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22 Mart 2023, 18:11
Just a wee message before I start. A few readers have chosen to take offence from my previous stories for which I can only apologise. While not proffered as an excuse, I should explain and references to race, etc were only to set tone. I see now that that was wrong.
On with the story...
*****
To say that I was livid would be an understatement. I was hot, bothered, uncomfortable and to cap I all, I felt betrayed. I had dolled myself up something silly for what I thought would be taken out for the night and romance and I had dressed for the occasion: lovely barely there lingerie (more on this later) and a beautiful linen dress from Dior which I thought set off my light tan (acquired over the past week poolside in Brunei [much to the pool boys' pleasure but that's another tale]) only to be told by Tom that there was a crisis at work. Apparently, the charter flight arranged by Tom's company wouldn't be able to take off without a full cabin crew complement ? and that this was an important contract for his office.
Very briefly, Tom's company was arranging a charter contract to transport a bunch of oil rig workers on shore leave after 6 weeks offshore from Bandar Brunei to Macao. This was lucrative work and shore leave was precious for the crew ? and a delay would potentially mean the loss of good repeat business.
And so, along comes me, Veronica, his long suffering (but always elegantly fashionable) wife to save the day? (bet you didn't know but I only stopped flying 2 years ago with as an air stewardess for a middle eastern airline...and oh, the stories I could tell you) ? because I still had current Aviation Authority certification.
"Please V, you're the only one with the power to let the plane take off and we'll lose the timeslot in 30 minutes," he said as I glared at him.
Being the big hearted soul I was, it only took a second for me to decide. "Okay, but you'll pay for this...and (pause) I'm not soiling this dress. It's a Dior," I said as I reached behind to unzip the dress. Stepping out of it, I said, "Just to show you what you're missing" ? and revealing a strapless cupless brassiere and matching high waisted thong - both. Tom's jaw fell to the floor...as did the 2 office administrators who were also there. Tom flustered and recovered, "peel your eyes away from her ? and quick get her something to wear. You. Yes, you. Stop gaping at her tits and give her your blazer."
And, so there I was mounting the steps to the aircraft 10 minutes later, wearing a cheap blazer and a tennis skirt salvaged from a gym bag in the boot of my car and ...well you already know what's underneath.
There was a bit of a cheer as I stepped into the cabin ? well polyester blazer aside, I was probably the first live female the oil rig crew had clapped eyes on in 6 weeks; and so I pretty much understood why they didn't make eye contact when I took them through the safety briefing. Their eyes were elsewhere. Let me tell you boys that us girls have a latent ability to know when you're staring at our boobs.
"Hey, my eyes are up here," I said playfully to keep the mood light and tempers low. They had after all been sitting on the tarmac for 45 minutes by that time. (I should mention that the cabin reeked of sweat at that time because the air conditioning had to be turned off once to preserve the battery).
There was a burst of laughter among the men who gazed hungrily at my body, and the rough fabric of the blazer was playing havoc with my unprotected nipples (I was wearing cupless lingerie, remember?). Although excited, I hammed it up by acting demure and ashamed and lowered my eyes and avoid their stare. I reckon my cleavage must have looked pretty enticing ? glowing with rivulets of sweat streaming down between my titties ? (34bs bunched up between the tight fitting blazer) ? as I bent over to dispense icey cold ones .
In time, the humidity in the cabin approximated a sauna, with condensation dripping off the ceiling ? and it eventually really came to look like a sauna when some of the passengers removed their tops. Well, I couldn't possibly stop them could I? It was just little old me and about 15 of them.
I think it must have only take them 5 minutes to notice that I mightn't have a top under the blazer. It was steamy and I could feel rivulets of perspiration beading down my spine as the heat got to me and I felt a little faint. I must have swayed a little in my feet because one of the men, a dark swarthy muscled indian man with lovely calloused hands said to me in his delightful sing-song accent, "miss are you okay? You seem a little hot. Maybe you take off your jacket. Come, I take for you," he said as his hand reached for the button (I guess there are no personal space issues on the rig).
Golly. I panicked. "No" and stepped back ? but it was already too late as his fingers deftly undid the top button. I was still bent over and he had an eyeful of titty. Well, that was when matters got out of hand because the rest of the crew sincan escort (http://www.ankararusescort.com/ad-category/sincan-escort/) caught his widening eyes and smile.
I stepped back into another brute of a man. Literally bounced off him. Pure muscle and while hairy, probably could pass as a gorilla shaved strategically to look human (yummmm)..
