The Ankle-Crossing Air Hostess

Now, a mischievous smile spread across Kate's face. "Um ... er ... Samantha ...? What you said ... just now ...? About your feet ... 'killing you' ...? Well ... I know what you mean ... I've been finding that, too ... It's the price we pay, for being on our feet for such long periods ... Talking of 'pleasures', though ... if your feet are killing you, Samantha ... I'm amazed that you don't make more use of the Comfort Station footboy ... you know, have him give you a nice, relaxing 'tongue-bath'. After all ... I'm sure the footboy won't mind ..." said Kate mischievously.

At receiving Miss Samantha's nods of happy, eager agreement, Kate addressed me again. But, this was a new Kate. This was 'Miss' Kate ... This was a pitiless, tyrannical Kate. A different Kate, from the Kate I used to know. A different Kate, from the Kate who used to be my girlfriend ... who used to be 'The One'.

"Footboy! Stay on your hands and knees, and turn around to face Miss Samantha ... You are going to give her feet ... a nice, relaxing 'tongue-bath' ... And, anyway, now that I come to think of it ... how come you haven't already offered? That's, what I'd like to know! Don't you realise, footboy ... that Miss Samantha's poor feet are all tired and achy, after forever walking up and down the aisle during her Flight Duty ...? And, you had better do a very good job of it too, FOOTBOY, because ... I'm next!" announced Kate gleefully."

"Then me!" asserted Laura. "I'm after Laura, then!" claimed Lindsey. "My turn for a 'tongue-bath' then, after you, Lindz!" chimed in Celia, in jubilantly hitching herself to the tongue-bath bandwagon.

"Kate ... Please, Kate ... Miss Kate ... for Old Time's sake ...?" I pleaded. "Don't make me---"

"I just gave you an order, FOOTBOY! You will obey me, at once. Or ... I shall make due note of your gross disobedience, on your Footboys Daily Record Sheet ..." Miss Kate threatened mercilessly.

"Yes, Miss Kate," I replied, despairingly and wretchedly, but respectfully and obediently. As I knew that I must. ("Anything less, David, than 90%, and ...")

As soon as I was in the required position, I felt a weight settle upon my back ... Kate was sitting on it - she was actually straddling me. "Now, we'll have some fun, Samantha! Let's put the Comfort Station footboy to good use! Go on then, Samantha ... dip your toes in the water, ha ha ha!" urged Kate wickedly. I felt a sudden, searing pain in my scalp, as Miss Kate gripped hold of my hair in both of her hands, and yanked my head back, so as to obtain the optimum angle of entry for Miss Samantha.

Now, I watched in horror and revulsion, as the sole of Miss Samantha's right, dark hosed fleshy foot menacingly approached my obediently proffered face. "Now, footboy ... Open up - open wide!" commanded Miss Samantha gleefully.

"Yes, Miss Samantha," I replied, miserably and despondently, but respectfully and obediently.

By means of encouraging me to open my mouth even wider, Miss Samantha forcefully pressed down on my bottom teeth with the pads of her toes, and almost dislocating my jaw... and then, without further ado, she proceeded to cram all 5 dark hosed, plump toes into my obediently proffered, wide-open mouth.

The unspeakable sensation ... was like nothing I could ever have imagined. My first instinctive reaction, was to start closing my mouth - but Miss Kate seemed ready for this 'involuntary' reflex action. Sitting astride me; my hair, tightly gripped in her two hands, she firmly pulled my hair and yanked my head back, which had the 'desired effect' ... keeping my mouth wide and accommodatingly open, and at the optimum angle of entry for Miss Samantha ... For Miss Samantha's ("Nice, relaxing 'tongue-bath'.")

I shuddered with revulsion, at feeling the hideous texture of Miss Samantha's dark hosed, warm, plump invading toes, filling up my mouth with their presence, with their taste ... wiggling luxuriously in the comforting warmth, and gripping my tongue in a surprisingly firm, 'capturing' hold. And, my second instinctive reaction, at these unspeakable sensations, was to gag on them. To retch, dryly, as my eyes started to water copiously - far more, from my mental anguish, than from any physical hurt.

