The slim genteel lady was dressed in a navy blue stewardesses uniform. Her form-fitting jacket had gold piping along the lapels and cuffs and a pair of gold wings clipped to her right breast. Her shapely legs were clad in gossamer black stockings and her feet shod in four-inch black patent leather high heels. She had perfectly coiffed black, shoulder-length hair. Her face was too angular to be called ‘pretty’ but she was undoubtedly attractive and cultivated. She exuded elegance.

“I am Megan DeVille, Senior Flight Attendant for Goldwing Airlines, chairman of the flight steward selection committee and chief training officer,” she announced officiously.

Having seen what had happened to the four ‘smokers’ the remaining sixteen paid complete attention to her.

“I was an airline hostess when we were treated like starlets. We would walk through the terminal with our heads held high, knowing that everybody was staring at us.”

“Going on an airplane used to be a special event. It was a time when air travel was a more rarefied experience than it is today, even on routine flights I would pass out roses to women passengers and serve seven course meals on fine china and linen tablecloths.”

“We had a saying back then: Marriage is fine but shouldn’t you see the world first? Most of my alumni married pilots; even the less fortunate ones married flight engineers,” she looked down her nose at the suggestion of marrying a flight engineer.

“But that was then; a more refined world, when air travel was for the privileged.”

“Now it’s like a greyhound bus; some of the male passengers don’t even wear suits!”

“Well it might me 1975 but this is Goldwing Airlines and we have standards! That’s why we take less than five percent of applicants. It is easier to get into Cambridge than it is to serve martinis over the Atlantic on one of our airplanes.”

The two men wearing business suits sitting at the side of the stage rolled their eyes. They had obviously heard this story countless times.

“Anyway welcome,” she said without the slightest hint of hospitality in her voice.

She removed the cigarette from its holder and stubbed it out in a glass ashtray on the lectern.

“The gentleman behind me will collect your credentials. That’s your letters of recommendation, your references and passports,” she looked at the audience as if they were imbeciles.

“Mr Dennis Caputo,” she turned and nodded to one of the besuited gentry.

“Mr Caputo will peruse your documents to ensure they are in order and rank them in order of merit.”

Mr Caputo arose and appeared to be very glad that his part in the performance was over.

A hand shot up in the audience and Megan winced; visibly displeased.

“Yes?” she asked corrosively.

The pretty young woman was dressed similarly to Candi in a dark business suit but with her hair coiffured reminiscent of the nineteen forties, blushed deep red.

“What if you don’t have a passport? I mean I have applied for one but it hasn’t arrived yet,” she said entreatingly.

“So you want the best job in the whole world; flying around the globe in a Goldwing Airlines airplane and you don’t have passport! Silly girl!” Megan’s bright-red thin lips twisted into a scowl.

“You can leave now! That’s all.” she waved her hand at the door.

The girl began to sob.

“But it’s in the post! They said it’s in the post!” the girl heaved.

“That’s all.” Megan reiterated emotionlessly.

Mr Caputo walked between the rows of dwindling candidates and collected documents. Candi handed him her valise and noiselessly mouthed ‘thank you’ and smiled anxiously at him. He smiled back and mouthed ‘good luck’.

“Well that reduces us to fifteen,” Ms DeVille seemed very happy with the outcome.

“As I wrote to you all, final selections for the ten vacant positions will be made today.”

“First off Mr Brown will conduct individual I.Q. and psychological tests,” the other portly man in the suit sitting on the stage nodded his head.

“You will all also undergo a pregnancy test and then we will break for lunch.”

“Final selections will be announced this afternoon, after your poise, charm, decorum, ability as a conversationalist, and friendliness have been appraised.”

“I should warn you that you have been under assessment since you arrived this morning and will be continually assessed until those selected few pass out of the Goldwing Airlines Flight Attendant Training Academy.”

When Megan DeVille announced the pregnancy test Candi blanched.

“Fuck!” she whispered to herself.

It seemed like every time she thought she had overcome adversity, another obstacle popped up.

The remaining fifteen were divided into three groups of five. The pretty, wide-eyed girl the others had nicknamed Little Bo Peep, two other ladies and one of the elegantly dressed young men were in Candi's group.

