The Mile High Clubhouse

This is my entry for the 2024

On The Job

event.

What? Don't be silly - this is totally fictional. Absolutely nothing like this is ever happening

in all those jets you see overhead every day. Now, just sit back and enjoy the ride.

+

One of the perks of flying for somebody with their own hanger is that parking is much easier.

I pulled up near the big company logo on the hanger wall, pulled out my bag and mentally ran through the recall notice as I locked the car.

"Karen Hughes?"

I'd brushed sleep out of my eyes, looked at the clock-radio's unforgiving red numbers: 5:35.

AM, of course.

"Is this Karen Hughes?" the voice on my phone had repeated.

"Yeah. It's me. Who is this, please?"

"Corporate Dispatch, Ms. Hughes. Are you awake now?"

"Yes. I think so. What's up?"

"Your home-standby has been activated. You are required to be at the corporate hanger at 0730 for an 0930 departure. Please acknowledge."

I'd tried to shake off the lingering sleepiness.

"Yes."

A thought had struck me.

"How long will we be gone and where?"

I always carry my passport, but two days in Panama needs a different suitcase than a week in Fairbanks. Some things you learn quickly.

"Las Vegas, overnight, possible one-day extension. Confirm your availability, please."

"I'm available. Who's the captain, please?"

"The captain will be Jan Garten."

"Any special instructions?"

"No. Good morning, Ms. Hughes."

+

I'd never flown with Captain Garten, nor even met her, but a tall woman with four bars on the shoulders of her white uniform blouse was talking on a desk phone in the pilots' lounge and seemed a likely choice. I approached her, waited.

With her seniority, Captain Garten had to have been in her 40s, but the woman in front of me could easily have passed for ten years younger. Her blonde hair was curly, her eyes blue and her figure slim. She looked like everything I wanted to be in 20 years.

Looking up, she took a quick look at my name-tag, nodded and smiled as she waved me to a nearby chair. Her conversation didn't last much longer. When she hung up, she sighed to herself and turned to me.

"You're Hughes." It wasn't really a question.

Each captain has their own personal expectations, so I went full-courtesy mode.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Call me Jan."

I nodded.

"We haven't had the chance to fly together yet, but my normal copilot called in sick and you're it. Let's see your logbook, please."

I hadn't digitized it yet; my wings were new enough that I still liked looking at it in my hands. A moment with my carry-on bag and I handed the (in my opinion) embarrassingly-thin book to her. She began thumbing through it.

"687 hours, 43½ on type, first hired here three months ago..." Her voice trailed off and she began to mutter to herself.

She snapped the log closed and handed it back.

"Okay. You'll do. We'll get into the details in a minute, but to start with, we're flying Geordie and a small..."

"Geordie?" I interrupted. "Geordie himself?"

Our President and CEO was an international A-list celebrity, the founder and majority shareholder of one of the world's biggest IT firms. He'd been listed as one of the most-recognizable individuals in the country.

While he could have bought and sold a few minor countries out of pocket change, so to speak, he was said to be affable and very casual, insisting for instance that all his employees call him by his first name. Also, if you liked football, he was your boy -- he'd even bought his own personal football club.

"Geordie," she repeated. "And don't interrupt. Geordie's team is playing in Las Vegas tonight. He and a small party of friends will be flying down for the game. Once there, we're on our own until tomorrow, but I want to make this seamless, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am... I mean yes, Jan."

"OK, the flight plan is filed. We'll go over weather and such, but have you any questions so far?"

"Um, just one. Have we any cabin crew or deadheads?"

"Nope, just us. Geordie is generally super informal. There'll be food and stuff in the galley, but it'll be self-serve for them."

"Okay."

From somewhere she produced a one-page form and handed it to me. I raised my eyebrows a little, for it looked like the legal non-disclosure form I'd signed when I'd been hired. I glanced up at her in surprise.

"Yes," she said. "I know, but this isn't the usual. Look closely and you'll see it specifically relates to anything about this trip. And that's the new norm for you."

"What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?"

"You've got the idea."

I scribbled my signature on the thing and passed it back.

"Fine," she said, "now let's look at the pleasant lies the met office has sent us this time..."

+

Finished inside, she led me out into the hanger. There were four aircraft in the company fleet, all Falcons. I personally liked Dassault airplanes; I'd done my advanced training at the aviation college with them. I'd sometimes thought that had made a difference when I applied for my present position.

