A Likely Story: A Wayward Ink Publishing Anthology (25 page)

Robin nodded to Connor, gave his man a brief smacker on the lips and sashayed towards the door.

While most of the crew converged on the new family member, Anthony kept his distance. He needed to compose himself. He’d never been so magnetized by a man before. Therefore, the likelihood he’d be completely tongue-tied around Jet increased significantly, and so he talked to everyone except the object of his confusion.

Anthony kept himself occupied by finalizing on-board pairings, schedules, and routines for the
entertainment
. And he needed to keep busy—Jet’s smoldering looks coupled with the southern twang was giving Anthony’s favorite body part the idea it should change profession to become a Texan diving rod. Even when Anthony had his back to the man, he could feel his dick trying to snake around his leg, or dive between his thighs, circumventing his balls, to take a peek.

By the time the meet and greets were complete, flight details sorted, and numerous names added to Mr. Stone’s future dance card, it was time to go.

Gathering his flight bag and setting his suit straight, Anthony got in line. Not all the attendants did ‘the walk’. The display was distracting enough as it was. The remaining crew quickly made their way to Baby, while those taking part in the entertainment readied to make their official appearance.

To Connor’s final words, “The only rod I want on show is the one up your backs. No straining zippers for this walk,” everyone shouted, “Aye aye, Captain!”

With game faces on, the crew set out, turning heads as they went. For Anthony, it was impossible not to take a peak and admire the view. The lilt of Jet’s stride and curve of his rear were pure poetry. Every feature was kiss-worthy, especially the back of Jet’s ears and the hair that finished just above his collar. Anthony wanted to run his fingers over it, and its owner, to see what was soft and what was hard.

When Robin arrived at gate K19, many passengers were already congregated. He enjoyed being on desk duty. Under the glare of passengers, he accessed the computer and did his checks. He then kept a watchful eye on guests to see if any potential troublemakers stood out. He was pleased by what he saw. He garnered a few anxious looks from the people before him too, as some were on the edges of their seats, ready to pounce on the gate as soon as it was ready for boarding.

After Robin received a text from Taho, he smiled, positioned his phone and pressed play—he loved to capture
the walk,
especially when his man took part.

The group of gorgeousness rounded the corner headed by none other than the man himself, Connor Leighton. Connor was always the pilot on a ruse flight. He enjoyed the spectacle and was readily available to deal with any passengers who acted like children, or as Robin, in true Britishness, would say, ‘threw their toys out of the proverbial cot’.

The attendants ranged in height from five feet nine, up to six feet two. All had bodies worth several looks and a few return visits. As they approached, they had both genders of passenger gaping at the handsome advancement.

Dressed in light-blue shirts, dark-blue suits, Chimera ties, and shiny black shoes, they approached the gate in a thin V formation. They even walked to the same beat. At the front, heading his crew was Connor, flanked by his copilot, Jonathan (Jet) Stone. Connor was a blond, blue-eyed darling. He had a strong jaw line and eyes that could warm you through and through, or kill you on the spot. Jet’s dark hair and green eyes were… gorgeous. Robin knew of the dreams a number of attendants had starring the man.

Many did
the walk
, but Robin focused on his favorites. Bringing up the rear—excuse the intended pun—and saving the best until last was Washington-born Anthony and Taho Lee, Robin’s Tolee. Anthony’s hair was the color of wet sand, and a light healthy tan made him look more enticing than a glass of water in the desert. What most people loved was… hell, the whole package. The jaw porn, tanned full lips which matched his sandy complexion, long, dark lashes, and rich blue eyes. Plenty of rumors circulated about Anthony Blake along the lines of: what the man could do with his mouth was nobody’s business, or, everyone’s, dependent on the outlook. Individuals who had sampled the
goods
smiled and disappeared into dreamland. No one, not even those in long-term relationships dared to think about the puppetry his long fingers were capable of—it was legendary.