They were told they would wait together to be interviewed and led to a small room where there was a coffee pot, cream, sugar, cups, saucers and napkins laid out on a table. There were six armchairs and two small occasional tables with crystal ashtrays. The two other girls and the man dropped into chairs. Candi approached ‘Bo Beep’.

“I’m Candace but my friends call me Candi,” she smiled.

“Hi. I’m Millicent. Millie,” the pretty girl smiled back with a pronounced Cockney accent.

“Ok Millie, come help me pour coffee,” Candi said.

Candi and Millie poured coffee for the other three, offering cream and sugar and then they poured a cup each for themselves and handed out napkins. One of the other girls was summoned and the remaining four sat down to chat. Candi demurely crossed her ankles and sipped cautiously at her hot coffee.

The man offered Candi a cigarette which she took and smiled at him when he lit it for her.

“Peter Snodgrass,” he introduced himself with a confident smile.

“I’m Candace Pops and this is Millie,” Candi indicated her new found friend.

“Millicent Walker,” the girl grinned.

“And you are?” Candi smiled at the other girl.

“Porsche Berkinsdale. Of the Surrey Berkinsdale’s,” she looked pompously at the others and sipped her coffee.

“So what do you think of Megan DeVille?” she asked.

“You know they call her Cruella DeVil behind her back,” Peter Snodgrass grinned.

Porsche nearly choked on her coffee and spat it back in the cup. She guffawed.

“Oh that is so deliciously wicked!” she smirked.

“She’s an icon at Goldwing. Been here thirty years, started out as a hostess at seventeen and has never married. When she got too old to fly she took over recruitment and the Flight Attendant Training Academy,” Peter explained.

“You seem to know an awful lot about her,” Millie looked astonished.

“Yes. Well. One needs to know everything about one’s adversary. Only ten percent of stewards are male and as only five out every one hundred applicants are accepted for training I need every advantage I can get,” he sniffed.

Candi blushed a deep red. She knew the odds better than Peter did and now she felt like she was here under false pretences; which she actually was.

They were called into Mr Brown’s office one at a time for the I.Q. and psychological tests. Candi found the tests to be quite easy and Mr Brown to be very dour indeed. In her short existence as Candi, she had found that men generally saw her a sex object and usually only wanted one thing but Mr Brown was all business.

“He’s a cold fish,” the other girl, who turned out to be named Mandy McDonald, said.

“I leaned over half a dozen times with my blouse opened to the second button and he didn’t even check out my tits. I let my skirt ride up and dropped my pencil twice so he could look at my knickers and he didn’t bat an eyelid!” she complained.

“He quizzes a couple of hundred bimbos a year looking to be flight stewards. How many of them do you think have offered him sex to get a job? And the dopey thing is he doesn’t get a say; all he does is mark and grade papers. Cruella decides who goes and who stays,” Peter responded.

“Who the fuck is Cruella then?” Mandy asked in her Welsh accent.

Candi, Millie, Porsche and Peter all laughed.

The band of fifteen candidates were bought back together in the conference room where they were asked to be seated. They were hungry by now and their hunger was piqued by an assortment of hot and cold snacks laid out at the back of the room along with bottles of wine, beer and soft drinks.

“Don’t worry. We shall soon be having lunch but before we do I invite the ladies to take one of the little jars over there, write your name on it please and provide a sample. There is a tray in the ladies room on which you are to leave your samples.”

“Of course I don’t need to tell you to wash your hands before you return for lunch,” she reviled the girls as they filed out of the conference room with their little jars.

The two male applicants waited patiently as the women went to give their samples.

Candi blanched. She didn’t know what procedure the airline used for pregnancy testing, but she was terrified that when her urine was tested it would reveal she was male. She hung back pretending to be bashful until there was only herself and Millie left in the ladies.

She started to shake and cry.

Millie came over and fussed over her.

“You aren’t preggers are you; surely?” she patted Candi on the arm.

“No it’s worse!” Candi cried.

“There’s nothing worse than preggers honey. Unless of course the fathers is…well let’s not go there,” Millie paled.

Candi shook her head vehemently

“Drugs? You’re not doing drugs are you? I heard they test for drugs too,” Millie said.

Candi stopped crying and smiled to herself.

“Yes honey it’s drugs. Nothing heavy but my boyfriend made me smoke some pot last week. I hated it but he said he’d leave me if I didn’t ‘get hip and get high’ with him,” Candi lied.

