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--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyright (c) 2001 by Orestes. You may 
download and keep copies for your personal use as long 
as all author related information and this paragraph 
remain on the copies. I don't mind if you send it along 
to a friend, repost it to an appropriate newsgroup, or 
post it to your adult-oriented web site, so long as you 
don't charge money for any of these activities. No 
alteration of the contents is permitted.
--------------------------------------------------------

The Server
By Orestes (orestes007@hotmail.com)
ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Orestes

***

Heather knew she shouldn't be enjoying the humiliation 
of the situation. It was nothing that had ever appealed 
to her before, even in her most secret fantasies. But 
now, being a piece of meat shared between two strangers 
in a strange city... it felt... right. (MMF, FF, huml)

***

"You can't ask me that question."

"Wha...?"

"You aren't allowed to ask me my marital status. The 
law is clear. You can't discriminate based on whether 
I'm married or not."

"For goodness sake, no. It was just a casual question, 
dear. One of the other girls does some babysitting 
work, and..."

"Don't call me dear. I don't think I want you calling 
me 'one of the girls' either."

The woman conducting the interview was more than a 
little surprised by the way this was turning around on 
her. Heather watched the woman's reaction carefully. 
There's a real difference, she knew, between the simple 
flush of anger that came naturally from a 
confrontation, and the near panic that came upon an ill 
prepared interviewer when hit with an ambush. Of 
course, that was the whole point.

"Now, I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just trying to 
hire a waitress..."

Heather shook her head slowly, causing the interviewer 
to lose her sentence in the air between them.

"Do you have any idea how demeaning it is to be called 
a 'waitress', with all the cultural baggage the term 
brings with it?"

"Oh, hell, you can't be serious. All right, we'll call 
you a 'server' then. Is that any better?"

"No. No, it's not, "Heather wouldn't concede any point, 
however small, right now - not while she still had the 
upper hand. "Just look at the root of the word. 
'Serve', 'servile', 'servitude'... no, I don't think 
that will do. Not at all."

Now the woman was speechless. Her gold coloured plastic 
name badge proclaimed her the restaurant manager, but 
Heather knew what that really meant in a small business 
like this one. This woman wouldn't know the labour 
laws. She had no corporate human resources department 
to back her up. Hell, her employee records were 
probably stored in a shoe box beneath the office desk.

Damn. It was almost too easy. Heather pulled out her 
business card, and ended the false interview.

"I'm Heather Duffy, of the Primrose Foundation. We're a 
private watchdog group. Our goal is to protect the 
rights of victimized women in the workplace."

"No one here is victimized, "the woman spat back. "Ask 
any of the gir... I mean, uh ... women who work here. 
This is a family run business."

"It doesn't matter what the women who work here think. 
Many women are victimized without knowing it. That's 
why we exist. Labour laws are too passive... waiting 
for complaints to trigger state action... meanwhile, 
sexist language and attitudes thrive in everyday 
business."

If the woman was listening to her instincts, she would 
end this quickly. It could all go away. Just a few 
minor cosmetic changes to the way she did business, and 
a generous contribution to the Foundation, and they 
would leave her alone. If not, well, it never hurt the 
Foundation to go on a publicity campaign. This kind of 
thing always drew media attention.

It was a win/win. For the Primrose Foundation, that is.

What did these little shakedowns accomplish? Heather 
had her misgivings. It's not that she disagreed 
entirely with the ideology of the Foundation. It was 
just that, in most cases, these businesses were only 
guilty of minor infractions. In the end, the women who 
worked here would only come out of it with a new job 
title. Waitress. Server. Whatever. The job was still 
the same.

Field Auditor. That was Heather's recently acquired 
title. The impressive new title and salary kept her 
from sympathizing much with the targeted businesses. 
Interviews like these helped pay for the position she 
held. Besides, the money they raised through audits 
like this one allowed the Foundation to pursue larger 
investigations. That was the real goal. Heather 
couldn't wait to land one of those high-profile 
assignments.

***

The roar of the jet engines rattled the clutter on the 
dashboard of Thumper's Volkswagon. The planes came in 
so low here, Heather almost felt like she could have 
reached out and touched the extended landing gear. Two 
other cars were parked on this side of the chain link 
fence that blocked off the actual runway. One car 
pounded with techno music. The other one had windows 
fogged from the extended make-out session of the 
occupants.

"I'm so happy for you, "Thumper told her co-worker. 
"Donna has been eager to start this investigation for a 
while. She must think highly of you."

Heather blushed. Donna was the driving force behind the 
Primrose Foundation. Thumper and Heather had both been 
hired at the same time, by a recruiter who visited them 
on campus, just before graduation. The two friends had 
jumped at the chance, each for different reasons. For 
Heather's part, it had been the high media profile that 
the Foundation enjoyed. Its political influence was 
widely acknowledged, and several Primrose spokeswomen 
had gone on to high level government appointments.

As for Thumper's reasons, Heather could make a guess. 
Desperation? It wasn't like Thumper's grade point 
average was going to net her a big salary in the 
private sector. The fact that she was stalled at junior 
investigator didn't seem to bother her. She assisted 
the other women with research and documentation. She 
played the part of the hippie lesbian, and was great 
fun around the office, but no one really thought of her 
as a great prospect. The moniker "Thumper" was a 
mystery. Her real name was Theresa.

"Did you get a chance to look at the file for me?"

It felt weird for Heather to take authority over her 
friend, but that was just the way it turned out. Donna 
had assigned Thumper to assist in this new 
investigation.

"Yeah. It's a bit of a tough one. Exeter Airlines is a 
relatively young company, founded by the CEO of a media 
company. At first, they had all the usual complaints. 
Harassment. Poor working conditions. La dee dah..."

"Mmm hmm...?"

"Then there was nothing. Since about two years ago, 
there hasn't been a single problem. Despite some of the 
lowest wage compensations in the industry, the staff 
turnover is next to nil."

"How is the company doing?"

"Extremely well. They specialize in executive class 
travel and charter flights. With Flight Attendants who 
make little money, and pilots on contract from other 
airlines, they're able to keep costs down, despite 
charging some of the highest fares in the nation."

