- Title: A Slippery Slope in an Airline
- Series: Forced to Work in Girls’ Uniform
- Author: Yulia Yu. Sakurazawa
- Transgender Category: MTF
Carlton is the 25 year old protagonist of the story. Carlton is 5’6, has china blue eyes, a small pert nose and wavy brown hair. He has a delicate fit body and dainty hands and feet. Carlton world turns upside down when he meets In-flight Service Manager, Rosaline Wells who insists that he joins Zephyr airlines dressed in a female flight attendants’ uniform. Though Carlton has doubts about Rosaline’s mental balance, he obliges as he wants to be close to Gina, his girl friend. Under Rosaline’s instructions, he calls himself Clarissa Hart and pretends to be a female flight attendant. Carlton all along experiences a powerful attraction for Rosaline Wells. A series of gaffes Carlton commits push him deeper and deeper into the whirlpool of feminization. Carlton eventually transforms into an attractive, shapely, long-haired woman and starts living with Rosaline as her young lesbian wife. In spite of being in a relationship with Rosaline, Clarissa yearns for Gina.
A Slippery Slope in an Airline
Forced to Work in Girls’ Uniform
Chapter 1 – An Attractive Cougar
“Carlton” my girlfriend Gina Brooks pouted “we never get to see much of each other, do we?”. With her baby blue eyes, perfectly bobbed red hair and an above-the-knee A-line shift, Gina looked invitingly pretty. I had been dating this intoxicating flight attendant for five years now, and life was heaven. But the hectic, inflexible nature of Gina’s job left us with little time for each other.
“Yes, baby” I agreed, languidly flipping through my law books “It’s a real pity”. I was studying law, and was currently in the 5th semester, but studying the Civil Procedure Code held no interest for me whatsoever. I craved to be with Gina 24×7, 365 days in a year. However, I had no remote idea as to how to manage this.
“Well, what do you propose we do about it?” Gina indignantly put her arms on her tiny waist. This gesture made my girlfriend look younger than her 25 years. I often teased Gina about how young she looked. And Gina often teased me back. There was truth in what Gina said: I looked closer to 20 than 25.
“Oh, I don’t know” I carelessly said, trying to get my head around procedural law “why don’t you get a job near our apartment? Perhaps you could be a receptionist or something?”. Gina and I shared a 30×30 flat in the Eurasian Cantonment Area of Bangalore. The flat was a pretty modest one, with two bedrooms, a living hall, a kitchen and a bathroom, but pretty much served the needs of a young couple like us.
Gina seized a textbook from my hand and thwacked me on the head. “Oww…what was that for?” I asked shocked.
“For being such a male chauvinist pig!” said Gina thwacking me again “didn’t it occur to you to get a job in my airline? You could complete your law course via correspondence”. My girlfriend worked with Zephyr Airways, which was the fourth largest in India, size-wise and in terms of the number of passengers it carried.
“I could” I said “but how would an administrative job help?”
“I was thinking on lines of a flight attendant, silly!” said Gina impatiently “’a steward’ as they used to say in the good old days. There is an open session going on, so there’s no need to apply. You could just walk into Room No. 9 at the farthest end of the airport and attend the interview in the coming week”.
“Do you think I’d qualify?” I asked taking an objective look in the mirror “the job demands a good personality”. I liked what I saw in the mirror. At 5’6, I wasn’t the tallest male on earth, but was definitely one of the cutest (even if I say so myself). With a pair of china blue eyes, a small pert nose and wavy brown hair, I looked rather like Scottish actor James McAvoy. My body wasn’t overly muscular, but was in shape. “Weight in proportion to height” – that’s what all airlines advertised, right? Well, I had that.
“You know you’ve got it, pretty boy” Gina teased “don’t fish for compliments now!”
“But I wonder if I have the customer care skills…” I said seeking further reassurance.
“Oh, you do” Gina assured me “when it comes to mollycoddling children and pampering grandmas, you can give a trained nanny a run for her money!”
“Then I am mighty glad” I drawled. I flipped Gina over on her back and tickled her neck and dimpled chin. She laughed until tears ran down her eyes and begged me to stop. Oh, the juvenile-erotic games of sweet youth!
On the D-day, I dressed in a double breasted tan suit, with a dark brown tie picked by my girlfriend. The crisp white shirt I wore didn’t have a single crease and its collar was held stiff by a pair of silver collar-stiffeners Gina had borrowed from her dad for the occasion. A pair of classic pearl double cuff-links and roasted coffee bean colored loafers completed my ensemble.
My face glowed with health and vitality. My wavy brown hair glimmered so brilliantly that it would have put men in shampoo ads to shame. I surveyed my teeth: they dazzled like diamonds.
With a few last minute tips and reading of sample in-flight announcements, I was ready to take on the world. Gina and I drove to the airport in her vanilla white Maruti 800 car. Since Gina had already handed over my resume to the HR department of Zephyr Airways, I didn’t have to take the trouble of carrying it along.