“You know what. You were really nice to me when I first arrived here and you’ve been nice ever since. I saw the condescending looks of all those other girls and hear their smug comments about my poodle skirt. Well fuck em!”

Millie snatched Candi's sample bottle from her and darted into a cubicle. A minute later Candi heard a flush and the door opened and Millie handed Candi her bottle full of pale yellow liquid. They both deposited their samples in the tray provided.

As they were about to leave Candi pulled Millie into her arms, hugged her and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you darling,” she whispered into Millie’s ear.

“You’re welcome Candi. Are we friends now?” she beamed.

Candi comprehended right then that Millie was alone and likely friendless. Her pretty, sweet, wide-eyed demeanour hid a girl who was lonely, unpretentious, and probably poor. In the harsh light of the restroom Candi could see that Millie’s poodle skirt, likely the best thing she owned but totally inappropriate for the occasion, was frayed at the hem and a little faded. Her blouse was the same and she noticed that Millie’s shoes were a little too big, presumably hand-me-downs or second-hand, and one stocking had an almost invisible repair near her ankle.

“Yes we are friends,” she squeezed Millie affectionately and then let her go.

“Come on; let’s get some lunch,” Candi smiled.

“I’m starving!” Millie giggled, but Candi thought she might have meant it literally.

“Ah! The prodigal daughters return,” Megan DeVille smiled at her own joke.

“Please partake of lunch; provided today care of Goldwing catering,” Megan gestured towards the buffet.

Candi could see the hunger in Millie’s eyes and saw that she was about pounce on the buffet.

Candi caught her wrist and held her back.

“Wait! Follow me,” she whispered.

Most of the other candidates were crowded around the buffet trying to load their plates.

Candi led Millie behind the buffet table.

“You take the drinks and I’ll serve the food,” she instructed.

Candi took the utensils away from the hungry diners and served them singly but promptly, making them individual plates of what they fancied.

Millie poured glasses of wine, beer and pop ensuring each beverage was poured into the correct glass and handing the drinks out with a napkin and providing ice to those who wanted it.

When the line to the banquet had dissipated, Candi made up four plates of food and put them on a tray. She nodded at Millie who put an assortment of drinks on a silver tray and followed Candi over to where Megan DeVille sat with the two portly men in business suits and offered them a selection, starting with Megan.

Megan looked intently at Candi and then gave her the faintest nod of approval and took the smallest meal being offered and a glass of champagne from Millie. Candi took the last plate of food over to Peter Snodgrass who had sat back to watch the others attack the buffet.

“Bravo and touche,” he gave Candi a mirthless smile.

Candi and Millie went back to the buffet and put their trays down.

“Look; I know you’re probably starving but remember what Megan DeVille said about being constantly assessed. Just take a small plate ok?” Candi said to Millie.

Millie looked regretfully at the banquet and then took a side plate on which she put a small selection of cold cuts as did Candi. They both poured a glass of water.

“Ok now we join the others; we make small talk and we smile. We smile and we pay complete attention to what they are saying,” Candi instructed.

“Even if they are arseholes,” Candi whispered and Millie giggled.

Candi and Millie sat down in the small group that had gathered around Megan DeVille and the two portly assistants. They were making small talk amongst themselves but Candi noticed Megan said very little and seemed to be appraising her charges.

The conversation seemed to be led by a gorgeous and confident twenty-something wearing a Versace skirt and blouse combo, Manolo Blahnik high heels and fifteen denier fashion hosiery. Her name was Christina Christensen and she obviously came from a very wealthy family.

She waved her long-stemmed glass of champagne around as she spoke like she was to the manor born.

“…and so I told mummy, I could get a job as a hostie any time I wanted and support myself,” she smugly finished a story she had been telling.

“Wow is that a Gucci handbag?” Millie pointed to the expensive bag under Christina’s seat.

Christina looked annoyed.

“Oh my god are you really wearing a poodle skirt? Is there going to be a sock-hop or a hoedown or something after?’ Christina contemptuously replied.

Everyone could tell that Millie was hurt but she kept smiling. Some of the others grinned; to them it was fun to see a vulture tear into a lamb.

