Flight SH123 To Corfu - Part 3

This story is written by David, please send comments and appreciation to voondave@yahoo.co.uk

FLIGHT SH123 TO Corfu.       Part 3

Eighteen-year-old Danny Dawson's alarm clock went off at 5 a.m. on Monday – a full two hours earlier than his customary weekday wake-up time – and he surfaced sluggishly and reluctantly from the depths of his slumber. 
If you could call it that. 
For he had been awake for most of the night, tossing and turning, and fretting about his Work Motivation Programme 'placement' ... as an 'Air Purification Technician'. 
The placement, that, because Danny had no job or training to go to upon his leaving education, his local Job Centre had assigned him to. 
But – as an 'Air Purification Technician' ... what was that all about? What did it actually mean? wondered Danny. And, wouldn't he have needed some sort of formal qualifications? he puzzled, as he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes with his knuckles.

All Danny knew, was that it was to do with the A.F.P. government's new Work Motivation Programme, that he'd been informed about in his Letter of Notification from the Job Centre.
Well, it was pointless to keep on speculating ... he'd be finding out, soon enough.
Danny's eyes were baggy and bloodshot, he felt more dead than alive, and anyone seeing the state of him could be forgiven for thinking he'd had a night on the ale, trying to sup his dad under the table. 

As he padded sleepily to the bathroom, he lamented upon his failing to take Mum's common sense advice: to go to bed two hours earlier than usual. 

The Authoritarian Female Party Prime Minister, Caroline Flint, had promised male benefits claimants, "Something in the post," and a "rude awakening."
Well, Danny had certainly had something in the post, all right. And now he was getting his rude awakening – in more ways than one.
In fact, Caroline Flint was as good as personally dragging Danny out of his bed, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, and kicking him out of his own front door.

