Chapter 10: Job Interview

“Well, aren’t you looking ridiculously happy today?” Fred needled me when he arrived in the office the next morning.

I guess I wasn’t too good at hiding that we had had a very satisfying night. In fact, Sofia was still sound asleep after I had kept her on the brink of a massive orgasm all night by sucking her nipples like a baby in my sleep. That orgasm had then happened in the morning, courtesy of my tongue on her pussy and I had learned that passing out after a monstrous climax wasn’t exclusive to her sister Esther.

“Is there anything work related, Fred? Or have you just dropped by to comment on my private life?” I said, but without malice or reproach.

“Actually there is,” he said and fished a folder from his suitcase as he sat down.

“I’ve booked simulator time for Jack and myself on December 2nd. We actually only have to do a few hours, because our JS-31 rating is valid for the JS-41 too through commonality, but I reckon we should err on the side of caution. The JS-41 is a stretched version of the JS-31, but stretches often pose some unexpected challenges.”

“Appreciate your thinking,” I agreed. “Do the time you think you need, not the minimum in the papers, but I guess I don’t have to tell you that.”

He chuckled. “The two birds you’re buying. They are stored in Bristol-Filton. Since we’ll be in England anyway, we could bring them home immediately if you have the purchase done until then.”

“Can you fly them single-pilot?” I asked.

“On a transfer flight, yes,” Fred said. “I’ve already prepared the paperwork for the necessary permit.”

I took the papers from him and waved them at him. “Now you you know why I hired you and not just any ol’ bugger who comes walking in here with a fancy CV.”

He laughed.

“And there’s another thing,” he continued. “Those other flights, the special ones ... I’ve called ‘round a few old buddies. We could snap up a JS-31 Executive Shuttle – twelve seat executive version – for a pretty good penny from Canada. If we’re refreshing the type rating anyway it would be a perfect fit.”

“Wouldn’t we run into the same problem as with the Beech-1900? No loo.”

“It has one,” Fred explained and handed me even more papers. “It costs a bit of cargo space, but the thing has a range of two to three hours. Those execs ain’t gonna travel with baggage for two weeks on such flights.”

“I suppose you and Jack are going to do the transfer flights?”

“Nope, the two of us are,” Fred said. “You need the type rating. You ain’t the sort of guy sitting in the office all day, so you’ll be flying that thing often enough yourself. I’d prefer you had more than just the minimum of training hours on it. As good as you are behind the yoke, you’re still low on flying hours.”

“I ... Well, I had a rather different itinerary in mind for my check rides. More like ... Hungary.”

Fred chuckled. “Don’t tell me your delightful Sofia has a few sisters there...”

I coughed in surprise and cleared my throat. “Well ... one ... actually.”

Fred threw his head back and laughed out loud. “Kiddo, you know how to live! Well, unless you already have a set date for that we could do the transfer flights together and you could be the test passenger when you try out your stewardess? On the way to Hungary perhaps?”

I tried to be all business-like and started to shuffle the papers in front of me.

“I knew it was a good idea to hire you. I authorize the purchase.”

Fred gave me a slap on the shoulder. “Have a good one kiddo.”

I doubled over laughing when he had left towards his own office. Bea, who had just arrived, looked at me as if I had smoked something illegal.

I started to wonder if Fred knew more than he was telling me. Later that day an email arrived from Esther. Most of it was her telling me how much she missed me, complete with a rather explicit photo of herself, but in the second half of the message she gave me the details of a girl she wanted to support on getting out of the sex business, a Ukranian lass called Irina, who apparently currently worked in a somewhat ritzy brothel in Cologne, Germany.

She had attached the girl’s CV to the email and I gasped. For starters, it was not exactly common workplace practice to include full-frontal nude pictures of oneself in CVs and secondly – that girl was ... oh my giddy aunt! I was really relieved I hadn’t opened that email in the office.

Sofia and Esther were already sights that were capable of making the males of the species lose coherent thought and start to dribble like the resident village idiot. But this lady dialled it up to eleven.

There was not a single proportion wrong on this girl. Every measurement was simply perfect. No arms that looked too thin or too muscular, no hips that were too wide or too boyishly slim, and the boobs – just the right size – it was perfection. How such a girl had ended up in the sex business instead of working as a supermodel was completely beyond my understanding.

I was hard – with a capital H. For lack of better ideas I chucked off my pants and walked up to Sofia, who was watching TV in the living room.

“Could you ... uh ... help me?” I muttered, embarrassed by my predicament.

Sofia giggled when she saw my raging erection and gently took me in her mouth. She didn’t have to do me very long and I actually cried out with relief when I came explosively after perhaps thirty or forty seconds.

She washed down my load with a swig of wine and looked at me in a mix of astonishment and amusement.

“Okay, what have you done, naughty boy?” she asked me. “What has made you so horny that you let loose faster than the first time I ever blew you.”

“More like, what your sister has done,” I answered. “She’s sent us the details about a first applicant. You have to see this.”

Sofia followed me to my home office. It was basically just a small room that would normally be a child’s room, but apparently my predecessor had used it as an office too, as was evidenced by several network sockets on the wall.

She sat down in my chair and gasped. “Wow! It’s amazing you even made it as far as the sofa before exploding. I’m getting wet just looking at her! Let me check something.”

“What are you doing?” I asked while Sofia loaded the picture in a graphics program and started clicking menu items seemingly randomly, calling up several dialog boxes with a lot of technobabble in them.

“I’m trying to find out if that’s a current picture and if it has been doctored. For all we know it could be two years old and she has a beer belly by now, or a really ugly wart on the nose.”

“You seem to know a lot about editing pictures,” I noted.

“I did the website for Esther’s hotel,” she answered without looking at me. Instead she continued clicking through a lot of technobabble lists.

“Fuck me sideways,” she said after a while.

“Gladly. Here or in the bedroom?” I asked her.

Sofia giggled and turned around to face me, pointing her thumb at the screen over her shoulder. “Ian, this picture is two weeks old, was taken with a Nikon camera and it was not altered other than being shrunk in size. Else the email wouldn’t have made it through the server. For all I can tell, that girl really exists and she looks exactly like that.”

“This is a bit too perfect to be true though,” I told her. “Let’s say Esther is right and she’s really one of those girls who do it for the sex, not because they have to. Someone who looks like that could work for Lagerfeld and make millions, or get a huge cash cheque posing for the Playboy. I doubt she would lack any opportunities to have sex in those environments. Why would someone like her end up in a brothel, even if it is a rather five-star establishment as I understand it?”

“If you wanted to make money having sex, the porn industry or a brothel would be the first places you’d look,” Sophia theorized. “And if you don’t want to fuck sweaty and drunk truckers, you’d look for one of those rich men’s establishments. Esther told me a bit about that business. Some of the girls in those ritzier joints actually get too little sex in the end. People who pay ten grand for a single night often don’t come for the sex. They’re lonely or just want to sleep with a young girl in their arms.”