Chapter 9
Making the Mafia
Back from the south of France, I was very rested. I'm not sure if it's quite the right phrase to use, but I'd had an unusual time, and they do say a change is as good as a rest. I was fighting fit and ready to tackle anything, even the dreaded Tony Walters and the promised flight to New York. I checked in for the flight extra early (normal check-in time for a long haul was one-and-a-quarter hours), but I got there well before that. There was no way I wanted to start off on the wrong foot with the lovely Mr. Walters.
He came into the crew room exactly at the appointed hour. He was as big and ugly as ever. He gave us the briefing for the flight. We had a load of American students. He snorted in recognition and pounced on me to recount my emergency drill and the complete location of all the emergency equipment on the aircraft. Luckily I was one step ahead of him. That was the one subject I always made sure I knew a hundred percent. I'd passed my exams, but I studiously applied myself to the emergency section of the manual before each flight. We had several types of Britannias, and the location of emergency equipment varied slightly on each. The bulk of them were 308s, the type we were flying that day. He couldn't catch me out on one question, even down to which dinghy I took charge of if we should come down in the sea. This wasn't because I was exceptionally brilliant; it was a simple fact of self-preservation. I wanted to be able to get the passengers out in the un likely event of an emergency, but most of all, I wanted to get out myself, once I'd evacuated them from the aircraft. He made no comment, and we left for the aircraft in the crew bus.
I was flying as a Number Three in charge of the forward galley this trip. My duties were to heat meals, make tea and coffee, and tend to the flight deck's needs. Tony made me make the announcement over the PA to the passengers so I went to the nav and found out our flight time, altitude, and all the other necessary information. I started the announcement, and I got to the part where I informed the passengers we were now leaving for such and such a place, and then I had a complete blank! I couldn't for the life of me think where we were going!
I turned to the other girl in the galley and asked, "Where the hell are we going?"
"Unfortunately I had forgotten to depress the receiver, and my question blasted down the whole length of the cabin, causing great mirth among the passengers, but not in Tony.
He came tearing into the galley and asked, "What do you think you're playing at, you twit!"
I didn't answer him, but apologized to the passengers and continued with my announcements. He stood and glared at me, the veins in his neck threatening to burst at any moment.
"You feather-brained little goose! How could you make such a complete cock-up of such an easy job?" he asked.
"Quite simply," I said. "I just had a mental block," I explained. "I suppose you've never had one," I added.
He then took over the PA while the two other girls and I demonstrated the life jackets to the passengers. Tony announced to the passengers over the PA, "To inflate your life jacket, pull the red knob down smartly."
I touched the knob very gingerly. (It would be just my luck to become overexcited at the thought of touching a knob and pull the thing down too hard and inflate the jacket!) Fortunately I kept my wits about me and got through the demonstration in time with the announcements. I even pulled my whistle out at the correct time. I pointed out the emergency exits, and the ordeal was over. The rest was yet to come.
We took off and immediately did a bar round and meal service. I spent my time in the galley taking the trays from the containers, unstacking them and laying them up for the meal. As fast as I dished them up and placed them on the slats of the door, Tony and the two girls snatched them away. When it came to clearing up, I put a big trash bag below the slats of the door to tip the rubbish into. I had to salvage the cutlery and insets. Muscle man Tony took great delight in showing his strength by bringing at least a dozen trays back at a time and leaving me in one hell of a mess. The other two stews were in tears as he screamed at them throughout the whole meal service. At last I cleared up the mess, and Tony came into the galley and asked for a cup of tea.
"Why don't you just fuck off and make your own tea, you mean bastard?" I replied. "You're just a big bully, and you like to prey on weaker people. You don't scare me, you sod. It's just a shame the bulge in your trousers isn't as thick as your head."
He stared at me in amazement and then laughed. "You're the first girl in ages who hasn't been terrified of me," he said and then added, "You didn't do too badly for your first time in the galley."
I couldn't believe it. He was paying me a compliment. I must have excelled myself. When he relaxed, his face was attractive in a hard sort of way. He was the sort of a man you couldn't get around with tears or other womanly wiles; you had to stand up to him. He delighted in breaking spineless girls down into gibbering wrecks, but he'd met his match with me.
