Flight SH123 To Corfu - Part 7

This story is written by David, please send comments and appreciation to voondave@yahoo.co.uk

Part 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, 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 'lifestyle' idlers, a Letter of Notification. 
 
And upon reading their letters, to their abject dismay they had found 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: Flight SH 123 to Corfu ...
 
                                                                                               *  
 
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 weakly lit under-seat space of seat line C, to the seat locations of summoning female passengers (between twelve and sixteen summonses, 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 arousal.  
 
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 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, as they ushered 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 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. 
 
Danny's pulse quickened. Not only a 'sighting', but a running commentary as well! 
 
Air hostess Diane went on, feelingly, "I can't wait to get back on that plane, and massage my feet on Costello's face – the workshy, sponging malingerer!"
 
What, the ...? thought Danny.
 
And 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! Pierce 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 incredulously; his heart pounding frenetically. I can't believe what I'm hearing! Air hostesses Ann and Diane, are going to massage their feet ... on Eric and Kel's faces!  
 
"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 hostesses Ann and Diane'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; couldn't move. But he could see. And he could listen ... and he was devouring air hostesses Ann and Diane's every word.
 
Danny watched the exciting '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 could keep on 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. Listening to – eavesdropping on! – air hostesses Ann and Diane's excited, exultant – gleeful – 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. 
 
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, and barely able to contain their ...  
 
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, 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 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 legislative processes and procedures; bills, motions, 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 so-called 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. 
 
Air hostess Carol was glad – oh, so very glad! – that she had voted for the Authoritarian Female Party. 
 
Britain was looking a better place 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 extremely welcome, female-friendly, long overdue, changes for the better. 
 
Changes, that empowered the country's females. Changes, that invested the females of Britain, with authority. An authority, that British females now seemed to emanate; seemed to wear about themselves, like an aura ... or a protective shield.
 
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. Whining and whinging, as she tormented him with the nylon-covered toes, of each of her overworked, tired and achy, sweaty, stinky feet, in turn.
 
"That's right, Wallace ... smelly, aren't they? ... stink, don't they?" goaded air hostess Carol. 
 
"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 better. 
 
"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!" taunted air hostess Carol, doing her best to stress out Wallace even more. Doing her best, to maximise 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 wicked taunting. 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 strove to totally demolish – to pulverise – what little was left remaining of Al's spirit. 
 
Al was in pieces. He was falling apart, cracking, crumbling; his confidence, his pride, his self-respect, being laid to waste. Al was in ruins – and air hostess Carol was his wrecking-ball. The authoress of his destruction. His nemesis.
 
Danny listened, as air hostess Carol succeeded – 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. 
 
Danny 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?
 
That air hostesses, would have a special role? That air hostesses, would actually play a special part – would be key – in the drive 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. Suspected, 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: "And I'll be having Costello. Having Costello, as my own, personal ... footman. Ha ha ha ha!"

 
So, reasoned Danny, air hostess Diane knew in advance!

 
And, mused Danny, if this was the case ... 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. 

 
Upon evaluating his evidence, Danny concluded 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, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies had actually pulled rank – on air hostess Carol ...
 
As soon as the four techies were On Station, and the aircraft was taxiing towards the runway, the 'drawing of lots' had taken place. 
 
And, 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. She had been the one, who had borne the brunt of the flak from their worrisome Captain.
 
Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, having taken first pick, as was her entitlement as senior air hostess, had originally chosen Alan Wallace. 
 
Of the four techies, she thought Wallace looked to be the most vulnerable of them. And she had looked forward to crushing his spirit ('motivating' him into finding gainful employment), during her passenger transfer interlude 'access' to him, at the destination airport. 
 
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 heady – 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 – and 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, 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-blond 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 seems 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. 
 
Marie said that air hostess Carol had told her quite a lot about the job. She said she loved the job. Air hostess Carol had said that the only real downside, 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 – 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, as a special favour, 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. Wanted to play with himself. 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 sacred sacrifice, to her! To spill his seed – in her honour! 
 
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, and so had subsequently chosen Wallace), 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 had returned to their crew room. After all ... it wasn't something that Dawson would be able to hide for long.
 
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 ... 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, ultra-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 colleagues: 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 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 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 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 – the Manchester-bound passengers are here!"
 
A moment later, via the S.A.P.S. computer, the heads of the four Air Purification Technicians, 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, thought Danny, 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 impurities, such 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 – Flight SH 124 to Manchester – was all but indistinguishable from the out-bound flight. 
 
