body of a cowboy. There was a tiny shock of gray at the temples of his wavy black hair, and when he looked at me I felt naked… and I didn’t mind at all. I spend most of my earnings on clothes, its my weakness, but what this man was wearing made my pulse race. One of the most expensive hand tailored English cut three-piece I’ve ever seen. Startling white French cuffs peeked out from under the sleeves of his suit coat to reveal gold cuff links with some sort of logo on them. A heavy gold Breitling Chronometer just like our Chief Pilot wore graced his right wrist, not his left. His big hands bore the traces of hard work, but his nails were manicured. He wore hand lasted cowboy boots of some exotic leather. Everything about this man screamed culture and class, until you looked at his gray eyes and the go to hell set of his jaw. Gorgeous and scary.
I’m no rookie when it comes to men, but this specimen brought my heart up into my throat and made my knees tremble. And when he spoke, Madre de Dios! He sounded like that actor Sam Elliott on one of the western movies on TV. I swear if he had ordered me to sit down and make love to him I would have! As it was, he had ordered vodka and orange juice, and I was taking my time mixing it for him… I really wanted to get to know him.
The Microburst came on us without warning and the world fell out from beneath me. I crashed into his lap, spilling orange juice all over his perfectly pressed suit, and incidentally pressing my breasts against his firm chest. Our lips were mere inches apart and my fear must have been obvious despite my best efforts, because he wrapped his arms around me and held me tight.
There was never a blink of fear in his eyes as we fell for what seemed like hundreds of feet. I felt the pilots raising the nose of the aircraft about fifteen degrees and heard the rush of the jets going to full power and the bird recovered after long heart stopping moments. I was shaken, but it was my responsibility to get everyone seated and reassure them that it was just a minor difficulty and that it had already been taken care of. I did my job, but I could still feel his arms around me, reinforcing the calm my training and experience had given me.
We landed at KCI with no further incidents and I watched as the First Class passengers departed. Glancing at the manifest I noticed that his name was Everett Samson. He was approaching me and I was racking my brain to come up with some excuse to start a conversation with him. I felt like a silly schoolgirl. As I was about to open my mouth the cockpit door opened and Captain Edwards beckoned me inside.
My passenger heartthrob was forgotten in a split second as I saw the blood splattered on first officer Swift’s white shirt. Ron Swift was a new co-pilot, ex-military and very starchy but we were gradually bringing him around. “Oh my god, are you all right?” I asked as I turned to get the first aid kit.
“No, we already took care of the first aid, Telma, but thanks. What I really need you to do is go below decks to the crew rest area and bring Ron a fresh shirt and a handful of handi-wipes so he can clean up. We can’t have him walking through the terminal looking like this,” Grant said. Grant Edwards was our new Chief Pilot and was steel to the core. “I wouldn’t bother you, but I’d rather the other attendants didn’t see him this way either. It’s nothing major, but the CAT (clear air turbulence) caught him by surprise and he bit his lip. It looks nastier than it is.”
As I made my way down to the forward hatch and the lower deck, the handsome stranger was completely out of my head.
There were already two other aircrew members in the rest area and I just grabbed Ron’s overnight bag and a box of the handi-wipes and rushed back up the ladder to the cockpit.
“Thanks Telma,” Ron said in a thick and muffled voice. I could see how puffy and bruised his bottom lip was and I felt so sorry for him. Remembering
I’m no rookie when it comes to men, but this specimen brought my heart up into my throat and made my knees tremble. And when he spoke, Madre de Dios! He sounded like that actor Sam Elliott on one of the western movies on TV. I swear if he had ordered me to sit down and make love to him I would have! As it was, he had ordered vodka and orange juice, and I was taking my time mixing it for him… I really wanted to get to know him.
The Microburst came on us without warning and the world fell out from beneath me. I crashed into his lap, spilling orange juice all over his perfectly pressed suit, and incidentally pressing my breasts against his firm chest. Our lips were mere inches apart and my fear must have been obvious despite my best efforts, because he wrapped his arms around me and held me tight.
There was never a blink of fear in his eyes as we fell for what seemed like hundreds of feet. I felt the pilots raising the nose of the aircraft about fifteen degrees and heard the rush of the jets going to full power and the bird recovered after long heart stopping moments. I was shaken, but it was my responsibility to get everyone seated and reassure them that it was just a minor difficulty and that it had already been taken care of. I did my job, but I could still feel his arms around me, reinforcing the calm my training and experience had given me.
We landed at KCI with no further incidents and I watched as the First Class passengers departed. Glancing at the manifest I noticed that his name was Everett Samson. He was approaching me and I was racking my brain to come up with some excuse to start a conversation with him. I felt like a silly schoolgirl. As I was about to open my mouth the cockpit door opened and Captain Edwards beckoned me inside.
My passenger heartthrob was forgotten in a split second as I saw the blood splattered on first officer Swift’s white shirt. Ron Swift was a new co-pilot, ex-military and very starchy but we were gradually bringing him around. “Oh my god, are you all right?” I asked as I turned to get the first aid kit.
“No, we already took care of the first aid, Telma, but thanks. What I really need you to do is go below decks to the crew rest area and bring Ron a fresh shirt and a handful of handi-wipes so he can clean up. We can’t have him walking through the terminal looking like this,” Grant said. Grant Edwards was our new Chief Pilot and was steel to the core. “I wouldn’t bother you, but I’d rather the other attendants didn’t see him this way either. It’s nothing major, but the CAT (clear air turbulence) caught him by surprise and he bit his lip. It looks nastier than it is.”
As I made my way down to the forward hatch and the lower deck, the handsome stranger was completely out of my head.
There were already two other aircrew members in the rest area and I just grabbed Ron’s overnight bag and a box of the handi-wipes and rushed back up the ladder to the cockpit.
“Thanks Telma,” Ron said in a thick and muffled voice. I could see how puffy and bruised his bottom lip was and I felt so sorry for him. Remembering
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