As the men approached the desk Robin’s heart fluttered as he received a light kiss on the lips from each of the stunning men. The action sent out a statement to all with any doubts—the crew was gay, and the rumors they heard were mostly true. One lingered a little longer than the rest—Robin’s Tolee. He stayed behind, officially to help board the passengers while the others got Baby ready to roll. Unofficially, he stayed behind for his pre-flight grope.

Switching on the local speaker system, Robin cleared his throat to attract everyone’s attention and ensure his British accent came through loud and clear.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, you can all start breathing again. Yes, that was some of your very handsome, very fit, on-board crew. You get to ogle them and the other staff for a full seven hours during the flight, providing you can stay awake.”

He went on with the usual warnings and instructions in regard to phones and shopping before moving aside for Taho, who repeated the same instructions in four other languages. He was an excellent linguist, as was Robin.

Turning off the sound system, Robin checked the data to confirm all passengers checked in. Then he dragged Taho behind the display screen for a generous five minutes or so of tonsil hockey. Robin found a man in a suit irresistible, especially his Tolee.

Ten minutes later, Robin cleaned up, straightened his tie, tucked his shirt in, and made sure his hair was in place, before re-taking his post. Taho needed longer. It was fortunate there were lockers behind the screen containing items all crew members needed to make them presentable.

Quickly crunching a breath mint, Robin got ready to board passengers. He was just in time to receive the go-ahead from Chief Steward, Anthony.

“Flight CA357, Chicago O’Hare to London Heathrow, is about to board. Would all passengers please have ready their boarding passes and passports, open to the correct page. It’s the one containing the picture you want to set fire to. Anyone not complying with this will be sent to the back of the line.

“We will be boarding from the rear of the aircraft to the front. When my man has tidied himself up from the ravaging I just gave him, I will be calling for all passengers whose tickets are for Zone Four to approach, ready for boarding. Anyone from other sections, who try to jump the queue, will be put in a holding area to my left and will board last.”

Soon the rumble of customers making their way down the ramp to the aircraft could be heard. All were greeted courteously and directed toward the area their tickets showed. Before long, passengers filled the aisles attempting to get organized. The exercise always amazed Anthony—how complicated some people made what should have been a simple act.

Each person had a maximum of two bags. Passengers had to select a seat, store their luggage, sit down, and buckle the belt. Picking a perch, though, seemed to short-circuit people’s brains. Anthony was often frustrated—especially with those passengers who stuffed so much into their carry-on, they couldn’t lift it, yet still insisted on putting it into the overhead.

Retrieving the intercom, Anthony made a few suggestions. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your chief steward speaking. If you do not wish to delay this flight, please find a seat and sit in it! You are not picking out furniture, and you don’t have to live with it for long. There is plenty of space in the cabins, and all seats have the same leg room. You are sitting in the equivalent of a flying butt plug—in use—with the same view:
it’s dark out there
. Please store your bags above or below your seat, not across the cabin or ten rows ahead of you. If you are having any trouble, there will be an attendant along shortly to help.”

Eventually people settled, and Connor switched on the seat belt sign. The attendants did a sweep of the rows, making sure all was in order, and everyone had followed instructions.

Sadly, there was always one that couldn’t live without his technology for more than five minutes. Anthony spotted such a man. They frequently seemed to be one of two sorts. Either a guy in a hoodie in his twenties or an older man who believed the rules didn’t apply to him. Approaching the man in a hoodie, Anthony donned a smile and used his sweetest voice, “Sir, do you speak English?” Anthony had to ask. The man may not have understood the instructions in one of the five languages used prior to boarding.

He looked up with a puzzled expression, “Excuse me?”

“Ah, obviously not. I see you speak the language of ignorance. Let me translate for you. In simple terms… phone
off
now or lose it. If you don’t know where the off button is, I can get my hammer and show you.” Anthony was amazed at how quickly the screen went blank and said item deposited in the seat pouch.

Final row checks were made to ensure everything was in place. Seats were upright, so the crew continued with closing the overheads.

