Chapter 12: Ignoring Ira

“So we’ll do Churchill-Iqaluit-Nuuk-Kulusuk-Reykjavik,” I repeated Fred’s suggestion. “Couldn’t we do Nuuk to Reykjavik directly?”

“It would be possible as far as the range is concerned,” he said. “But Iceland isn’t a big place. If the weather is shit in Reykjavik, there’s a good chance it is just as bad in Akureyri or Egilstadir too, and then you need enough juice in the tank to either go back all the way to Greenland or all the way to Faroe or Scotland. Trust me, we’ve been there and done that in little Cessnas.”

“I’m a bit concerned,” I admitted. “Kulusuk only has a gravel runway.”

Fred chuckled. “It’s not like we’ll dive into loose pebbles. Air Greenland lands Dash-7s there. It’s all compressed. Jack and I have landed there dozens of times.”

“Good, so all we need to find out is how to get to Churchill then.”

“Already done,” Ira said. “We’ll fly from Frankfurt to Whitehorse and from there to Churchill.”

“Frankfurt to Whitehorse? Who the hell is flying such an itinerary?”

“Condor,” she said. “They’ve been doing that for years – mainly adventure tourists.”

Ira was a godsend in the office. With her prior knowledge of the aviation industry she got stuff done much quicker than Bea or Sofia.

“Wait, what did you mean saying we will be flying?” I asked her.

“You wouldn’t go on such long flights without anyone working the galley, would you?”

Seeing Sofia’s grin, I realised the girls had already decided who was going with me. I started to wonder who was the bloody boss around here.

“Are you angry that Sofia and I decided behind your back?” Ira asked as she handed me a beer in the evening.

“Not really,” I said with a chuckle. “But you know what that means, right? Sofia doesn’t wear a shirt when serving coffee.”

Ira giggled. “I would actually like to do some topless flights,” she admitted. “I don’t care much for the staying at Esther’s hotel part, but I quite like to go naked or at least half-naked.”

“And yet you applied for just that job,” I pointed out.

“That was before I fell hopelessly in love with you,” she confessed. “And besides, you and Sofia cater more than well for my needs. Do you want me to do the other part?”

“The hell you will, of course not,” I said. “Okay, lovely, you can prove your topless stewardess credentials over the next few days, but I think we should go to bed when I’ve finished this here beer. We’ll have an early start tomorrow.”

“She looks a bit stocky, doesn’t she?” I said as Fred and I walked around our newest purchase on the apron in Churchill, Canada.

“Granted, there are more beautiful planes,” he agreed with me. “But I’ve flown her often enough. This bird will always get us back home.”

“Shall we get started then?” I asked. “I’m already looking forward to the first coffee on board.”

“Don’t get too cocky, kiddo,” he warned me. “You hired me as your chief pilot, and if you get sloppy because your girl is aboard, I’ll have no qualms taking control off you. After all, we’re supposed to return in one piece.”

“That’s exactly why I hired you,” I told him with a friendly slap on his shoulder. “At eighteen I wouldn’t dare to suggest that I’m the wisest man on the planet, so what I need is someone who can take a good joke, but will have no fear of kicking me in the goolies if I start being silly.”

Fred grinned. We understood each other.

“Man that’s like being back in my old Saratoga,” I said and looked around the cockpit. Unlike the PC-12, which had lots of digital displays, the JS-31 was properly old-school with lots of analogue dials and instruments.

Ira poked her head through the cockpit door.

“Ian, I need the company credit card. There’s literally no food and drink in the galley.”

“I’m not sure what you’ll find around here though,” I said and handed her the card.

“I learned to find provisions at the ass-end of Daghestan. Don’t worry,” she said and left towards the FBO.

“She’s got spunk that one,” Fred said with a chuckle. “I don’t know how you do it kiddo, but you seem to have a knack for running into girls who are not only cute, but also have something between their ears.”

“Tell me about,” I replied, chuckling. “Let’s give this baby a proper inspection. I don’t want to do it all last-minute tomorrow.”

“Good call,” Fred agreed.

I slipped out of Ira’s pussy after she had climaxed noisily. She collapsed into my arms and smiled happily.

“You haven’t cum yet, baby,” she told me, still breathing heavily.

“But you did. That’s all that counts,” I replied, still painfully hard after our tryst in our hotel room.

“I’m not heaving that,” she said and repositioned herself so she could blow me. That she was essentially slurping up her own juices didn’t seem to bother her.

It didn’t take long for me to explode down her gullet and she washed down the payload with a swig from her wine glass.

“See? No hassle at all,” she cooed triumphantly and smiled at me. Good god, I couldn’t get enough of that beautiful smile.

“Can I ask you something, even if it sounds weird?”

“You can ask me everything, Ian.”

“Would you mind ... um ... letting your hair grow longer a bit?”

Ira giggled. “You have a thing for long hair, like Sofia’s, haven’t you?”

I nodded and I felt I was blushing.

“I have no problem with that,” she said, still smiling. “I had long hair when I was still working as a stewardess, but I cut it off, because you constantly have to trim the edges. Else it looks unkempt fairly quickly.”

“Don’t worry about that,” I said with a chuckle. “Sofia has taught me how to trim the edges. If this airline malarkey doesn’t work out I could probably work as a hairdresser.”

“Deal,” she said and kissed me.

I had to admit. The thought of Ira’s blond hair going all the way down to her cute arse was an exciting prospect, if perhaps one that would take a year to actually happen.

I had just paid the starting fee and walked up to the aircraft when I saw Fred and Ira discuss something. I positioned myself in a way that they couldn’t see me and I listened in.

“Look, lady. I know you love him, but I’m afraid you’re distracting him a bit more than Sofia. I have no problem taking control away if he gets too giddy, but I would hate to do that. The kid’s actually a really good pilot.”

I heard Ira chuckle.

“Fred, if I’m to work for this company we must find out if he can keep his head straight on when I’m on the plane. And besides, I’m not doing this to mess with Ian. I want to test out some outfits to see what really works. A stewardess is on duty eight to fourteen hours every day. You want an outfit that’s comfortable, no matter how much or how little you’re wearing.”

“You brought several?” Fred asked.

“Did you think I brought that big suitcase to collect souvenirs along the way?” Ira challenged him with a chuckle. “I’ve bought a few ensembles back in Germany and I want to test which ones don’t only look good, but are actually comfortable to wear for hours on end.”

“I really underestimated you lady,” Fred apologized. “I guess being fifty doesn’t mean you know it all.”

“No need to apologize,” Ira said and gave a blushing Fred a peck on the cheek. “I know a lot of blond bimbos who have an IQ barely above room temperature. I can hardly fault you for that.”

Be careful what you wish for, you might actually get it. We were one and a half hour into the flight and it hadn’t escaped my notice that Ira had actually been a bit discombobulated when her dangling her naked breasts before my face while serving us a coffee had not gotten her any overt response from me.

I wasn’t angry about Fred being concerned about my professionalism. After all, that’s what I had hired him for, and I was a guy in his late teens, not an age at which the males of the species were known for overly thought-through decisions.

But I was a guy in his late teens who had literally flown over the crash site at which his parents had perished. When I stepped into a cockpit, I knew no friends nor relatives, because for all my love of flying, I never forgot that my first major mistake could be my last.

I put the plane onto the piano keys in Iqaluit and engaged the thrust reverses.

“Great job kiddo,” Fred commented. “But when you have passengers. Don’t hand fly the thing so early. We love to do that, but in bad weather you’ll never be as smooth as Otto, no matter how good you are. Leave the autopilot on until you’re on short final.”