The American students then started pressing the call buttons like mad, saying, "Ma'am, I want this, I want that" without a single please or by your leave. They were drinking the ship dry, so I said to Tony, "I've got a good idea. Why don't we set up the bar kart across the door leading to the forward compartment. There are no passengers there."
He said it wasn't allowed, but I persisted. "I'm sure you and the two girls don't want to spend the next eight hours tearing up and down the cabin with drinks."
We put the plan into operation. Tony and I manned the bar. We proved a teriffic team and soon had the passengers tired out, well oiled, and sleeping, leaving us in peace until the snack service in to New York.
"You've the makings of a very good stew," he said.
"I've the makings of many things. Try me," I said.
He laughed, groped at my boobs, and said, "I'm sure you have."
His mouth sought out mine, and he went into a passionate clinch in the middle of the galley. We couldn't carry it any further, but it excited me very much to think I had tamed this big brute. He was really quite a softy under his hard exterior. I lowered my eyes. He certainly wasn't soft in his lower regions, but we had no more time, as we were due to land at JFK in twenty minutes, and we parted, each at a high pitch of excitement. However, those few minutes together had been quite thrilling.
We checked into a hotel just off Fifth Avenue, and Tony came straight to my room. To hell with the crew party-we were going to have one all our own! Tony came with a full bottle of Scotch and proceeded to demolish most of it himself. He ran me a bath and massaged my neck and back as I lolled in the warm water. He went back into the bedroom, leaving me to finish my bath. I did so and came out to find the room full of smoke. He'd fallen asleep and dropped his cigarette on the mattress. I made my way through the thick smoke and woke him, and together we plunged the smoldering mattress into the tub. It sizzled and sank like a wounded hippo. The stench was awful. Fortunately it hadn't burned right through the mattress, and we turned it over and put it back on the bed. We remade the bed and climbed into it.
Tony was far too gone with booze to do very much. He rolled on top of me and tried to pop his sloppy cock into my hot oven. It was like trying to get a marshmallow into a money box. The box was warm, tight, and receptive, but Tony's cock wasn't even beginning to rise to the occasion. In fact, after a few whisky-laden attempts to land his mouth on mine, he fell into a deep drunken sleep on top of me. I heaved him off, and he rolled off me and on to the floor with one hell of a crash. The only reaction that produced was a snort and long rasping snores. He lay on his back with his mouth open. I was really turned off and very thankful that he hadn't been able to make it. Maybe that was the reason he was such a bastard on the aircraft. He had a tremendous chip on his shoulder caused possibly by this inadequacy. He had to have a drink in order to do it, but then imbibed too much to make it. That's enough to turn anyone into the sort of beast he was reputed to be. However, he had a soft streak underneath. Maybe I could penetrate it, I thought, later. I like to help people with their problems when I can.
I got up and dressed in the lightest of garments, for 'it was midsummer, and I can assure you the heat is no fun in New York. A simple cotton dress and drawers were all I needed. I left a note for Tony saying what a fantastic lay he'd been! After all, the poor guy would never know if he'd given me one or not, and there was no point in lowering his ego. It was at rock bottom now.
I made a phone call to an old friend and stepped out into the brilliant sunshine of a New York afternoon. I walked a few blocks to his office, and he greeted me seconds later and ushered me into his luxurious air-conditioned office. It was heaven to my overheated body.
Scott was a small, dark, compact man, good-looking in a swarthy Italian way. I had originally met Scott in England. We were both fighting to get the same cab on one of London's unusual-ha! ha!-rainy evenings. We decided to share it in the end, and he invited me to join him and some American friends for dinner. Scott and I had clicked immediately, and we have remained good friends ever since. He was overjoyed to see me on his home ground at long last.
I could never get to the bottom of what he did for a living. I knew he organized junkets from New York to London. (Junkets were organized planeloads of passengers flown across to the UK specifically to gamble in casinos.) That's all the information he would ever give me about his business life, and I didn't care to pry any further. He'd always been a charming and courteous companion. Wherever he went, he was accompanied by "de boys," a couple of thickset fellows from Brooklyn with accents you could carve up with a knife. They didn't speak much, but when they did, it was quite amazing. I thought people only talked like that in old American movies. Normally when we went out to dinner Scott ordered for them without consulting them, and they in their turn silently ate everything that was placed before them. I wondered about this set-up. I used to tease them about being "heavies." I'd frequently phone Scott at his London hotel and ask, "Is dat de hood's hideout?"
