and curling up inside my warmth. I felt like I was going to gush into his palm, I was so deeply and hopelessly aroused.
"Turn around and spread your legs for me," he ordered.
"Yes," I breathed, and turned to face the window, putting my hands against the concave wall and spreading my feet apart as far as they would go in the cramped galley. I felt him pull my skirt up around my hips, my aching, glistening sex exposed to the night outside the glass. I heard him hastily undoing his suit pants, the sound of a smooth zipper being pulled, the rustling of fabric ... finally I felt something warm, thick and lusciously firm being pressed against my opening, and I craned my hips to surrender my warm and inviting womanhood to him. I fought with considerable effort the moan that rose in my throat as he pushed his muscle into me, my honeyed canal opening around him, clutching at him as he buried himself slowly and steadily inside me.
My lips gaped with a soft, aspirated sigh as I felt him bury his shaft within me. I'd never felt so wonderfully enjoined with anyone in my life. I could barely restrain my moaning as he began pumping me. I held it in, as best I could, even though I knew I was whimpering and mewling softly from the relentless pleasure of being taken by him. When I felt his fingers reach around and begin massaging my clit, I held on for only a few scant seconds before I exploded in delirious orgasm, my cry of passion tightly fixed in my throat, emerging only as faint whimpers as I clutched his cock and gyrated back against him.
I felt his hands let go of my hips and he slowed the pace of his thrusting ... I thought he was maybe close to orgasm himself and trying to hold off, but I was still so lost in the aftershocks of my first climax that I didn't look to see what he was doing. I gasped in surprise when I felt his silk tie suddenly wrapping around my eyes, pulling tight around my temples and knotted behind my head.
"What are you doing?" I asked softly.
"Don't move," he said gently. "Stay there."
I felt his cock pull free of me and I whimpered softly in protest, until I felt him crouch behind me and begin lapping at the juices that had been escaping down my inner thighs. He crouched between my legs and slipped himself between them, bringing his lips to my sex and tonguing me. I felt helplessly exposed, my naked ass presented to anyone who might wander past. I had no way of knowing whether one of the other passengers had gotten up to use the lavatory, or if Deana or Jessica had come up to check on me. But I obeyed his order to remain still, rewarded for my obedience with his warm and loving tongue, exploring my labia and clit as I slowly swayed my hips in ecstasy, my vision entirely blocked by his silk blindfold.
A stab of panic flooded me as I heard the click. One of the flight crew was coming out of the cockpit. There was virtually no time to dress, it was all I could do to pull my skirt down around me, but Gavin heard the sound too, and to my shock, held his hands around my hips preventing me from covering up.
"No. Stay there," he said firmly.
"What? I..." I started to complain. But his hands held fast.
"I said stay there."
I heard footsteps behind me. I reached to take the blindfold off, but Gavin saw and grabbed my wrists, stopping them. I was done. I would be fired, I thought, and I was shaking in fear and embarrassment as I felt someone stop just outside the galley. I swear I could feel the heat of the eyes on my exposed body as I stood there with a tie around my head, breathing hard, waiting for the astonished scolding that would signal the end of my employment. But I didn't hear anyone say anything. I didn't know which member of the crew was behind me, but I could feel in the shifting of weight in the floor beneath me that someone was standing behind me, staring at us. Incredibly, Gavin went back to licking at my sex, and I gave a surprised whimper of shock. What happened next, I will remember vividly the rest of my life.