Three of the twin-engine aircraft were painted a solid white with the corporate logo high on the tail. I'd been flying those, taking VIPs and board members for business trips and such, and once a bunch of disabled vets, would you believe it, to and from Miami for a free cruise - Geordie was generous when he wanted to be. The three 'standard' jets were very comfortable and decorated in creams and soft browns. Communications, Wi-Fi access and such were state-of-the art and the cockpit was even better. They were a dream to fly, even in the right-hand seat.

I'd not been in the fourth aircraft, which was painted the same white colour, but with Geordie's famous 'G' personal signature replacing the company logo on the tail. Corporate aircrew commonly referred to it simply as 'The Big G'.

Jan and I did a walk-around inspection, talked to the maintenance team, signed off on a couple of things, the usual stuff. Then she led me inside and I instantly went from Impressed to Very Impressed.

Inside, The Big G was decorated in mainly dark colours. Aft of the cockpit was a small bed for crew naps, then a small but complete galley, a well-stocked bar and a toilet. Aft of that was the main compartment, with half a dozen very-comfortable-looking leather chairs, a table and a very long leather sofa along one side, with an enormous television screen opposite. Then, after another bulkhead, was a small bedroom. The size of the fuselage limited the bed to a double, but it still looked very comfy. Finally, just before the baggage compartment, was a second loo and a small but serviceable shower.

"Sweet!" I gulped as Jan led me around.

"Glad you approve. Let's get to work."

Again, the drill was pretty standard, routine checks and start-up procedures. What was impressive to me was how clean the cockpit was. To me, that suggested maintenance would also be better-than-average.

I

like

good maintenance when I'm flying.

Jan's side window was facing the hanger.

"We've got company," she announced presently.

Looking past her, I could see two men and two women in civilian clothes exiting the hanger onto the flight-line. Geordie's six-foot-five frame was instantly recognizable. He wore his trademark smile and his usual checkered dress shirt. A flunky followed with a cart full of luggage.

"Let's go," Jan said. "We'll meet them outside."

She'd timed it pretty well. They arrived at the foot of the stairs just seconds after we did.

"Good morning, Jan," Geordie said, smiling.

"Good morning, Geordie. May I introduce my copilot for this flight, Karen Hughes?"

His handshake was firm, but looking up at him, I was impressed with the care he took to not crush my hand.

"Nice to meet you, Karen. These," and he gestured to the other three, "are my guests. This is Aldo and these ladies are Sunny and Mia."

Aldo was dark, maybe in his mid-40s. Casually but expensively dressed in a dark suit and open-necked shirt, he had broad shoulders and a nice smile. He wore a small goatee and short hair. A thin gold wristwatch on his right wrist suggested he was left-handed.

Sunny was tall, taller even than Jan, with shoulder-length dark brown hair and lovely South Asian features. Her superlative figure was covered – and I use that word advisedly – by a knee-length translucent dress seemingly fashioned of nothing more than three handfuls of morning mist. You had to look closely to see that under it she was also wearing a thong and a mini bra perfectly matching her skin colour. The effect was amazing, especially since she wore it and the matching heels with absolute confidence, the way you or I would wear jeans to go grocery shopping. Her jewellery, all gold, was limited to hoop earrings, a thin bangle on one wrist and a fine waist chain clearly visible through her dress.

Mia was built on a smaller scale, but with a deliciously feminine figure. While Sunny might have stepped off an haute couture runway, Mia could have been the inspiration for an entire Irish art festival trying to imagine next year's winner of the All-Ireland Miss Leprechaun contest. Freckled, with green eyes and curly red hair, Mia was a head-turner. Her outfit was a simple, above-the-knee blue skirt and a white long-sleeved sweater. Simple, yes, but both skirt and sweater looked as if they'd been sprayed on or grown in place and her nipples were obvious under the light wool. Her outfit was set off by a single-strand pearl necklace and bright red strapped high heels.

Neither of them would have been out of place at a Hollywood gala. I took a quick glance at Jan and found myself wondering why she wasn't thin-lipped with jealousy, too.

Someday, Karen. Someday.

"Help the nice man get the bags stowed, please, Karen."

With that, my bubble popped and my day really began.

