Mac stared out at the 747 sitting on the tarmac, a massive testament of skill and engineering thrown together to create something beautiful that changed the world. He had been part of the Pan Am family for five years, working his way up to captain and enjoying the journey immensely. Pan Am was more than a company, more than an idea, it was a way of life. An existence others yearned to experience, full of adventure, prestige, and opportunity. Pilots were the astronauts of the 1970’s and Mac Everett was goddamn Neil Armstrong.
“Captain Everett?” Evelyn’s honeyed voice broke into his thoughts.
“Miss Evelyn, how do you manage to be more beautiful every time I see you?” Mac turned with his best smile, teeth flashing and dimples showing.
He could tell Evelyn wanted to roll her eyes, but possessing the consummate professionalism that had won her the role of purser on the flight crew, she simply smiled tightly. The usual compliments and flirtations that worked on most of the girls didn’t work on Evelyn, she was made of sterner stuff. She took all their teasing with ease, often dishing it out at twice the rate it was received, cutting them down time and time again. Mac was a little bit in love with her so it was a probably a good thing she resisted him like she did.
“Captain, this is Miss Jacqueline Robillard, she will be joining our flight crew for the next few months,” Evelyn said, presenting the young woman beside her.
She was tall, nearly as tall in her heels as Mac himself, and most of it was leg. Long and slender with a tapered waist and pert breasts, her lush lips pursed into a delightful little smirk that was masquerading as a smile.
“Captain Everett,” she greeted him, her voice heavily accented.
“Miss Robillard. May I call you Jackie?” Mac looked her over a second time, extremely pleased with the view.
“Non,” she said primly, offering her white-gloved hand.
Mac laughed and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Jacqueline, then. Happy to have you aboard.”
Jacqueline nodded curtly and walked away, following the line of women dressed in blue through the boarding gate, her pillbox hat blending in with the others.
“You’re incorrigible,” Evelyn sighed.
“Oh Mac, I know where you’ve been and you’re really not my type.” Evelyn hooked her bag into the crook of her elbow and took Mac’s arm.
“What is your type? I’ve seen men of all shapes and sizes approach you and you never give them a second glance.” He guided her through the gate and across the tarmac to the airplane stairs, nodding at the ground crew they passed.
“Maybe I don’t have a type.”
“Everyone has a type, Evie. Come, on, I can keep a secret. You’ve probably got a lover hidden away somewhere along our flight path, don’t you?” he teased. “Someone who sits and pines for you until you flutter back to them, sprinkling them with too little attention before you take to the sky once more.”
“Hmm, something like that.” Evelyn gave him an enigmatic smile and started up the steps.
“At least tell me you’ve got more waiting for you than your cat and your frumpy roommate, Claudia,” Mac pressed as they stepped into the plane, the smell of recycled air and strong coffee wafting in the air.
“Maybe that’s all I need.” Evelyn winked and disappeared into the galley, leaving him to wander into the cockpit to check his instruments.
The pre-checks, boarding, and takeoff went smoothly, mostly routine by then, but Mac understood perfectly that there were lives in his hands and that it was his responsibility to get them to their destination safely, so he made sure to focus solely on his tasks. Once they evened out and were cruising at an altitude of 33,000 feet, however, Mac’s attention started to drift to softer things.
“You meet the new girl?” he asked his co-pilot, Peter Timmins.
Pete grinned and nodded, jotting down a calculation on the pad in his lap. “I sure did. Legs up to her neck and that accent! I nearly collapsed on the spot.”
“I’m sure she’d have been really impressed by that,” Mac said dryly.
“She’s probably used to it. Those French girls know how gorgeous they are. They’re not like the American flavored ones, you know, they don’t need to hear it every ten minutes. They don’t get clingy.”
Mac sighed. “You’re a dick, Pete.”
Pete shruged. “Some women like that.”
“It’s also the reason you can’t have any fun at work. Can’t have the stewardesses slapping you in front of the passengers.”
“That happened once!” Pete laughed. “The women here are too classy for me, anyway, I prefer a rougher texture.”
“Jesus, you’re a piece of work,” Mac told him, unbuckling his harness.
“God broke the mold with me, my friend.” Pete grinned and taps the fuel gauge window.