“It’s the best dress I have I’m sorry. When I got selected for the audition I just put on my best but yes I suppose it isn’t really appropriate. I love what your wearing though Christina,” Millie replied, smiling her sweet smile.

“I prefer those that don’t know me to call me Miss Christensen,” she snapped.

“Oh I don’t know. I think anyone who has the gumption to wear a poodle dress today, and carry it off as well as Millicent does, deserves to be praised not ridiculed,” Candi chipped in.

“Yes I suppose there is gumption in wearing something, well, shall we say retro rather than old fashioned, unlike someone who turns up wearing a cheap business suit they bought off the rack in a department store,” Christina snapped back.

Candi blushed but inside she was seething.

“And oh my! Is that a Timex!” Christina pointed to Millie’s rectangular chrome watch with Roman numerals and black leather band.

Millie was such a sweet thing that she didn’t realise she was about to be ridiculed.

“Well mine’s just a crappy Patek Philippe. I wish I had something with character like yours,” Christina teased.

A few of the other girls were smirking; taking pleasure in watching Millie being made fun of while she didn’t even know it.

“Oh it’s a family heirloom; my mother got it from her mother and she gave it to me to wear today for luck,” Millie said proudly.

“So you came dressed in jumble sale clothes, wearing a cheap hand-me-down watch and darned stockings, hoping to become an airline stewardess?” Christina said contemptuously.

Millie’s smile faltered only momentarily but it broke Candi's heart when she saw that one second of pain. She saw Millie’s big blue wide eye’s water but her smile didn’t waver.

“I guess I just did the best I could Miss Christensen; I have to say you look beautiful today and I bet you will be selected as a stewardess for sure,” Millie smiled.

“You bet your mother’s cheap watch I will,” Christina snickered.

A single tear ran down Millie’s cheek but she quickly brushed it away hoping no one would notice.

“May I take your plate and glass Miss Christensen?” Millie asked.

Christina held out her dirty plate and turned away from Millie like she was some kind of hired help and began to talk to one of the other girls. Inside, Candi's anger turned to fury.

“No Millie; I’ll get it!” Candi hissed.

Candi leapt from her chair and took Christina’s plate and promptly dropped it in her lap.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” Candi said whilst wiping at Christina’s blouse deliberately rubbing the mess into the fabric.

“Get away from me you harpy! You fucking cheap slut in a cheap suit!” Christina screamed.

Megan DeVille arose.

“Enough! I’ve seen enough! As if someone like you could ever be a Goldwing girl!” Megan roared.

She pointed at the glass doors to the conference room.

“That’s all; goodbye.”

Candi hung her head. She had come so far and had let this stuck-up bitch get under skin. Maybe she didn’t deserve to be an airline steward. She slowly walked to the back of the room to get her coat.

“Where are you going Miss Pops?” Megan inquired.

Candi turned around and saw the look of delight on Christian Christensen’s face turn to disappointment when Megan’s manicured, red-nailed, finger pointed at her.

“You! You privileged popinjay! You’re the harpy. You leave!”

Christina’s mouth worked but no sound came out.

“That’s all; goodbye,” Megan said and turned her back on Christina.

“Right ladies and gentleman. Please put away your plates, you may take another drink should you wish but please be seated for the last session of the day,” she announced.

The remaining fourteen cleaned away their plates and took their seats; some with glasses of wine, Candi and Millie took coffee. Megan DeVille and her two besuited squires took their places on the stage.

“Millicent Walker and Candace Pops please stand,” Megan began without ceremony

They both stood expecting that now they would be dismissed

“You will no longer be part of the selection process,” Megan announced.

Millie and Candi dropped their heads.

“You are already selected,” she smiled.

“Candace Pops I noticed that you welcomed Miss Walker when she arrived as soon as you noticed that she was nervous. You both served coffee to your peers whilst waiting for your interviews and then graciously served behind the banquet and tended to the staff. You have both been polite and showed decorum even when you were being insulted.”

“That’s a Goldwing flight steward through and through,” she concluded.

“Please take a seat to the side of the stage please.”

During the lunch break ten chairs had been set up on the side of the stage and the podium had been cleared away.

“Also, Miss Julie Newbury… congratulations; it’s going to be a boy. That’s all; goodbye,” Julie blushed a bright red and hurried out of the room.

