The Last Flight. Chapter 3 - Sex Stories

The Last Flight. Chapter 3

... beside her she looked up. Her face was ashen and streaked with black. “It seems I am not so strong after all, Karen. I crouched beside her seat. She was visibly trembling. “I want you to do something for me, Jemima, if you will.” She nodded and I continued, whispering so not to be overheard by the other passengers around us. “I will not pretend to you. We are in a bit of a predicament, that much is true.” I took her shaking hand. “The Captain is heading for a disused airfield so we can land safely but I will have to help everyone out of the aircraft and find them somewhere to rest until the rescue party arrives. Will you help me?” She looked at me and squeezed my hand. “Well, yes, of course, but why me?” “Because I need someone whom I can trust and I know you are strong. Right now I need you.” She smiled then and gripped my hand tighter. “I know what you are doing.” she said. “Thank you.” I smiled gently. “This is for me too, Jemima. I am frightened as well.” “Ok.” she said, “I will not fail you.” “That's the spirit.” I replied. “As soon as we are down just follow my lead.” She smiled and nodded her agreement and I stood up again. I touched her shoulder once more then began to pass along the aisle. Behind me, even before I was out of earshot I heard seat twenty-four. “What's happening? We're going to crash aren't we, all going to die!” I smiled at the reply. Yes, maybe.” Jemima, “If we do and you cause any problems for her you will have me to deal with, understand?” I didn't ...

... bother to look back. I walked slowly down the aisle, a word of reassurance here and there, trying my damnedest not to let my own fear show. I needed them to be calm. When I reached the front of the cabin I looked at the cockpit door. “No.” I thought, I would leave them to their work. They had enough to contend with. “God be with you.” I whispered under my breath. Then turned back for the final slow walk back to my seat. I had closed all the curtains and requested the passengers to keep them closed for safety, they would help protect them against flying glass and, at the panoramic window, I paused to look at the wing. There was no smoke now but still fluid was streaming back from the damaged engine and spraying along the side of the fuselage. The rearmost windows were streaked with pink oil. I stayed for a moment, just looking and I realised that the flow was beginning to decrease. I was pleased. It meant the pilots had got the damage under control and I immediately felt much more hopeful. When it stopped altogether I actually smiled inwardly and pulled the curtain back across. What I didn't know, having no technical knowledge, was that the flow had stopped because there was no longer any oil in the hydraulic system to leak out. When I reached the last row I looked at twenty-four. The poor man was sweating profusely but he didn't say a word as he looked up at me. He reminded me of a puppy dog who didn't dare bark for fear of being whacked. Then I turned to Jemima and I could ...