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 foot spaces of 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 was proved 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, 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, 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 crew 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, just-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 woefully. "No way, can I take any more," he said wretchedly. "I'll do anything. I'll take any job – and I mean, any job! – if it means I won't have to come back here, and ..." Alan's voice trailed off, unable or unwilling to voice; to put into actual words, 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 had no intention of accompanying his pals to the Job Centre – just as Chief Stewardess Julie Davies believed, Danny had already found his vocation. And he was struggling to think of something equally downbeat to say, when Chief Stewardess Julie Davies rescued him, when she 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 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 faces.
 
                                                                      *                        *                       *  
 
Upon arriving at the Sunshine Holidays crew room, the four air hostesses (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 brand-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 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 the likes of you lot. 
 
"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 emphatic agreement with the senior air hostess's strongly-felt sentiments.
 
"Now ... First – and foremost – to help us wind down after our flight duty, you will massage our feet," 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 are busy counting our Duty Frees 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, 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 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 awarding 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 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 that 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, that month. 
 
"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, shall we? 
 
"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 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 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! And, if Danny had enjoyed the cake, he was going to love the icing! 
 
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. 
 
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. 
 
Danny 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 on to 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, sensitive inner thigh; her toes, close to his groin, as she assessed his ... aptitude.
 
Fulfillment. 
 
That was the emotion, that Danny felt. Sweet, blissful fulfillment. 
 
Danny felt fulfilled, as he subserviently massaged the dark-hosed, post-flight feet, of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies. 
 
Fulfillment, was Danny's experience, as he humbly massaged the feet of the senior air hostess – the air hostess, who made him feel humble – and who, in the space of just one day, he found himself respecting, revering, 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, commitment to the cause – that she demanded. The service, 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 – he had been told, but he didn't need to be told – 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 best, his utmost; 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 an overriding-everything-else compulsion: to kiss the soles of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies's shapely, beautiful, adorable— yes, adorable, 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, in that moment. Ecstasy.
 
At Chief Stewardess Julie Davies's (highly unexpected!) compliment, Danny's heart swelled almost to bursting. Bursting, with pride and pleasure. Bursting, with ecstasy. 
 
At seeing her light praise light up Danny's face, with such open pride and pleasure – with such ecstasy – the senior air hostess sought to quickly quell his ardour. To bring him back down to earth – and, with a bump.
 
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 diminish 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 ... aptitude, 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 foot-massage performance, for her, as nine out of ten, didn't she? "Quite excellent, for a first-time effort."
 
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 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, with a frown, these air hostesses wouldn't have said boo to a goose. But, since the Authoritarian Female Party came to power, there's been a power shift in the crew room, too. The hosties have been laying the law down; ruling the roost, in here. 
 
And, you'd have to be a 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 onto the dole ... And maybe finding yourself earning your Unemployment Benefit payments, by being assigned to a 'placement', and 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 the male stewards had become all too aware that, if they weren't careful; if they didn't watch their steps, and if they didn't watch their mouths, and if they didn't defer – 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 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. Unconscious, of their contemptuous comments and ribald ribbing. 
 
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 to the cause. 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 Duty Free 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, Danny headed for Chief Stewardess Julie Davies's locker – number six.
 
                                                                    *                        *                        *     
About half an hour later, after they had finished counting up their day's Duty Free 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 any of her three colleagues faulting the shoe-cleaning efforts of their techies, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies told the four techies, "Okay, then. You are all done for the day now. 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 seventy-two 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, do you happen to know if Lee Speakman phoned in to let us know he wouldn't be reporting for duty?" 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.
 
"Yes, he did – but only about an hour ago, and so he hasn't given sufficient notice," replied air hostess Tanya. 
 
"Well, he's in trouble then," responded Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis. "What reason did Speakman give, Tanya?"
 
"Oh, some old flannel about having the flu. Ha! A classic case of 'Man Flu', no doubt," said air hostess Tanya scornfully.
 
"I bet Speakman's just fobbing us off, Tanya. I bet there's nothing wrong with him at all – not even 'Man Flu'. Well, he'd better come up with a doctor's note, or he's going to have his Unemployment Benefit payments stopped. 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. 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, in gleeful 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 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," Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis went on, "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 Izmir flight with only three Air Purification Technicians On Station.
 