“So! Only three to get rid of,” Megan quipped.

“Mister Johnson?” the other male candidate beside Peter Snodgrass got to his feet.

“Your credentials are impeccable. They are also counterfeit. That’s all; goodbye,” and Mister Johnson left, looking more than a little guilty.

“Mister Snodgrass, please take a seat next to Miss Walker. We have a place reserved for one male flight steward so I guess you’re in by default,” she said whimsically.

The remainder of the ladies were put through various scenarios to test their poise and attentiveness and it was eventually winnowed down to Porsche Berkinsdale and another girl named Katie Jones.

Megan DeVille and her two cohorts were huddled together concocting a final test to determine which of the two would be successful. The nine candidates who had already been selected were restless and Megan allowed them to wander off to get tea or coffee or go to the toilet and even use the smoking room.

They had all done so except for Porsche, Katie, Candi and Peter Snodgrass; even Millie had gone to use the ladies.

“Oh my god you’ve sat on something during lunch, please allow me to fix you,” Peter said to Katie and began to brush at the back of her skirt.

Porsche engaged Katie from the front.

“He’s such a gentleman; what’s the bet he’s gay?” she joked and Katie laughed.

She was unaware that Peter had tucked the hem of her skirt into the waistband of her pantyhose. Her derriere, encased in pink lace knickers and control-top pantyhose was on display for the whole world, and Katie was oblivious.

“Ok Miss Jones, proceed to the banquet, pour a glass of champagne and serve it to Mister Caputo. Pretend he’s a First Class passenger,” Megan set her, her task.

Katie did the task perfectly, totally unaware that her very pert young arse and shapely thighs were on display to everyone throughout the whole performance.

It was a wicked thing to do to someone who appeared to be such a nice person. But his was cutthroat. This was selection for flight steward training.

Megan DeVille shook her head throughout Katie’s performance and then she just pointed to the door. Katie left head down. She had pulled on her coat but her skirt was still hiked up and she didn’t know it.

Porsche and Peter took the last two seats on the stage.

“I should have let her go just for wearing control-top pantyhose. Hostesses only wear stockings or sheer-to-the waist pantyhose,” she stated.

“So…let me congratulate you all on your selection. You will attend Goldwing Airlines Flight Attendant Training Academy for four weeks instruction commencing next week,” Megan DeVille moved along the line of candidates and shook their hands.

“Mr Brown will now give you each an envelope containing your joining instructions and some cash to tie you over and to purchase a few requisites you will need at the Academy,” she said.

Sure enough Mr Brown came along the line and handed out large manilla envelopes to the ten selectees.

The candidates were invited to have a drink before they left and they all mingled and congratulated each other. Candi and Peter stood face to face and raised a glass to each other and smiled but were interrupted by Megan DeVille.

“You two pull any of the shit you pulled here today at my Academy and you’re out on your arses got it?”

They both looked perplexed.

“That stuck up cow Christina Christensen deserved what she got but Katie; well Katie gets to go around the buoy. I’ll make sure she gets selected in the next round,” Megan said.

“Now fuck off out of here and I’ll see you at the Academy,” she terminated their conversation and walked away.

“To Cruella DeVil,” Peter clinked his glass against Candi's.

The final chore of the day was for each of the candidates to be surreptitiously whisked away and measured for their uniforms. Once that task was completed they were free to leave.

Candi and Millie took the same lift down to the ground floor and they both rooted through their envelopes. Millie’s face lit up when she found a smaller envelope with twenty pounds in it.

They exited the building together and started down the marble steps when Candi came to a complete stop at the bottom.

John Benstead leaned on the bonnet of his Ford Escort panel van. His stylish long blonde hair hung down to his muscular shoulders. He was wearing the usual pair of tight jeans and tight T-shirt. The habitual cigarette hung out the corner of his mouth.

He was holding the biggest bunch of flowers Candi have ever seen and he dropped his cigarette in the gutter and held out the flowers and his face split into a wide grin.

“You’ve got some cheek!” Candi said.

“Who’s this?” Millie looked bemused.

“I’m Candi's friend,” John grinned.

“You’re not the druggie are you?” Millie asked.

John looked confused and Candi gave him a look that expressed ‘never mind’.

Candi snatched the bunch of flowers from John.