Caroline Flint – Danny blamed her, personally – wasn't wasting any time about it, either. Hell – he had only left school, on Friday! And now, just three days later, she was putting the boot in – kicking him out of the house, in the middle of the night! 
It just wasn't fair! thought Danny miserably.
Danny had been looking forward to following in his dad's footsteps (as a 'career claimant'), and embarking upon enjoying a lazy lifetime of leisure and pleasure – at the taxpayers' expense ... And now this! This ruddy, so-called 'placement'!
When, ten minutes later, Danny had dressed and come downstairs, he was surprised to see Mum already up, and sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. At seeing the lack-of-sleep state of her son, Mum exclaimed, "Ruddy hell! You look rough, our Danny. You look like something the cat dragged in."
"Mum, that's exactly how I feel. That was the worst night's sleep of my life," complained Danny miserably. "Anyway, Mum, what are you doing up at this time? Did my alarm wake you?" asked Danny, apologetically.
"No, lad. I was already up," replied Mum. "I wanted to make sure you could actually get out of bed, when your alarm clock went off at five o'clock, our Danny. Now that I know you can, I can go back to enjoying my nice, leisurely lie-in as usual ... heh heh heh."
"Aw, don't rub it in, Mum," groaned Danny.
Pointing to a cup of steaming coffee and a plate of toast on the kitchen table, Mum said, "And I wanted to make sure you had something in you, before you go to work. There – get that lot down you," ordered Mum. 
Thickly spreading margarine and strawberry jam onto a piece of thick-sliced toast, like a bricklayer spreading mortar, Danny said peevishly, "I'm not going to 'work', Mum. I'm going to a ruddy so-called 'placement', to earn my unemployment benefit."
A hopeful look came upon Danny's face, as a straw-clutching thought occurred to him. "Hey, Mum! Do you think that this could just be some sort of daft mistake, by some silly clot down at the Job Centre? I mean, you'd think that you'd need qualifications, wouldn't you, to be an Air Purification Technician?"
Mum chewed a piece of toast generously coated with margarine and jam, as she regarded her son from across the kitchen table. Still chewing, Mum replied with conviction, "Nah. No chance. It's definitely not a mistake, our Danny. All over the country, the A.F.P. are assigning males like you and your dad onto these so-called placements, as a way of making you do something for your welfare benefits until you get a job. You should know that as well as anyone, Danny – you've seen enough of the A.F.P.'s Party political broadcasts on the telly," admonished Mum. 
"In fact," Mum went on, "truth be told, I've hardly slept a wink of sleep all night myself, from worrying about what's going to happen to your dad. He's reporting to the Community Service Liaison Officer – a Miss Martinette – at nine o'clock this morning. It's going to be a lot harder for your dad to adjust to a new way of life, than for you – he's been idle, for far too long," fretted Mum. 
"I've been having all sorts of waking nightmares," confided Mum, "about your dad's placement. And yours, Danny. I've ... I've been hearing stories, lately ... That Caroline Flint woman – these ... these so-called placements are all her own idea. There's just no telling, what she's capable of. Her, and that Harriet Harmman, the Home Secretary ... She started out as a Community Service Liaison Officer, but she quickly rose up through the A.F.P. ranks to Cabinet level seniority.
"In fact, I'll make a prediction now: Your dad will have found himself a job before the end of the week."
"Ha! Leave it out, Mum – this is Dad you're talking about!" replied Danny derisively. "Dad, find a job? Ha!"
"Well, you just wait and see, our Danny. You just wait and see," Mum insisted.
Danny then asked, plaintively, "But, Mum, why does the A.F.P. only pick on males, and not say a thing to the likes of our Melanie and our Elaine – the sponging, lazy fat pair of cows?"
Ignoring Danny's slur upon his two older sisters – as if his sentiments were entirely valid – Mum mechanically chewed on her toast as she ruminated upon her son's question. Then, she swallowed her toast, and washed it down with a gulp of coffee, before imparting her gem of insight to Danny. "Because they can, our Danny. It's because they can. It's as simple as that. The A.F.P. are running the country now, and it's going to be a woman's world from now on – at least in Britain. Though I wouldn't be a bit surprised if people in other countries started following the A.F.P.'s lead, and voting in all-female member governments – men have been making a mess of things, for centuries. And you and your dad had better start getting used to the idea! Now, hurry up and finish your breakfast. Or you'll miss the airport bus."

                                                      *                    *                    * 
Danny had thought that, at that early time of the morning he might find himself waiting alone at the bus stop. But that wasn't the case, for there was already quite a crowd of people there with luggage who were also waiting for the 05:30 airport bus.

Among them, were who Danny took to be a family of four, including two daughters of about Danny's own age.
Danny heard the man say to the two young ladies, "Marie, Lisa, now are you absolutely sure, that you've both got your passports with you?"

One of the girls – who Danny thought was exceedingly lovely, who had long, white-blonde hair, and blue eyes – replied with mild irritation, "Oh, Dad! Yes! How many more times? Yes! Yes! Yes!"

To which, the woman in the small group chimed in, "Oh, Marie! Dad's only making sure, you know. After all, darling, just imagine how upset you'd feel, if we left you behind at Passport Control because you had forgotten your passport – and we all flew off on our holiday to Corfu without you!"
"Oh! As if you'd do that, Mum!" chided Marie laughingly, the very idea, seemingly entirely implausible to her.
To which, Marie's dad responded gruff-voiced, "Oh! But we ruddy well would! I'd send you back home in a taxi, and you could clean the house from top to bottom while we're all away enjoying ourselves in Corfu – do something to earn the vast amounts of pocket-money I give you!" 
Danny found it impossible to tell whether Marie's dad was joking or not. He sounded very convincing. Either he was a ruddy good actor, or ...