Vexation evident in her tone, she went on, "It's a double-whammy, isn't it? Because, one: one of the four lines of seats on the plane will have to go without the services of an Air Purification Technician – I'll decide which line, based upon which of them is seating the fewest number of females. And, two: one of my air hostesses is going to be deprived of her brand-new perk of the job: passenger transfer interlude access, to a techie – and also his foot-massage and shoe-cleaning services, upon our return to the crew room.      
 
"So, Julie, you can appreciate the seriousness of the situation," continued Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, in great annoyance. "And this is such an unnecessary problem. A problem that should have been foreseen; avoided – never have been allowed to happen. A simple contingency measure – that's all it would take.
 
"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 my suggestion 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 a 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 the four techies spoke up, nor raised a hand.
 
"I want one of you," she went on, still pointedly 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 not be exempted from these obligations, just from your having volunteered. You will still have to perform your post-flight foot-massage, and your shoe-cleaning duties, for her. Until about two a.m. Or later, in the event of delays.
 
"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 that if none of them volunteered, she would 'volunteer' one of them, herself.
 
Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, perfectly comprehending Danny's awful dilemma, 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, 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 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, about 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 and 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!!
 
Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, was going to leave his hands untied ... He would be able to make his reverent devotions; be able to make his solemn sacrifices; be able to pay his ... respects, to his Goddesses, in real time! In the moment! In the here-and-now! And not have to wait until he got home, and replayed in his mind, the ... 
 
Danny numbly nodded, indicating his agreement to Chief Stewardess Julie Davies.
 
Turning to Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, Danny said, "Miss Jane ...  I'd ... I want to volunteer, to operate on your flight to Izmir."
 
"Ruddy hell, Julie! What did you say to him? Ruddy hell!!" exclaimed Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, in shock and disbelief. 
 
And, in great relief, too ... She would, after all, be operating the flight to Izmir with a full complement of Air Purification Technicians.  
 
                                                                        *                        *                        *   
Once again, Danny was sitting aboard the Sunshine Holidays crew bus. 
 
Danny sat at the back, along with the other three Air Purification Technicians (none of whom he knew) who would also be 'operating' on the Izmir flight. 
 
In the front passenger seats sat the Captain, First Officer, and the Flight Engineer. And seated just behind them were Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, and her three colleagues: air hostesses Tanya, Andrea, and Dawn.
 
Danny knew now, about the 'drawing of lots' by the air hostesses. The system, by which they chose their techies.
 
Danny had already suspected as much, after overhearing what air hostess Diane had said to air hostess Ann, earlier: "And, I'll be having Costello, as my own, personal ... footman." 
 
But now, Danny knew this for a fact. For Danny had just witnessed this drawing of lots (by dint of pulling a playing card from the pack; the higher value cards, deciding the pecking order of choice), in the Sunshine Holidays crew room. 
 
The drawing of lots, by the air hostesses, for them to choose which of the techies would attend them. Both, at the passenger transfer interlude at the destination airport, and also in the crew room, upon their return, when their chosen techie would perform his post-flight foot massage, for her. After which, she would then write her report, recording her comments regarding the quality and satisfaction of his foot-massage performance, and award him her marks out of ten, towards his Foot Masseur of the Month competition tally. 
 
And then, while she was busy counting up the day's Duty Free takings, he would clean and polish her uniform issue, two-inch heeled, dark-blue pumps, for her ... "So that, when you return them to our locker, they are all spotless and gleaming, and ready for our next flight duty."
 
Danny had witnessed the drawing of lots, by the air hostesses. Witnessed them choosing their techies. Witnessed them choosing the techie, who was to be their "own, personal ... footman."
 
And Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, taking first pick, as was her entitlement as senior air hostess, had chosen him – Danny. 
 
Because she wanted the pleasure – and the gratification – of teaching Danny "some manners." And she would then report back to his sisters, Elaine and Melanie, and tell them all about it.
 
The crew bus rolled to a stop next to another Sunshine Holidays 'Flying Pencil' aircraft, and Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis spoke authoritatively to her four charges. "Come on, out of the bus! Use the rear entrance steps to board the aircraft," she ordered crisply.
 
As soon as the four techies and the four air hostesses were aboard the jet-liner, Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis and her three air hostess colleagues: Tanya, Andrea and Dawn, set about the task of removing the four panels that were situated behind the rearmost row of seats: 50 A, B, C, and D.
 
