Mile High Affairs Pt 01

Author's Note: This story is a work of fiction and is based on both the real world and the fictional country of Nordland, a small island nation in the North Sea between the UK, Norway, and Denmark. All characters, events, and places described in this narrative are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

I have written this story in response to requests from several readers for me to include certain aspects in my stories. When I wrote the Sigrid series, I probably missed an opportunity to explore the flight attendant/mile high club theme in any great detail and I hope to rectify this oversight with this particular series. Further, several readers have asked for the female characters to have more agency when it comes to their sexual encounters, hopefully I can do this within the context of this series of stories.

As always, all comments and feedback are welcomed.

HF

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The first-class cabin of the Air Nordland Boeing 787 was bathed in soft lighting from discrete LED strips mounted along the ceiling of the cabin, exuding an air of quiet luxury that typified the minimalist elegance of both Nordland and its national airline. The layout of the cabin, a 1-2-1 configuration with each seat enclosed in a small suite, ensured both privacy and the highest standards of service for those that could afford it.

Staffed by two dedicated flight attendants, the eight occupants of this section of the aircraft were typically ultra-wealthy entertainers, businesspeople, senior governmental leaders or their families. Though not always. Air Nordland, like many other airlines, placed a premium on discretion for its exclusive clientele. Its cabin staff were trained to ignore the foibles and proclivities of some of the more 'interesting' passengers -- the sight of an elderly Arab sheik or muscular African warlord being accompanied by a petite, young White girl, usually still in their late teens, scarcely raising an eyebrow amongst them. At least not in public.

Being selected to serve in the first-class cabin had always been a prized role for Air Nordland's retinue of flight attendants. Selected on the basis of their grace, personal style, attention to detail and impeccable customer service, it was a challenging but rewarding pathway for these young women, and men. The airline recognized this with a better remuneration package and a more distinctive uniform, to differentiate them from the staff working in the economy section of the aircraft.

Annika Schneider was one of these flight attendants -- and today, as always, she moved with a graceful style down the aisle, her tailored Air Nordland uniform perfectly fitted to her trim body as she served drinks and checked in with the passengers. The cabin was unusually full today, all eight suites occupied -- a mix of business executives and high-profile clients making the transatlantic journey from Paris to New York. Her smile, as always, was warm but professional, one that was able to draw in each passenger, make them feel as if they were the only person in the world while she spoke and interacted with them -- it was one of her greatest talents and she had perfected it over the last five years with the airline.

At twenty-nine, the German woman had found that her role as a flight attendant had been the perfect way to express her confident and adventurous nature. Moreover, she possessed a certain sensual charm that drew people in, ideal in such an important customer facing role. With a naturally outgoing personality, she belied the stereotypical image of a German woman as stern and serious and she fervently enjoyed the company of others, whether in social settings or in more intimate moments. Moreover, she was blessed with an empathetic nature and calm demeanor that made her a favorite amongst her passengers, particularly her more regular ones that flew in first-class.

Nonetheless, Annika often reflected that in other ways, she did meet the stereotypical image of a German woman -- blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skinned, but she had found that her appearance had opened other, more interesting, more exciting, doors for her, particularly since her and her husband, Alex, had started experimenting with their new, unique relationship six months earlier.

Her husband of three years, Alexander, and her had relocated from Germany to the United Kingdom two years ago when his firm, a multinational German industrial conglomerate, had moved his position to the London office. Three years older than Annika, Alex was a financial analyst, a role that was both highly demanding, yet well-compensated. With Annika, they had found a perfect match with each other; he -- the dedicated corporate executive, her -- the professional flight attendant.

They were the epitome of a perfect European couple, well-educated, professional, dedicated to each other -- there had been much discussion about their next stage of their lives together, both of their families were eagerly expecting the announcement of a baby to add to the family and, indeed, Annika and Alex had discussed this topic a great deal over the past year. However, if their family and friends could see what happened behind closed doors, they would be surprised and shocked to see a different side to the couple.