+

I knew the Falcon startup procedure by heart and suspected Jan knew it better, but we still used a printed list in a small binder. When we finished, she turned to me.

"Looks good. Go back and do a lap check, please."

I nodded and headed back to the cabin.

"The captain says we are about to take off. It would be appreciated if everybody could remain seated with their seat-belts fastened until she says otherwise."

"Not going to demonstrate how to use a seat belt?" Aldo smirked.

I'd already checked and all four were properly fastened. I noticed a wry smile on Geordie's face and took a small risk.

"Not this time," I grinned back. "Not unless you really need to be tied down."

He shook his head, smiling. To my relief, Geordie's smile grew just a little.

"Okay then. Is there anything anybody needs before we take off?"

One of the women asked for the cabin temperature to be turned up and I promised to do so.

"A-OK in back, Captain," I reported, again fastening myself into my seat.

"Thanks. It's your takeoff, then. Take the controls."

I looked at her in surprise. She nodded.

"Your take-off."

"My first flight with you? With Geordie on board?"

"Your take-off." Her face was expressionless.

I took a deep breath.

"Co-pilot has the controls."

She leaned back, away from the sidestick and throttles. She kept one eye on me, the other on the instruments and what could be seen outside.

I waited for further instructions.

"Copilot has the controls," she echoed, her voice still gentle.

Get this thing in the air, Ms. Earhart!

My thumb moved towards the radio, stopped just short.

Had I forgotten anything?

From the corner of my eye, I could see her eyebrows go up a little. I pressed the PTT button, felt my confidence rebound with the sound of my voice in my earphones, the start of the sort of standard radio conversation I'd been through hundreds of times.

In short order, I had the craft at the end of the runway. Some final checks and clearances and I eased the throttles ahead, felt the always-thrilling feel of being pushed back into my seat with acceleration -- my acceleration.

It's what I lived for, what I'd dreamed of since I was a little girl.

Twenty seconds later, the landing gear coming up, I allowed myself a quick sideways look at Jan. A small smile on her face, she seemed pleased enough. I allowed myself to feel smug for a few seconds, then got on with the business at hand.

We'd topped ten thousand feet and were still climbing when I started to fiddle with the Heads Up Display controls. The HUD is a gizmo used to project an image of key instrument readings on the windscreen in front of the crew. Pale enough to see through easily without interfering with outside vision, it allows a pilot to avoid having to constantly flip their eyes back and forth from the instrument panel.

"What're you doing?" Jan asked.

"There's something wrong with the display. It looks like we might be getting seep-through from the entertainment system or something." That didn't make much sense when I said it, but it was the only thing I could think of.

Indeed, in addition to the expected displays, I was seeing a ghostly human image moving back and forth on the windshield in front of me.

"Leave it," Jan said. "It's normal."

"Normal? That can't be safe, Captain."

I was still thinking something had been misconnected or a program corrupted.

"It's 'Jan' and, yes, it's safe. Call it a design extra for The Big G."

I looked at her, puzzled, then peered closely at the image.

"It's the cabin!"

"Yup."

Her hand reached out, pressed a couple of buttons. One of the screens in front of us switched to a high-definition image of what I'd seen with the HUD.

I rarely blush, but I managed it this time.

"What?" she asked.

I pointed to the image on the screen. Sunny's dress was draped over one of the big chairs, with that minimal bra lying on top. In the few minutes since we'd taken off, both women had shed their red-carpet dresses and were down to each wearing about an espresso cup of designer thong.

"That."

I was almost as jealous of their looks as I was embarrassed.

Jan's voice was dry.

"It's his airplane, Karen."

"I... Sure, he's the boss and I get that, Jan. I just don't want to be part of some creepy Jeffrey Epstein front page exposé next week."

As I watched, the women strolled to the galley, returning with a bottle of champagne, four flutes and a prepared cheese tray. One knelt gracefully and poured while the other passed glasses to the two men.

Jan laughed.

"Honey, is that what you think? Forget that. Geordie has his ways, but he's also very careful to stay on the right side of the law. I guarantee you that those girls are over 21 and, come to think of it, probably work for a very exclusive escort agency."