Heather reached over and took the file from Thumper's 
hands. By the faint light of the moon, she leafed 
through the pages. Thumper was right. Donna really was 
eager to get this investigation off the ground. 
Throughout the pages of the file, Donna had highlighted 
statistical irregularities, and made notes in red ink.

There was one informal interview with a contract pilot 
that stood out. A yellow post-it note dangled from the 
upper right corner. This was a secretly taped 
conversation from a bar nearby the airport.

- Yeah, I make a some extra money flying with Exeter, 
but that isn't what keeps me coming back... there are 
other fringe benefits...

- Really?

- Oh yeah. Those stewardesses are hot as hell. Every 
pilot I know has a favourite.

- I think I met one of them. Dark green uniform?

- Yeah, and a body to die for... that'd make her an 
Exeter girl. Always eager to please... like this one 
girl I met in Brussels...

***

Heather didn't need to read the details. Donna's post-
it note captured her reaction perfectly. ' I can't 
believe there are no harassment charges filed. Theresa, 
double check this! There has to be something. 

"So why have we waited until now to take action?"

"Like I said, low turnover. The staff just doesn't seem 
to leave. This is the first time in a while that Exeter 
is doing any hiring."

"Hiring...?" Oh, crap. I guess I'm going to be a 
stewardess. Heather shook her head and smiled. Thumper 
grinned back, and another airplane roared overhead, as 
if on cue.

"Get used to that noise," said Thumper, somehow cutting 
through thunder of the engines. "It looks like you're 
going to be doing some travelling."

***

With all the dramatic build-up to this assignment, 
reality was almost a let-down. Heather had expected a 
leering HR guy to mentally undress her in the 
interview. Hell, with the reputation of this airline, 
she had half expected him to pull *it* out, and ask her 
to demonstrate her job skills.

Except it wasn't a guy.

The two women who conducted the interview asked all the 
right question, or, more to the point, they avoided the 
wrong ones. Heather, in turn, gave all the right 
answers. The women nodded politely while she talked, 
and documented everything she said. They applied 
standardized testing, and while the tests seemed almost 
excessively detailed, they didn't ask anything outside 
of allowable topics.

They meticulously checked her school references, and 
phoned the office she worked for part time while in 
college. Heather cringed at the thought of anyone at 
the accounting office hearing the rumour that she was 
applying to be a stewardess. Nonetheless, this 
assignment would soon be over, and she could set the 
record straight later.

When she received the message on her answering machine 
that she was offered a position, Heather didn't know 
quite how to feel about it.

The initial orientation session didn't settle anything 
either. The manuals they provided were eminently 
politically correct. The forms they asked her to sign 
were all standard. There was no coercion. There was no 
threatening behaviour from the interviewers. There was 
nothing here that the Primrose Foundation could use.

So, a week later, when Heather was going in for 
training at the Exeter headquarters building, she had 
set aside any illusions of this being a quick 
investigation. She was even having doubts about whether 
there was anything to find. Maybe Exeter was just very 
good at keeping its employees satisfied, and settling 
disputes before they became major problems.

And the rumours?

Hot air, maybe? The interviews that had been secretly 
collected from the contract pilots of other airlines 
all depicted the Exeter stewardesses as vacant, witless 
sluts, who cared more about their shade of lipstick 
than about equality in the workplace. Maybe there was 
something to the rumours. Maybe not. Heather couldn't 
discount the possibility that the pilots were just 
bragging to boost their own reputations.

Especially when she was introduced to the new class of 
recruits.

"Hi, I'm Robbi. I'm working towards my BA in political 
science, and I'm here because my guidance counsellor 
told me about the scholarship program Exeter provides 
to employees on their co-op program."

"I'm Janine. I've been out of the workforce for a while 
to raise my children. Now that they're in school, and 
Ronald is working from home, I thought I'd give this a 
chance."

Far from the image of dim-witted girls who were hired 
because they looked good in a skirt, and giggled when 
they talked, these women seemed deliberately chosen as 
intelligent, well-spoken women, of diverse backgrounds.

Perhaps it was true that most of the women here were 
fairly attractive, but they weren't shaped like 
supermodels either. Some of these women were even what 
you might call overweight.

In fact, without trying to be arrogant, Heather knew 
that she was probably the most attractive girl in the 
group. No, she wasn't exactly thin, but she was tall, 
young, and had always done well with the guys. One by 
one, each of the new hires stood up and introduced 
herself to the group of a dozen recruits. When they 
were done, one of the interviewers took her place in 
the front of the room.

"I want to welcome you all to Exeter airlines. I've met 
each of you before, and I have to say, I have a good 
feeling about this group. My name is Diane. You've also 
met Wendy, our training facilitator. We'll be taking 
you through the most advanced training program in the 
industry."

"But before we get started, I just want you all to know 
that I'm here to support you in every way possible. My 
office is just down the hall, and my door is always 
open. Even after you've come through the training 
program, if you ever want to talk, I'm always 
available."

***

"Shut up, Thump."

"I didn't say a thing, "Thumper tried her best innocent 
voice, but her grin said it all.

"I just got home, and I haven't had a chance to change 
yet, "Heather shuffled her feet self-consciously at her 
doorway, while Thumper mentally photographed the 
uniform she was wearing. "What, were you waiting 
outside?"

"Yeah. Donna wants an update. Can I come in?"

Heather shrugged and walked away from the open door 
while her friend let herself in.

"You hungry? I could order us some Chinese..." Thumper 
offered.

"Nah, I'm still a bit queasy from today."

"C'mon, hand me the phone. You've got to eat. Christ, 
are you losing weight?"

It was an easy surrender. Heather wasn't in the mood to 
argue with her friend about it. It wouldn't do any good 
anyhow. Thumper could be such a pest sometimes. And it 
wouldn't even be a surprise when Thumper suddenly 
*realized* that she was out of cash, and Heather ended 
up paying the bill. They'd played this game often in 
college. Heather just smiled and shook her head.

