Gabriel Du Champe
We took off from Kennedy on time at 10:20 in the morning. Ellen and I were strapped into the jump seats in the small first-class lounge section and Bob was seated just across from the first-class galley, behind us. The fat little 727 was almost totally loaded with passengers; even the first-class section was fully occupied, a rare thing indeed. I still sweat take-offs, even though I've made thousands of them safely. It's a terrible habit, but I count seconds during the roll, though you'd never know it from looking at me; I project a perfect image of cool and casual confidence. First, I count off to VI; that's the point of no return on any take-off and though it varies from flight to flight, depending on type of aircraft, ground temperature and gross weight; I've gotten pretty good at judging where, during the take off run, it occurs. It's a rough guess, of course, but it keeps me occupied. If there are any problems during a take-off, such as engine failure, control mal-function or whatever, the Captain must abort before he reaches VI; after that point, he, at least theoretically would run out of runway before he could bring the aircraft to a safe stop. However, I've heard many pilots state that, despite the stringent FAA regulations relating to VI decision speeds, there are specific types of emergencies in which they would toss the rule book out the window. Much better to go off the end of a runway than to attempt to reach flying speed with a blown tire, or a multiple engine failure, or become airborn despite a fire warning. So, I count the seconds to what I believe to be VI and then start counting again, until I feel the landing gear retract. It is a long minute.
We served drink orders shortly after take-off. Bob had a double martini, and promptly fell asleep, muttering to me not to disturb him with lunch. Poor baby, I'd really worn him out the night before… three good solid fucks, and then three hours later, at wake up time, I'd welcomed the new day by giving him the blow job of his life.
By the time Ellen and I got through with lunch service we were just a little over an hour from ETA. I went up front to serve the crew. Bob Barns, the pilot engineer, ordered shiskebab, Fred Lowell, the co-pilot, was satisfied with just a piece of cake and some coffee. Our Captain who, as required by regulations, was not permitted to eat while the co-pilot was eating, opted for the filet of sole. I served Lowell and Barns and when they were finished, brought Captain Maxwell his fish.
The flight was going smoothly; clear, unturbulant air all the way down to the sparkling blue and clear water 36,000 feet below us. Bob was still sleeping, every now and then mumbling those little indecipherable mutterings I had gotten so used to. He slept with one hand resting on his lumpy crotch and I could well imagine the erotic dream-ball he was having. I felt a momentary flush of horniness just looking at him and wishing I were physically involved hi his fantasy.
Ellen and I were making small talk over coffee in the galley, when it happened He was tall, fairly good looking, about 25 years old with long but neat hair, dressed well in a conservative blue suit and a somewhat restrained tie. He'd been friendly and polite during the flight and as he approached the galley and leaned casually against the bulkhead, I welcomed the diversion of a little conversational banter. I thought I knew the type. It was quite obvious he had eyes for me, an attitude I always appreciated in good looking, sexy men.
"Hiya, how about a little drinky for a famished man?"
Ellen smiled at him and said, "We aim to please."
"Vodka tonic, right?" I asked.
"Wonderful! You remembered!" He had a somewhat disconcerting, high pitched voice, which, though it didn't totally destroy the image of a virile, well hung cocksman, nevertheless went a long way towards bending it. But I could see that Ellen was interested. She handed him his drink and I noticed a small, almost imperceptible hip rotation as she stood there smiling at him. That, plus the equally significant signal of wetting her lips constantly, never failed, to give away the fact that Ellen was aroused. On a less crowded flight, she might have locked herself in with the guy and initiated him into the Mile High Club! Nevertheless, it was perfectly obvious that if he played his cards even halfway right, he was going to have a very active bed partner that night.
"Lovely flight," he said. "The food was superb and both you girls are a sight for hungry eyes… if you don't mind me saying so. What more can a man ask for?"
"Are your eyes really hungry?" asked Ellen.
"Not now, but they were starved before I boarded this flight."
"You going on holiday?" I asked.
"Yeah, I guess you could call it that."
There was something about him that didn't seem quite right, some subtle, malignant evil in his voice, and way back in the depth of his eyes. I was annoyed and just a little fearful for Ellen when she asked, "Where will you be staying on St. Thomas?"
"I haven't got a reservation… this was just a spur of the moment trip for me. Made up my mind this morning, you know?"
"You're going to have a problem," Ellen said, "It's the middle of the season." I knew what she was getting at and was about to change the subject. Our passenger beat me to it.
"Wait a minute, and I'll show you girls something… you'll see why I won't have any problems tonight. Hang on, be right back." He walked up the aisle toward his seat, giving me just enough time to tell Ellen that I was beginning to think there was something wrong with the guy, and that she should forget it.
He was back in a moment with a black leather attache case. "Here you are girls." He set the case on the galley counter. His actions were quick and precise, almost military. "I've got a terrific thing to show you." He snapped open the locks and raised the lid of the case just far enough to reach m with his hand. "Ready?" he asked.
"I can hardly wait," said Ellen, her cute little pink tongue licking wet, juicy lips.
