stinky feet

Chapter 7. (Conclusion) — Danny finds fulfillment.



Flight SH 123 to Corfu had landed and, as soon as the ‘Please Fasten Your Seat Belt’ sign had stopped flashing, 200 Sunshine Holidays passengers began vacating their seats, and retrieving their hand-luggage from the overhead storage cabinets.



At their having finally touched down at their holiday destination, there was a hubbub of anticipatory excitement from the newly-landed holiday-makers, as the holiday mode, feel-good factor kicked in.



Passengers who had been seated in the rear half of the aircraft now filed down the aisle towards the rear entrance door, where Chief Stewardess Julie Davies and air hostess Carol were stationed.



The two air hostesses smiled charmingly at their disembarking passengers, wishing them all a happy holiday, and solicitously advising them to be careful in descending the steps; air hostess Carol, quipping, “You don’t want to spend your two-week holiday in Corfu in a plaster cast, do you? Ha ha ha ha!”



The Sunshine Holidays ‘Flying Pencil’ jet-liner (so nicknamed by workers in the Air Line industry, due to its fuselage being of a particularly long and narrow design) quickly emptied of passengers and, as soon as it had, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies and air hostess Carol set about the task of removing the four panels that were situated behind the rearmost row of seats — 50 A, B, C, and D.



After spinning free the quick-release wing-nuts, and putting the four panels aside, the two air hostesses pulled forward the four poolside-recliner-like contraptions: Air Purification Technician Service Vehicles, A, B, C, and D.



Now, the two air hostesses removed the strips of mouth-sealing adhesive tape, and unstrapped the firmly secured ankles, wrists, and necks of the contraptions’ occupants. Thereby releasing from their leather restraints, the four Air Purification Technicians who were ‘operating’ on this, inaugural flight.



*



Danny Dawson, Alan Wallace, Eric Pierce and Kelvin Costello were all eighteen-year-old school leavers; former school pals, who had no job or training to go to upon their leaving education and, would-be ‘career claimants’.



Which was why their local Job Centre, acting on the standing instructions of the recently elected Authoritarian Female Party government, had sent each of these would-be idlers, a Letter of Notification.



And upon reading their letters, each of them found, to their abject dismay, that in order to receive their Unemployment Benefit payments, claimants would from now on be required to satisfy a new qualifying condition.



And so, in accordance with the regulations of the A.F.P. government’s new Work Motivation Programme, their local Job Centre was assigning the jobless four, to a ‘placement’.



The stunned and resentful Danny Dawson, and his three equally mightily disgruntled former school chums, found that they were to be based at nearby Manchester Airport — Terminal 2 Departures. Their placements would attach them to the popular budget Air Line, Sunshine Holidays. And the official title of their placement, was an ‘Air Purification Technician’.



None of the four former schoolmates had had the slightest idea, as to what their placement duties would entail. Only finding out, once they were actually aboard the Sunshine Holidays jet-liner …



*



Now, after their being released from their service vehicles, after being On Station for more than three and a half hours, Danny looked at the faces of his former school pals. And all of them, he thought, were looking very much the worse, for their highly disagreeable experiences. All three of them, visibly shaken.



Shaken, from the effects of their strapped-down, taped-over-mouthed, under-seat experiences in the cramped and claustrophobic confines of the ‘Flying Pencil’s dim and dismal fuselage.



Particularly Alan — Al, Danny’s former best school chum — who was ashen-faced. In fact, Al seemed to be actually traumatised, by his ordeals aboard Service Vehicle C.



Danny thought Al looked overwrought, distressed. Anguished. Al’s face, had that; can’t-take-much-more, look.



Al obviously hadn’t coped at all well, in fulfilling the obligations of his placement. Hadn’t coped at all well, in his discharging of the duties required of him, as an Air Purification Technician.



Al’s face looked haggard. Haunted, from his three hours and more of being automatically conveyed, via the S.A.P.S. (Supplementary Air Purification System) computer, to the foot spaces of the relentless succession of female passengers who had summoned him.



Summoned him, because they could … and because they wanted to.



Summoned him — many of them — to gleefully dominate him. To cruelly torment him. To sadistically subjugate him. To humiliate him.



Summoned him — many of them — to give, him; the sponging, workshy, idle lump, a helpful nudge in the right direction: Towards finding gainful employment.



Summoned him — all of them — to fulfill his obligations, as an Air Purification Technician.



Summoned him — a sealed-mouthed, fixed-in-place faced, Air Purification Technician to ‘oblige’ him to sniff; to sniff up and absorb into his lungs, their horrible, pungent, highly offensive stinky-feet fumes — that; if left to freely circulate, these foul, decidedly unpleasant odours, would disagreeably flavour the air inside the aircraft cabin — so that the Sunshine Holidays passengers wouldn’t have to.



After being automatically conveyed aboard his service vehicle — back and forth … back and forth … according to the in-sequence order of demand — along the under-seat space of seat line C, to the seat locations of summoning female passengers (between twelve and sixteen summonses, in total, according to Danny’s own estimations), and providing ‘service’ at each seat location, for a fixed period duration of ten minutes, Al already looked wiped out.



And he still had the return flight to Manchester to go through yet!



So did Eric and Kelvin, for that matter. And they were looking only slightly less distraught, only slightly less stressed out — only slightly less traumatised — than Alan.



Danny, on the other hand, was thrilled, overjoyed. Ecstatic. In fact, he was incredibly excited … And, he was having one hell of a struggle, in trying to hide the fact.



Firmly secured aboard Service Vehicle D, Danny had spent the more than three-hour-long flight to Corfu, in an advanced — almost unbearable — state of excitement.



One step away from heaven, Danny had been driven almost crazy, at being unable to take that last, all-important step. Driven almost to the point of delirium … at being denied. Driven absolutely nuts, at being so exquisitely ‘teased’, and being so wildly aroused — only to be so hideously frustrated.



For, Danny had become excited. Very excited. Over-excited. ‘Down there’ …



And, Danny had wanted to do ‘something’ about it — was desperate, to do ‘something’ about it.



Danny had wanted to touch himself. He had wanted to play with himself. He had wanted to pull his penis, in worship.



Danny had wanted to make his reverent ‘devotions’. He had wanted to make his solemn ‘sacrifice’. To his female summoners — his Goddesses.



And, Danny had wanted to pay his … respects, to his female summoners — to his Goddesses — there and then! In the moment! In real time! And not have to wait until later, when he got home, and replayed in his mind, the …



But, he couldn’t! Because Chief Stewardess Julie Davies had restrained his wrists to his service vehicle!



* * *



Addressing Danny and his three former school chums, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies said brusquely, “Right, you lot — toilet break. And be quick. You go first, Dawson. Have a small drink of water — not too much — you won’t be able to go to the loo again until we get back to Manchester.”



“Yes, Miss Julie,” replied Danny compliantly.



Before Danny entered the Flying Pencil’s rear toilet, he looked out through the left-open rear entrance, at the sun-drenched surroundings.



It was a beautiful day, in Corfu. Not that Danny could see much of it. He certainly couldn’t see any of the many charms, that brought countless visitors to the island every year.



The sights that Danny beheld, were the sights of the runway, the aircraft hangars, the airport’s service and emergency vehicles, and the Terminals and other airport buildings in the near-distance … which, Danny (mistakenly) thought, would be the extent of his ‘sight-seeing’, in Corfu.



Mistakenly … for, on the ground, on Corfu Airport’s apron, Danny saw air hostesses Ann and Diane smiling politely at the disembarked holiday-makers, and warmly wishing them a happy holiday as they directed them onto the airport buses that would take them to the Arrivals Terminal.



For a moment, Danny watched the two attractive, brunette, leggy and full-figured air hostesses, Ann and Diane, helpfully ushering the Sunshine Holidays passengers onto the waiting airport buses.



And then Danny was just turning away, to go to the toilet, when he heard a sound that stopped him in his tracks: the sound of the heel tips of air hostesses Ann and Diane’s uniform issue, two-inch heeled, dark-blue pumps, clicking and clacking upon the surface of the apron.



For, the two already footsore air hostesses were both easing free a heel and, as soon as they had done so, Danny then heard their blissfully sighed expressions of immeasurable gratitude and blessed relief as, luxuriating uninhibitedly, air hostesses Ann and Diane cooled, flexed, splayed, and scrunched their dark-hose covered toes.



Danny should be going to the loo, and the senior air hostess had told him to be quick — but he just couldn’t tear his eyes away, from the exciting, captivating ‘sighting’. One of those lucky, serendipitous, in-the-right-place-at-the-right-time, ‘sightings’.