"So tell me about it. You said you were queasy... I 
thought you guys weren't flying yet."

"No, but I feel like I have. There's this training 
simulator that's just like the passenger cabin of one 
of their planes... the whole thing is on hydraulics, 
and we wear headsets to give us realistic flight 
scenarios..."

"I guess that makes sense."

"I suppose, but it gets a little tiring. For the last 
week, we've been doing it non-stop. Most of the group 
pretends to be passengers, and a couple of the trainees 
at a time get to go through the pre-flight routine and 
emergency procedures."

"And how long do the simulations last?"

Forever. Or nearly. Heather's head was filled with the 
constant background chatter on the headsets.

"Um, well, we start at seven o'clock each day. What 
time is it now?"

"It's nearly midnight, "Thumper shook her head 
incredulously, "are you telling me that you do these 
simulations for over twelve hours a day?"

"No. It couldn't be that long." Could it? The math 
eluded her.

"Do you get breaks for lunch?"

"They serve food on the flights... as practice."

"Christ, Heather... no wonder you're losing a bit of 
weight. I'd be puking my guts out too if all I ever got 
to eat was airline food."

"I am a bit hungry. Hey, do you want to order some 
food?"

Thumper paused.

"I already did, right when I got here. Remember?"

"Oh yeah. Sorry, Thump. I'm just tired from the 
training."

"You should be. That's way too much. In fact, it might 
be our first break in the investigation. They can't 
make you work that long..."

The investigation. Right. Heather tried to keep her 
head in the conversation.

"Actually, the overtime was all voluntary. I think we 
all signed a waiver after the first training session."

"What? You signed something without passing it by the 
Foundation lawyers? Do you have a copy?"

It was stupid, Heather knew. An embarrassing silence 
gave her answer. 

Thumper pressed on.

"Do you at least remember what it said?"

"Not really, "Heather answered sheepishly. "Everyone 
just went ahead and signed it. It wasn't too important. 
The way they explained it, stewardesses have to work 
long hours on transcontinental flights anyhow, so we 
might as well put in similar sessions in the simulator. 
It sort of makes sense. Besides..."

"Mmm hmm?"

"Well, we'd been at it all day, and I really needed to 
go to the washroom, and all the other girls were 
signing theirs, so I knew there would be a line up at 
the washroom."

Heather raised her eyes from the floor for a moment to 
catch her friend's reaction.

"Don't look at me that way, Thump. It really wasn't 
important. I was just tired."

"Okay, but we'll have to leave it out of the report. 
Donna would have a fit."

Donna. Heather knew the woman's reputation. She was 
meticulous. Her focus was undivided. She would have no 
sympathy for screw-ups, no matter how minor.

"So, how do these simulations go, then? How do they 
fill up over twelve hours of training."

"It always starts the same. On our headsets, we can 
hear the background chatter of the pilots and the 
ground crew. They even include the noise of the 
passengers. Then we do the pre-flight checks."

I'm sorry, sir... you'll have to put away your lap top. 
Yes, sir... I'll have your drink ready as soon as we 
take off. A pillow, ma'am? Sounds nice. I could go for 
a nap right about now too...

"It's funny... we all know the routine so well, we know 
the exact tone of voice to use when making the 
announcements..."

Emergency exits are located...(in the metered rhythm of 
a memorized poem)... in the unlikely event of a water 
landing... and I didn't even pack a swimsuit... and 
other silly crap that popped into Heather's head 
through the boredom and background noise.

"Then, when the cabin begins to move, I get this queasy 
feeling. It's weird, how they can simulate even the 
feelings. It sinks right to the pit of my stomach. I 
feel nausea as the cabin shakes and tilts through the 
take-off. The background noise makes me feel a little 
sick, and then... well, sometimes I black out for a 
minute... or I close my eyes... or something... but it 
all gets better. "

Then the routine. Another drink? Yes, I'm wearing 
Chanel no. 5... I'm glad you noticed. The washroom is 
at the front of the cabin sir... yes, I'll show you 
where it is. Don't worry about that at all, it's just a 
little spill... I'm sure my blouse will dry...

"Sometimes, if I'm a passenger, I'll sleep a while. The 
trainers don't seem to mind that."

Heather tried to resist it in the last few sessions. It 
was just too embarrassing. Maybe it was the odd 
dynamics of the situation, but Heather always seemed to 
end up with erotic dreams. Somehow, all the while, she 
was aware of the pleasant buzz of the headphones. Then, 
as the dream came near its climax, she would wake up, 
and catch herself making little noises, and gyrating 
her hips, and practically sitting in the lap of the 
girl beside her.

She didn't tell Thumper that part. She didn't say how 
the other girls would giggle when she woke up, and she 
would sit there, red faced, and sexually frustrated for 
the following hours. That was private. Thumper didn't 
need to know.

"I think the Chinese is here, "Theresa interrupted her 
co-worker's thoughts.

Heather stood to get some plates, realizing once again 
that she was still wearing her stewardess uniform. She 
had four pairs of the green and white uniform, all 
provided free of charge by the airline. For the past 
couple of nights, she had been so tired, she had 
collapsed into bed still wearing the skirt and jacket. 
The ways she was feeling right now, it would be night 
number three.

Thumper dug unceremoniously into the chow mein noodles, 
and continued her questions with her voice muffled by 
the food.

"So that's it? Just flight after flight? That must be 
mind numbing."

"It is. Then, every once in a while, they do an 
emergency scenario. The queasy feeling comes back as 
the cabin shakes and shudders, and I can hear the 
pilots in my headset, going through their emergency 
protocols. You wouldn't believe how frightening it is. 
I don't know how they make it so real. By the time 
we're done, I'm in a cold sweat, and sometimes I even 
black out a bit again."

"You know, this all sounds a little suspicious."

"I don't follow you. "Heather surveyed the contents of 
the Chinese food bag, and settled on a bowl of steamed 
rice. Her stomach wouldn't allow anything else.

"You remember all the psychology classes we took 
together. Hell, you tutored me on most of them. This 
might be nothing, but it seems to me that the 
techniques they're using are designed to make you 
vulnerable to indoctrination."