"OK!" He reached into the attache case and drew out a large vibrator. It was the dildo type, made of plastic and colored in a kind of pink flesh tone. I glanced over at Ellen and could see that she finally shared my opinion about our passenger, an opinion that had changed during the split second she gazed into his face as he held up the vibrator for us to admire. He was an idiot. My earlier feelings of evil were replaced by the utter certainty that the man was a total schmuck! I mean, did he expect us to grab the dildo and proceed to masturbate, there and then, because the mere sight of the thing in his hand turned us on? What kind of stupid shit was this? I felt very strongly that I had been insulted. Ellen looked crestfallen; her cocksman had turned to crap. We stood there literally gaping at this schmuck as he pulled another vibrator out of his case. He held both of them in one hand while with the other, he sipped from his half-finished drink. "Nice, huh?"
"I think," I said quietly, "It's almost time you went back to your seat." He seemed not to get the point; he just stood there, gently caressing the two vibrators. My earlier feeling of there being something wrong about him returned.
"Now let me tell you something about these two goodies, girls. This one on the right contains only one battery, instead of two… aha, you say! It is underpowered… wrong! If you took it and inserted it gently into your pussy and then turned it on by rotating the switch on the bottom, you would end up having the thrill of your life… I mean it, girls! You see, the battery is connected through that switch, to an awful lot of mercury fulminate 0… very sensitive, very powerful!"
"Oh my God!" whispered Ellen. She clutched my hand tightly in hers.
"Now this other little mechanized cock contains nothing more than a stick of dynamite. If I turn the switch on this first one, the dynamite will also go off. The fulminate, fuse will set it off, even if its three feet away. Nice? There's no metal at all, except for the electrical contacts, and the explosives are disguised as batteries… they checked me right through. Clever?"
I was shaken. "Very clever, Sir… now if you'll just put them back in your case and go back to your… "
"Enough of this shit!" His face went brutally red as be grabbed Ellen by the arm. She winced from the pain of his grip. He continued, "Now what I want you cunts to do is very quietly escort me up to the flight deck so that I… "
"You blow us up, you also blow yourself up… I think you're a fucking bluff!" I said quietly, as my gorge rose in anger, an emotion that was alternating with fear.
"You willing to gamble your life and all those others?" He pointed behind him and grinned. "I'm gambling that you're not willing. I'm betting that no one on this airplane is willing to take the chance that I don't mean what I say!"
"I have to call the Captain," I said, trying to keep my voice under control.
"No, don't call the Captain. We are going to the cockpit… now!" His face had gone death white and glancing down at his now-trembling hands I began to believe his contention that he was willing to take us all with him down in flames. "No tricks with the fucking intercom, cunt!" Now that he was committed, he was almost manic! The suave, smooth talking son-of-a-bitch from just a few moments ago had been replaced by a kamikaze killer! I was terrified and, from the looks of her, so was Ellen, except I didn't show it. I have a knack.
"If we don't call the flight deck," I stated cooly, "there is going to be a problem. They keep it locked from the inside and I've got to knock to be let in. The person who opens the door is not going to know what's going on and he may blow the whole thing, thinking you're a drunken passenger or something, try to give you an argument… it can get messy."
He thought a moment, then grinned tightly and said, "You're a smart girl. OK, call him."
I got the flight deck on the intercom. "We've got a hi-jacker, Fred." I said it in the same tone of voice I would use to announce a minor problem in the cabin.
"Straight?"
"Straight. It's not something I'd usually kid about."
"Where is he?" Fred Lowell's voice suddenly assumed a hard diamond-cutting edge. He was doing what he was trained to do; respond to an emergency. Four years as a Navy Carrier pilot had given him the credentials.
"In the first-class galley with Ellen and me… he wants to come up to the flight deck," I answered.
"Stand by." There was a pregnant pause in the communication. Fred Lowell was obviously consulting with Captain Maxwell. A full minute passed, while the hijacker finished his drink and toyed with his deadly dildoes. Finally Fred came back on.
"What's he carrying?" he asked.
"Bomb."
"Bring him up, just you and him. Leave Ellen in the galley and do your damndest not to alert the passengers."
I turned to the hijacker and explained the Captain's request concerning the passengers. He agreed and the two of us, with me in the lead, walked up the aisle toward the flight deck. As I passed Bob I saw he was awake. He nodded at me groggily and was about to say something when I cautioned him with a look. He appeared puzzled, but then I was past him and opening the cockpit door. The crew had unlocked it. I stood aside and let the hijacker precede me. As he entered the cockpit he removed the two bombs from his pocket, where he had secreted them during our walk. I closed the door behind us. He just stood there grinning his tight grin. Captain Maxwell turned and looked up at him.
"Dynamite, Captain," he said, indicating his deadly dildoes.
"OK, I'll take your word for it," the Captain said. "What do you want?"
"That's what I like… no fucking around, right to the point! Good, I'll tell you what I want you to do. Listen, I want you to land and refuel, because where we're going, we're going to need it. I also want the anti-hijack interlock on the rear door disconnected. I want two parachutes, a chest pack and a seat or back pack put on board… and, now listen carefully… one million dollars!"