The four air hostesses spun free the quick-release wing-nuts, and then removed the four panels and placed them aside. 
 
Now, having gained access to the under-seat spaces of the Flying Pencil's narrow fuselage, the four air hostesses pulled forward Air Purification Technician Service Vehicles A, B, C, and D.
 
"Okay, Danny," said Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis, nodding meaningfully towards the four heinously-conceived, poolside-recliner-like contraptions. "Since you were so kind as to volunteer, I'll let you take your pick – ha ha ha! Just think: actually volunteering – for this! I can't wait to tell Elaine and Mel ... I wonder what they'll think?"
 
Danny was red-faced from embarrassment and shame, as he replied respectfully, "Thank you, Miss Jane. I'll take this one." 
 
And even before Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis could issue her next order, Danny was already getting aboard Service Vehicle D. Danny knew the procedure: He lay on his back, with his head facing towards the front of the aircraft. 
 
Already, Danny was starting to feel quite at home. And, any moment now, he knew, he would be back inside the severely cramped – claustrophobic – confines, of the dim and dismal under-seat space of the Flying Pencil's narrow fuselage.
 
Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis crouched down beside Danny. 
 
Chuckling to herself, she strapped him aboard Service Vehicle D, restraining him by his ankles, wrists, and neck, securing him firmly, with the five leather straps. After sealing his mouth closed with a strip of adhesive tape, she cinched his nostrils shut with her thumb and forefinger ... Danny's bug-eyed, panicky look a moment later, assuring her that it was airtight. 
 
"I'll see you in Izmir, then. In about four hours," she told Danny. "And, trust me ... I'm looking forward to it."
 
So am I, Miss Jane, thought Danny excitedly. So am I ... 
 
But, that would be in about four hours' time. And a lot was going to happen, before then ... 
 
A lot of female passengers, who were seated in seat line D, would be pushing the button located under their right armrest ... to summon him. To summon the services, of an Air Purification Technician.
 
Danny settled back, looking forward to his next incredible adventure. As, with the leather sole of her uniform issue, two-inch heeled, dark-blue pump shod foot, Chief Stewardess Jane Lewis gleefully shoved Service Vehicle D back on track – consigning Danny to his fate.
 
                                                                       *                        *                        *   
 
Two days later, on Wednesday, Danny duly reported to the Sunshine Holidays Information Desk, at 06:00. And the three Air Purification Technicians who were already waiting there were all strangers to him. 
 
There was no sign of his three former school pals: Eric Pierce, Kelvin Costello and Alan Wallace.
 
After just one shift, operating as Air Purification Technicians in the severely cramped confines of the dim and dismal under-seat spaces of one of Sunshine Holidays 'Flying Pencil' aircraft, they'd had enough. More than enough. 
 
On Monday, as soon as Chief Stewardess Julie Davies had dismissed them for the day, Eric, Kelvin and Alan had agreed to meet up first thing on Tuesday morning, and head straight for their local Job Centre.
 
The Job Centre staff were very pleased to see them. Very helpful, they were. And only too happy, to assist the decidedly agitated threesome in their urgent quest to find gainful employment. 
 
And, find gainful employment, they did. 
 
Starting next day, Wednesday. Working for the local council, as refuse collectors ... Not quite, what they were looking for. Or hoping for.
 
But Danny's three former school pals – and, would-be 'career claimants' – accepted their job opportunities gratefully. And, with great relief.
 
Because anything was better – anything! – than having to return to their placements.  
 
Anything was better, than being 'obliged' to sniff; to sniff up and absorb into their lungs, the malodorous, nauseating, highly offensive, female passengers' stinky-feet fumes – that; these foul impurities, these ghastly contaminants, if left 'unfiltered', would taint the quality of the air inside the aircraft cabin – so that the Sunshine Holidays passengers wouldn't have to.
 
The A.F.P.'s Work Motivation Programme was, apparently, working brilliantly. And the A.F.P. were duly fulfilling their flagship election manifesto pledge.
 
Prime Minister Caroline Flint and her Authoritarian Female Party government, with the introduction of their various placement schemes, Community Service Orders, etc, were 'motivating' Britain's idlers to work.
 
But, no scheme is perfect.
 
And the Authoritarian Female Party could hardly be blamed, if the ... the odd one, slipped through their net.
 
 
 
The End.                      
 

This story is written by David, please send comments and appreciation to voondave@yahoo.co.uk