The airport was the most overwhelming, yet exciting place on earth. It was spread over 400 acres, had a capacious runway and aircrafts with behemoth wingspans. My loafers made contact with PVC flooring that was perfect and the high ceiling curved ahead of me in an exciting tunnel. People of different nationalities, cultures and professions pulled their trolleys along or patiently waited in the passenger areas. The staff areas comprised of some perfectly dressed people. The attractively lit retail outlets and restaurants beckoned me invitingly.
Resisting the urge to have a Coke, I walked to room number 9. At the entrance of the interview room, Gina gave me an encouraging peck on the cheek and disappeared. I was left to handle the interview on my own. Suppressing the nervousness that threatened to debilitate me, I strode in.
That was the first time I saw her.
45 year old Rosaline Wells, an experienced In-flight Service Manager, was seated beside two non-descript men in identical navy blue suits and two neatly dressed young females. The perfectly tailored light olive-green shirt that Rosaline wore flattered her ripe perfectly spherical breasts and brought out the color of her twinkling green eyes perfectly. She had a long slightly gaunt face with high-cheek bones, a feature that added to her attractiveness. As she stood up, I noticed that Rosaline was wearing a figure-hugging skirt that flattered her voluptuous figure and nude high heeled pumps that made her look three or four inches taller than her already towering 5 feet 9 inches.
“Hello” I said “I am Carlton Hart”.
“Welcome Mr. Hart” said one of the two guys in identical suits “we received your resume and are quite happy with the way you’ve presented yourself. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have other work to attend to. Ms. Wells here will be your sole interviewer”. The men shook my slightly sweaty hands and departed. The two girls (who had obviously been freshly interviewed) thanked Rosaline Wells, gave me a friendly parting smile and left the room. Even though I was nervous, I returned their smiles.
I was left alone with Rosaline Hart. I noticed that though she wasn’t a classic beauty, Rosaline was a very attractive woman.
“Have a seat, Mr. Hart” she said in warm, but professional tones “you don’t have to be nervous”. She pushed back a strand of golden hair and gave me a humorous, slightly skewed smile.
“This is the first time I have applied for the post of a flight assistant” I said frankly. It was a gawky, stupid, bumbling thing to say, but Rosaline took no notice of it. “It doesn’t matter” she said soothingly “as long as you have the interest and aptitude, it’s alright. Besides, we’ll put you through an 8 week period of intensive training before you actually start working on aircrafts”.
Rosaline started off with the expected question. “Why do you want to be a flight assistant?” she asked.
“I would like to be a flight attendant for Zephyr Airways as I believe I have excellent customer service skills and the talent of interacting with diverse customers, both at a personal and professional level. I also understand the importance of team spirit, and would work with my colleagues to create the most comfortable flying experience ever for passengers. I also understand the importance of customer safety, and would be perfectly suited to the exciting, bustling fast paced environment of the aviation industry” I rattled out the notes that I had mugged. Frankly speaking, I sounded rather like a parrot. Throughout the time during which I answered, I was aware of Rosaline’s twinkling green eyes appraising the shape of my forehead, the angle of my nose and the curve of my lips. Simultaneously I had an overwhelming urge, to reach out and touch Rosaline’s shoulder-length thick golden blonde hair. I clenched my arms at my sides and forced myself to smile.
Rosaline smiled too—her funny little lopsided smile. “Your answer is technically perfect” she said kindly, “but I urge you to cast protocol aside and speak from the heart. See me as a friend, not as an interviewer. Why do you think you have exceptional customer service skills?”
“Well” I answered “it’s because I love looking after people. As my girlfriend says I love ‘mollycoddling children and pampering elderly ladies’. There is something about care-giving that gives me the deepest satisfaction. I often feel bad that I’m not able to assist people on a day-to-day basis”.
Rosaline nodded, as if affirming some inner thought. Then she gave me the widest, most brilliant smile ever. It reminded me of water in the sunshine.
“I believe I just got a glimpse into your soul” she said, looking at me in a way that made the small hairs on my body rise “thank you for trusting me enough to….”.
Rosaline went on to ask me further questions vis-à-vis diplomacy, customer safety and professional interactions. In between taking notes, her sparkling green eyes kept returning to my tiny, delicate hands. I was acutely aware of the delicate nape of Rosalind’s neck, the haphazard rhythm of her breathing, the perfect spheres of her breasts and a thin film of perspiration on her upper lip. She proceeded to ask me to read a sample in-flight announcement. I read it as crisply and clearly as I could.
At the end of the interview, Rosaline looked elated. “Congratulations, Carlton” she said “You’ve done tremendously well. I liked the way you answered the questions and the affable manner in which you interacted with your peers. After all, they are your future classmates and coworkers. I am happy to announce that you’re eligible for our 8 week training program. However, after gauging your personality, I’m convinced that you’d be more eligible to be a female flight attendant rather than a male”.
“What?!” I said unable to believe my ears.
“You heard me right, Carlton” said Rosaline “I think you are better suited to be an air-hostess, rather than a steward”.
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