1. The Last Flight


    Date: 12/23/2015, Categories: Lesbian, Author: Annamagique, Rating: 18, Source: LushStories

    pushed out my breasts, such as they were, held out my hands, palms down and said, “Karen Farmer, Pamela.” I gave the broadest smile I possibly could. She stood expressionless and gazed at me. "Hmm,” she said. “A good effort but you have a lot to learn about make-up and presentation. That, of course, is why we are here.” The smile slipped very quickly away but I was not going to cave in at the first hurdle and I kept my face as expressionless as hers until she looked at my hands! “Oh dear, oh dear. This will simply just not do. Tut tut tut.” She shook her head and turned away as the extremities of my lips began to take a definite southwards turn and I looked down at my hands. Extremely disheartened, I allowed my hands to droop back to my sides but kept my back straight and chin up. Moments later she was in front of me again and this time, she had in her hands, a pair of white cotton gloves with little lace cuffs. She handed them to me and I took them without a word. “I cannot have my girls showing hands in such a terrible state,” she said, not angrily but not gently either. “I had been informed that you were coming so I had these gloves brought in. You will wear them at all times when on duty and in uniform. If I see you without them there will be no second chances. We have an image to maintain.” I looked up at her and... did I really see... the feint sign of a smile at the edges of her eyes? I allowed a smile to return to my lips as I said, softly, “Thank you, Pamela.” “You ...
    are welcome,” she replied and moved on to the next girl. I was fortunate that my hands had already begun to soften with the careful use of moisturisers and keeping my nails carefully trimmed. At the end of that six months, I stood proudly in line with the other girls to be presented with my 'wings', a large S attached to an outstretched wing woven from golden thread against a black background,by the airline's training director. Pamela Barnes complimented me on my appearance and how well I had done to reach the strict standard that the airline demanded. As she paused before me whilst the director presented the next girl's wings, Pamela leaned forwards and whispered, “Congratulations and very well done. I knew you could do it.” For the first time, she smiled. So, here I was, six short years later, walking across the concrete apron with two very suave and handsome pilots towards a gleaming silver Douglas DC-3, flashing and glinting in the hot summer sun. The Airline's name was in red above the windows with two red parallel lines before and after, giving an impression of speed, === Trans Europe Airways ===. This was not the first time I had crewed the DC-3, in fact, I spent most of my time with them. They were not as fast and as glamorous as the Comet which was just coming into service, nor as quiet as the viscounts but they were small, carried less passengers and I was the only stewardess on board so I felt as though I was in charge, which, technically I suppose, I was. I quickly ...
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