For more than three hours, and for most of the flight to Corfu, all four air hostesses had been walking up and down the aisle of the Sunshine Holidays jet-liner in their uniform issue, two-inch heeled pumps, as they politely tended to the many and various needs and wants of their ever-demanding passengers.



And the four, already footsore air hostesses, still had the return flight to Manchester to work through yet!



“Oh, my God!” Danny heard air hostess Diane groan, as he watched her slip her right foot back into her pump; transfer her standing weight to her right leg, and then gratefully ease free her left foot, so as to afford that foot some momentary relief. “My feet, are absolutely … killing me!” she informed air hostess Ann. “I can’t wait to get back on that plane, and massage my feet on Costello’s face — the workshy, sponging malingerer!”



Oh, my God! thought Danny, barely able to believe his own ears. Not only a ‘sighting’, but a running commentary as well! This was something special!



To which, fervently expressed intention, air hostess Ann empathised, “Oh! I know just exactly how you feel, Di! And I’ll be putting that young layabout, Pierce, to similar use. Don’t you worry yourself about that! Never mind, the female passengers’ feet — wait until he gets a load of these, stinky feet! Hostie feet — there’s nothing like ‘em. Ha ha ha ha! He won’t know what’s hit him, when he gets a good whiff of these!” exulted air hostess Ann, showing the sole of her right, dark-hosed foot to her friend and colleague — showing her, what Eric Pierce had to look forward to.



Oh, my God! thought Danny. I can’t believe what I’m hearing! What I’m seeing! I wish I had a camcorder. I’d replay this, over, and over, and …



“In fact, Di,” added air hostess Ann, rather darkly, “I’ll make a prediction now: After I’m through with him, Pierce will be at the Job Centre, first thing tomorrow morning — waiting for them to open the doors!”



Danny was now clinging onto the aircraft’s rear door for support; air hostess Ann’s words and actions, turning his legs to a quivering jelly.



“Oh, just think, Ann!” enthused air hostess Diane. “We’ll have twenty minutes — twenty minutes! — with the techies. One each, Ann — all to ourselves! And I’ll be having Costello. Having Costello, as my own, personal … footman. Ha ha ha ha! Oh, I’ve been looking forward, to that! I’ve hardly thought about anything else, for the last three hours — ever since we left Manchester! Oh, Ann, I can hardly wait! Ha ha ha ha! Costello will be another one, who’ll be hightailing it to the Job Centre tomorrow!”



Listening to air hostesses Ann and Diane talking about what they intended to subject Eric and Kelvin to, was driving Danny nuts — but in the most excellent of ways! In fact, Danny wished the two air hostesses were talking about him!



“Me neither — can hardly wait, I mean, to enjoy our new perk of the job — ha ha ha ha!” laughed air hostess Ann girlishly. “Then we’ll do a quick tidy-up in our half of the plane, before the Manchester-bound passengers start boarding. Oh, Diane! Twenty minutes, with the … ‘Air Purification Technicians’! Ha ha ha ha! It gets me every time!” giggled air hostess Ann.



Air hostess Ann had still not got over the amazing idea of the Supplementary Air Purification System (S.A.P.S.), that had only just been installed and, as an air hostess operating on this, inaugural flight, she was actually playing a part in making aviation history.



Danny was rooted to the spot. He couldn’t move … But he could see. And he could listen.



Danny watched the awesome ‘sighting’, of air hostesses Ann and Diane clicking and clacking the heels of their uniform issue, two-inch heeled, dark-blue pumps against the Tarmac.



Clicking and clacking their heels, in such a way as enabled them to gratefully ease off one shoe and, so that; by frequently alternating their standing foot, they could keep on cooling, could keep on flexing and scrunching and splaying the toes of both, tired and achy feet, in turn … Could keep on, luxuriating uninhibitedly.



And, listening to their conversation! Oh, my God! thought Danny. That was every bit as exciting! Listening to — eavesdropping on! — air hostesses Ann and Diane’s excited, exultant, techie-related conversation.



Hearing them talk: “Oh, Diane! Twenty minutes, with the … ‘Air Purification Technicians’! Ha ha ha ha! It gets me every time,” air hostess Ann had giggled. Giggled, just at the very thought of the totally ridiculous title. Who dreams these things up? she wondered.



Hearing them talk: about their hot and sweaty, tired and achy, stinky feet! Air hostess Ann: “Hostie feet — there’s nothing like ‘em. Ha ha ha ha!” And: “Never mind, the female passengers’ feet — wait until he gets a load of these, stinky feet!”



Hearing them talk: with gleeful anticipation, about what they were looking forward to doing to his friends, Eric and Kelvin, just as soon as they got back on board the Sunshine Holidays jet-liner.



Hearing them talk, with unveiled relish—



Then it finally dawned, on Danny … If Kelvin, was going to be air hostess Diane’s (“own, personal … footman.”), and if Eric, was going to be air hostess Ann’s … That must mean, then, that he, was either—



“Dawson!” yelled Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, loud enough to draw the curious attention of air hostesses Ann and Diane, down on the apron — and loud enough to make Danny almost jump out of his skin — when she came to investigate Dawson’s taking so long to go to the loo. For Dawson was wasting time. Valuable time! And, what’s more, he was making a habit of it!



“Don’t tell me you haven’t been to the loo yet!” she said furiously. “Make no mistake, I will be making due note of this, Dawson, when I write your Satisfaction of Conduct report. Now, get yourself in there, Dawson — and you had better be quick!” warned the highly annoyed senior air hostess.



Danny now considered himself not to have just blotted, his copy book, but to have splashed ink all over it. For he had failed, and failed dismally, to keep Chief Stewardess Julie Davies sweet.



Danny wondered, if he would get a chance to make amends …



* * *



As soon as the last of their passengers were on their way to Arrivals aboard the airport buses, air hostess Diane said, in gleeful anticipation, “Come on then, Ann — let’s go! Let’s give Costello and Pierce a good seeing to!”



Air hostesses Ann and Diane eagerly ascended the aviation steps and, as soon as they had re-entered the Sunshine Holidays jet-liner through the front entrance, they could hear the muted sounds of Alan Wallace’s continuing anguish.



Upon hearing Wallace’s pathetic, muffled complaints, air hostesses Ann and Diane laughed delightedly; laughed, upon hearing his “Nnnnn! Nnnnnnnnn!!” of outraged protest and acute distress, coming from the rear of the aircraft cabin.



Chief Stewardess Julie Davies and air hostess Carol, apparently, were already availing themselves of the brand-new perk of their job: the ‘services’ of their techies.



During these passenger transfer interludes, it was now the perk of the job, for the Sunshine Holidays air hostesses, to be granted ‘access’ to the Air Purification Technicians. Or, ‘techies’, as they had been sarcastically nicknamed by the air crews.



As and when Danny and his three former school pals had returned from their toilet break, no sooner had they finished their quick-something-to-eat, than Chief Stewardess Julie Davies and air hostess Carol had put them back On Station.



Sealing shut their mouths, and restraining them with the five sturdy leather straps, by their ankles, wrists, and neck, the two air hostesses had once again secured their charges aboard the poolside-recliner-like contraptions — the Air Purification Technician Service Vehicles.



Upon seeing air hostesses Ann and Diane enter the aircraft through the front entrance, air hostess Carol called to them excitedly. “Ann! Diane! Here, at the back! We’ve got the techies back here, in row fifty!”



Giggling girlishly, air hostesses Ann and Diane hastened along the aisle to the rear of the aircraft … Hastened, to where techies Pierce and Costello awaited them.



Looking down into the foot spaces of seats 50 A, B, C, and D, air hostesses Ann and Diane saw the mouth-sealed, fixed-in-place faces of Eric Pierce, Kelvin Costello, Alan Wallace, and Danny Dawson, respectively.



Air hostesses Ann and Diane saw that Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, seated in seat 50 D (the starboard window-seat), was availing herself of passenger transfer interlude ‘access’, to Dawson.



While air hostess Carol, seated in seat 50 C (the starboard isle-seat), was availing herself of access to Wallace.



Air hostesses Ann and Diane now seated themselves in seats 50 A and 50 B, respectively … where, in the foot spaces, the protruding, mouth-sealed, fixed-in-place faces of techies Pierce and Costello, respectively, stared miserably up at them.



And, just as Chief Stewardess Julie Davies and air hostess Carol had done, air hostesses Ann and Diane gratefully pried free and kicked off their uniform issue, two-inch heeled, dark-blue pumps.