Danny reflected, that his dad would definitely leave him behind if he forgot his passport. Why not? It would be his own ruddy daft fault.
Danny surreptitiously studied the two girls, Marie and Lisa.
Inevitably, Danny's eyes were drawn to the girls' feet. He was delighted to see that both girls wore flexible, bright-yellow, thin rubber-soled flip flops, and that they both had their toenails painted in the same attractive bright-yellow colour. Danny thought that the sunny, bright-yellow colour worked very well, in complementing the bronze of their beautifully suntanned feet. 
Danny found himself wondering if the two girls painted each other's toes, and he reflected that he'd like to watch them do that; like to see their golden toes splayed apart, separated with wads of cotton wool. Or, better still: paint their toes for them, himself – he was sure he would do a ruddy good job! And, if he didn't ... well, he would keep on doing it, until he got it right – ha ha ha!
Danny thought that Lisa, with her shoulder-length, dark hair and brown eyes, of slight build and about five feet seven tall, was very attractive. But, he found Marie, with her long, white-blonde hair and blue eyes, and of similar height and build as her sister, especially so. Enchanting, in fact.
He didn't know why, exactly. It wasn't just because Marie was so very attractive, so lovely. There was more to it than that. There was just ... something about her.
Danny was already getting quite besotted with Marie, even though he had been in her presence for no more than a few minutes. She was so beautiful. So alluring. So ...
Marie captured, and held his attention. She was like a warm, bright sun, holding him in her gravitational pull. As if she was the only object – heavenly body! – in his universe. His fate: to orbit, and to bask in her wonderful glow forever.
Marie had a vibrant, exciting, fun-loving way about her. So much so, that Danny found it next to impossible to take his eyes off her, even for a single moment – he'd be sure, if he did, to miss something nice; some cute little ... mannerism.
But he knew he had to drag his eyes away from Marie, at least occasionally, or someone was sure to notice his ... interest.
Just looking at Marie, caused Danny's pulse to speed up. Just drinking in the sight of her, was a delicious thrill all of its own.
It was funny, but Marie seemed to have grown more lovely each time he looked at her. Danny's heart beat faster, as he beheld the shapely calves of Marie's fabulous legs. But then, beat faster still – all but did cartwheels – at seeing her beautiful, exciting to watch, bare feet. 
Danny sneakily ogled Marie's truly sensational feet. Feet, that just never seemed to stop doing ... things. Exciting things. 
Danny then got the sense that Marie was tentatively building up to say something to her dad.
As if agitated, she kept switching her weight, standing from foot to foot and, each time she did so she crossed her resting foot over her other ankle, and proceeded to cause her flip flop to repeatedly slap-slap-slap against the bottom of her heel.
Danny was just awestruck, by Marie's ... body language.
Danny then found that he had been right: Marie had been working up to say something to her dad. And Danny watched, as Marie stood up prettily on tiptoes so as to be at eye-level with her dad and, as she did so she revealed to Danny the incredible, magnificent sight of the bottoms of her bare heels, and the tautened smooth, pale-gold skin of her stretching arches.
Danny waited with bated breath, wondering just what, exactly, the gorgeous Marie was going to say to her dad.
And Danny was not to be disappointed, as Marie visibly melted her father's heart – the little coquette!
Danny saw then that, in truth, Marie's dad had no defense against her when she turned on her irresistible charms.
Danny watched, enthralled as, resting her hands on her dad's shoulders for balance, Marie stood right up onto the pads of her toes to chide her dad. "Now, Dad. Would you really, really and truly, leave me behind at Passport Control – just because I'd been an intsy wintsy bit forgetful and left my passport at home – while the rest of you all flew off on holiday to Corfu without me ...? Don't be so silly. Of course you wouldn't. You know you wouldn't. Now, it's very, very naughty of you, to tease me like that!" admonished Marie, in ticking off her errant dad. 
And, listening to Marie, Danny felt as if, one by one, his heartstrings were snapping, and that his heart was cracking wide open, as yet more and more feelings for her poured into it. 