He would always scold me, but not too severely. A few years later, I found out that my fears had been justified. He and "de boys" were proved members of the Mafia and deported from England. I couldn't believe that such sweet people could be real live thugs. They were always so super to me. I once overheard "de bovs" talking about how they would kill someone for money, and how they considered it just a job like butchering a pig. They said it half jokingly. I told them they were shooting their mouths off and wouldn't really do anything of the sort. Now it makes my blood run cold to think they really meant it and how near I came to becoming a gangster's moll!
However, Scott was a kind, thoughtful man who always announced his arrival in London by sending three dozen red roses to my apartment. Somehow we'd never made it in bed together. Maybe that was because "de boys" were always stuck to him like Siamese twins. Today they were nowhere to be seen. In retrospect, I realize they were probably out on "a contract." Scott and I sensed the moment had come, and we both spoke at once.
"I suppose a fuck is out of the question?"
We laughed, and I said, "Of course not! Your place or mine?" I asked.
"Where are you staying?" he inquired.
"Just around the corner," I replied.
"Let's go, honey," he rejoined.
As I turned the key in the lock of the door to my room I suddenly remembered Tony! I started to giggle.
"Surely the thought of going to bed with me isn't making you laugh?" Scott asked.
"No," I replied. "It's just that I left a sleeping drunken man in my room. I forgot all about him. Do you mind?"
"As long as he's out for the count, it doesn't bother me!" he replied.
We entered the room and were greeted immediately by snores from the far side of the bed on the floor. We moved forward and approached Tony's inert form. He was fast asleep with a beatific smile on his face. His mouth was closed, and he looked quite desirable again. I pondered on the thought of waking him up to join the party, but Scott was already undressed and obviously wanted me to himself.
He lay down on the bed and pulled me on top of him. Before I crashed onto him I naturally noticed he had a magnificent cock. (I'd always imagined he would have!) It had a monk's hood over its bulbous head. It was a good size and rising rapidly to meet me, but I still had my clothes on. Scott yanked the zipper down the back of my dress and threw it on the floor.
"Hey, steady on," I said. "We've got plenty of time."
"I haven't," he replied, pointing to his cock.
"Too bad," I said. "You'll just have to wait. I like to take it nice and easy. You've waited months. A few more minutes won't make any difference," I concluded.
Saying this, I stood up, took off my shoes and panties, and then snuggled up next to him in bed. He turned to face me and his hardening weapon pressed against me. He moved over and climbed on top of me, pushing his loaded revolver between my thighs. Scott kissed me expertly, easing his agile tongue in and out of my moist mouth. He started gently, and then, as his passion mounted, he increased the pressure on my mouth. I ran my fingers through his thick black hair and pulled his head down onto my breasts. His mouth, moistened by a mixture of my saliva and his, closed over my nipple. It was like having my nipple drawn in by the feelers of a sea anemone. I loved the soft, sexy suction. As a kid in Cornwall I used to love putting my fingers into an open sea anemone and feeling its feelers close around them. This sensation stirred much more reaction in me. I can never have too much attention paid to my boobs. Scott was starting off on the right track. He didn't need to ask if I liked what he was doing. One look at my face was enough to tell him. He was an extremely sensitive man in bed. He sensed when it was time to give up the suction and moved down to minister to my by now crazy crotch.
He buried his head between my thighs. As he did so, I saw Tony's eyes open, stare at us, and shut very fast. I looked down at Scott's black head. He showed no signs of giving up his current pastime. Tony appeared to have gone back to sleep. He was certainly breathing heavily. Scott was making a four-course meal out of me. Mind you I was flooding enough to supply liquid refreshment for twenty men. Scott lifted his head and licked his lips.
"You've got the greatest-tasting pussy T've ever sampled, and that's quite a few, I can tell you!"