Annika could still recall the night when their lives had changed. They were curled up on the sofa of their small flat in Richmond, trying to decide what to watch on television. The one area where they truly disagreed with each other -- Annika found the historical documentaries boring, while Alex never liked any of the emotional drama series that she was so fond of watching. At least they both agreed on their distaste for reality TV shows. They had been flicking through what was available on the various streaming services when they had come across a documentary that piqued the interest of both of them.

It had been about the cuckold lifestyle -- where men allowed, even willingly encouraged, their wives and girlfriends to sleep with other men. Alex certainly didn't fit the stereotype of a submissive male -- at 6'1" with a lean, muscular build and short brown hair, he was indeed a handsome man, the perfect match for someone like Annika. But as they had both watched the documentary -- listened to the stories of the men and women in these relationships, something had clicked inside both of them.

The sex that they had that night had been passionate and intense, more than either of them could remember for a long time. As he lay on top of his beautiful wife, thrusting powerfully into her snug pussy, Alex had whispered in her ear that he'd love to see her with another man.

The words had a powerful effect on Annika -- she had been shocked at how much it had turned her on. The thought that Alex would want her to share her body, something she had promised to him alone, with other men had spurred her on that evening, intensifying the passion between the married couple. She had already climaxed that night by the time Alex had erupted inside of her, his powerful climax, the sensation of him ejaculating inside her, filling her with his warm, creamy seed, triggering her own amazing orgasm. As they had come down from their shared high, the pair whispered to each other had wonderful that had been -- how the thought of Annika sharing herself with other men had made them deepen their own loving connection with each other.

That night had been the catalyst for them to start to explore a new, exciting, side of their relationship. Over the following days they had discussed it further, refining their plans before settling into an agreement. Annika could still recall the discussion over dinner in their favorite restaurant in London where Alex had set out the rules -- he would allow Annika to sleep with any other man that she selected, but it had to be discreet, certainly never anyone that they knew, and it had to be safe. Despite Annika being on the contraceptive pill, something that was just as much about regulating her monthly cycle, a necessity for her role as an international flight attendant, as it was about birth control, they both agreed that she would always use condoms for all of these encounters.

The other rule in the agreement was that Alex had to know what happened -- there could be no secrets between them if this was to succeed. Not just what happened, but all the visceral details: where the event took place, what positions they used, how many times she came, how many times he came. Annika had nodded, agreeing to the terms as they toasted the agreement with their wine glasses. The thrill of living such a unique lifestyle, so far outside the controlled, perfect image they projected to the world, filled both of them with an undeniable sense of excitement and anticipation.

Annika's role as a flight attendant, travelling globally, staying at high-class hotels, gave her the perfect entrée to this world -- she had access to the cream of international high-society, many of them keen to explore some of the darker sexual aspects of the human condition. Although she was nervous to start with, it had actually gone easier than she thought. Her first encounter had been with a passenger. He was an Irish businessman; tall, suave and handsome. His lilting Irish accent and fit body, toned through hours on the rugby field, had made her weak at the knees.

After some casual flirting on the flight, they had discretely arranged to meet up after they landed. They had met at his hotel in Miami for some drinks before moving to his room to explore each other's bodies -- Annika still recalled the intensely erotic experience of standing naked on the balcony of the hotel room, overlooking the Miami skyline, the warm tropical air washing over her pale body, her hands gripping the railing as he'd ploughed her tight, pink canal from behind. It had been a mind-blowing and overwhelming experience for the young German woman, one that had opened her mind, and her legs, to the joys and pleasures of a cuckold relationship.

When she'd returned home, Alex had been waiting to hear the story, encouraging her to relive all the details. As she did, his cock grew harder and harder, listening how his beautiful, blonde Germanic wife had been plundered from behind by an Irishman. When they had finally made love that night, it had been explosively passionate -- both of them climaxing hard at the same time, both overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience and aware of what they had discovered in this new lifestyle.