"Indoctrination? That's silly. It's training, that's 
all."

"Think about it. Sleep deprivation. Fatigue. Hunger. 
Hours and hours spent in the same environment, 
repeating the same exercises over and over again. These 
are the same techniques that religious cults and 
radical political groups use to indoctrinate new 
members."

"It's also the same techniques that the military uses 
to *train* new recruits. Boot camp. Yes, it's a little 
tiring. My head hurts just thinking about it. But as 
long as we've all agreed to the training, there's 
nothing sinister going on here."

"Maybe not... but I still don't feel right about it. 
Tell ya what... I want to do a little investigation on 
my own. Nothing major. Just give me the names of the 
other girls in your class, and get me a recording of 
the training material. I'll check it out. "

"Do what you want, but I don't want Donna hearing about 
this. It's too far out."

"Agreed."

***

Montreal. Again.

Was this the third or the fourth time Heather had ended 
her day here? She wasn't sure. It had all been a blur 
since the training began. After two weeks in the 
simulator, she had been excited to finally get a chance 
to begin the investigation in earnest.

"We'll start you on some of the shorter runs," the 
stern interviewer, Diane, had explained. "You'll return 
here every few days for follow-up assessments."

It was a welcome taste of freedom after the rigid 
discipline of the initial training, and it didn't take 
long for the new flight attendants to take advantage of 
it. For freedom, Montreal was exactly the right city. 
The stories of their off-duty antics came back to her 
in fragments, and Heather recorded them all 
meticulously in her journal.

Heather was doing her best to distance herself from the 
impulsive lifestyle the other recruits were adopting, 
but it was difficult. She had been staying in a little 
bed and breakfast near the Ville Veux, and tried to 
keep herself on task. The investigation. She had to 
stay focused. The other girls stayed in a downtown 
apartment they had rented together.

The restlessness was to be expected. It was almost a 
welcome friend, where there were no others. She missed 
her apartment. She missed her cat (of all the silly 
things). She even missed Thumper's company. Montreal 
was where the restlessness hit Heather the worst. Here, 
she was anonymous in a strange city, which brought to 
mind all sorts of possibilities. There was an 
irrepressible energy to this place.

Despite her better judgement, Heather ended this 
particular day on a drinking binge with the other 
recruits. It was a stupid mistake. The invitation had 
come casually, and Heather had thoughtlessly accepted. 
It was Janine, after all. Janine the housewife. Janine 
with three kids. Janine the conservative...

...with a slice of lemon in one hand, and a salt shaker 
dancing clumsily in the other.

This corner booth at some random night club was a 
meeting place for six of the new recruits. Maybe it was 
just the setting, but they all seemed different here. 
There was Janine, of course, who was anticipating her 
fifth shot of tequila. Robbi, the college girl, was 
wearing a tight little tank top that showed off the 
weight she had lost in the last few weeks.

Nora and Elaine were black girls, who had abducted a 
French Canadian guy from the crowd, and were swapping 
his tongue between them. Lillian, the youngest in the 
new class of flight attendants, was sitting beside 
Heather tonight.

"Do you like it?" She was lifting her shirt unabashedly 
to show Heather her new tattoo. The orchids peaked out 
from beneath the waistband of her panties, leaving 
Heather to guess how far down the flowery display 
extended.

"Nice." It really was. It was also a little troubling. 
Everything was new. It was almost contagious. New 
clothing. Heather was guilty of it herself. What else 
was she going to do on her restless evenings alone? 
Shopping was a nice distraction. New tattoos... a few 
of the girls had partaken. New friends. New lovers.

New bodies. That one was hard to miss. Most of the 
class, Heather had noticed from the beginning, had 
started a little overweight. Maybe it was just the 
intensity of the training, but most everyone had 
dropped some weight. The new clothing accentuated the 
changes.

As rumours went, one of the girls had made an 
appointment for breast enlargement surgery. 
Surprisingly, Exeter Airline's extended medical plan 
agreed to cover the procedure. Once that rumour got 
around, there was all sorts of talk from the other 
girls. Hell, free cosmetic surgery... what woman didn't 
have a few minor flaws she'd like taken care of?

Heather was tempted in a way she would never have 
expected, and her resistance felt artificial. Just a 
couple of days previously, she had gone on a little 
shopping spree of her own, and surprised herself by 
buying some coloured contact lenses. Sparkling green 
eyes had been her gift to herself. They were an 
indulgence, she knew, but it felt so good.

What was the harm in enjoying it all a little bit? A 
little flirting. A little drinking.

Someone handed her another random shooter, and after 
only the briefest of hesitations, the alcohol tasted 
her lips.

The music of the dance club buzzed in her ears, and the 
murmur of mixed French and English settled somewhere in 
the background. It was all exhilarating, and Heather 
felt suddenly very silly for isolating herself these 
past days from the other girls. What did it accomplish, 
staying alone in a rented room, writing all of her 
reports? It was pointless. This was where she needed to 
be.

Janine offered her a taste of tequila, and the wrist of 
her hand, sprinkled with salt. Heather took both, and 
was surprised by the sweet warmth of Janine's skin 
against her lips. The other girls laughed as she 
lingered a little too long there, licking and sucking 
at the salt.

Lillian was just about to show everyone the rest of her 
tattoo when a group of guys joined their table. They 
were instantly familiar. Janine whispered in Heather's 
ear.

"These guys fly with us all the time. They work as 
software engineers in a local firm. I invited them out 
tonight too. They are beautiful, No?" She said this 
last part in an imitation of the French accents the 
guys spoke with.

Heather giggled despite herself, and then tried to 
stifle it. It was just too funny, the way Janine said 
it.

They are beautiful, No?

Beautiful and naughty. Another guilty pleasure in a 
night full of them. 

Claude was hers.

She sat on his lap when there was no more room in the 
booth, and let his hands wander to where they felt 
good. She could taste the cigarettes on his lips 
probably the same way he could taste the tequila on 
hers.