But, before Danny could muse further, about the hypothetical tragedy that might or might not have been visited upon the ravishing Marie – and, a painful lump suddenly lodged in Danny's throat, just at the very thought of Marie sobbing her eyes out at Passport Control, while her family flew off on holiday to Corfu, all enjoying themselves without her, and her dad sending her home in a taxi to clean the house from top to bottom, to do something to earn the vast amounts of pocket-money he gave her – the airport bus pulled up at the bus stop.

                                                   *                           *                          *
Cunningly, and (almost) without thinking, Danny held back, and then boarded the airport bus right after the family of four.
Danny waited to see where the two sisters seated themselves, and then he sat on the bench-seat two seats behind the one that Marie and Lisa occupied together ... And then he hoped and prayed that some inconsiderate idiot wouldn't come and plonk himself or herself down on the seat between them – and thereby block his glorious view of his eagerly anticipated, exciting under-the-seat foot antics of the two very attractive, flip flop wearing sisters. 
Danny's luck held ... 
And he had the most fabulous and unimpeded view of Marie and Lisa's spellbinding flip flop feet, just two seats away in front of him. 
Instantly, any last and lingering vestiges of bleary-eyed sleep evaporated away completely, as Danny's attention status went to red alert. For he was immediately enthralled by the bewitching, beyond-all-expectations 'performances' of Lisa and Marie's flip flop feet; blown away, as the two lovely sisters unwittingly staged a fascinating floor-show – just for him!
From his many voyeuristic experiences at school, where he had gotten his daily female feet 'fix', Danny well knew that, when shoe-playing, girls did their own, personal – unique – little ... 'thing'. Some, individual, absentminded shoe-playing antic, that was like a 'signature'. 
Just like handwritten signatures, these other signatures also varied greatly in their styles and flamboyancy – and every signature was different. And, to Danny's discerning eye, just as unique and as identifiable as a fingerprint.
Upon seeing a 'signature' that he was familiar with, Danny could readily register and associate the signature of those particular, doing-their-thing, shoe-manipulating, white-socked feet, with the identity of that particular female student. No guessing. No problem. Yes, of course, sitting with their backs to him, as they were, Danny could clearly see who the female students were – but he didn't have to. That, was Danny's ... ability. 

Danny marvelled, that the sheer wonder of it all was that there seemed to be no limit, to the possibilities. 

No limit, to the amazing variations of girls' individual, captivating, absentminded shoe-playing ... quirkiness. 

Endless new exciting examples to look forward to, of unique, enthralling, shoe-manipulating ... expression. 

Limitless potential 'sightings', to be constantly on the look-out for. Sightings that, later, in the privacy of his bedroom, he would replay in his mind, and ...

For Danny, it was the gift that kept on giving – and he was ever ready to receive! 

Danny was permanently programmed for shoe-play alert. His eyes, trained to detect the first signs; automatically pick up on the possibilities. He never knew when he might get lucky, for these miracles were something that could happen anytime, any place. At times, these 'sightings' could occur so unexpectedly; come as such a complete surprise – even to Danny. And so his one-tracked-mind vigilance was second nature.

Danny now discovered that, although Lisa's absentminded shoe-playing was very exciting to watch, her 'repertoire' of ... teasers, was actually quite narrow and limited.
But Danny certainly wasn't complaining.     

Lisa's 'thing', Danny saw, seemed to be the frequently repeated crossing and re-crossing of her ankles under her seat and, causing the flip flop of the foot that was resting above her other ankle to almost incessantly slap-slap-slap against the bottom of her bare heel.
Danny loved the sound; loved to listen to it. 

To Danny, the sound of flip flops – whether they were plastic, leather, or rubber – slapping against the bottom of  girls' and women's bare heels – whether they were seated, or walking along – was a sound with its own, special resonance. 