“I’m going to make the passengers happy, you want me to bring anything back for you?”
“Nah, I’m good,” Pete waved him off. “But make sure to let me know if you have French for lunch!” he shouted before Mac could close the cockpit door.
Evelyn and Megan, another stewardess, were standing just beyond the door, at the entrance to the red carpet room, where the elite passengers could sit and visit while being served drinks by the most beautiful women ever to leave the safety of the earth. Megan was smirking, but Evelyn was doing her best to ignore him completely.
“Going to make Miss Jacqueline’s first flight with us memorable, Captain?” Megan asked, a wicked glint in her eye.
Mac tipped his hat to her on his way down the spiral staircase beside them. “If she’ll allow me, Miss Megan.”
“Oh, I have a feeling she’ll let you. Might give you a run for your money, that one.”
“Megan!” Evelyn scolded.
“What?” Megan asked innocently, her eyes going comically wide. “One of those Texas ‘Good Ole Boys’ put his hand on her thigh when we brought the snacks out. She handled it well, then accidentally dropped his Tom Collins and half a tray of martinis in his lap.”
Mac laughed, and to his surprise, even Evelyn cracked a smile.
“Seems like my kind of girl,” Mac said and winked, heading downstairs.
On the bottom level of the front of the giant plane was a spacious lounge, tasteful and relaxing, and about twice the size of Mac’s apartment in New York. He had entertained the thought of getting a place in London as well, since most of his flights originated there now, but the rent was twice what it was in New York and pilots didn’t make quite that much money, no matter what the company said.
The passengers in the front lounge were first class only and always happy to have a visit from the Captain. Mac rarely ventures back into the Coach or Economy sections, that’s what co-pilots are for, but it was good for them to be seen out of the cockpit. Not for long, of course, since people tended to get jumpy when they thought no one was flying the plane.
He found Janet in the first class galley, refilling a decanter of coffee, her blonde hair falling just past her shoulders and her ass looking even better than he remembered it under her Pan Am blue uniform skirt. He wondered for a minute if he should abandon his quest for Jacqueline and settle for another round with Janet right there and now, but he caught the sparkle of her engagement ring as she screwed the top back on the carafe, and he remembers a boring accountant in a bad suit who made Janet’s face light up like he never could.
“Janet,” he whispered in her ear, making her jump.
“Jesus, Mac, don’t do that!” Janet smacked him lighting in the arm, her face flushed prettily.
“I couldn’t resist. At least I waited until you’d finished with the coffee.”
Janet snorts softly. “That’s because you know you’d have ended up with third degree burns on Mac junior.”
“So vicious, Janet. You were never like that before you had that ring on your finger, you know,” Mac teased.
“I’m surprised you can even still see me with this ring on, Captain,” Janet smiled sweetly. “I thought girls who got engaged immediately dropped below an eight and became invisible to you.”
“Just vicious,” Mac said with a pained look and a hand on his heart. “You should be thankful I don’t go after attached girls. Poor Don wouldn’t stand a chance otherwise.”
“Dan. And you don’t hold a candle to him, Mac.”
“I know,” he told her. “I’m happy for you, really I am. But we had some fun didn’t we? It wasn’t all bad.”
Janet pursed her lips, unable to keep her smile hidden. “Sure we did, once I taught you a few things.”
Mac laughed. “I owe you everything, my dear!”
Janet shook her head and went back to prepping the coffee tray. “You looking for Mademoiselle Jacqueline?”
“Is everyone on this plane talking about the two of us?” Mac asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.
“No, of course not,” Janet told him. “A few guys on the ground crew don’t think you stand a chance with her.”
“Jesus, is there a pool or something?”
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to forfeit my winnings when you prove me right.”
“You’re all terrible people, you know that, right?” Mac asked.
“Hey, it could be worse. We could all be Pete.” Janet smiled and backed through the service door with the tray.
Before Mac could respond, the first class elevator opened and Jacqueline stepped off, giving him a once over before squeezing past him into the galley.
“Captain,” she said, her large, dark eyes sliding away from his face.
“Miss Jacqueline, just the woman I was looking for.” Mac pushed off the wall, blocking her way out of the galley.
“Is there something I can do for you, Captain Everett?”