“Oh! This … this is just the best thing, ever. Ever! This … is what I call luxury,” exulted air hostess Carol, seated in seat 50 C. Exulted, as she gratefully relieved her hot and sweaty, tired and achy feet. Exulted, as she blissfully massaged her dark-hosed soles, upon the conveniently positioned, mouth-sealed, fixed-in-place face of the already overwrought, already distressed — already traumatised — Wallace.



Air hostess Carol could still hardly believe it. She could still hardly believe, that the … ha ha ha ha! — oh, it still gets her, every time … Supplementary Air Purification System, had actually been introduced. Ha ha ha ha! ‘S.A.P.S.’, was right!



But, how on Earth, this particular Authoritarian Female Party placement scheme had actually been legally introduced; how it had got through all of the many legislative processes and procedures; bills, white papers, green papers … was quite beyond her.

In fact, thought air hostess Carol incredulously, how on Earth the A.F.P.’s placement scheme, in general — their Work Motivation Programme — had survived all of the street marches; had survived the verbal brickbats of all of the banner-waving, flag-flying, placard-carrying protesters … she had no idea.



How it had survived all of the uproar and outrage, of the Human Rights lobbyists; survived the attempted interventions, of those confounded meddlers at the head of the European Union; survived the strangled, censorious outcries of various other watch-dog, focus group, busy-body do-gooders … she would never know.



But here, was the very proof — the amazing reality — of the placement scheme’s successful introduction … right under her very own feet: Wallace. Air Purification Technician Wallace.



Alan Wallace: a layabout, sponging, job-dodging malingerer, thought air hostess Carol, who she was actually forcing — yes, forcing! — to sniff the dark-hosed soles of her hard-working, hot and sweaty, tired and achy, stinky feet. “Nnnnnn! Nnnnnnnnn!!” complained Wallace, in acute distress and outraged protest, as if in timely confirmation of her highly gratifying thoughts.



Oh! Air hostess Carol was glad — so very glad — that she had voted for the Authoritarian Female Party.



Britain was looking better already. Even in the short time since the all-female member Party were elected to power, there were obvious differences, visible improvements. At last, things — things that had been neglected for so long, under previous governments — were now getting done. And were seen, to be getting done.



And — above all: the changes. All of those female-friendly changes. All of those extremely welcome, and long overdue, changes for the better.



Changes, that empowered the country’s females. Changes, that invested the females of Britain, with authority. Authority, that British females now seemed to emanate; seemed to wear about themselves, like a visible aura.



Prime Minister Caroline Flint, was a woman air hostess Carol admired greatly. And, she had actually got to shake hands with her, this morning, when the new PM had personally presided over the inaugural flight ceremony. How about that!



“Nnnnnn! Nnnnnnnnnn!!” complained Alan Wallace again. Moaning and groaning, in outraged protest and acute distress, as air hostess Carol covered his nostrils with her nylon-covered toes; the nylon-covered toes, of each overworked, tired and achy, sweaty, stinky foot, in turn.



“That’s right, Wallace … smelly, aren’t they? … stink, don’t they?” air hostess Carol goaded.



“That’s it, Wallace, keep on sniffing my stinky feet … Inhale, Wallace, deep breaths. Sniff right between my toes … I said deep breaths, Wallace — or I’ll stomp your stupid face with my heel! Then, you’ll have something to moan about, you pathetic wimp! Go on, you sad little whinger, keep on sniffing … Sniff harder, and inhale deeply, I said! — or I’ll stomp you, I will, I’ll stomp you … That’s it.



“Well, Wallace … I bet you’ll be looking for a job, after today! Ha ha ha ha! But first, just think of all of the fun still to come … just think of all of the female passengers’ stinky feet, you are going to have to sniff — all the way back to Manchester! Ha ha ha ha!” air hostess Carol taunted, doing her best to stress out Wallace even more; doing her best, to pile on his misery.



As Danny listened to the exultant tones of air hostess Carol, his heart seemed to be leaping madly about in his chest, and thumping, thumping, thumping.



Thumping, as he listened to air hostess Carol’s exultant gloating. Thumping, as he listened to her cruel goading — her cruel goading of Al, his former best school pal.



Danny listened; his heart, thumping, thumping, thumping … as air hostess Carol demolished what little was left remaining of Al’s spirit.



Al was in pieces. He was falling apart, crumbling — and air hostesss Carol was his wrecking-ball. His nemesis.



Danny listened, as air hostess Carol succeeded, and succeeded brilliantly, in goading Al to tears of humiliation.



Listened, as she made Al wretched, with her gloating, cruelly barbed words. Listened, as she made him miserable, from her soul-crushing subjugation. Listened, as she made him despair.



Danny wished that he could feel sorry for his former best school pal. But he couldn’t. He just didn’t have it in him. This whole thing; this incredible, amazing situation, was just way too exciting. It was just totally blowing Danny’s mind.



Whoever would have thought, wondered Danny in amazement, that female air passengers would be instrumental, in ‘motivating’ benefits claimants into work?



And whoever would have thought, Danny wondered delightedly, that air hostesses would be … deployed, in the A.F.P.’s Work Motivation Programme? Deployed, in the Air Purification Technician placement scheme?



That, air hostesses would have a special role? That, air hostesses would actually play a special part, in helping to remove benefits claimants from the register of unemployed?



The air hostesses, not only supervising their charges, but actively participating, too, in the … cause. By giving benefits claimants, an extra — and, even more persuasive — nudge in the right direction: Towards finding gainful employment.



And Danny listened; straining to catch every single word as, in seats 50 A and 50 B, air hostesses Ann and Diane, respectively, were similarly belittling, similarly deriding, similarly tormenting — similarly humiliating — Eric Pierce and Kelvin Costello, respectively … Giving Eric and Kelvin, “A good seeing to.”



Danny wished he could feel sorry for Eric and Kelvin, too, but …



From their lowly, worm-eye view vantage points in the aircraft’s under-seat space, secured by their ankles, wrists, and neck onto their service vehicles, Danny and his three former school pals each stared up at the face of the air hostess, who was availing herself of passenger transfer interlude ‘access’, to him. Availing herself, of her ‘quality time’.



Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, seated in seat 50 D, was gratefully and gleefully availing herself of access, to the conveniently positioned, mouth-sealed, fixed-in-place face, of Danny — Air Purification Technician Dawson.



And, the senior air hostess was certainly making the most, of her ‘quality time’.



*



Danny now wondered, if he and his three former school chums had actually been pre-chosen, by the air hostesses. That the four air hostesses, had actually taken their pick, of their techies.



After all, Danny, in his eavesdropping on air hostesses Ann and Diane, had supporting evidence of his suspicion: Air hostess Diane, saying to air hostess Ann: “And I’ll be having Costello. Having Costello, as my own, personal … footman. Ha ha ha ha!”



And, mused Danny, if this was the case, that meant … that must mean, that, if there was some sort of … pecking order, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies — presumably having first pick, as her entitlement as the senior air hostess — had chosen him.



Danny had concluded (and believed), after evaluating his evidence, that Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, for some reason, actually had a preference, for him.



*



Danny had never dreamed, that it could ever be like this.



He was staring up at the face of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, who was smiling — with pleasure and gratification — as she took full advantage of the brand-new perk of her job: passenger transfer interlude access, to the Air Purification Technician of her choice.



As the saying went: ‘Rank has its privileges’.



And, it had so happened, earlier that morning in the Sunshine Holidays crew room, that Chief Stewardess Julie Davies had pulled rank on air hostess Carol.



For, air hostess Carol, after winning the ‘drawing of lots’ with her colleagues of equal rank, air hostesses Ann and Diane (by dint of cutting the higher value playing card from the pack), had chosen Danny Dawson.



Air hostess Carol had wanted to ‘punish’ Danny, for almost making them miss their take-off slot.



Originally, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies had chosen Alan Wallace.



Of the four techies, she thought Wallace looked to be the most vulnerable of them, and she was looking forward to crushing his spirit (‘motivating’ him into finding gainful employment), during her passenger transfer interlude ‘access’, to him.



But, after they had landed at Corfu, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies had a change of mind …



She’d had a change of mind, after talking to one of the disembarking passengers.



A change of mind, after a blue-eyed, white-blonde haired girl, called Marie, who’d sat in seat 22 D — line D, being Dawson’s catchment of 50 seats — had said some extremely interesting things to her.



Danny thrilled, to the awesome feel of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies’s warm, dark-hosed soles, firmly rubbing into his face. Thrilled, to the amazingly exciting — intoxicating — aroma, of the senior air hostess’s dark-hosed, in-between-the-toes foot scent. Thrilled, to the wonderful, extreme close-up sight, of her beautiful, shapely — incredibly sexy — feet.



