Dan finds Ultra Class service most satisfactory.
Enjoy..
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“NEW FROM TRANS-GLOBAL AIRLINES THE ULTIMATE IN LUXURY TRAVEL! YOU’VE TRIED BUSINESS CLASS; YOU’VE TRIED FIRST CLASS. NOW FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER, TRY ULTRA CLASS, THE FINEST IN-FLIGHT EXPERIENCE OF ALL TIME!”
Dan knew he was a lucky bastard.
It had been an idle whim that had made him pick up a Twak bar at the newsagents when he was buying his customary pack of twenty cigarettes one rainy Tuesday morning. He wasn’t a great chocolate eater but he just happened to have a craving for some.
And when he’d opened the wrapper to see he’d won a prize, he’d almost thrown it away because, frankly, every on-packet competition offer always said you’d won a prize. But as the top prize was supposed to be a luxury weekend in New York, staying at the Waldorf with ultra-class flights, he’d made an idle enquiry on the online competition site.
And even when the garish website had informed him that he’d won the main prize, he hadn’t really believed it, although he had left his contact details just in case.
It was only when a bubbly PR woman from the Twack confectionery company had rung him on his mobile to congratulate him that he’d really started to believe he that maybe luck had finally been kind to him.
He’d been secretly elated for a few days while he considered whom he would take with him but then he’d got a call from his wife, Mary, about a letter from the stupid PR woman at Twack. She’d also been excited at the prospect of going to New York which really pissed Dan off as he hadn’t been planning on taking her.
Dan was a long distance lorry driver. He was happy driving his wagon for several reasons but the main one was that he didn’t spend much time at home. He didn’t know when he had begun to feel like this, vaguely remembering that when he’d married Mary he’d actually wanted to spend time with her and she with him. But gradually this feeling had disappeared so that when he was home he wasn’t particularly happy and neither was she.
So, although he’d have loved to have taken a young or indeed any woman with him if he’d known any, he’d actually planned to take one of his mates to New York and just pretend he was making a haul to Scotland or something.
So he’d been feeling a bit miserable about things until his wife’s mother had broken her leg the week before they were due to go. Now, he actually got on reasonably well with his mother-in-law so this wouldn’t normally have been an occasion for celebration, but when Mary said that she now couldn’t go to New York because she had to look after her mum, he’d been secretly ecstatic although of course he’d made a lot of sympathetic noises.
She’d even suggested he take one of his friends instead but, at such a late date, no-one had been available; nor were the tickets transferable so he couldn’t sell them and so Dan had bravely agreed that he’d just have to go himself.
And here he was, on flight TGA6969 from London Heathrow to JFK New York, the sole occupant of the ultra class cabin lounge, normally only affordable by millionaires and then only the richest ones.
The plane was a Bobus 666, the brand new quadruple-decked superjumbo and the whole top deck was composed of the secure ultra class cabin, which only had four seats in it anyway. Although seats was probably the wrong word as they were more like huge leather armchairs.
There was a full size bar from which Dan had already received a bottle of ice-cold beer, separate sleeping cabins with king size beds, a Michelin-starred a la carte in-flight meal service and giant individual plasma screens with complete home entertainment systems to name just a few of the luxuries.
And then of course there were the cabin crew.
Obviously when TGA had decided to create a separate ultra class they had picked the very best and most photogenic cabin crew available.
Now in his mid-forties, Dan had never been very popular with the ladies. His brow was low and heavy, his eyes too close together and he was naturally short and unalterably chubby. Nor was he a fashion photographer, a lap-dancing magnate or a high-class pimp so he had never spent any time in the company of seriously beautiful women.
Which was he was even more glad he wasn’t with his wife because right now he was surrounded by the most lovely, the most stunning, the most perfect women he had ever seen outside of the pages of the most glossy of the top-shelf gentlemen’s magazines.
There were four stewardesses in the cabin, despite the fact he was the only customer, and if he had been asked to pick four fantasy women he couldn’t have come up with any better than he could see in front of him right now.
They were no doubt used to the most demanding and prosperous passengers as no-one else could afford ultra class and so they probably thought he was some sort of eccentric nouveau riche scruff. He certainly wasn’t going to tell them that actually he was in fact a chronically poor working class scruff because right now they were treating him like royalty.
He’d read everything he could about ultra class when he’d found out he’d won the prize. The usual passenger was likely to be a Russian oil billionaire or a Saudi prince and the tips that were rumoured to be given to the air crew were legendary, often supposedly running to many thousands of pounds. Dan had $500 of spending money given to him by Twack and there was no way he was giving any of it to anyone no matter how well he was cared for. But, of course, they didn’t know that so he was happy to take advantage of the service while he could.
Wherever he looked there was a beautiful smiling young woman in an elegant blue blouse, a short navy skirt and a classic dainty air-hostess hat wearing tights or, Dan dared to hope, stockings with surprisingly high heels.
After they had taken off, Dan studied them in turn trying to decide who was the most gorgeous.
Ellie was in charge of the cabin crew, a tall Scottish statuesque blonde with blue eyes and enormous breasts. Lin was a petite oriental American woman with a sinuous figure and gorgeous delicate features. Helena was also American, black with a long straight pony tail, generous curves and liquid golden-brown eyes. And finally Wendy was an English willowy redhead with startling green eyes and a perfect shapely bottom.
As he sipped his beer and studied them, they asked him every few minutes if there were anything they could do for him, each with a wide fixed smile. He wondered if their faces hurt or if they’d had special smiling training to allow such an unchanging expression.
Not that he was in anyway unhappy. He was just enjoying being in their company. The hint of cleavage when they bent down, the sway of their hips as they walked past, the faint whiff of sophisticated perfume as they leant over him all made for a heady and invigorating combination. In fact, Dan found himself becoming somewhat physically aroused and he therefore crossed his legs so as not to embarrass himself.
Dan realised that something was wrong half an hour into the journey. He hadn’t been able to get the entertainment system to work and had asked Wendy to sort it out for him.
He could see the four stewardesses conferring and then taking turns to try things on his screen and then the others without any apparent success. When Wendy came over to talk to him, her smile, although still there, was apologetic.
“Mr. Flan, I’m really sorry, I have to apologise most sincerely on behalf of Trans-Global Airlines as well as the entire ultra class cabin crew. I’m afraid that the whole ultra class entertainment system is out of order. I would offer you a, um, downgrade to First Class but I can’t even do that as the flight is entirely full apart from this cabin. Please accept my apologies and rest assured all of us will do our absolute utmost to make your journey as comfortable as we possibly can.”
Dan was a little distracted and so didn’t really take in what Wendy was saying at first. He couldn’t help but look down her blouse as she leant over him. She was wearing a scarlet bra which nicely held her reasonably sized breasts and her bosom looked creamy and freckly. He looked up into her deep green eyes to realise that he’d been staring and that she knew exactly at what he’d been looking. However her red-lipsticked smile didn’t falter and she maintained eye contact as she waited for his response.
It took a second to take in what she’d said. No entertainment? On an eight hour journey?
“What! I don’t believe this,” he complained. “This is supposed to be the ultimate in luxury travel. What the hell am I supposed to do for eight hours?” Dan wasn’t much of a reader and so hadn’t bought a book or anything else to occupy his time.