Mac inhaled sharply, her perfume strong and heady in the small space. “I just wanted to make sure your first flight with us was going well. Is there anything we can do for you to make you feel more at home?”
“Such as?” Jacqueline asked, crouching in her heels to reach into the liquor cupboard.
“I’m at your service, just point me in the right direction.”
“Do you not have a plane to fly?” Jacqueline asked, standing with a bottle of Glenmorangie in her hand.
“We all keep the plane in the air, Miss Jacqueline, you know that,” Mac teased. “I have a few minutes to devote to you, if you’ll permit me.” He let his gaze roam over her body slowly, grinning when she raised an eyebrow in return.
“I must return to the red room,” she said, stopping just inches from him. “Perhaps you’ll join me in the elevator and entertain the guests while I refresh their glasses.”
“Anything to be of service,” Mac stepped aside to let her through.
The service elevators are small, barely five feet long and three feet wide, just large enough to fit a stewardess and her cart. Or a stewardess, her Captain, and a very expensive bottle of scotch. Mac stepped in after her, crowding her against the back wall the moment she turned to face him.
“Is everyone making you feel welcome, Miss Robillard?” Mac asked, curving his hand around her waist, over her jacket. He hadn’t been granted permission for more than that yet and he had no interest in taking something she wasn’t willing to give.
“Oui, Capitan,” she said quietly, her breath quickening.
“I would like to take this moment to tell you how pleased I am to have you on my aircraft,” his hand drifted lower, playing with the hem of her skirt. “We take our work very seriously on my crew, and I’m happy to see that you’re up to our standards.”
“Are you certain about that?” Jacqueline asked, dangerous smile playing on her lips.
“I like what I’ve seen so far,” Mac said, slipping his fingers under the skirt and up her thigh a little.
“Perhaps there is something you can help me with after all, Captain. Since you’re so eager to be of use.”
“Name it,” he whispered.
“I’m not sure the line of my hose is straight. There was a brute in the lower cabin and I haven’t had a moment to check it since he had an unfortunate accident with the drinks cart.”
“I heard about that,” Mac said, crouching in front of her and placing his hat on the floor beside him. “I’m glad you came to me with this, we take our dress very seriously here. Pan Am has a history of excellence and we can’t have you looking less than perfect.” He tapped his fingers behind both her knees, making her breath catch. “Hmm, let’s see what we have here.”
He went slow, enjoying the warmth of her as he drew his index finger up the back of her thigh, following the seam of her stockings all the way to the top of her thigh-high stocking. He slid his finger under the garter suspender as he repeated his journey with his other hand.
“Well?” she asked, holding the bottle so tight her fingers were white around the neck of it.
“Everything seems in order, but tell me something,” he said, tucking a few more fingers under the suspender and wrapping his hands around her legs. “What do I get if I correctly guess the color of your panties?”
Jacqueline tilted her head and looked down at him. “If you can guess the color, you can have them.”
Mac grinned, digging his fingers into her soft skin.
“You look good down there,” Jacqueline commented, trailing her fingers through his hair and breaking up the carefully styled locks. “If you’re a good boy maybe I’ll let you stay there.”
Mac blinks up at her, a thrill going down his spine and straight to his cock at her words.
“Have I broken you, Captain?” Jacqueline asked, petting his hair.
“Black, your panties are black,” he blurted. His fingers were probably leaving bruises on her thighs, but she didn’t complain.
“You should hurry if you want your reward,” she said, stretching to press the button for the upper deck.
Mac shook himself and pressed his thumb to the front of her silky panties, rubbing a little before pulling them down her long legs. Jacqueline stepped out of them gracefully smirking, her eyes going to the elevator doors as they reached the second floor. The doors opened to reveal Evelyn, her eyebrows disappearing under her fringe, the passengers in the red room thankfully distracted by the movie playing on the screen at the front of the room.
Mac shoved the panties into his pocket and cleared his throat, picking up his hat and getting to his feet. “I dropped my hat.”
“Of course you did, Captain,” Evelyn said.
“I found the bottle,” Jacqueline told her, moving past them and into the lounge.
“That didn’t take long,” Evelyn told him dryly.
“Nothing happened,” Mac insisted, straightening his hat on his head and stepping into the lounge.