Just like her three colleagues: air hostesses Ann, Diane (who’d come third in the ‘drawing of lots’, and had chosen Costello in preference to Pierce), and Carol, who were thoroughly enjoying their passenger transfer interlude ‘access’, to the mouth-sealed, fixed-in-place face of the techie under their feet: Pierce, Costello, and Wallace, respectively, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies was also giving the imprisoned face of the techie under her feet, Dawson, a well-deserved “seeing-to” — the bone-idle, work-dodging sponger!



And … as she had discovered, after talking to the lovely, white-blonde haired girl, Marie … foot fetishist.



Chief Stewardess Julie Davies sighed, in pleasure. Sighed, as she luxuriated in massaging her warm, dark-hosed soles upon techie Dawson’s captive face. Sighed, as she relieved the soreness, and soothed the aches, and revitalised her poor, tired and achy, overworked hostie feet.



In open adoration, Danny looked into the eyes of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies … who’s own eyes were locked onto his, as though she was reading his every thought.



And, as she hugely enjoyed — revelled in — for the very first time, this brand-new perk of the job, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies continued to stare down into Dawson’s eyes, as she recalled what Marie, the breathtakingly beautiful girl with the white-blonde hair and blue eyes, had said to her before disembarking from the aircraft …



*



She had listened, dumbfounded, as Marie had told her she was absolutely certain that Dawson had enjoyed sniffing her — in the girl’s own words: “stinky feet.”



Marie said she knew her feet were stinky, knew for a fact, because she and her sister Lisa had smelled both their own and each other’s feet, to see who’s feet were stinkiest — and Marie’s feet had “won.”



Marie had asked her, if there was “Any chance of getting the same Air Purification Technician again, in two weeks’ time, when I come home from Corfu?”



In response, she had told Marie that, if she was operating on that flight, then yes, she would make it happen. And if she was not, then she would see if it could be arranged; would speak to Crewing, to see if she could somehow arrange to have Dawson operating on that flight. See if she could wangle it, for Marie.



Marie had then said: “It’s funny … but I’m sure I know him, from somewhere. His name seems familiar, too — and my sister Lisa has a friend, called Elaine Dawson … Dawson — you said his name is Danny? … He seeems quite a … quite a cute boy, really — and I love it, that he likes sniffing my stinky feet! Ha ha ha ha!”



Marie had then told her that she would love to become a Sunshine Holidays air hostess, herself.



Air hostess Carol had told her quite a lot about the job. She’d said she loved the job. The only real drawback, air hostess Carol had said, was that her feet were always hurting, because of all of that constant walking up and down the aisle in her uniform issue pumps, seeing to the passengers.



Were there any vacancies at Sunshine Holidays, at the moment, Marie had asked, hopefully. And, if there were, what did she think of her chances of being successful, if she applied for a job?



In response, she had assured Marie that, if she applied for a job as an air hostess with Sunshine Holidays, the job would be as good as hers. She would be a shoo-in. She was just the sort of job candidate, that Sunshine Holidays were looking for.



She — Chief Stewardess Julie Davies — at being so impressed, and at being so taken with the girl; so taken, with her attractive, fun-loving, outgoing personality, had said she would put in ‘a good word’ for her with the Personnel Manager.



And so she had taken Marie’s mobile phone number, and promised to call her when Sunshine Holidays were recruiting again.



“Promise! Promise!!” Marie had exclaimed excitedly — almost squealed — when told about the air hostesses’ new perk of the job: passenger transfer interlude ‘access’, to the Air Purification Technicians.



*



And, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, at looking down into Dawson’s eyes, and at feeling his seemingly crazed sniffing — his devouring — of her dark-hosed, in-between-the-toes foot scent, was inclined to agree with the beautiful, white-blonde haired girl’s conclusion.



Marie was right: Dawson does, actually like sniffing our stinky feet. He does, actually love us rubbing our sweaty, stinky soles all over his face. Dawson does, love it. He absolutely loves it.



Of that, as incredible as it seemed, to her, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies now had not the slightest of doubts. Not anymore. Not after experiencing, for herself, Dawson’s … behaviour.



And, certainly not now … when she could actually sense … yes, she could actually sense, that …



Dawson was now getting very hot-under-the-collar bothered. He was getting excited, very excited — over-excited. ‘Down there’.



And, she sensed, Dawson wanted to do ‘something’ about it — was desperate — to do ‘something’ about it …



She sensed, that Dawson wanted to touch himself. He wanted to play with himself. He wanted to pull his penis, in worship … In worship, of her!



She sensed, that Dawson wanted to pay his reverent ‘devotions’. He wanted to make his sacred ‘sacrifice’ … Make his ‘sacrifice’, to her!



And she sensed— no! She knew — knew, for an absolute fact, that Dawson wanted to pay his … respects, to her, now. Now! Now, in the here-and-now! Now, in the moment! — in real time — and not have to wait until later, when he got home, and replayed in his mind, the …



But, he couldn’t! Oh no, he couldn’t! He couldn’t — because she’d denied him! She’d restrained his wrists to his service vehicle — and denied him!



She sensed, that Dawson could have cried.



For such, she thought, must be the terrible torment, of his anguishing, sanity-threatening frustration.



*



Thanks to Marie, Dawson’s … affliction, had been brought to Chief Stewardess Julie Davies’s attention.



Though, whether she would have discovered Dawson’s foot fetishism, for herself — or rather, would air hostess Carol, who had originally chosen him (only to have rank pulled on her), have discovered it, and then subsequently passed this invaluable nugget of knowledge on to her — she honestly couldn’t say.



In any event, it was surely inevitable that it would have come to light sooner, rather than later. Probably, very soon after they returned to their crew room. After all … it wasn’t something that Dawson would be able to hide for long. Not, in a crew room full of Sunshine Holidays hosties; most of them complaining, to anyone who would listen, about their tired and achy feet.



But, at her being given some insight, by Marie, and now, also some actual experience, as to what was actually going on with Dawson, under her feet — and, under the feet of those female passengers, who summoned him — she felt such a delicious sense of power. Power at having such first-hand knowledge.



Such first-hand knowledge, of Dawson’s weak link. His … vulnerability.



Because knowledge, was power.



And, at her every opportunity, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies would cheerfully take maximum advantage, of Dawson’s … handicap.



Whenever the occasion called for it, she would take full advantage, of his … Achilles heel.



Every chance she got, she would ruthlessly exploit Dawson’s foot fetishism.



This golden nugget of knowledge, that Chief Stewardess Julie Davies now possessed, acted on her, like some kind of wondrous sedative. Acted on her, like some; all’s-well-with-the-world, soothing balm.



An ineffable feeling of well-being, seemed to flow over her, and radiate through her. Like some bliss-inducing exotic elixir, her precious knowledge relaxed her, calmed her, soothed her.



Because knowledge, was power.



Sighing contentedly, blissfully, she protected her … investment: Ensuring, that Dawson was getting enough of the scent; especially, that extra-stinky, in-between-the-toes scent, that he so loved. And so craved.



And … that she had an unlimited supply of.



Sighing contentedly, blissfully, and enjoying the rather pleasant tickling sensation that Dawson’s maniacal sniffing caused (just as Marie told her, it did), Chief Stewardess Julie Davies wondered when, and how (but not ‘if’) her first opportunity to use Dawson’s … failing, might present itself.



Wondered, how her very first chance to capitalise on Dawson’s … weakness, would come about.



And, how soon.



Because, if she was any judge, there was one thing for sure: Dawson would not — unlike his three colleague’s: Costello, Pierce, and Wallace — be visiting his local Job Centre, first thing tomorrow morning, and begging the Job Centre staff to find him a job — and quick!



No. Because, if she was any judge, Dawson had already found his vocation. Danny Dawson: former would-be ‘career claimant’ … but now, career Air Purification Technician.



Strictly speaking … she should report her discovery; the matter of Dawson’s foot fetishism, to his Job Centre. After all, his being here was clearly defeating the object of his placement. He was supposed to be getting motivated into finding gainful employment — he wasn’t supposed to be enjoying himself! Strictly speaking, he should be assigned to a different placement … Strictly speaking.



Looking serenely out of the starboard window, through half-closed, dreamy eyes, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies saw that a couple of airport buses were now approaching the aircraft. The signs displayed in their windows, she saw, read: Flight SH 124 to Manchester.



Time to get moving …



With great reluctance, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies removed her dark-hosed feet from their extremely agreeable resting place — techie Dawson’s trapped face — and she put on her uniform issue, two-inch heeled, dark-blue pumps. “Come on, girls — we’ve been enjoying too much of a good thing! Let’s have a tidy-up. We’ll have to be quick though — the Manchester-bound passengers are here!”