He came and lay over me, his face beaming, split in two. Tony's eyelids were on the blink. He was taking everything in, but pretended to be asleep. There was no way I was going to let him or his presence stop me from getting my oats. After all, Tony had let me down badly. T wasn't about to advertise the fact that our corpse had awakened, because I wasn't sure how Scott would react and I couldn't cope with two letdowns in one day.
Scott had by now scored a hole in one and was humping away on top of me to his heart's content. His movements were smooth and rhythmic as he plunged into me again and again. His eyes were closed. I turned my head to one side and saw that Tony had undone his fly and had his cock in his hand and was jerking awav merrily. He was quite oblivious of the fact that I had turned my head and was watching him. His eyes were trained on the spot where Scott's weapon was dipping in and out between by thighs. I did the only thing I could do, and that was to let everyone carry on to their culmination. Tony hadn't had his this morning and probably not for a long time before that, judging from his earlier performance. Why not let the poor bugger have himself a quiet jack-off! After all, it wasn't his fault he woke up and found us at it. Scott kept fucking me, and Tony kept jacking. It was really turning me on to see two men so excited over me. I began to wonder which one of us would come first. I hoped it would be Tony-otherwise Scott would realize he'd had an audience.
Sure enough, as though a fairy had waved her magic wand and granted my wish, Tony's eyes glazed over, and a hot shower of semen spurted into the air. Tony and I watched with fascination as the shower turned into a trickle, and drop by drop every last bit of spunk dribbled from the end of his cock until the well had run dry. Tony didn't bother to put his now deflated cock away. He just rolled over on his stomach and presumably fell back to sleep.
Scott was sweating profusely, and great floods of water were dripping from his face and soaking mine below his. He was huffing and puffing his way to orgasm like a steam engine rattling along the track at full speed. I was excited by his strength and length. The duration of time he was poking me was quite fantastic. Normally I would have climaxed long before this, but I hadn't been concentrating or giving myself entirely to him. And although I had been tremendously turned on by watching Tony jerk himself off while I was being fucked by Scott, it wasn't a satisfactory arrangement as far as I was concerned. Perhaps it would have been better if Tony hadn't participated and had been just a voyeur. Then my emotions wouldn't have been divided between the two of them. I looked down and watched Scott's pink cock disappearing from view behind my curly tuft and then reappearing as he withdrew almost the whole length of it. I took a quick look at Tony. He was still face down on the floor. I reached out for Scott's body-and pulled him down into me hard. I lifted my ass from the bed and pushed against him as hard as I could.
He started shouting. "Now! Now! I'm spurting into your delicious cunt!"
I held him tightly until my hipbones were almost demolished by his flesh. "Go on, baby! Do it to me now!" I screamed back at him.
We were locked together. Then I lost him and went into a delicious delirium. I came back to earth shaking and trembling, knowing we had made it together. I looked up and smiled at Scott. My heart was so full of happiness I felt it would burst. He opened his eyes and looked down at me.
"I've never seen anyone look so happy after they've been fucked," he said.
"That's because you did it so well, sweetheart," I replied. "You timed me to perfection."
He kissed my smiling lips.
"I've never seen you look so beautiful. You look magnificent lying there. You should be fucked all the time if that's what it does for you," he said.
"I do try to be," I answered with a laugh.
Scott looked behind him and saw Tony's still prostrate form lying on the floor.
"I forgot all about him. Are you sure he's okay?" he asked.
"Quite sure," I replied. "Just very, very tired."
Leaving me in bed, Scott got up, showered, and put on his clothes. "I've got to get back to the office, but I'll pick you up at nine, and we'll have a celebration dinner," he said.
"What are we celebrating?" I asked.
"Our first glorious fuck!" he replied and left me.
I lay there staring up at the ceiling and gradually realized how long I'd been without sleep. The effects of the time change were catching up with me, and I drifted off into a deep sleep. I awoke about eight p.m. to find Tony had vanished but had left an answer to my note. "You're quite something yourself in the sack! Do you normally fuck two guys a day? See you later. If you can stand up, I'll take you out for dinner. Love, Tony." When Scott called to take me out on the town, Tony still hadn't reappeared, so I left a note for him at the desk. I literally crawled into bed as the sun was rising after a night out in New York with Scott and "de boys."