“You can take Millie home first and I might…I say I might… let you take me home after,” Candi said.

The three of them squished into the front seat of John’s small Ford Escort and Candi threw the flowers in the back. John and Millie hit it off immediately and chatted all the way to Millie’s house. While Millie was busy chatting Candi took the twenty pounds out of her own envelope and surreptitiously stuffed it into Millie’s.

Candi could have used the money but she knew that Millie needed it more.

They dropped Millie off outside of the modest flat that she shared with her mother and drove off.

“You’ve got a fucking cheek!” Candi scolded John now that Millie had gone.

“I knew you’d get selected,” John grinned.

“Don’t change the subject!” Candi admonished him.

“Bet that passport, those references and letters of employment were never questioned,” he continued.

“Well one guy was let go for having counterfeit documents so I guess they were ok,” she conceded.

“I told ya,” John rested his hand on Candi's knee and began to gently stroke it.

Candi deftly removed it and dropped it back on the steering wheel.

“So no reward?” he said cheekily.

“I paid you,” Candi smirked.

“Yeah but not full price,” John simpered.

“You got your reward,” Candi said sharply.

“I’ll buy you dinner,” John countered.

“And what will that cost me?” Candi brooded, looking straight ahead.

They were stopped at a red light and John turned to face her and gently turned her face to his.

“It won’t cost you anything. I just want to be in your company. I know what Tony did to you and I hate myself for it. I blame myself.”

“I, er, I feel something for you Candi. I really do; and I want to be with you,” John looked longingly into her eyes.

“Ok dinner. And a nice bottle of wine!” she grinned.

The car behind them blew its horn and John released the clutch.

“And no hanky panky,” Candi said.

“Of course not!” John replied solemnly.

Candi reached over and took John’s hand put it on her knee.

“Maybe a little,” she chuckled.

John smiled and stroked her knee.

Back at Candi's flat Candi was still on a high. She couldn’t believe that she had made it into the flight steward program. She was tempted to call Michelle immediately but resisted the temptation. She put her coat on a hook and threw the envelope on the desk, she would read the joining instructions later, for now she just wanted to relax. She put the flowers in a vase with some water.

John stood awkwardly in the living room.

“Pour me a drink John; I’m going to get out of this fucking suit,” Candi said as she climbed the stairs.

John poured two tumblers of scotch. He looked around the quiet little apartment wondering if he was supposed to just sit and wait. He shrugged his shoulders and climbed the stairs. He stopped outside Candi's bedroom door and inhaled a miasma of perfume, powder and makeup.

Candi had her back to him. She had dropped her jacket on the bed and was unbuttoning her blouse humming to herself. John smiled and leaned against the door jamb content to watch. Candi dropped her blouse beside the jacket and stretched; then she unzipped and dropped her skirt which pooled around her stockinged feet. She kicked it away.

She reached inside her panties and struggled for a few seconds and then dropped a panty-liner and a tangle of surgical tape on the floor, which she kicked away under the bed.

Candi was illuminated by the glow of lamplight dressed only in her white satin bra and panties, sheer tan holdup stockings and her high heels. To John she looked delectable.

She reached behind her back and tried to unclasp her brassiere. She was struggling.

John crept into the bedroom put down the drinks and moved behind her. He pulled her to him and she rubbed against him like a cat. He unhooked her bra and Candi caught it and dropped it on the bed. Standing like this with her back pressed against John she felt quite content but she was self conscious about the size of her small breasts.

John cupped each of her breasts and nuzzled her neck; he gently rubbed the little nubbins she had for nipples.

“They’re tiny,” she complained.

“They’re perfect,” he protested and kissed her pale neck below her ear.

“You know you are still on probation,” she smiled.

“I know,” he placed one arm across her breasts and the other around her tiny waist and hugged her.

Candi leaned back so that the back of her head rested on his shoulder.

“It’s been a hell of a day,” she sighed.

John released her and took the drinks from the bedside table where he had put them.

“Ow! I was enjoying that cuddle,” Candi pouted.

“Here,” he handed Candi a tumbler of scotch.

He clinked his glass against hers, smiled and sipped.

“To the hostess with mostest,” he grinned.

“That’s funny, Michelle called me that,” she licked her lips.

John pulled her waist to his and she leaned back so she could sip her scotch.