A moment later, via the S.A.P.S. computer, the heads of the four Air Purification Technicians, that were protruding into the foot spaces of seats 50 A, B, C, and D, were automatically lowered back down into the dim and dismal under-seat spaces of the Flying Pencil’s fuselage; the one-foot-square panels, closing over their faces.



Next to Danny, aboard Service Vehicle C, Al, upon realising what was about to happen — again — as best as he was able, in the circumstances, immediately voiced his expressions of outraged protest and acute distress: “Nnnnnn! Nnnnnnnn!!”



For Alan Wallace, it was going to be a long, long flight back to Manchester.

Danny, on the other hand, had settled down, was relaxed.



Because Danny was very much looking forward, to ‘operating’ on Flight SH 124 to Manchester.



Danny was looking forward, to seeing the succession of seat numbers; to seeing the relentless succession of one-foot-square panels, that would open above his face, as female passengers seated in line D pushed the button located under their right armrest.



Pushed a button, to summon him — an Air Purification Technician.



Summon him, to sniff up and absorb into his lungs, their horrible, malodorous, nauseous, highly offensive stinky-feet fumes — that; such foul impurities, such vile contaminants, if left ‘unrefined’, would compromise the air quality inside the aircraft cabin — so that the Sunshine Holidays passengers wouldn’t have to.



* * *



For Air Purification Technicians: Pierce, Costello, and Wallace, though, who’d had the decidedly dubious (and definitely unwanted!) honour, of ‘operating’ on the history-making inaugural flight: SH 123 to Corfu, aboard Service Vehicles A, B, and C, respectively, the return flight to Manchester was all but indistinguishable from the out-bound flight: Awful. Horrible. Terrible. Nightmarish.



Via the S.A.P.S. computer, the service vehicles automatically conveyed the four former school chums, trundling up and down the dim and dismal, severely cramped confines of the under-seat spaces of the Flying Pencil’s fuselage. Delivering them — in accordance with the in-sequence order of demand — to the button-pushing female passengers who had summoned them.



The one-foot-square panels above their faces, opened, and closed … opened, and closed. Opened, when they duly arrived at the seat location of a summoning female passenger … And then closed … when her ten minutes were up.



And Danny had been right: It was, a long, long flight back to Manchester for his former best school pal, Al. Or, to ascribe him his full, officially designated title, under his Work Motivation Programme scheme placement: Air Purification Technician Wallace.



* * *



The Sunshine Holidays jet-liner, carrying 200 returning holiday-makers from Corfu, landed at Manchester Airport in the September sunshine of mid-afternoon. They were bang on time, Captain Simon (Buck) Rogers, touching down at 15:00.



As soon as all of the returned holiday-makers — most of them suntanned, and almost all of them Duty Frees laden — had disembarked and were on their way to Arrivals, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies and air hostesses Carol, Ann, and Diane released Air Purification Technicians Costello, Pierce, Wallace, and Dawson from their service vehicles … Released them, at last, from the heinously-conceived poolside-recliner-like contraptions, that they had been secured aboard for more than eight hours, in total.



Captain Simon (Buck) Rogers, the First Officer, and the Flight Engineer then descended the aviation steps and, upon their getting aboard the waiting Sunshine Holidays crew bus, occupied the front passengers’ seats.



Addressing her four charges, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies ordered, “Right, you lot — into the bus! Sit at the back.” And Danny and his three former school chums silently did as they were told.



As soon as all of his passengers were wearing their seat belts, the crew bus driver put his vehicle in gear, and set off towards the Sunshine Holidays building.



They were headed for their crew room. There, the cabin crew would conduct their routine post-flight debrief, and count up their day’s Duty Frees takings, before finally signing off duty.



Seated at the back of the crew bus, the four former classmates now had a chance to speak to each other again. Their first opportunity, since early-morning, when they had conducted their impromptu: what-the-hell-is-going-on-here? confab, in the loo, before boarding the aircraft.



“Enough is enough — and I’ve had enough!” exclaimed Eric Pierce. “I’ll be at the Job Centre first thing in the morning. Sod this! No way, am I coming back here on Wednesday, to … to … No way, am I coming back!” vowed Eric.



“And I’m coming with you, Eric,” said Kelvin Costello. “Ruddy hell! I’m going to be having nightmares for months — years, even!”"



“The worst day of my life, this has been,” said Alan Wallace wretchedly. “No way, can I take any more. I’ll do anything. I’ll take any job — any job! — if it means I won’t have to come back here, and …” Alan’s voice trailed off, unable or unwilling, to voice what he knew he would have to go through again if he came back.



“Count me in, too,” Alan went on, a moment later. “The Job Centre’s bound to have something for us … There’s always jobs, for those who want them.”



Danny, of course, had no intention of accompanying his pals to the Job Centre. And he was struggling to think of something equally downbeat to say, when Chief Stewardess Julie Davies rescued him, when she suddenly said: “What are you lot muttering on about, in the back?”



When none of his pals spoke up, Danny replied respectfully, “Nothing, Miss Julie.”



“Well, you lot; don’t go thinking you have all finished, for the day — because you haven’t,” said the senior air hostess. “You’ve all still got some other … duties, to perform, before I sign you off duty.”



Eric, Kelvin and Alan looked at each other; ‘What-the-hell-now?’ expressions, written all over their glum faces.



* * *



The four air hostesses, upon arriving at the Sunshine Holidays crew room (the flight deck crew had their own office), made straight for the drinks machine to get coffee; Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, telling the four Air Purification Technicians to get a drink of water from the tap.



Supplied with coffee, the four air hostesses were now ready to settle down to their routine post-flight debrief. After which, they would count up the money they had taken today from Duty Free sales, and from the sales of drinks, etc.



But, first … Chief Stewardess Julie Davies and air hostesses Carol, Ann, and Diane, would duly avail themselves of another aspect of the new perk of their job: the post-flight services, of their techies.



The Sunshine Holidays crew room was quite spacious, and not overly utilitarian. There were four, four-seat settees and, also dotted around the room were a good number of comfortable-looking armchairs and other well-cushioned seats.



And there were two large work tables.



At the moment, one of these work tables was occupied by four young men — Sunshine Holidays stewards — who were counting up the Duty Frees takings from their own flight. And, scornful smirks broke out upon their faces, upon their seeing the decidedly ignominious entrance of the four techies.



As soon as the four air hostesses had seated themselves upon one of the four-seat settees, cups of coffee in hand, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies authoritatively addressed the four Air Purification Technicians. “Right then, you lot: Feet!”



The four male stewards snickered, and made derogatory, scathing comments that brought blushes of shame and humiliation to the faces of Danny and his three former schoolmates.



“Yes … you heard me correctly,” said Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, when her four dumbfounded charges didn’t move; remained frozen, as still as snowmen.



“You will now perform your post-flight — and, most important — duties: Attending us, your supervisors,” she told them.



“You see … this is the sort of thing, that is going to happen, from now on,” continued the senior air hostess, “to people such as yourselves.



“To layabout, workshy, job-dodging malingerers, who; rather than do an honest day’s work, would rather sponge — from people like us!” she accused hotly.



“Yes — from us!” she repeated vehemently, indicating to herself, and to her co victims of their techies’ outrageous sponging; air hostesses Ann, Diane, and Carol, who were all nodding their heads, in their emphatic agreement with their senior air hostess’s strongly-felt sentiments.



“Now … first — and foremost — to help us to wind down after our flight duty, you will massage our feet for us,” decreed Chief Stewardess Julie Davies.



“Each time you return here from a flight duty, without needing to be told, you will station yourself at the feet of an air hostess: The same air hostess, who you had served under during the passenger transfer interlude at the destination airport.



“And, today … that means us,” Chief Stewardess Julie Davies told the four techies, once again rather needlessly indicating to herself, and to her three colleagues: air hostesses Ann, Diane, and Carol — as if their techies might have forgotten who they had “served under,” earlier that day.



“Then, afterwards,” continued the senior air hostess, in matter-of-fact tones, “you will perform your shoe-cleaning duties.



“While we count our takings, you will be busy cleaning our shoes — and, to a very high standard; polishing our pumps, to a high shine. So that, when you return our pumps to our lockers, they are spotless and gleaming, and ready for us to wear on our next flight duty.



“I can see, from the looks on your faces … especially you, Wallace,” went on Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, “that some of you aren’t exactly over the moon about these arrangements. But … just in case any of you are getting the idea into your heads, of refusing; either to massage our feet, or to clean and polish our shoes — or, even, of simply walking out, on us … well, I would advise you to think again,” she cautioned.