That had been nearly eight months ago and since then Annika had enjoyed a series of discrete, but very enjoyable, encounters with men in a variety of cities around the world, while Alex had enjoyed hearing all of the salacious details from his wife. Despite the zing this had brought to their marriage, both of them were aware that they needed to keep this a secret, lest it destroy their perfect lives they had constructed.

Annika knew that Air Nordland wouldn't look favorably upon one of their first-class flight attendants fucking her way around the world, especially as most of her partners had been passengers on her flights. But so far, the level of discretion she had displayed had been enough. As she finished pouring a drink in the small first-class galley, she idly wondered what would come next in her adventures.

As she made her way down the aisle and handed the glass of sparkling water to one of the passengers with a gracious smile, her thoughts wandered back to Paris. She'd always enjoyed stop-overs in that city; being able to visit the landmarks, enjoy a coffee on the Champs-Élysées or grab a croissant at her favorite little pâtisserie in Montmartre. Despite being in one of her favorite cities, the previous night had been... pleasant, but not particularly memorable.

The Swiss banker she'd met at the hotel bar was polite, successful, and predictable. He was handsome in that conventional way that had always attracted Annika -- tall, clean-cut, with a sharply tailored suit and an expensive watch. Almost a clone of Alex. As she had settled into the chair opposite him to chat, Annika had found herself slipping into her flirtatious persona now almost out of habit. After all, it had been a part of her and Alex's arrangement for months now. As always, he would be waiting for her at home, eager to hear every detail of her latest adventure.

But, to Annika's disappointment, the banker hadn't been adventurous. Polite, yes, but almost too rehearsed, too controlled. Annika liked it when things were a little unpredictable, when there was some sense of danger or excitement. Her thoughts drifted as she remembered how quickly it had ended. He'd managed to make her climax -- a good, enjoyable one -- before he had come into his condom. Not disappointing, but certainly not thrilling either.

Annika was pulled from her reverie by the sound of a deep voice just ahead.

"Excuse me, miss?"

Annika turned, her blue eyes landing on the man in seat 1A. He was impossible to miss. Tall, broad-shouldered, and effortlessly stylish, the man was one of the most striking passengers she had seen in a long time. His skin was smooth and dark, contrasting sharply against the crisp white shirt he wore under his tailored charcoal blazer. There was something about the way he carried himself, the confidence, the ease. It made her pause, a little flutter of excitement in the pit of her stomach.

"Yes, sir? How can I help you?" Annika asked in English, her German accent almost imperceptible. She spoke flawless English, fluent French and had a working knowledge of Italian and Spanish -- skills that had served her well in her role as a flight attendant. As she said this, she smiled at the man, an automatic smile that she used with all of her passengers, keeping her tone light and professional, though she could already feel the subtle shift in her demeanor, the undercurrent of something more. It was his eyes. Dark, mysterious, yet determined.

She guessed he was a few inches over 6', tall but not overly so, muscular without being bulky with smooth, dark brown skin that Annika found appealing. His face was defined by sharp, distinguished features and his head was clean-shaven, something that complimented his strong jawline.

"I wasn't sure if you'd noticed." He flashed her a smile in return, his teeth white against his rich complexion. "There's a slight snag in your stocking," he said casually, his eyes glancing down to her legs and lingering there for just long enough to suggest something more to her. "Thought you might want to know before it gets worse."

Annika blinked in surprise, glancing down at her legs, her professional smile faltering for a brief moment. She was actually wearing pantyhose under her skirt, not stockings, but she chose not to correct him. Nude colored, as stipulated in the Air Nordland Dress and Grooming Guidelines, they were from Falke, her favorite brand to wear for her work uniform. Sure enough, there it was -- a small tear had formed in the sheer fabric of her pantyhose leg, creeping up her calf. Barely noticeable, but enough to bother her. Especially as the guidelines were strict for the first-class flight attendants who were expected to maintain the highest standards of dress and deportment.