“You’ve got lint on your knees.”
Mac grumbled and brushed at his slacks as Evelyn chuckled and stepped into the elevator.
“Make yourself useful and go shake some hands. Maybe wash yours first, though.”
“Nothing happened!” he hissed, but Evelyn just shook her head as the elevator doors closed.
The red carpet room was the ultimate in Pan Am opulence, even swankier than the first class airport lounge, and twice as hard to gain access to. There were no tickets you could buy to assure entry, only a sort of stewardess-run lottery that hand picked passengers out of first class. Occasionally someone in Coach would get a seat, but only if they met certain esthetic criteria and could be trusted to keep their mouths shut. As far as Mac knew, no one from Economy had ever been considered.
Jacqueline was at the far end of the room, pouring the scotch into two tumblers from behind the bar. Mac knew he’d never make it across the room without acknowledging the passengers, so he plastered on his best smile and tried to get it over with as quickly as possible. He shook hands and accepted kisses to his cheek, answering questions he’d answered a hundred times over, and accepting praise for everything from the strong tailwinds to the linen chosen for the napkins.
By the time he had spoken to them all, Jacqueline had disappeared. He was certain she hadn’t gone back down the elevator, because she would have had to pass him to do it. That left the spiral staircase to the lower floor or the coat closet that’s tucked between the red room and the cockpit. Mac took a chance and excused himself, sliding sideways through the closet door.
The smile Jacqueline gave him as he closed the door behind him was devilish, the weak light casting half her face in shadow. Mac thought she was just about the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Her lips were on his before he could think of something clever to say, her tongue pressing into his mouth as she guided his hands back under her skirt. Mac groaned into her mouth, greatly valuing her efficiency. He had a plane to fly, after all.
He hiked up her skirt, his hand moving to brush at the hair between her legs, but she stopped him, pushing down on his shoulder with force.
“You looked so good down there before,” she whispers, smirking against his lips. “I’d like to see you there again.”
“We don’t have time for that, darling.” Mac’s hand went to his belt, but he paused at the stern look she gave him.
“Women in France are taught that their pleasure comes first, Captain. I have no interest in a selfish lover.” She smoothed her skirt back down and adjusted her hat.
“Now just wait a minute,” Mac protested. “I’m no selfish lover, we’re just on a time constraint.”
Jacqueline shrugged, pulling her white cotton gloves out of her jacket pocket.
Mac sighed and took off his hat to run his hand through his hair. He dropped the hat to floor and pushed her back against the wall when she moved to leave.
“If we crash, it’s on you,” he said, dropping to his knees.
Jacqueline pulled her skirt back up and hooked her leg over Mac’s shoulder. “Get to work,” she nodded, pulling his head closer with one gloved hand.
Mac grumbled, but he couldn’t stop the jolt that went through him when her fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him to her core. She was soft and wet, and when Mac put his mouth against her she sighed like a song. He parted her hair with his thumbs, opening her up to his probing tongue. Jacqueline ground herself against him, dripping into his waiting mouth as Mac lapped at her gently, stroking two fingers further back and sinking inside her slowly.
“Oui,” she gasped, her fingers flexing against his scalp.
Mac hummed and doubled his efforts, pressing into her a little faster, flicking his tongue a little firmer. He remembered now that he loved this. The taste and the smell of a woman, the heat of her most private place, spread open for him to devour. He curled his fingers and Jacqueline arched, muttering something in French that he didn’t catch. She repositioned his mouth where she wanted it, holding him still with her hands in his hair as she worked herself on his fingers. The noises she was making were obscene and probably a little too loud, but Mac was rock hard in his pants, and if she felt half as good as she tasted, he didn’t care if they went down in flames, as long as he got to experience her tight, wet heat.
Jacqueline came hard, her sweet juices bursting across his tongue while she clenched and shook around his fingers. She eased back, her leg dropping from his shoulder as she panted against the wall.
“So?” he asked, voice rough. “How did I do?”
“Suffisant,” she said with a grin, flicking a paper packet at him.
Mac frowned and held it up. “French letters? Should I be worried?”
“I still have five hours of service to get through, Captain , and you have my panties. Not all of us have the pleasure of doing our work sitting down.”