“Because I would be obliged to make due note of your transgressions, in your Satisfaction of Conduct report. And I assure you, they won’t like that, down at the Job Centre.



“In fact; in the event of your walking out on us, if you were to then compound your gross misconduct by failing to report for duty on Wednesday — unless, of course, you’d found a job in the meantime … that would be it. You’ll have shot your bolt. Your unemployment benefit payments would be stopped, with immediate effect,” she warned.



“So, if any of you want to go … now is the time,” said the senior air hostess.



When none of her four charges showed any sign of leaving, or of refusing to comply; showed no sign of refusing to obediently perform their assigned duties — showed no open defiance — the senior air hostess said, “Okay, then. Good. You’ll be of use to someone yet.



“In a moment, you will massage our feet … In a moment. Because first, I’d like to give the four of you a little … pep talk,” said Chief Stewardess Julie Davies.



“This, is your most important duty. Never forget that. And do not take lightly; don’t underestimate its importance. To us: your supervisors.



“After flight duty, our feet are always tired and achy, and in great need of soothing attentions, soothing ministrations …



“And, when you attend us, we will expect you to give us nothing less than one hundred per cent. One hundred per cent, of your concentration, care, effort, diligence — and, above all, your wholehearted commitment to the cause. Your wholehearted commitment: to pleasing us, and to satisfying us, when performing your foot massage duties for us.



“At first,” continued the senior air hostess, “when you attend us, your efforts to please us will be clumsy, ineffectual — and, highly unsatisfactory. But, that is only to be expected, and we will make due allowance for your initial ineptitude.



“Massage, after all, is an art. And, like any art, it cannot be learned in a day … no matter how keen, the student,” said Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, looking directly at Danny.



“But,” continued the senior air hostess, “under our, and your other air hostess supervisors’ tutelage, your foot-massage techniques will quickly improve. We will teach you, instruct you, guide you. We will ensure, that you attain at least a basic level of competence, in the art of foot-massage … And then, of course, we will expect you to apply the skills we teach you, to the very best of your ability. Each and every time you attend us.



“Aptitude for foot-massage will vary, from techie to techie. We understand that, and we will give due consideration. But, I repeat: This, is your most important duty — never forget that. Always give us one hundred per cent. That, is our expectation of you … And, our demand.



“But, it’s not all doom and gloom,” Chief Stewardess Julie Davies went on, brightly, and with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Because here’s the exciting part: Sunshine Holidays will be offering a monthly prize for the best techie: Foot Masseur of the Month.



“Each air hostess you attend, will mark the quality and satisfaction standard of your post-flight foot massage performance, by awarding points, on a scale of one to ten. She will also write a short report, recording her comments.



“Then, at the end of the month, the techie with the highest total of points will be declared the prize winner.



“The prizes, for the Air Purification Technicians who win the Foot Masseur of the Month award, will vary. One month, the prize will be a Sunshine Holidays voucher. Another month, it may be a three-piece set of Sunshine Holidays logo’d luggage. Or … well, it could be anything. Whatever the month’s prize happens to be, it will be announced at the beginning of the month, and awarded at the end of the month.



“And — and this is my favourite part … a full-colour photo of the prize-winning techie will appear in each month’s Sunshine Holidays in-flight magazine, accompanying the regular Foot Masseur of the Month article. The articles will be written by the senior air hostesses — I will be writing the first article — and they will feature the reports, comments, and opinions of all of the air hostesses, for whom the prize-winning Air Purification Technician had performed foot-massage.



“So,” said Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, to the four techies, “we, are now sitting comfortably … so you, will begin.



“Now … you, Dawson,” said Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, looking Danny straight in the eye, “let us test your … aptitude, for foot-massage.



“It’s funny … but, for some reason, Dawson, I have high hopes of you … you could say, a little bird told me,” Chief Stewardess Julie Davies told Danny, still looking him straight in the eye; her expression, saying … something.



And, at her look … something, shot through Danny, seeming to tingle every cell in his body.



Something was going on here, with the senior air hostess … but what? wondered Danny.



“Sit on the floor, Dawson, at my feet. In assuming your foot massage position, you will set the example for your colleagues to follow. Sit on the floor, right in front of me, cross-legged … that’s right, Dawson … yes, sit exactly there, directly facing me. Now, shoes. Take off my pumps, Dawson — remove them carefully. Always remove our pumps carefully, as they can be rather tight-fitting, especially when we are still wearing them in,” instructed Chief Stewardess Julie Davies.



And, following Danny’s example, techies Pierce, Costello and Wallace, respectively, sat, cross-legged at the feet of the same air hostess he had ‘served under’ earlier that day, during the passenger transfer interlude at the destination airport: air hostesses Ann, Diane, and Carol, respectively.



To yet more derisive titters and asinine asides from the four Sunshine Holidays male stewards.



The faces of Danny’s three former school pals were now bright red with shame, as they compliantly sat at the feet of the air hostess they were attending.



Danny, on the other hand, was now barely noticing the presence of the four Sunshine Holidays male stewards; their juvenile comments, going almost totally unregistered.



Danny could not believe, just could not believe, that this was actually happening. After the ultra amazing day that he’d already had … now this!



Talk about the icing on the cake!



Danny could barely contain his fast-getting-out-of-control excitement, as he did exactly as instructed by Chief Stewardess Julie Davies.



Reverently, solemnly, Danny took hold of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies’s right foot … and he was awestruck.



Danny was awestruck, at the amazing, incredible feeling; the actual reality, of subserviently sitting at her feet, and of holding her uniform issue, two-inch heeled, dark-blue pump shod foot, in his very own two hands.



For long, lingering seconds, Danny held onto the senior air hostess’s right, dark-blue pump shod foot, savouring the wonderful feel of it.



Danny savoured the feel of the supple, well-worn shoe-leather. He savoured the feel of the senior air hostess’s foot, warm inside. He savoured the feel of the weight of her foot, resting in his hands; the weight, gradually increasing as she sat back and relaxed. Relaxed … at being attended.



Gently, carefully, reverently, solemnly, Danny eased off Chief Stewardess Julie Davies’s right shoe … and then her left shoe. Despite her pumps being rather well-worn, they came free reluctantly, and Danny distinctly heard the soft whoosh of escaping air, upon his carefully removing each of her shoes.



Elation.



That was the emotion, that Danny now felt. Surging, soaring elation. Danny was elated, as he actually held Chief Stewardess Julie Davies’s right, warm, dark-hosed foot, in his very own hands. Danny could hardly bear the excitement; the incredible, thrilling excitement that he felt.



“All right, Dawson. Start, by massaging my right foot, since you already have hold of it. This first session, Dawson, is primarily about assessing your aptitude for foot-massage. So, just let your … instincts, guide you,” instructed Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, while again giving Danny, ‘that look’.



Danny did just as he was told: Let himself be guided by his instincts. Danny just did … what seemed to come so naturally to him.



Starting at the bottom of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies’s right, dark hose covered heel, Danny got to work — set about his post-flight duty.



He applied both thumbs to her heel; his fingers, holding her foot nice and steady while he worked. Working both thumbs, in a firm, circular movement, Danny enjoyed the sight of the bottom of the senior air hostess’s heel; sinking, at the pressure of his touch, and then slowly springing back, as he spent some moments concentrating his attentions there.



After a few moments of firmly rotating his thumbs into the bottom of the senior air hostess’s right heel, barely relieving pressure, he then moved on to her arch, and then the ball of her foot; instinctively lingering there, just as he had done so with her heel. And then, on to her toes; gently, reverently, kneading them between the pads of his fingers and thumbs.



Heaven.



That was where Danny was, as he performed his humble, sacred service, for Chief Stewardess Julie Davies.



And, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies stared Danny right in the eye, giving him ‘that look’ — but said not a word, as she then rested the dark-hosed sole of her left foot upon Danny’s upper, inner thigh … her toes, close to his groin. She rested the sole of her foot near his groin, as she assessed his … aptitude.



Fulfillment.



That was the emotion, that Danny now felt. Sweet, blissful fulfillment.



Danny felt fulfilled, as he subserviently massaged the dark-hosed, post-flight feet, of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies.



Fulfillment, was what Danny experienced, as he humbly massaged the feet of the senior air hostess — the air hostess who made him feel humble — who, in the space of just one day, he found himself respecting, admiring, adoring … and now, worshipping.