"You can start sucking my toes now, footboy ... You have my permission ..." condescended Miss Samantha dryly. Miss Samantha - the ankle-crossing Air Hostess: the British Airways Air Hostess, who it had been the biggest mistake of my life to cross.

Though, in truth, I realised that I never did stand a chance, with Miss Samantha ... I had felt, instinctively, that she hadn't 'liked the look' of my face, upon her first seeing it ... I had felt, instinctively, that she would 'grow' on me - but, not in a nice way ... And, Miss Samantha had sent out 'signals' ... Confirming my instincts.

I felt Miss Kate's fingers curling around locks of my hair, getting a better, tighter - and, for me, an even more painful and eye-watering grip. Miss Kate laughed delightedly at her new-found friend's droll humour, as she sat on my back, straddling me. And, by means of making the necessary adjustments, Kate viciously yanked back my head, so as to hold and maintain the perfect angle of entry for her brand-new friend: Miss Samantha - the ankle-crossing Air Hostess.

"You heard Miss Samantha, FOOTBOY! Now ... start sucking her toes!" ordered Kate. Ordered 'Miss' Kate. Ordered the Kate, who was my former girlfriend. Ordered the Kate, who I had believed was 'The One' ... But, who had left me at rock-bottom, when our Roller Coaster dipped for the last time.

And, she was 'The One', too ... Until Miss Samantha - the ankle-crossing Air Hostess - had so cruelly taken her away from me ("That's what you get, for dropping litter!")

Keeping my "Nose clean," and behaving "Well", I obeyed the heartless, callous and cruel orders of Miss Kate and Miss Samantha, and the additional, supplementary instructions of the BA Air Hostesses: Laura, Lindsey and Celia ... As I knew that I must. ("Anything less, David, than 90%, and ...")

And, as I was tearfully gagging, half-choking, and wretching drily on Miss Samantha's cavorting and controlling, plump, dark hosed toes: sucking on them - individually, and collectively - licking, in between them, as and when ordered to ... BA Air Hostesses Laura, Lindsey and Celia, and the other Air Hostesses who also happened to be present in the Cabin Crews' Comfort Station, laughed along, enjoying the fun, too ... After all, it helped to pass the time, while they awaited the arrival of the next Air Crew Bus.

As I dwelt ... upon my dreadful predicament: the cause of which, was Miss Samantha - the ankle-crossing Air Hostess ("That's what you get, for dropping litter!") ...

As I dwelt ... upon the unbearably sad fact: that I had lost Kate ("Goodbye, David! Until we meet again ... At the Comfort Station!") That I had lost 'The One' ("You are SO dumped, David!") ...

As I dwelt ... upon the hideous probability - the near certainty - that I was now, in all likelihood, doomed to another sentence extension of Foot Service Duty, in the Cabin Crews' Comfort Station - my already paper-thin chances, of passing Mrs Jepson's Final Assessment Test - in 10 months time - probably now all-but non-existent ("Anything less, David, than 90%, and ...") ...

As I dwelt ... upon all of these tragedies that had befallen me - and, all because of Miss Samantha - the ankle-crossing Air Hostess - the mantle of disconsolate depression that enfolded me in its embrace, was so rigid and unyielding, I thought I would need an oxyacetylene torch to cut myself out of it.

Oh, the exquisite irony, of it! It brought me close to tears ...

Just the very thought ... that my former girlfriend, Kate - who had been my whole world, my universe and, who I had believed, was 'The One' - should actually meet Miss Samantha ...

Just the very thought ... that my former darling should: not only meet, Miss Samantha, but should 'hit it off', so well and so naturally, and, with such a rapport, as had made them become instant friends ...

Just the very thought ... I can't bear it! I can't!

Oh, just the very thought ... Just the very thought, of my former sweetheart ... actually becoming colleagues, at British Airways ... actually sauntering into the Cabin Crews' Comfort Station ... with none other: than the very architect, constructor, and instigator of all of my woes: Miss Samantha - the ankle-crossing Air Hostess ...

And, all of this was happening, because of an offence that I hadn't even committed! And, wouldn't commit!

It was all too much ... JUST TOO MUCH!!

THE END.