The Airbus started to move, and Jonathan’s voice filled the air. At the sound, Anthony leaned against a seat and took a deep breath. His body felt as though it was ice cream melting under dripping hot chocolate.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is your copilot speaking. Welcome to flight CA357 to Heathrow. This is a no-smoking flight. That also means no sneaky light-ups in the restroom, either. Anyone who tries it will find themselves drenched from the onboard sprinklers—I ain’t jokin’ folks. I’ve had a demonstration.

“We are currently taxiing to the runway. Once take-off is complete, we will be leveling off at a height of thirty-five thousand feet—well above the mile-high barrier—and then some. Please remain seated until the seat belt sign goes off, after which you will be able to move about the aircraft. Flight attendant areas are off limits as is the cockpit. This is a large fucker to fly, and we’d like to concentrate on doing just that.

“Now, if you’d like to feast your eyes on the gorgeous gentlemen before you, they will take you through some safety precautions. Have a good flight.”

Listening to the speech, Anthony wondered if the words were Mr. Stone’s or whether Connor had given him a few hints. He liked them either way.

The crew stood. Supplies were close by, ready for Laurie on the intercom. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I will now take you through some safety precautions you may actually remember. Let’s face it, this is a new Airbus A380, and if this big-assed mother crashes… it will be a freak mid-air collision caused by a kamikaze numb nuts. You don’t get out of those alive, no matter where the escape hatch is. On the plus side, your pilot is the owner of the airline and has no intention of dying anytime soon. It would also be a crying shame for the world to lose any of the fine specimens known as your flight attendants today.

“Please feel free to take mental notes. Rest assured, all information is on our website. Look up Chimera Air dot com—all you need is there.

“Point of safety Number One: Always use a condom. They come in all shapes, sizes, thickness, textures, and flavors. They stop the spread of unwanted disease, are much easier to clean up after, and help with the disposal of the evidence. Make sure to pick one for your particular needs. Whether you are a sharpshooter, heavy out of the blocks, jet stream, or a long-haul stayer—there’s a condom for you.”

The crew held up several varieties of condom.

“Number two: Always use lube. If you are a practiced DIYer, in a relationship, into casual hook-ups, or simply… a man-whore—lube is essential. Always have some on hand. You can get water-based or silicone lube. Both are good. Silicone takes more soap and water to remove, but lasts longer. Beware, if you see a green sign along the freeway advertising ‘Mr. Lube—we do it while you wait’… those guys are talking car oil changes, not personal ones.”

The attendants each displayed a bottle or a readily opened packet of lube and a dildo. When the toys donned their coats, the viscous liquid was dribbled onto the heads of the fake pink dicks, and the attendants stroked them up and down a few times, using enhanced wrist action. Once completed, the items were put to one side and the attendants wiped their hands.

They all kept schooled faces.

“Lastly, always prepare your partner well. One finger
will not do
, even if you have a shrimp dick. Take your time and scissor well. Three fingers are about right for most. Have your partner begging for more before you send your crown prince into nirvana, searching for the holy grail of prostates. There is much pleasure to be had by both partners. Please don’t be a wham, bam, thank you, man!”

Laurie’s instructions were followed with appropriate hand motions. Anthony struggled to keep his composure, and bit his cheek to stop himself smiling.

“Now, if you would please refer to the monitors before you, you will see a film on the safety features contained on this aircraft. If something ever happens, we truly hope you don’t panic and forget the guidelines.”

Less than five minutes after the film began, it finished to the sound of Connor announcing, “Flight attendants, this is your captain speaking. Please take your seats, ready for take-off.”

Just as Anthony buckled up, the Airbus settled into its final position on the runway. The vibrating roar from the engines filled his senses, and they quickly accelerated. Anthony’s excitement matched the combined speed and power. The nose soon lifted, and the rumble of tarmac was replaced by smooth air.

The minute the wheels docked, Anthony released his seatbelt, visited the kitchen and went upstairs to the cockpit. An apt description for what lay in there—in terms of alpha male and equipment. Being in Zone One, head steward Anthony was responsible for taking care of Connor, Jonathan, and Phil, who was the navigator and a veritable guard dog when it came to aircraft. He ate, breathed and slept them.