Diary of a Longhaul Stewardess
After breakfast we walked back to our sun beds to find that some of the crew were up and about. There was the usual mixture of sights on the beach. People think that you have to be young, slim and gorgeous to be cabin crew but judging by one or two of these examples spread all over their towels it clearly isn’t the case. Once you’re in the crew club, that’s pretty much it. I’ve even heard talk of one stewardess who grew so large she couldn’t walk down the aisle on the plane straight on but had to turn sideways. [Word has it her manager told her to do something and she told him where to go and not in her best stewardess manner either!]
And as for young… don’t get me started. Just mix many years of customer service with sun damage and you end up with the ‘wrinklies.’ This is the name given to those somewhat older stewardesses who obviously haven’t discovered L’Oreal’s RevitalLift Deep Set Wrinkle Repair cream. Mind you even if they added a layer of Liz Arden’s 8 Hour Protectant on top [you know the magical one she discovered whilst using it to treat horse’s hooves] they would still need an iron to smooth out the crinkles.
Enough bitching, when Stu proposed taking a boat out, I jumped at the chance. Not so keenly that he’d think I was gagging for it but enough to let him know I was interested. We were just leaving to go when up piped one of the other stewardesses. I thought she was buried in her magazine but she wanted to come. I felt like kicking sand all over her itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie striped bikini. [Couldn’t lie to you, it wasn’t yellow, nor polka dot.] I swept straight into work mode and smiled sweetly whilst saying ‘cow’ between gritted teeth.
Stu lead the way and knew what to do. It did cross my mind that it might be his usual seduction technique, but I dismissed it as me being too cynical. Before I knew it the three of us were casting off from the beach. I laid myself up the front so that I could face him and keep an eye on Melanie. He, naturally and very manly I might add, drove the thing. Yes, you might have guessed - I’m not a sailor. No technical boating terms to found here I'm afraid, but I'm sure you get the drift. Ha ha.
Well, thanks to Melanie, nothing bloody happened, did it? All I could do was enjoy watching his rippling muscles pulling this and pushing that and smile whenever I caught his eye. I dangled my hand in the water now and again and cursed at having left my shades on the beach but it was good tanning time. Whereas Melanie didn’t stop talking the whole way. We heard all about her parents divorce, best friend’s fabulous boyfriend and life long ambition to be cabin crew. I wanted to deck her by the time we got back to an empty beach.We didn’t have long before check out and the flight back. Talk about gutted.
Melanie came over all fluttery as she thanked him, even raising on her dainty, tanned little toes to peck him on the cheek before she walked off. I do hate petite women. I stayed until he had sorted everything out with the boat and he walked me back to my hotel room. There was nothing else I could think of to do, so I unlocked my door and turned round to thank him to find him standing right behind me. He obviously decided the time was right to make his move as before I knew it he had his tongue down my throat. I managed to drop all my beach stuff at the surprise of it, including my bottle of sun cream which landed [painfully] on his toe.
Not the best reaction I’ve ever had to being kissed as he’d hopped about a bit and cursed that I might have broken it [what a baby.] But after he had recovered we tried again. Talk about fast worker once he got going. I found myself being gently pushed backwards into my room, our mouths locked in a bit of tongue wrestling and pinned against the wall by his body.