"Oh," she said, her cheeks flushing slightly, "thank you for pointing that out. I'll take care of it right away." He's observant, or was he checking out my legs? She'd been hit on and ogled by male passengers since she had first started as a flight attendant. This had to be the smoothest approach she could ever recall. At least it's better than being told that I've got a great ass by a drunk football supporter, she thought humorously to herself.

Her mind quickly flicked to the manifest that she'd reviewed prior to the flight. 1A -- Damien Cole. US passport. That's all that she had on the manifest. She recalled greeting him as he'd boarded, helped him get settled into his seat, prepared the cabin for departure, but all of their interactions had been precise, perfunctory, the same script she'd gone over a thousand times before with a thousand different passengers. Now it was different.

"No problem," the man replied smoothly, a calm, relaxed smile on his face. One that suggested he was equally comfortable delivering a presentation in a Fortune 500 boardroom as he was mentioning to a flight attendant that she had a run in her stocking. "I figured you'd rather hear it from me than someone else." There was a playful tone in his voice, one that suggested he wasn't just making small talk.

Annika smiled, appreciating the subtle flirtation he was displaying to her. He's professional at this, she realized. He's done this before. Many times. At that moment, she grasped that he could sense something in her, just as she was sensing something in him. Two experts in flirtation and seduction, now engaged with each other. "That's very considerate of you, sir. I'll go change into another pair."

She turned to head towards the galley to let the other flight attendant know she just needed to head back to the crew rest area, aware of the Black man's eyes lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary.

"Mary," Annika said to the brunette flight attendant who was pouring a drink for another passenger, she looked up at her. "I just need to go to the rest compartment. Got a run."

The other flight attendant gave her a sympathetic little smile. "I went through two pairs just last week. It's ok, it's pretty quiet at the moment, I can cover for you."

Annika nodded her thanks before turning and making her way towards the crew rest compartment. As she passed his seat again on her way down the aisle, towards the crew rest area at the rear of the aircraft, she glanced at him. "Thank you again," she said softly with a flirty little smile on her face.

"My pleasure," he replied, his voice low and smooth, as if they shared a secret.

Annika's heart gave a small flutter as she made her way down the aisle to the crew rest area. She couldn't help but feel the lingering tension of their brief interaction. There was something more here. This man -- Damien Cole -- had an undeniable presence. He was different from most of the others she'd encountered on her flights. More confident, more aware of himself and the effect he had on people. Men like that could be dangerous, she thought. But that danger was exactly what made him intriguing.

Closing the door of the crew rest area behind her, Annika opened the locker where the crew kept their carry-on bags. She always kept a spare pair of pantyhose in the bag for situations just like these. There were so many areas where you could snag yourself, she mused, also slightly annoyed that a nearly new pair had been ruined. She'd only bought them at the Falke store in London the week before -- well, there goes £30... she thought to herself.

She rummaged in her bag for a moment, her fingers bushing past a spare uniform scarf and her toiletries pack. I was sure I had a spare pair in here, Annika thought. She knew she had several unopened Falke packets in her travel bag, a couple of pairs of pantyhose and a pair of thigh-high stockings that she occasionally wore. But these were in the luggage hold of the aircraft, not currently accessible to her. Ahh, here they are, she thought to herself as she discovered the pair in one of the side pockets. She dropped the spare pair on the small bunk next to her before putting her bag away in the locker.

Standing in the small compartment, Annika reached up under her skirt, her fingers brushing lightly against the soft, sheer nylon of her pantyhose. Raising her skirt just enough to avoid any creases, her fingers reached the top of her pantyhose, and, with a practiced familiarity, she rolled the waistband down over her hips, careful not to disturb the neat fit of her blouse and skirt.