They all left together, stumbling through the 
surprisingly active late night streets of the city 
until they reached the apartment all the girls shared. 
Heather knew it was useless to think this out. It was 
probably a mistake. Even through the alcohol, she knew 
that much.

It was just so hard to resist the way it felt. Amongst 
these girls, she felt sexy, and alive, and was the 
centre of attention. She traded kisses with Claude, and 
Glen, and even with Lillian, who's tattoo was no longer 
a mystery to anyone.

"My room," Lillian whispered breathlessly. Claude and 
Glen followed. 

Heather stumbled through the darkness to join them.

She entangled with someone on the bed. It wasn't 
Claude. There was no taste of tobacco on these lips. 
Was it Glen? Lillian? Heather didn't care. It just felt 
good to be touched this way. It was a slow, grinding 
pace that left every nerve in her body tingling.

In this long make-out session, Heather could feel her 
clothing being stripped away. Then there was bare flesh 
against hers, and more sensations for her hungry lips.

"Mmmm," Lillian's groan of pleasure was muffled. 
Heather could see through the half-light of the room 
that the younger girl was taking a cock in her mouth. 
It seemed so natural.

Heather rolled on top of the other guy, and pinned him 
down to the bed. A taste of his lips told her it was 
Claude again. His tongue danced in her mouth as she 
reached down and freed his cock from his underwear. It 
had been since college that Heather had done this, but 
she was ready. Her body was screaming it.

She pushed her body back against his, and squirmed 
against him until her was buried within her pussy.

"Oh, god, I'm all yours," she told him. It didn't 
matter that he was a complete stranger. It didn't 
matter that he was a passenger of her airline. It felt 
good to give in. It felt good to surrender for a moment 
to her urges.

It was all motion now, as she rotated her hips against 
him.

"Hey, Glen, this is a hot one, No?"

"Yeah."

Heather barely noticed that a bedside lamp was on now, 
and Glen was watching her ride his friend, with Lillian 
still worshipping his cock. A little orgasm rocked 
through her body as Claude's penis found just the right 
spot within her.

"Oh, man, you should feel this... the way she moves... 
ungh..."

Glen nodded, and pulled Lillian's head from his lap, 
leaving her gasping for breath. His engorged prick 
glistened with her saliva. He crawled across the bed, 
taking a position behind Heather for a better view. 
Having another man behind her only intensified the 
feelings for Heather. She knew how it must look from 
his position. Her ass and pussy pumped back and forth, 
swallowing his friend's cock greedily. She felt so 
exposed.

"She's sweet... you mind if I join in?"

Claude grunted his assent.

A new set of hands were on Heather's hips now. She 
looked up towards Lillian, who lounged a few feet away, 
rubbing the crotch of her panties. She eyed the scene 
hungrily. Lillian gave her a wink.

"Mmmmph!" Heather cried out, but her mouth was occupied 
with Claude's tongue. Glen was holding her in place 
now, and pushing his slick cock against her rear hole.

Lillian crawled closer now, and planted her lips 
against her co-worker's cheek. "It's okay, honey... let 
him in... god, you're so sexy... I bet it'll feel 
good... come on..."

The younger girl continued to whisper encouragement as 
Glen pushed in further.

"Just relax... just a little more now... he's almost 
there..."

Heather's ass was on fire. Glen's cock stabbed back and 
forth in jerky little motions, each one burying him 
further within. Finally, with a satisfied groan, he 
slapped his body against her rear.

Lillian pulled Heather's lips to her own, and kissed 
her deeply. "How does it feel?" she asked, between 
kisses.

"Full... too full..."

Both of the guys began to push again now, sliding 
themselves into the stewardess who was pinned between 
them. The mixture of sensations was overwhelming for 
Heather. I shouldn't be enjoying this, she argued 
silently to herself. There's something wrong.

Heather knew she shouldn't be enjoying the humiliation 
of the situation. It was nothing that had ever appealed 
to her before, even in her most secret fantasies. But 
now, being a piece of meat shared between two strangers 
in a strange city... it felt... right. Her body being 
used this way, almost against her will... it was 
fitting... it was exactly what all the other girls had 
been doing since the training sessions. It was what she 
had been resisting.

Her hips began to rotate again, sending waves of 
pleasure back through her body.

"This is so damned sexy... "Lillian told her, kissing 
her lips deeply one more time, and then jumping up from 
the bed excitedly.

"Hey Janine!" she called out from her bedroom door. 
"You've gotta see this."

Heather's face flushed again with the shame of being 
watched by the other girls. She could hear giggling at 
the doorway behind her as they gathered. It was a 
sickening sensation... almost like the queasy feeling 
she sometimes got during the flight simulation. In 
another way, though, it felt good... like she really... 
belonged.

Passing over the notebooks felt like a betrayal.

This is what I was here to do in the first place, 
Heather had to remind herself. She had lost sight of 
that over the last week, even to the extent that her 
recent notes were brief and lacking specific details. 
She felt bad for handing in a report that detailed what 
the other girls did with the passengers, the pilots, 
and the ground crew, while she conveniently omitted her 
own sins.

Thumper leafed through them slowly.

"Do we have enough?"

"I think so... but..."

"But what?"

Thumper closed the notebooks. There was excitement in 
her voice. Heather knew when Thumper was up to 
something, and this time, it was something big.

"There's no doubt that Exeter is turning a blind eye to 
the behaviour of its employees. The policies are in 
place, but they don't do anything to enforce them. Now 
you're telling me that the airline has agreed to cover 
cosmetic surgery through its medical plan... over all, 
there's plenty here to work with..."

Heather waited for the other shoe to drop.

"...but I think we can get them on something much 
bigger. When you brought back the recording of the 
training simulator, I had it analyzed. I paid out of my 
own pocket, mind you, because you didn't want the 
foundation involved. "

"And?"

"There's definitely something there. Complex 
information is imbedded into the background noise. "

"What are you saying?"

"You really aren't following me, are you? You have no 
idea what I'm talking about."

Heather flushed with anger. Thumper never used to talk 
to her this way. 

She continued.