Danny even liked it better than the sound a girl or woman's high heels made; click-clacking away wonderfully as she walked on a hard surface.
Unless the girl or woman's shoes were mules – then it would be a rather more even contest. Because then there would be the twin – combined – pleasures, of simultaneously listening to the repeated slap-slap-slap, of her bare heels, and also of the harder, click-clack click-clack of the tips of her mules' heels, striking rhythmically and musically as she walked along. 
Marie, meanwhile, had also crossed her ankles under her seat.
And Danny's already racing pulse accelerated madly, wildly, as he watched Marie slowly – oh, so slowly, so exquisitely teasingly – let her bright-yellow, thin rubber-soled flip flops gradually slip from her shapely, suntanned feet. Very slowly, Marie's flip flops slipped from her feet, and fell to the floor of the airport bus, under her seat. 

His attention riveted, Danny watched Marie's feet search for her fallen flip flops and, upon finding them, use the tops of her bright-yellow painted toes to bring her flip flops into position, and then rest her feet on them, side by side – soles facing upward.
Now, both of Marie's golden, spectacular, now slightly wrinkled soles were openly displayed to Danny. 

Oh God! thought Danny. Incredible! I can't believe this! Oh God! Unbelievable! What a view! Oh God oh God oh God!!

And, this 'sighting' of the ravishing Marie's openly displayed, side-by-side bare soles, was a sight that; for all of the many 'sightings' and situations that Danny would come to experience, this was a sighting so memorable that Danny would never forget it – ever. It was that special.
And, like some mental DVD recording, Danny would, many times over the coming years, replay in his mind this special sighting, as he reverently pulled his penis, in worship. As he solemnly made his 'sacrifice', to the Goddess Marie. Spilling his seed, in her honour.

For Danny started to get even more hot and bothered. All steamed-up, as the bulge in his pants inevitably grew bigger and bigger; kept on growing, as he continued to stare, fixated, at the incredible sight of the bare, golden soles of Marie's divine feet. 

And Danny went half-crazy with excitement, when Marie; just as Danny knew that she would, started doing her ... 'thing' – performing her absentminded under-the-seat foot antics.
Like an inexorably rising oil-pressure needle, Danny was going deep into the red. Marie's, under-the-seat 'performance', just too much for Danny.

Danny was in an agony of ecstasy, as he gazed at the awesome, under-the-seat activities of Marie's suntanned, ultra-sexy feet. Gazing adoringly, Danny rapturously drank in the penis-expanding sight: the pads of her toes; the balls of her feet; her prominent heels, all imbued with a rosy, reddish-pink hue. Her arches; a beautiful, sun-kissed, pale-gold contrast.

Danny thought that he must have seen the shapely, mega-sexy soles of Marie's bare feet, from every conceivable under-the-seat angle, as she seemed to perform every trick-in-the-book of shoe-playing manipulation – and then some. As, absentmindedly; her ankles repeatedly crossing and re-crossing, Marie's feet toyed with her bright-yellow, thin rubber-soled flip flops under her bus seat. 

This, was absentminded shoe-playing entertainment, at its finest. Totally absorbing. It was The Greatest Show On Earth, at its most compelling. At its most anything-can-happen, thrilling and enthralling, exhilarating and riveting best. 

And it was Danny's most exciting – most sexually arousing – 'sighting', to date.  
Then Danny was going absolutely nuts, with excitement and desire, as he watched the awesome, electrifying, absentminded antics of the flip flop feet of Lisa and Marie in tandem – just two seats in front of him. 

Danny watched as, with unconscious skill, the two unwittingly teasing sisters' bare feet manipulated – tortured: twisted, crumpled, distorted, their bright-yellow, flexible, thin rubber-soled flip flops, right in front of him. Mangled them, in fact – to Danny's incredulous delight.

Danny was literally trembling with excitement – with awe. 

The thrilling, pulse-raising sight, of Marie and Lisa's bare, suntanned soles. The exciting, heartbeat-quickening sight, of the bottoms of their heels – even at that early hour, already grime-smudged from the inevitable accumulation of dirt and sweat from flip flop wearing ... it was too much.
Oh God! thought Danny. Oh God oh God oh God!!

Danny was watching a potentially— no, inevitable, ball-draining double-act. 