Danny was fulfilled, as he held nothing back; as he gave Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, his one hundred per cent. The one hundred percent concentration, care, effort, diligence — and, above all, commmitment to the cause — that she demanded.

The commitment to the cause, that all of the air hostesses that he would come to attend, would demand — and he would unstintingly give.



Danny was fulfilled, as he massaged the warm, dark-hosed soles, of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies’s hard-working — overworked — tired and achy, air hostess feet. Or: “Hostie feet,” as air hostess Ann had laughingly called them, when talking to air hostess Diane that morning, on the apron of Corfu airport. “There’s nothing like ‘em!” air hostess Ann had said.



And now, Danny was inclined to agree, with air hostess Ann.



Sacred.



To Danny, his foot-massage duties, for the air hostesses, were sacred.



Danny knew; understood, that they were his most important duties. Danny would never forget that. Nor, would he underestimate their importance, to the air hostesses … not, that they would ever let him forget.



Danny attended Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, with his “soothing ministrations.” He gave the senior air hostess everything he had. His one hundred per cent. His holding-nothing-back, wholehearted commitment to the cause. The cause: to please, and to satisfy the air hostesses, with a competently administered foot-massage.



And, as he did so, it was an epic struggle, for Danny, not to give in to an almost overwhelming desire. The desire to yield, to the overriding-everything-else, compulsion: to kiss the soles of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies’s shapely, beautiful— yes, beautiful, feet.



For Danny yearned for nothing more, in that moment, than to humbly, solemnly kiss the soles of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies’s feet. To kiss her feet, in expression of his respect, his reverence — his adoration. In expression, of his willing servitude. In expression, of his total submission.



“You are a natural, Dawson,” said Chief Stewardess Julie Davies. “Quite excellent, for a first-time effort. I shall write a sparkling report, to that effect. And I shall be awarding your marks, as nine out of ten.”



Ecstasy.



That was the emotion, that Danny felt at that moment. Ecstasy.



At Chief Stewardess Julie Davies’s (highly unexpected!) compliment, Danny’s heart swelled almost to bursting. Bursting, with pride and pleasure. With ecstasy.



At seeing her light praise light up Danny’s face with such open pride and pleasure — with such elation, such ecstasy — the senior air hostess sought to quickly quell his ardour. To bring him back down a peg. To quickly put him, right back in his place.



And so, after glancing over, at the feeble by comparison efforts of Dawson’s three colleagues; at the quite obviously less than one hundred per cent concentration, effort, care, diligence — commitment to the cause — of their foot-massaging performances, she said, “Well … at least you seem to be the best of a poor bunch, Dawson.”



Danny’s elation was not diminished, though, by the senior air hostess’s qualifying remark — but enhanced. He was top of his class! He was “A natural”! And, he’d scored nine out of ten, for his very first foot-massage for an air hostess! His very first foot-massage, for Chief Stewardess Julie Davies.



Danny was ecstatic.



Eliciting— no, actually earning, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies’s compliment: “You are a natural, Dawson,” was the finest achievement of his life. And nothing — nothing! — was going to spoil it. Nothing, was going to spoil his glory.



He may well be “The best of a poor bunch.” But, he was hardly to blame for his three former school pals’ lack of … enthusiasm, was he? And she did say, that she was going to “write a sparkling report,” didn’t she? And she did say, that she was going to award his “Quite excellent,” foot-massage performance, for her, as nine out of ten, didn’t she?



Who was she kidding? The Foot Masseur of the Month prize was as good as his!



And, at feeling, with his sensitive fingertips, the exciting texture of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies’s warm, dark-hosed, tired and achy, post-flight feet, as he subserviently massaged them for her … and, as she stared right into his eyes, giving him ‘that look’, as he did so … Danny was, once again, getting all hot-under-the-collar bothered.



Danny was getting excited, very excited. Over-excited. ‘Down there’ …



And, Danny wanted to do ‘something’ about it — was desperate — to do ‘something’ about it.



Danny wanted to touch himself. He wanted to play with himself. He wanted to pull his penis, in worship.



Danny wanted to pay his reverent ‘devotions’. He wanted to make his solemn ‘sacrifice’. To Chief Stewardess Julie Davies — his authoritarian air hostess Goddess.



And, Danny wanted to pay his … respects, to Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, now. Now! Now, in the here-and-now! Now, in the moment! — in real time — and not have to wait until later, when he got home, and replayed in his mind, the …



But, he couldn’t! Because, it was going to have to … wait until later.



From time to time, the four male stewards, who were still sitting at the counting-up table, glanced over at the amusing antics of their female counterparts. The hosties, they saw, were all certainly making the most of the new perk of their job!



Ha ha ha ha! Talk about power going straight to their pretty little heads! thought Chief Steward Colin Clark … Not, that it was all that funny, actually.



Just a few weeks ago, thought Chief Steward Colin Clark, these air hostesses wouldn’t have said boo to a goose. But, since the Authoritarian Female Party came to power, they’ve been ruling the roost, in here.



And, you’d have to be a fool, a damn fool, to say anything to them; to say anything to them, about their … attitude.



You’d have to be a fool, to complain. Because, next thing you know, you could find yourself out of a job, and on to the dole … And finding yourself earning your Unemployment Benefit payments, by working as a community servant …



And now, the hosties were giving the techies hell.



Chief Steward Colin Clark and his fellow stewards could almost feel sorry for the techies … but not quite.



After all, they were here for a reason. A very good reason. They didn’t want to go to work. They didn’t want to earn their living. No — as Julie had just said: they preferred to sponge. Sponge, from solid citizen, hard-working tax-payers!



Though it was more about ingratiating themselves with the hosties, nonetheless, the four male stewards couldn’t help but smile and smirk, chuckle and snicker, and laugh and joke among themselves, at seeing just what those poor sods, the Air Purification Technicians — Ha! ‘Air Purification Technicians’! — were actually being reduced to.



What the techies were reduced to, after having been forced to sniff; to sniff up and absorb into their lungs, the stinky foot fumes of two contingents of female air passengers, on the more than three-hour-long flights to Corfu, and back — so that the Sunshine Holidays passengers wouldn’t have to.



And now, after having gone through all of that … all of that humiliating torment, as if that wasn’t ‘motivation’ enough for them, they were now being callously dominated, cruelly controlled — ruthlessly subjugated — by the hosties. Hell, it wasn’t half cruel — but you had to laugh!



And, if that didn’t get the workshy, malingering, sponging so-and-so’s looking for a job — nothing would! Ha ha ha ha!



The four male stewards laughed and joked. Tittered and snickered. But, if you listened to them closely enough, you might detect that their hilarity had an underlying … forced, quality to it. That their mirth was strained. Their chuckles, edged with a false note.



Because, if they weren’t careful; if they didn’t watch their mouths — and if they didn’t kowtow — to the air hostesses …



At hearing the derisive, contemptuous comments; the ribald asides of the four male stewards, the faces of techies Costello, Pierce, and Wallace, respectively, blushed beetroot-red, with shame and humiliation. Blushed crimson, as they compliantly sat, cross-legged, at the dark-hosed, tired and achy, post-flight feet of air hostesses Diane, Ann, and Carol, respectively.



Danny, on the other hand, was by now oblivious to the male stewards’ derisive looks; to their contemptuous comments. He didn’t see them, or hear them. His mind — as well as his hands — were otherwise occupied. Fully occupied. One hundred per cent, committed. Committed, to performing his sacred duties.



Reluctantly, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies finally called a halt, to the foot-massaging services of techies Dawson, Wallace, Pierce, and Costello. “All right, you lot, it’s time for you to clean our shoes, while we count up our day’s takings,” she said.



“Clean the shoes of the air hostess, whose feet you have just been massaging — if I can call it that! From what I’ve been seeing, only Dawson, here, seems to have any real potential; any real aptitude, for the art of foot-massage. Well done, Dawson … Now, there are my uniform pumps. Pick them up, and take them over to my locker — number six. It’s open, and has cleaning and polishing cloths and brushes inside. I want you to polish my pumps to within an inch of their lives, Dawson. And I warn you: I’ll be checking the quality of your work when you’re done.



“Remember, Dawson, I expect one hundred per cent from you, at all times — never forget that. And that applies to all techies!” she added sternly, looking at Danny’s three former school chums: Eric, Kelvin, and Alan — his fellow Air Purification Technicians … And, poor opposition, thought Danny, for the Foot Masseur of the Month award.



Danny; his face blushing crimson from Chief Stewardess Julie Davies’s extra compliment, said obediently, “Yes, Miss Julie,” and he proudly proceeded to do her bidding … For he was doing the bidding of a Goddess.