"Which is exactly my point. I noticed it last time we 
met too. You had troubles concentrating. You've been 
getting worse as time goes on. Towards the end of your 
notes, you have a hard time stringing a sentence 
together."

"I've been busy..."

"You've been brainwashed. Or something close to it. The 
psychological stresses of the simulator seem to be just 
a starting point to make you vulnerable to the 
suggestions embedded in the background noise."

"I can't believe it... it's just too..."

"You might not notice all of the changes in yourself, 
but look at the other girls from your class of 
recruits. You gave me their names last time, and I've 
done a little investigating. Since being hired by 
Exeter just over a month ago, two of these women have 
left their husbands..."

Janine. Erica.

"One has dropped out of college..."

Robbi.

"Three have had breast enlargements..."

Cindy. Elaine. Margaret.

"And two have been arrested for public indecency."

Lillian. Jerri.

God, it was a little overwhelming when Thumper put it 
all together like that.

"Not to mention all of the activities you've recorded 
in your notebooks..."

And definitely not to mention the activities Heather 
decided to leave *out* of the notebooks.

"...do these sound like the same women who you 
described as..." she leafed through the initial 
reports, "ah, here it is... 'intelligent, well-spoken 
women of diverse backgrounds'?"

"I don't know, "was the only response that Heather's 
lips seemed ready with.

"Yes you do. Somewhere in there, you're seeing this as 
clearly as I am. It's just back there somewhere behind 
all this crap they've inserted into your head."

"Maybe you're right..." Heather didn't feel like 
arguing. It was too much effort to resist Thumper's 
logic. "Maybe we should let Donna know what's going on. 
"

"Not yet. I need a little more proof. We don't have 
enough on the initial tape to decipher the suggestions. 
If we keep you in just a few more weeks, and you can 
get me another couple of recordings, we'll be able to 
crack this thing wide open... fuck, this'll be the 
biggest thing that ever hit the Primrose Foundation..."

"But, "Heather struggled for the words, "if what you're 
saying is true, aren't I... getting..."

"Don't worry about it."

Okay.

"And what do we tell Donna?" Heather was having trouble 
understanding Thumper's plan.

"If we told her what evidence we have, she'd pull you 
out. We have to keep on telling her that we haven't 
found enough evidence yet. It'll buy us some time..."

***

Heather felt silly and nervous, waiting for Diane in 
her office.

She felt silly for even requesting to see the HR 
manager. The woman was much too busy to be bothered. 
She considered leaving, and probably would have, if she 
hadn't left her name with the receptionist.

Damn.

Why had she even come here? It was stupid. She didn't 
really have a reason.

"Hi Heather, how are you today?"

Heather jumped a bit in her seat. Why did this woman 
make her so nervous? There was a time when she would go 
into meetings like this one with such self-confidence.

Right now, she could barely choke out her words.

"I'm okay, I guess."

Wishy washy. Pathetic. "I mean, "she continued. "I feel 
a little dumb for bothering you..."

"Nonsense, "the woman cut her off. "I told you from the 
beginning, my door is always open. What's on your 
mind?"

Not the reaction she had expected. In truth, she didn't 
know what to expect.

"I don't know."

Diane had this controlled manner that had unnerved 
Heather even from the first interview with Exeter. She 
sat behind her desk motionless, with a quizzical, 
almost amused expression on her face. She cocked her 
head just slightly to one side after a minute.

"Okay. Maybe I can help you out. Let's go back over the 
past few days. "Her tone of voice made Heather blush. 
It reminded her of the way someone would talk when 
humouring a small child.

Heather drew a blank. She bit her lower lip, and 
lowered her eyes, knowing that the woman was still 
staring at her.

"How about yesterday, "Diane suggested. "I hear you had 
a bit of a problem on your flight back from Los 
Angeles."

Oh god, how did she know? Heather got that queasy 
feeling again.

"Not really... I mean..."

It was an episode she would rather forget.

"I'd like to hear about it, "again with the measured 
tone. Heather felt like she was talking to a 
psychiatrist or something. Being probed. Analyzed.

"It's not much. It's just... well, there's this girl I 
went to school with..."

"College?"

"College."

Diane opened the file on her desktop. Funny, that. 
Heather didn't remember Diane taking the time to 
retrieve any files. How did she have it ready?

"I remember now. We checked out your transcript when we 
hired you. You did quite well in college, didn't you?"

"Mmm hmm. "Heather nodded.

"And this girl, "the interviewer prompted.

"She was a class mate. Arlene Medsger. We took a lot of 
the same classes."

"How were her grades?"

Diane knew just the right questions. "Good. Very 
competitive."

"So what happened yesterday?"

"Well, it's just that... we were always rivals in 
college... and we weren't exactly on good terms... and 
when I saw her yesterday, it made me feel..."she 
couldn't complete the sentence. "I mean, here she is, 
just a few years out of college, and she's flying 
executive class with her colleagues. You wouldn't 
believe how nicely she was dressed..."

Diane nodded.

"And there I am, in my uniform, serving drinks and 
feeling... inferior. As soon as I saw her, I just 
started feeling queasy, and I got all flustered, and by 
the time she noticed me, my face was red, and she could 
see how embarrassed I was. "

"Embarrassed?"

It was probably the wrong thing to say to the HR 
manager of the airline, Heather realized, too late.

"Not really embarrassed, "Heather tried to back-track. 
"It's just, well, the way she looked at me... I knew 
what she was thinking. "

"What was she thinking?"

"That I didn't measure up. She was smug about it, like 
I had decided to put my brain on the shelf, and take 
some mindless job, because I didn't have what it takes 
to be successful. "

"And you think she's wrong?" Diane taunted playfully 
from the other side of the desk, frustrating Heather 
even further.

"Of course she's wrong, "Heather shot back defensively. 
"It's not fair of her to think of me that way. I'm not 
just some dumb stewardess. I don't really belong..."

Heather stopped herself just in time. One step further, 
and she would have blown the whole investigation. Diane 
watched her carefully, with a continuous half-smile on 
her lips. It was like she enjoyed these kinds of 
meetings.

"Did she say anything?"

