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CHAPTER ONE

On the huge new 797-X, you almost could forget you were on an airplane, it was that big.

It carried 900 passengers on three decks, had a crew of twenty, showed three different movies at the same time, and had a bar and a sauna.

And also this new plane, the pride of Wanderlust Airlines, had three conference rooms. Any company's executives could hold a conference or a Board of Directors meeting in the air, behind locked doors.

Or an executive could lock up himself or herself with a secretary and catch up on confidential matters. Each conference room contained a well stocked bar easy chairs, a private washroom and even a foldout bed for any harassed executive who needed a nap.

This was a double bed by the way, so two executives could nap together, although if one didn't like the other, he or she could sleep on the couch.

This feature was unique with Wanderlust Airlines. It even had changed the way that folk pronounced "Wanderlust". Usually the accent falls on the first two syllables, like this: WANDERlust. But when some leering comedian in some night club somewhere began to call it the WanderLUST Airline, the new name caught on and the conference rooms were generally sold out weeks in advance to male executives and their female secretaries, or vice versa.

As our curtain rises, we discover that Conference Room One on a 797-X has been out of service because it had needed repairs. A game of strip poker had ended in a chair-swinging fight. It all had started with a drunken claim by a large, horsy woman that there was no bottle with a neck so long that it could fill her cunt. Her strip poker opponent called her an anti-male sexist, and then… but all that happened last week.

Today, a petite and shapely young woman, in a uniform tailored to accentuate the breasts, stood with a key in her hand at the door of Conference Room One. Her name was Helen Troy and she was one of the fourteen hostesses who pampered the passengers on the 797-X. Also got pinched, got felt, made dates, and might even marry a millionaire.

Helen Troy was never sure whether she would prefer to be married to a man or to a woman. Sometimes this sex-centered doubt as though she were sitting on her cunt on a fence, ready to fall either way worried her.

Sometimes it seemed like a lot of fun.