Kenneth was pissed. He needed to get to London to close a deal, and his pilot had crashed his motorcycle on the way to the airport. Instead of flying in his private jet, he was having to fly first class on United from LAX to London. Not happy. He sat in seat 1E, happy at least to be able to stretch his long legs in a seat that gave him enough space. Kenneth was blonde, six feet seven inches tall, and still retained the athletic frame that allowed basketball put him through Stanford on a scholarship to study engineering. At 28 he was the owner of a couple of technology companies, and he had taken one public and was officially a billionaire. He was on the way to London to acquire another business, and if his pilot wasn't an idiot he would have been in his own plane. Not bad for a boy from South Texas.
Across the aisle, Tasha spotted Kenneth as he sat, and sized him up. Perfectly fitting casual clothes, jeans, handmade blazer that fit perfectly despite his height, audemars piguet watch - platinum no diamonds, no socks, berluti loafers. Real money. The kind that didn't usually fly commercial. Tasha took pride in being one of the most senior flight attendants despite her age, and as a black girl from Chicago she knew that wasn't common. She took her job seriously, and she made sure she worked out, kept up to speed on requirements, and always kept customers happy. Customers in first class were picky fuckers, and they tended to have a lot of experience as customers. Tasha was tall, thick, with a tight waist, and a curvy butt. Her breasts were large but conservatively packaged on the outside, and she made sure her cleavage was not a distraction. She smelled fresh in her perfume, but made sure it was never overwhelming. Her hair was long and pinned up, and frankly she looked incredible. She caught Kenneth's eye and walked over.
"What can we get you Sir? Orange juice, pineapple juice, champagne?"
"If you weren't new you would know I drink only champagne."
"Sir. I'm not new, but champagne it is."
"Well you look new. Brand new." Kenneth winked at Tasha.
She blushed. Why would he insult her like this? And then wink to compound it? Like he was flirting with her? After that? She walked off to get the champagne. As she served it Kenneth ignored her, and grunted a thank you as she walked away .
Kenneth looked at her. That ass. He knew the myth about flight attendants was wrong. They were usually very professional, and very organized, and the black ones even more so. She probably had fought long and hard for that position, and she wouldn't jeopardize it by jumping in bed with a passenger. Especially not a rude white passenger. She probably had issues about race anyway. Then he looked at her ass again, and remembered. He never took no for an answer. It was never no, it was not now. The flight was sixteen hours, so there was a lot of time to sleep and catch up on work. As the dinner service finished and the passengers went to sleep, the flight staff went to the galley. Kenneth walked over and looked for Tasha.
"I'm not really an asshole."
"I work here. You can be whatever you want."
"Fine. I'm an asshole."
"I know." They both laughed nervously. His eyes were blue and cold, but there was something there, like he saw her.
He stuck out his hand. "Kenneth Green"
"Tasha Smith". She shook it. His hands were heavy and thick, like he did manual labor, but at the same time impeccably groomed. He smelled so good, especially standing up. And he was tall...
"Basketball?"