Things began to look dire by that time. There I was surrounded, drenched in sweat, tits out and pretty much exposed ? but they really got worse when the gorilla who introduced himself as Tarique, the rig's foreman said, "enough. We have waited for 3 hours and we have only 1 week's R
On with the story...
*****
To say that I was livid would be an understatement. I was hot, bothered, uncomfortable and to cap I all, I felt betrayed. I had dolled myself up something silly for what I thought would be taken out for the night and romance and I had dressed for the occasion: lovely barely there lingerie (more on this later) and a beautiful linen dress from Dior which I thought set off my light tan (acquired over the past week poolside in Brunei [much to the pool boys' pleasure but that's another tale]) only to be told by Tom that there was a crisis at work. Apparently, the charter flight arranged by Tom's company wouldn't be able to take off without a full cabin crew complement ? and that this was an important contract for his office.
Very briefly, Tom's company was arranging a charter contract to transport a bunch of oil rig workers on shore leave after 6 weeks offshore from Bandar Brunei to Macao. This was lucrative work and shore leave was precious for the crew ? and a delay would potentially mean the loss of good repeat business.
And so, along comes me, Veronica, his long suffering (but always elegantly fashionable) wife to save the day? (bet you didn't know but I only stopped flying 2 years ago with as an air stewardess for a middle eastern airline...and oh, the stories I could tell you) ? because I still had current Aviation Authority certification.
"Please V, you're the only one with the power to let the plane take off and we'll lose the timeslot in 30 minutes," he said as I glared at him.
Being the big hearted soul I was, it only took a second for me to decide. "Okay, but you'll pay for this...and (pause) I'm not soiling this dress. It's a Dior," I said as I reached behind to unzip the dress. Stepping out of it, I said, "Just to show you what you're missing" ? and revealing a strapless cupless brassiere and matching high waisted thong - both. Tom's jaw fell to the floor...as did the 2 office administrators who were also there. Tom flustered and recovered, "peel your eyes away from her ? and quick get her something to wear. You. Yes, you. Stop gaping at her tits and give her your blazer."
And, so there I was mounting the steps to the aircraft 10 minutes later, wearing a cheap blazer and a tennis skirt salvaged from a gym bag in the boot of my car and ...well you already know what's underneath.
There was a bit of a cheer as I stepped into the cabin ? well polyester blazer aside, I was probably the first live female the oil rig crew had clapped eyes on in 6 weeks; and so I pretty much understood why they didn't make eye contact when I took them through the safety briefing. Their eyes were elsewhere. Let me tell you boys that us girls have a latent ability to know when you're staring at our boobs.
"Hey, my eyes are up here," I said playfully to keep the mood light and tempers low. They had after all been sitting on the tarmac for 45 minutes by that time. (I should mention that the cabin reeked of sweat at that time because the air conditioning had to be turned off once to preserve the battery).
There was a burst of laughter among the men who gazed hungrily at my body, and the rough fabric of the blazer was playing havoc with my unprotected nipples (I was wearing cupless lingerie, remember?). Although excited, I hammed it up by acting demure and ashamed and lowered my eyes and avoid their stare. I reckon my cleavage must have looked pretty enticing ? glowing with rivulets of sweat streaming down between my titties ? (34bs bunched up between the tight fitting blazer) ? as I bent over to dispense icey cold ones .
In time, the humidity in the cabin approximated a sauna, with condensation dripping off the ceiling ? and it eventually really came to look like a sauna when some of the passengers removed their tops. Well, I couldn't possibly stop them could I? It was just little old me and about 15 of them.
I think it must have only take them 5 minutes to notice that I mightn't have a top under the blazer. It was steamy and I could feel rivulets of perspiration beading down my spine as the heat got to me and I felt a little faint. I must have swayed a little in my feet because one of the men, a dark swarthy muscled indian man with lovely calloused hands said to me in his delightful sing-song accent, "miss are you okay? You seem a little hot. Maybe you take off your jacket. Come, I take for you," he said as his hand reached for the button (I guess there are no personal space issues on the rig).
Golly. I panicked. "No" and stepped back ? but it was already too late as his fingers deftly undid the top button. I was still bent over and he had an eyeful of titty. Well, that was when matters got out of hand because the rest of the crew sincan escort (http://www.ankararusescort.com/ad-category/sincan-escort/) caught his widening eyes and smile.
I stepped back into another brute of a man. Literally bounced off him. Pure muscle and while hairy, probably could pass as a gorilla shaved strategically to look human (yummmm)..
Things began to look dire by that time. There I was surrounded, drenched in sweat, tits out and pretty much exposed ? but they really got worse when the gorilla who introduced himself as Tarique, the rig's foreman said, "enough. We have waited for 3 hours and we have only 1 week's R