"Not at first, but I saw her whisper something to the 
guys sitting beside her, and the way they looked at me 
made me feel even more self-conscious. I was really 
trying to ignore it, but every little task I did seemed 
to amuse them. I would fluff a pillow, or fetch someone 
a drink, and Arlene would be watching me...gloating..."

"How did that make you feel?"

Always the right question. Damn. Why did Diane always 
know the right question to ask?

"Embarrassed..."

Not the right answer.

"and angry..."

Not quite. Go on, said Diane's insistent gaze.

"and stupid..."

And...

"and... I... and aroused."

That was what she wanted. The inappropriate arousal had 
come to Heather frequently since that first night out 
with the other girls. Even now, admitting it out loud 
was giving her a sexual charge.

"Really...? And what did you do about it?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me. What did you do?"

"I... I went to the washroom. I didn't know what to do. 
I took off my bra, and I kept some of the buttons on my 
blouse undone, and I went out again..."

"That's a dress code violation, my dear."

"I know, "Heather was so ashamed.

"Show me."

Then more sternly. "Show me."

Heather didn't hesitate again. She shed her jacket as 
she stood. With trembling fingers, she began to 
unbutton her blouse for the interviewer.

"Very nice. Have you lost some weight since coming 
here."

"Yes, ma'am. I've been working out too."

She reached back and unsnapped her bra, allowing the 
garment to fall to the floor. Her breasts were fully 
exposed now, her nipples puffed with excitement. Under 
Diane's commanding gaze, she re-buttoned her blouse 
about half way, and put her jacket back on.

"Bend forward a little... that's enough... did you know 
that passengers can see right down the front of your 
blouse that way?"

"Yes."

"But you did it anyway?"

Heather nodded. She was angry at herself for allowing 
this to happen. "When I came out, I made a point of 
offering drinks to Arlene and her friends. Then, when I 
leaned forward to serve them, I could see the look on 
her face. She was surprised at first, and then even 
more amused than before."

"What did she think of you now?"

"That I wasn't just mindless, but that I was a whore."

Diane stood, and walked around her desk. Heather stayed 
in position, facing the desk, and bent forward. Diane 
stood behind the flight attendant, and placed her hand 
on the small of her back.

"What did you do next?"

Where was Diane getting her information from? Heather 
didn't dare lie.

"I went back to the washroom, and I rubbed myself a 
little bit, and I thought about the way that Arlene 
thought I was a dumb whore now. It made me angry, and 
ashamed, and so goddamned horny. And I was thinking 
about the way that Arlene was looking at my breasts, 
and the way all the other passengers were too, and 
I..."

"Yes... "Diane's hand pushed against Heather back now, 
causing her to bend forward into the desk. Heather 
embraced this new position, leaning fully forward with 
her hands at her side, and Diane positioned behind her.

"I have this little black marker I used for writing 
things down. And I was looking at myself in the mirror, 
and I just had this impulse... and so I used the black 
marker to write something on the tops of my breasts, so 
that everyone would be able to see it."

"That's another dress code violation, you know..."

"Yes."

"And you deserve to be punished, don't you?"

Heather nodded silently. Diane's left hand lifted the 
hem of Heather's skirt, exposing her bent-forward ass. 
Her other hand began to administer the punishment.

"Yes. I need to be punished."

"What did you write on your tits, Heather? What did you 
want all of the passengers to see?"

"I wrote... god, it was so bad... I wrote 'blow job, 
$5.00' on each of my tits, so all the guys could see 
it. I was so embarrassed by what I did, that I tried 
not to bend forward anymore. But I knew it was there, 
and it made me so hot... and I guess I just lost my 
willpower..."

"Did anyone take you up on it?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"One of Arlene's friends. He handed me a five dollar 
bill on his way to the washroom. Then, with everyone 
watching, I followed him in there. I can't believe I 
did that."

"That was very bad, wasn't it?" The spanking was 
becoming more intense. Diane's hand was warm from the 
blows, and landed the most painful swats against 
Heather's rear.

"Yes. I was a very bad girl. When he was done, we both 
came out of the washroom, and everyone was staring at 
me. I couldn't even look in Arlene's direction. A few 
minutes later, I noticed that the five dollar bill he 
gave me was sticking out of the waistband of my skirt, 
and that everyone could see it..."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Like a cheap whore. And everyone knew it. I don't know 
what made me do it. Then another passenger passed me a 
bill on his way to the washroom. I didn't know what to 
do..."

"Yes, you did. "Diane's hand was being kind now. She 
stopped the spanking, and slipped a couple of fingers 
beneath Heather's panties. The stewardess gasped when 
the woman found her spot.

"Yes, I did. I went in with him. And then with another. 
Then a woman gave me a five. Each time I came out, I 
had to straighten my clothing, and my hair was more of 
a mess, and I had another bill sticking out of my 
skirt."

"How much money did you make, all together?"

"Aaaah, "Heather whimpered for release, "I made thirty-
five dollars, ma'am."

"You know that it's against policy to accept tips, 
don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Maybe I should punish you by not giving you an 
orgasm."

"No. Please. I need it."

Diane slowed down, but didn't stop. "One more question. 
Did Arlene ever say anything to you?"

"Yes... mmmm... but not much... she just... ungh... 
when she was done with her...umnn... drink, she just 
called me over to take her glass... she just said... 
"waitress"... and I... ungh..."

Heather's body was out of control. Her hips pushed 
backwards, and bucked against the interviewer's 
fingers.

"I... aaaaah... I suddenly got really mad... and I told 
her... mmmnnffff... 'I'm not a waitress'... mmmmm... 
'I'm a flight attendant'... and she... she just gave me 
this smug look..."

"That made you angry?" Diane's voice was as controlled 
as ever, in contrast to the girl who squirmed on her 
fingers now.

"Yes."

"But basically, that's what you are now. You're a 
waitress on an airplane. You're just a stewardess. "

"I'm not... ummmmnnn... I'm not a waitress..."

"Okay then, how about 'server'..."

Serve. Servile. Servitude.

"Oh, god, yes."