"They're hookers?" I exclaimed. I didn't think I'd ever seen a real sex worker before, not in person. What surprised me the most, I suppose, was how, well,

normal

they looked. Well, 'normal' in a smoking-hot sense, of course. I'd always pictured prostitutes as shop-worn women and these two were anything but. They were Class and Taste and Elegance, not trashy, wrong-side-of-the-tracks street-walkers.

"Well, I wouldn't swear to that, y'know? Maybe they're all just really good friends; Geordie has a lot of friends. I'm pretty sure the little one flew on The Big G last year. Anyway, take my word for it - those two aren't here against their will."

The two girls smiled at each other, exchanged a quick but entirely credible kiss. Thinking about it now, I'm pretty sure it was done to amuse and entertain the two men, but they sure put their hearts into it. And then it was more than just a kiss, with slim hands roaming over heads and backs, then further. I licked my lips at the sight of Mia's fingers clutching Sunny's bottom, of the brunette fondling one of Mia's breasts, thumbing her nipple.

If it was a performance, it was a very good performance, a heart-hammering performance. The two women moved over each other like mating snakes, fluid and supple. I felt a weight forming in my belly.

I could see the mesmerized expression on the faces of both men. i took a quick side-glance at Jan. Her stare was as focused as Geordie's. I watched the proud bosom under her uniform rise and fall with deep, deep breaths before turning away, surprised at myself.

The women shared a last parting kiss before pulling away, hands tracing over boobs and waists. Holding hands, they turned to stand in what I can only call a pose or a display. A presentation, maybe?

Jan checked our status, did the usual radio reports and returned to watching the screen.

On the screen, Geordie shook his head as if in admiration. He looked briefly at his friend and said something. Aldo, his gaze sweeping over the two women, merely shrugged. Geordie's eyes wandered back and forth before he pointed at Sunny and patted the seat beside him. She smiled and slipped in beside him while her freckled partner flowed up against Aldo.

Geordie raised his glass in a toast and was joined by the other three. He leaned back, settled himself. His girl leaned in against him. He said something and, smiling softly, she rose to her feet. Her thumbs slid inside the waistband of her thong and pushed it down over those perfect buttocks, revealing plump, smoothly-waxed labia. She let the thong slide to her feet, tossed it to one side with a toe before rejoining him, her head resting on his shoulder. In a moment, his arm came up, swept over her waist before cupping a world-class breast.

To my surprise, he then settled back, raised what looked like a remote control and pointed it at the television.

On the other end of the sofa, Mia had kept her knickers, but was sitting on Aldo's lap, her hand tucked inside his shirt, stroking his chest slowly, as he too turned his attention –

most of it, anyway

– to the TV screen in front of him.

Jan adjusted the trim before shifting in her seat.

"They're watching television?" It seemed totally unreal to me. Two stunning girls dressed in perfume and high heels and the men were

watching television?

"Geordie's a football fanatic's football fantatic. My guess is that the Bills are playing right now. So, yes. It's a long flight and I think Geordie likes to mix his pleasures."

I was still having problems wrapping my head around this whole situation. Something struck me as I watched Geordie's big hand softly caress Sunny's breast.

"Does he know?"

"Know? Know what?"

I pointed at the image in front of us.

"That. Does he know he's being watched?"

She laughed softly.

"Honey, of course he knows. How could he not? What matters

more..."

she said, shooting a steely glance at me, "is that nobody

else

knows. I've been his pilot for almost five years now and that..." she said, nodding at the screen, "is pretty tame compared to some of the things I've seen back there."

Her eyes floated over the instruments.

"Just keep in mind that this is a pretty good gig, Rookie."

I nodded at that, remembering my surprise at the much-better-than-expected salary on my written job offer.

"Geordie is in the news all the time, hon. He's been flying this party bird for years - have you ever heard a whisper of

that?"

She pointed over her shoulder with a thumb for emphasis.

"No," I admitted. "No, I haven't."

Genius inventor, businessman, entrepreneur, philanthropist, football fanatic and club owner - all those I'd read of. But nothing like this.

"Well, just keep it that way, kiddo. Let anything slip about his personal affairs and it'll be a really lonely day for a certain young ex-pilot."

"Ex-pilot?"

The little redhead on the screen had shed her panties by now and had half of Aldo's shirt buttons undone. Geordie and the brunette were sitting as they had been last time I'd looked. There was a slight smile on both their faces.