“Do you want a cigarette?” he asked.

Candi put her drink down and moved in closer and kissed him, sliding the tip of tongue quickly in and out of his mouth.

“No I want this,” she reached down and squeezed him through his jeans.

He was instantly erect.

“Are you sure it’s been a long day and…” Candi smashed her mouth against his.

“Shut up,” she gasped into his mouth.

John placed his hands under Candi's buttocks and she put her arms around his neck and hung on while he lifted her and carried her to the bed. She kicked off her high heels during the journey. He lay her on the bed, her head propped on the pillows and she sipped her drink while John stripped.

He climbed onto the bed, his long thin phallus a testament to his excitement.

Candi hitched up her buttocks and lifted her legs so that John could pull down her panties and then she rolled over on her belly.

She lay on the bed naked except for her stockings.

John kissed her feet and slowly made his way along her legs, kissing strategically as he went. He spent some time kissing her ankles and some more time kissing and caressing the backs of her knees.

“I love the little wrinkles in your stockings here,” he whispered as he softly kissed her there.

John made his way up her thighs and nuzzled the creamy white flesh above the welts of her stockings. He began to kiss the milky white soft globes of her bottom and he lay between her legs to do so. Her stockinged foot sought out his erect penis and stroked it.

“Mmm,” John murmured.

John played with Candi's buttocks; incessantly kissing them and caressing them with his lips. He lightly opened her buttocks so that he could access her puckered bud and he explored it with his tongue.

“Mmm,” that’s lovely, Candi cooed.

John licked and kissed the pink crinkle that was her sphincter; his cock was rock hard and he brushed it against Candi's gossamer-clad calf. She felt his warm wet precum on her leg.

John made to roll Candi over but she resisted.

“John. I’m not sure I’m ready for you to see me like this,” she whimpered.

“Why don’t you just fuck me in the arse doggy style,” she sighed.

John used all his strength and flipped Candi over on to her back. She slammed her legs together and cupped her genitals. She turned her face sideways on the pillow.

John was straddling her; his knees astride her waist. He leaned down and looked her in the eyes which were wet with tears.

“I don’t want to fuck you in the arse doggy style! I don’t want to fuck you any style!” he whispered.

“I want to make love to you. I want to make love to you while we face each other so that I can see your beautiful face, kiss your beautiful lips, and tell you how much I adore you.”

“But!” John shut her up by placing his lips on hers.

“But nothing,” he smiled.

“Yes but I have…you know,” she looked down with distaste.

“You mean this?” John reached down and removed Candi's hands from her genitals.

He softly kissed her and as he did he softly took her erect penis in his fingers and squeezed it. He kissed her harder and slid his fingers up and down the shaft of her cock. Candi opened her legs and he knelt between them.

She reached for him and found him erect and ready. She stroked him firmly but slowly and he reciprocated. Their kisses became urgent and Candi lifted her legs and put her calves around John’s waist. She removed his hand and lifted her hips higher. She reached for his phallus and nestled it in her puckered bud.

She broke the kiss and looked into John’s eyes lovingly and slowly impaled herself on his manhood.

She looked tenderly into his eyes and he in hers and then they kissed again.

John lay still, enjoying the sensation of his cock buried deep inside Candi's anus. She moved beneath him and slowly rocked her hips and they were fucking. Her own cock slithered against his hard belly. They started slow and sensual, kissing and caressing each other, cultivating their desire. They made love. With her legs wrapped around John’s waist, Candi could control the tempo and John pulled his penis all the way out of her until just his glans was inside and then he thrust forward.

Their kisses became frenzied and so did their fucking. They rutted against each other, increasing the pace; John pushed himself into Candi as deep as he could go and she thrust back against him and used her anal muscles to grip his hard cock and push her own cock against the slick flesh of his hard abdomen.

John came first. He fucked Candi hard and fast, moaning and groaning as his issue gushed forth inside her. Candi pulled him tightly to her; grinding herself against him, milking him of his seed as her own cock squirted between their bellies. They rutted and ground against each other until they were sated and then they lay in each other’s arms and kissed and fondled each other.

John lay on his back satisfied and looked up at the ceiling smiling.

“So just a little hank panky eh?” he grinned.

“Shut up and light me a cigarette,” Candi snuggled up to him.

To be continued.