With her uniform issue, two-inch heeled, dark-blue pumps in his hands, he headed for Chief Stewardess Julie Davies’s locker — number six.



* * *



About half an hour later, after they had finished counting up their day’s takings, the four air hostesses: Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, and air hostesses Carol, Ann, and Diane, respectively, came over to their lockers to see what kind of job techies Dawson, Wallace, Pierce, and Costello, respectively, had made of cleaning and polishing their uniform pumps.



Upon neither herself or her three colleagues being able to find fault with the shoe-cleaning efforts of their appointed techies, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies said, “Okay, then. You are all done for the day. You can go home.



“Don’t forget: you are to report to your placements, on alternate days. So — unless you happen to find a job tomorrow … you should report to the Sunshine Holidays Information Desk, on Wednesday, at six a.m.



“You’ll have four different air hostesses to supervise you — we’ve all got forty-eight hours leave. And don’t be late, or there’ll be trouble. If I find out that you have been late again, Dawson …



“Now, get lost, the lot of you!” ordered Chief Stewardess Julie Davies disgustedly. “I’m sick of the very sight of you, you sponging, workshy, job-dodging, parasitic, useless bunch of—”



“Tanya, has David replied to your e-mail yet?” asked Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis; two, of the four air hostesses who were now breezing into the Sunshine Holidays crew room; three techies, trailing at their heels.



“No,” replied air hostess Tanya. “He probably can’t be bothered.”



“Knowing him,” responded Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, “the idiot’s probably deleted it by mistake. Send your e-mail again, Tanya.”



“Okay, Jane, I will. But I’ll tell you what: he’d better reply this time!” said air hostess Tanya, hotly.



“I’m sure he will, Tanya. I— I … I don’t … ruddy well believe it!” exclaimed Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, suddenly curtailing her conversation with air hostess Tanya.



“Danny Dawson? He’s here … as one of the techies? Oh my God! I can’t believe it. It’s too good to be true! Oh, just wait until I see his sisters, Elaine and Melanie! They are going to laugh their ruddy heads off. Ha ha ha ha!” laughed Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, gleefully, in anticipation of imparting such delicious news: Danny Dawson — an Air Purification Technician!



“Hmm … I take it then, Jane, that you know Air Purification Technician Daniel Dawson?” said Chief Stewardess Julie Davies dryly.



“Oh, I know him, Julie. I know Danny Dawson, all right! I know he has always been a right pain in the you-know-what, to his sisters — if even half of what Elaine and Mel have told me about him, is anything to go by. And he’s certainly always made a pest of himself whenever I’ve been round to visit his sisters. Oh, I wish he’d been operating on my flight, today! I’d teach him some manners …



“Anyway, Julie, never mind about Danny Dawson, I’ve got more important things to think about. One of my own techies, Lee Speakman, has failed to turn up. So I’m going to have to operate the flight to Izmir, with only three Air Purification Technicians On Station.



“This is such an unnecessary problem,” went on Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, in annoyance. “And an avoidable one. One that should have been foreseen; never have been allowed to happen.



“In future, we should have a couple of techies stationed in the crew room, on stand-by duty — drag the lazy sods away from their TVs, and get them doing something useful. And, if it turns out they aren’t required to operate on a flight … well, we can certainly put them to good use in here, can’t we?” she said reasonably.



Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis went on, “First thing in the morning, I’ll put it to Crewing. They’ll see the sense of it; sort it out, for us. No problem at all. Still … that doesn’t solve my problem now, does it, Julie?” she complained.



Now, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies prepared to step in and save the day.



This, was exactly the sort of situation she was waiting for. Hoping for.



She had been wondering, when her first opportunity to take advantage of Dawson’s … handicap, would arise. Wondering, when she might be able to benefit, from his … Achilles heel. Wondering, when she would get her first chance, to exploit his foot-fetishism.



While ostensibly airing her appeal to all four, of the Air Purification Technicians under her charge, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, all the while, directed her gaze — directed ‘that look’ — at just one of them: Danny.



“Right then, you lot,” began Chief Stewardess Julie Davies. “You have all heard what Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis has just said: This is an emergency.



“Now … I want a volunteer … And I know, you won’t let me down … Brownie points, are up for grabs here; a good word, in your Satisfaction of Conduct report … Well, don’t all shout at once!” she said sarcastically, when none of her four techies spoke up, nor raised a hand.



“I want one of you,” she went on, still staring at Danny, “to volunteer to serve under Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, and to operate on her Izmir flight. Now … I can’t order you to do it — you’ve all fulfilled your requirements for today.” Her eyes, now boring straight into Danny’s, and giving him ‘that look’, she then said, “You must volunteer … of your own free will.”



Danny wanted to put up his hand. He wanted to cry out: ‘I’ll do it! Me! Let me! I’ll do it!!’ Danny wanted to volunteer — more than anything! — but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Couldn’t bring himself to raise his hand.



How could he? What would his former school chums think? What would they say? Surely, he would no longer have their good opinion. They would be finished with him, as a friend. Cast him adrift. Ostracize him. Disown him. And then, word would get around …



Still staring fixedly at Danny, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies went on, “I must warn you. Whichever one of you … who volunteers to serve under Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, and to operate on her Izmir flight, you will be late getting back. Very late.



“The return flight from Turkey is due to arrive back in Manchester at one a.m. Then, of course, when you return to the crew room, you will still have to attend one of the air hostesses — the same one you served under, during the passenger transfer interlude at the destination airport.



“You will still have to perform your post-flight foot-massage, and your shoe-cleaning duties, for her. Until about two a.m. Volunteering, does not exempt you from these duties.



“So it’s going to mean a very long, and tiring day … for one of you,” said Chief Stewardess Julie Davies; her eyes, still riveted upon Danny’s face. Still giving him, ‘that look’.



“So … still, no volunteer?” she asked.



Danny’s former school pals: Eric, Kelvin, and Alan, were wild-eyed with dread. Looking anywhere, except at Chief Stewardess Julie Davies; above all, avoiding direct eye contact with her, at all costs. They feared, too, that if none of them volunteered, she would ‘volunteer’ one of them, herself.



Perfectly comprehending Danny’s awful dilemma, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies was enjoying herself hugely. She knew she had Dawson, right in the palm of her hand. She was playing with him. Toying with him. Making him squirm.



“You were late this morning, Dawson. You almost made us miss our take-off slot. And then you wasted even more time, dawdling about at Corfu … Volunteer to operate on Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis’s flight to Izmir … and I’ll wipe your slate clean. I won’t make any note of your misdemeanours today, when I write up your Satisfaction of Conduct report … And, I’ll tell your Job Centre, about your volunteering now. They will record your good behaviour, for future reference. In your file.”



When she saw that Danny was still too afraid to speak; too afraid of incurring his three peers’ decidedly adverse opinion of him, should he actually put up his hand and volunteer, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies decided it was time to prompt him … to play her trump card.



Chief Stewardess Julie Davies stepped right up to Danny, whispered in his ear … and gave Danny the shock of his life.



“Dawson,” she murmured softly, so that no one else in the Sunshine Holidays crew room had a clue what she was saying.



“Dawson …” she whispered, her breath, warm and tickling on his ear, “… volunteer now, to operate on Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis’s flight to Izmir … and I’ll make you a promise. Volunteer, and … and the next time you operate on one of my flights … I’ll … I’ll leave your hands untied … Do you understand, Dawson? Are you taking that on board? I said I’ll leave your hands untied … I won’t restrain your wrists, to your service vehicle …”



Danny was shocked. Stunned.



And it showed. It showed, in his suddenly crimson, sweat-breaking-out-on-his-forehead, face.



Neither Danny’s former school pals, nor anyone else in the Sunshine Holidays crew room, had an inkling; had not the remotest idea, as to what Chief Stewardess Julie Davies had whispered to Danny.



It was for his ears only. It was strictly between the two of them. It was … their secret.



Oh my God! thought Danny. She knows! She knows!!



And she says she’ll leave my hands untied, the next time I operate on one of her flights! She’s promised! Oh God! Oh God!! I’ll be able to … Oh God oh God oh God!



Danny no longer cared, what his friends were going to think, or what they might say. Or what anyone else, might think or say. Or about word, spreading. Let them all think or say whatever the hell they liked! Let them, spread the word! He no longer cared. Chief Stewardess Julie Davies’s … deal — her promise! — was just too good to turn down! She was going to leave his hands untied!!



Danny numbly nodded, indicating his agreement to Chief Stewardess Julie Davies.



Turning to Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, Danny said, “Miss Jane … Miss Jane, I’d … I want to volunteer, to operate on your flight to Izmir.”

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