She was mocking him, but he couldn’t find it in him to care so he unbuttoned his pants and stood up, pulling out his dick and slipping the condom on. He has worn one before, on occasion, but they were still rather foreign to him. She did have a point, though, and he was dying to get inside her, so he didn’t argue.
As soon as it was on, Jacqueline turned around, spreading her legs and bracing herself against the wall. Mac’s brain shorted out for a minute and he stood there staring. From the heels of her shoes to the seam of her hose, to the smooth curve of her ass, she was on display for him. Jacqueline smirked over her shoulder and wiggled a little, and the next thing he knew he was tearing off his jacket and grabbing her hips. He barely had his pants open enough to protect them from damage, and it was stifling in the small room with the smell of sweat and sex all around them, but all of that disappeared when he slid home. Jacqueline was hot and slick, and pushed into it as he bottomed out with a grunt.
Mac pressed his forehead to her shoulder, needing a minute to breathe before he came too soon, just from the grip of her around him.
“Aller,” she demanded, moving her hips against him.
“Jesus, do that again,” he groaned, pulling her back against him. He needed to be closer, deeper. He fucked into her, pulling out slowly and rushing back in, nearly losing his mind when she started to laugh, chanting “ Oui, oui, ” under her breath.
“You like that?” he asked, biting at her earlobe. Her back was arched away from the wall, her white gloves slipping on the smooth wall when she tried to find leverage to push back into his movements.
“Merde,” she swore, using her teeth to pull one of her gloves off.
Mac brushed her hair away from her neck so he could latch onto it with his mouth, sucking lightly at her pale skin. She made an angry noise and he laughed. He knew better than to leave any marks, but part of him liked being scolded by her.
Jacqueline moaned and tightened around him to an almost painful degree. Her glove was still caught between her teeth, muffling her sounds as her bared hand worked furiously between her legs. Jesus, Mac thought, she was touching herself. He’d never seen a woman do that before, and he kind of regretted their position because her motions were hidden from him. All he could feel was the small jerks her hips made as she worked herself, her inner walls twitching around him, pulling him closer and closer the his end.
“Plus fort!” she gasped, squeezing him until he groaned. “Aller plus fort.”
Mac’s French wasn’t the best, but he knew encouragement when he heard it so he pressed her shoulders lower and sped up, pistoning his hips against her over and over, letting her silken walls work him. Tension was building in his balls, and hearing the gorgeous, cut-off sounds Jacqueline was gasping had him close to coming within minutes.
All of a sudden, Jacqueline’s body seized up and pulse after pulse of pleasure and pressure rolled through her, nearly strangling his dick as it milked him of every last drop of come. His own orgasm hit him a strong headwind at thirty-five thousand feet, forcing him to be still and bear it, letting his muscles cramp and his mind go fuzzy.
He collapsed against her when he was done, grunting when she squirmed out from under him and he hit the wall with a thump. He slid out of her with a wince, quick enough to catch the condom before it slipped off and made a mess. By the time Mac had tucked himself into his pants, Jacqueline was back to her immaculate self, a slight sheen to her skin and color in her cheeks, but nary a stray hair on her head. Even her hat was still sitting at a jaunty angle. Mac was sweaty and tired, and knew he looked exactly like he’d just had sex in his crumpled uniform. For a moment he was wildly jealous of her poise and ease, but then she was pressing a kiss to his lips and patting his cheek.
“Well done, Captain,” she said before she slipped through the closet door. Mac took his time putting himself back together. Pete had been on his own for this long, a few more minutes wasn’t going to matter. Besides, it wouldn’t do to come stumbling out of a closet in disarray. He had a reputation to uphold. Jacqueline had shaken him, he couldn’t deny it, nor could he deny how much he enjoyed it. She was bold and shameless, and it made him want to haul her back into the closet for another round.
When he finally put himself back together and left the closet, the passengers in the red room were blissfully sloshed, chatting and drinking, and barely sparing him a second glance. Jacqueline was talking with an older lady in a lime-green pant suit, back to completely ignoring him. That was fine, though, because he knew he’d passed her test. Knew there would be other flights and other closets. Other stolen moments where she would show him things he’d never even dreamed of.