"You're crazy!" Barns said, Ms voice quietly earnest.
"Cool it, Bob!" said Maxwell. It was obvious that the Captain was going to play this one straight, at least for the time being. He wanted nothing to aggravate or unnerve the hijacker. He looked into his eyes and said, matter of factly, "I have to contact San Juan."
"That sounds like hanky panky," said the hijacker. "We're scheduled for… "
"St. Thomas," interrupted the Captain, "Does not have the facilities for what you're asking."
"Balls! You're up to something! Fuck around and I'll blow us all to hell… I will, God dammit!"
"Let me put it this way; St. Thomas would have a hell of a job putting together a million in cash."
"Oh… yeah, well… "
"It is also almost impossible to take off from St. Thomas with a full load of fuel. We fuel up in St. Croix for the return flight."
"OK… OK, San Juan, then… go ahead, clear it, tell 'em what I want."
As Maxwell was contacting San Juan, I felt the hijacker's hand on my ass. We had our backs to the door, so none of the crew were aware of this, My initial reaction was to slug him, the bastard, but then, like a slowly rising dawn, an idea started to light up, very dimly at first, the dark cave we were all lost in. I pressed back against his hand and wiggled my hips slightly, just to let him know he was on to something. He looked at me and leered.
"What's your name?" I asked, pushing back hard against his hand.
"Funny girl… you're funny! You really think you can get away with that shit?"
"No," I said, feeling his hand cup my left buttock, fingers descending into the deep crease, through the thin material of my miniskirt. "We should have something to call you by… it would make things easier all around."
"Call me Smith… how's that?" His hand released my ass and a few seconds later, I felt it crawling up inside my skirt. I spread my legs slightly to give him better access. I was sure that given half a chance I could get the guy horny enough to where he'd be totally preoccupied-and a guy with a stiff cock and cunt on his mind is vulnerable, as every woman knows.
Captain Maxwell was raising San Juan on. the radio. The cockpit crew were using headphones, a ploy to prevent Smith from hearing San Juan. He didn't seem to notice, so I assumed he was either ignorant of usual cockpit procedure, or the erotic preoccupation created by his secret digital manipulation of my steaming pussy was having its intended effect.
"San Juan, this is TIA one-nine seven… " The captain's voice carried the impersonal tone of modern radio communication. "Inbound to St. Thomas… pause… we have a hi-jacker, San Juan… pause… small dynamite bomb… pause… request landing San Juan International… pause… affirmative, over… pause… 36,000 about to start descent… pause…, negative, San Juan… pause… negative… pause… hi-jacker is demanding one million dollars and two parachutes put on board… pause… negative, San Juan, over… "
Smith's thumb and forefinger were gripping my clitoris while two other fingers were gliding back and forth across my sopping labia. He leaned a little closer and whispered into my ear, "I'm going to fuck your little pink ass off before this is over… right baby?"
"Yeah, I'd love that," I whispered back. "When?"
"Soon."
"Where?"
"Wherever… in the John, in the galley, on the cabin floor, who gives a fuck where?"
"I'll recline one of the seats in first class and sit on your fat cock!" I whispered.
"Crazy!"
"When we leave San Juan, after we get rid of the passengers, we'll have all the room we need… you can fuck Ellen, too. She likes you and she's the world's best cocksucker!"
"What's that about getting rid of the passengers? Who said I'm going to let the passengers go?"
"I just took it for granted… "
"Don't give me that crap! You try to con me, I'll shove one of these dildoes up your ass and turn the switch!" His fingers squeezed painfully.
The first of what I suspected was to be a series of moments of truth had arrived! I pressed back, hard, into his hand, trapping it between my gushing cunt and the bulkhead. "There's something I'd much rather have up my ass, but it ain't going to happen in front of a cabin full of passengers," I said, panting into his ear. I reached around and after making sure that the crew had its attention elsewhere, squeezed the hardened lump of his prick through the thin fabric of his lightweight pants.
"This'll fit much nicer than that vibrator… ohhhh, put your fingers in, finger fuck me… slow… ahhhh that's nice…!" Surprisingly, it was getting to me, a little more of this and I figured I might lose control of the situation! It occurred to me what amp; cunt I was and I grinned secretly to myself.
"You're really a wise-ass bitch, aren't you?" It was a rhetorical question, but I answered it by wiggling my ass into his cupped palm, two fingers of which I felt searching for my puckered anus. I reached back and helped him find it His fingers were slick with oily cunt juices and soon two of them were being shoved brutally into my rear love canal. I almost popped… right then and there I almost let go! It was sheer will which kept me from screaming out in passion as I fought down the orgasmic convulsions! His voice was in my ear, I could feel his hot breath on my cheek as I strained to decipher the words. "Ahhhh, baby… you love it, don't you?" And then, "I'll tell you, we'll let the passengers go… better that way for more than one reason. They'll only be under foot… the crew will be plenty."
I felt like sobbing in victory. I'd won the first round and, except for Smith and myself, no one on the flight deck even knew there had been a contest!