Danny's need for 'release', was now urgent, imperative – vital. And becoming more and more desperate with every passing, absentminded-shoe-play-watching second. 

Danny's 'pressure needle' was well into the red, well into the ... danger zone. He was going to blow his gasket for sure.
He should look away, just look away, just look away now, he knew he should, before it was ... too late – but he just couldn't. Any moment now, he was going to ...
Then the airport bus arrived at Manchester Airport – Terminal 2 Departures.

                                                 *                            *                           *
Passengers wanting to get off the airport bus at Terminal 2 Departures, began to rise from their seats and retrieve their luggage.
Danny hung back for as long as he could – he had good reason! There was a rather obvious bulge in his pants that just didn't seem to want to go down any, and that he was hoping would become less obvious in a minute or so.

The last of the Terminal 2 Departures passengers were now getting off the airport bus and Danny – after having waited as long as he dared, before the airport bus moved off again to take the remaining passengers to the other terminals and to various other drop-off points around Manchester Airport – was just about to rise from his seat when, to his embarrassment, the helpful bus driver preempted him, calling out to him, "You wanted Terminal Two Departures, didn't you, lad?"

Preferring to appear forgetful, rather than dull and slow-witted, Danny replied red-faced, "Oh! Yes, I do! Thanks, driver!" And he made to disembark from the airport bus.

But Danny was halted in his tracks by the bus driver, who called out loudly to Danny again just as he was about to step out through the mid-bus exit. "Are you forgetting something, lad ... your luggage?"

"Er, no, driver. I'm not going on holiday. I'm going to my place— I'm ... I'm going to ... I'm going to work," stammered Danny.

                                               *                            *                           *
Last off the airport bus, Danny had to wait behind quite a number of travellers who were ahead of him, and who were waiting to push their trolleys full of holiday luggage through the entrance doors of the Departures Hall. 

Once inside, Danny soon spotted Marie and Lisa. And, as if helpless, he gazed adoringly at the suntanned soles of their flip flop feet; gleaming, as the two sisters repeatedly paused, mid-stride, at their every slow and lingering step as, with their mum and dad they progressed with the incremental, stop-start movements of the queue to the baggage check-in desk. 

It was very busy at that time in the morning, and the Departures Hall was packed. Danny saw holiday-makers forming  queues to the baggage check-in desks of most of the various Air Lines that operated out of Terminal 2. There were quite a lot of them, thought Danny.

A digital clock on the wall behind the baggage check-in desks informed Danny that it was now 05:52. He was here in plenty of time then, he thought to himself, having been instructed by his local Job Centre to report to the Sunshine Holidays Information Desk, at 06:00.
Danny decided to treat himself to one final glimpse of the captivating flip flop feet of the ravishing, blue-eyed, white-blonde haired, Marie, and of her almost equally attractive sister, Lisa. And Danny saw that, as Marie and Lisa were now standing – rather than sitting – with their backs to him, it was like watching a whole new floor-show ...

If Danny wasn't careful, he would become hopelessly enthralled, all over again – and then he would be late in reporting to the Sunshine Holidays Information Desk, for his assigned placement as an Air Purification Technician.
With a wistful sigh, Danny was just about to turn away, when his eye noticed something that snagged his attention. Something, that jolted him. Something, that he would have noticed before, had he not been so totally engrossed with staring at Marie and Lisa's feet.
On the wall, above the baggage check-in desk at which Marie and Lisa and their mum and dad were queuing, there was a large sign, depicting the well-known logo of a bright and uplifting, happy-faced shining sun.
The large and colourful sign proclaimed: Sunshine Holidays.
And, just below the Sunshine Holidays sign, there was just one Sunshine Holidays flight departure announcement on their destination board.
The destination board read:  Flight SH 123 to Corfu.
Flight SH 123 to Corfu continues in Ch. 4 (of 7).      

This story is written by David, please send comments and appreciation to voondave@yahoo.co.uk