Servitude. That was perfect.

"That suits you better?"

"Yes... please... please give me an orgasm... please 
give me permission to cum."

"In a while, "Diane cruelly took away her fingers. "I 
can sense that you're still a little conflicted about 
your role here."

She circled back around the desk, and placed her wet 
fingers against Heather's lips to be cleaned.

"I'm going to recommend one more long session in the 
simulator. After that, you'll get your orgasm."

Frustrated but eager to please, Heather took the 
fingers in her mouth, and nodded in agreement. It was 
only one more session, after all.

***

The remaining Chinese food sat open on the table, and 
Thumper leaned back on the sofa, her belly full, and a 
contented smile on her face.

"You did great, Heather."

With what?

"You don't have a single idea what I'm talking about, 
do you? I may as well be talking to your cat, or the 
furniture, or the toilet."

There was an insult in there somewhere, Heather 
suspected.

"But at least you nod your empty little head, and smile 
when I talk. That's a nice touch. But unless I'm 
talking about sex, or shopping, or looking pretty, it's 
all lost on you, isn't it? Or is there still some part 
of you that still understands the whole thing?"

"I don't know," Heather pouted. Maybe she could 
understand it if she tried, but it was too hard work to 
keep her attention on it. It bothered her to hear her 
friend talk this way. They used to be so close, didn't 
they?

"Buying the Chinese food tonight was the least I could 
do. Heck, you've done it often enough for me. And now 
that I've 'negotiated' my way into some money, it only 
seems fair."

"That's really nice of you, Thump." The familiarity 
came easily.

"I actually feel a little badly about the way this all 
turned out for you. To tell the truth, though, I'm not 
sure I could have helped you anyhow, once it all 
started. It was just a matter of who was going to 
profit from it. I could have turned the information 
over to the Primrose Foundation, or I could take the 
initiative myself, and do the kind of shakedown I 
always admired you for. "

Thumper paused in her justification. It was wasted 
breath, but she needed to get it out.

"No offence, Heather, but I'm just sick of sitting in 
someone's shadow. You were always nice to me and 
everything. I just never had your talent. Donna never 
took me seriously. I mean, you really can't blame me, 
can you?"

***

Heather shrugged. Primrose Foundation. Donna. The names 
sounded familiar, but she couldn't place them.

"It's not like I forgot about you. They just weren't 
willing to negotiate you into the deal. For them, you 
were a guarantee that he Primrose Foundation would 
leave them alone. It would embarrass Donna in any PR 
campaign that she lost one of her own employees to 
Exeter's recruiters. She'll leave them alone now."

Theresa shook here head. "I guess I don't want to talk 
about it anymore. 

I just had to get that all off my chest. God, I'm 
full."

She patted her stomach in demonstration, and then 
unsnapped the top button of her jeans.

Now there was a signal that Heather understood well. It 
was a little surprising, coming from a friend. They had 
never been lovers, had they? No. Just college friends. 
On cue, Heather sank to her knees and began to crawl 
towards Theresa's feet.

"No, Heather. I was just unbuttoning to let my belly 
out a bit. I didn't want..."

But her friend was giving her that sexy smile that had 
always melted Thumper's heart.

"God, you're making this tough on me, aren't you? I'm 
going to feel guilty about this later."

Heather pushed her face up between Theresa's legs, and 
kissed her thighs through the rough material of her 
jeans.

"Wait a second, "Thumper stopped her co-worker from 
going any further. "If I'm going to do this anyhow, I 
might as well, you know...enjoy it... I like it a 
particular way. Lay on your back. Right there. On the 
floor."

Not terribly comfortable, but Heather didn't argue. She 
waited there while Thumper peeled off her jeans and 
stood above her.

"Don't you look pretty, in your cute little uniform, 
and pouty lips. Did Exeter pay for those, I wonder?"

"I..."

"Shhhh... just stay where you are, and keep quiet. I 
want to enjoy this moment."

Thumper stepped across her friend's body, and knelt 
down, with her knees just above Heather's head. From 
this position, she was able to reach down, and take 
hold of Heather's hair with her hands. Heather licked 
her lips. Just inches above her, she was surprised to 
see a little gold ring pierced through her friend's 
clitoris.

Soon, the warmed metal was on her tongue.

"God, I always fantasized about having you, "the girl 
said, letting her hips gyrate gently against the 
stewardess' face. "But you were always too imposing. I 
knew you were straight, and I was afraid to ask you."

Heather couldn't have responded if she wanted to. 
Thumper was pushing down with more of her weight now. 
Her round little belly bounced above Heather's eyes, 
and her thighs pressed firmly to the sides of her head.

"So I did it with other girls... exactly like this. 
Always on the floor. Always with me sitting above, in 
control. It makes me feel superior. A lot of the time, 
I would pretend it was you. In those moments, I wasn't 
just your tag-along friend. I was riding your face for 
my own pleasure."

The movement became more insistent now. More urgent. 
This had definitely been a long time coming for 
Theresa.

"And it's just like I imagined. Better, even. My only 
regret is that you're not understanding everything I'm 
saying right now. I wish you would try. Somewhere in 
there, you're so damned bright, and I'd give just about 
anything to see a flash of that in your eyes right 
now... just for a second... please..."

Her hands gripped Heather's hair tightly, and her body 
began to shake.

"Take the ring between your lips now, and hold on 
tight... I'm just about ready..."

Her body shook in preparation of her climax, and her 
legs began to pump, up and down, up and down. It was 
all Heather could do to keep the clit ring in her 
mouth. The assault became more violent still, Thumper 
riding her friend's face with her whole body. Her grip 
on heather's head was unbreakable.

When orgasm finally hit her, she didn't hold back, 
pounding Heather's head up and down, slamming it 
roughly against the floor.

"Oh, fuck, Heather... this is what I always wanted from 
you... goddamn... show me that you understand... I want 
to see it in your eyes..."

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Ever so briefly, a glimmer of intelligence did return 
to Heather's eyes. 

She understood.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Thumper.

Then it was gone again.

END

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Kristen's collection - Directory 48