Females in Uniform (1)
There is a season in every life when a person believes, without a shred of doubt, in the dignity of human beings.
There is a time when equality seems the most universal of rights, and when one is certain that opportunity ought always to be fair to everyone. But the moon, once full, must wane. A flower, once bloomed, must fall. The world is not filled solely with what is right and beautiful.
Reality, rather, is cold, and a dark shade is always waiting somewhere in it.
By the time he understood that, an unripe young man was well on his way to becoming an adult. Twenty-two was, if anything, on the early side. Even so, the man who had lost his parents and come a little sooner than most to see the gap between the ideal and the world no longer felt any need to be jerked around by that sort of morality.
The name of the man who had only just shed the last of his boyish softness—Seo Woo-joo.
He walked into the airport empty-handed, without so much as an ordinary rolling suitcase, and tapped the smartphone in his grip with his thumb.
"Man. What a madhouse."
Anyone who knew the place could have told you that the terminals at Incheon International Airport ran toward the extremely complicated. You could have the gate number memorized and still find that actually getting there was a headache and a half.
"Which airline's going to be worth it…"
A glance at the big flight-information board told him the fastest services to his destination, LA, came down to three. Two were foreign carriers. The last was the country's only flag carrier.
Stargate Airlines.
An airline whose uniform, built on celadon and ivory, had a charm of its own. Its IATA code was SG, for Stargate. A premium check-in counter happened to be sitting a short walk away, and Woo-joo, who had no desire to take a single step farther than he had to, moved.
"Welcome. I'll check your ticket."
At ICN, business and first class were split off into their own ticketing zone from the very start. The woman who looked like airport staff took quiet note of how light Woo-joo was traveling for a passenger and stepped forward. By her long experience, a passenger like this was usually rich enough to have money rotting in his pockets.
"Ah, I'll buy once I'm inside."
"A walk-up purchase? Where should I take you?"
"The first-class check-in lounge, please."
Sure enough. Pleased that her instinct had struck true again today, the employee escorted Woo-joo all the way to the exclusive area. He was a customer for a service that, on a one-way to the Americas, climbed without effort into the tens of thousands of dollars. The courtesy was only natural.
"From here, an airline crew member will assist you."
"Thank you."
Beyond the automatic doors she bowed with careful courtesy, then left at once. Woo-joo gave the interior a light once-over—it had been dressed as handsomely as a hotel lobby—and made his way to the reception desk. Wood and marble and the other natural materials, the high ceilings: the space was lavish enough that simply walking through it was its own small pleasure.
"Companion to a beautiful journey—welcome to the Stargate First Class Lounge."
What pleased him most of all was the looks of the ground attendant who served as the lounge's face. Hair combed neat and gathered up into a snood; makeup kept light and never overdone, concentrated on the brows and the lips; pearl earrings with a gloss to them, and a hairpin wrought in the shape of a traditional binyeo. The uniform, which they said had been designed around a concept of Korean beauty, had a magic to it that could make even an ordinary face presentable. How much more, then, a tall, slender beauty with a foxlike face.
"Are you ticketing on-site, sir?"
"Prettier bitch than I expected. Good thing I picked this place."
"…Sir?"
The attendant, who had been receiving him with perfect calm, twitched an eyebrow at Woo-joo suddenly throwing around the word bitch. Taking him for one of those problem customers who turned up now and then, she did not forget to press the emergency recording button beneath the desk—the sensible countermeasure for the sexual harassment that came up often enough when one served the upper crust.
"Come out from behind the desk and hike that skirt up."
Beep. He pressed some button on the smartphone he had been staring at all the while, and the situation turned on its head. The attendant, who had made no effort to hide her displeasure, reversed her entire attitude in time with a faint mechanical chime.
Click, click. With movements crisp and elegant, she came out from behind the desk and bowed her head in apology. Then she gathered the skirt that fell to her knees and lifted it in her hands, until the pitch-black lingerie panties—set off against the beige of the skirt—were fully on display.
"Assistant Manager Han Se-hee, ground attendant of Stargate Airlines, pays her respects to her Master."
"Undo the buttons and get those tits out. What cup?"
"Yes. 70F."
"Pretty big, you fucking bitch."
Se-hee smiled, bright and small, and flicked her eyes as if the praise were too generous. It was a reaction no one could have believed from a woman who, only moments ago, had been sour over words milder than these. She shed the celadon jacket, undid the shirt buttons one by one, and presently offered up the bra—a match for the panties—together with the breasts inside it.
"An honor. I shall devote myself to becoming a female who draws a 'fucking bitch' out of you without your even having to think. Our airline also provides the attending crew member's underwear as a trophy for our UM guests. How would you like to proceed?"
"Hmm. Let's see. If you're going around with no bra and no panties, that's going to get me hard, so I think I'll take them with me."
"I'll provide them at once."
Woo-joo nodded as he sat on the sofa facing the reception desk head-on. Just in case, he looked up at the ceiling and saw a CCTV camera installed beside the chandelier with no blind spot to speak of.
It didn't matter.
He couldn't have cared less, and he decided to keep watching the strip show from a working flight attendant. Se-hee peeling her underwear off one layer at a time, disheveled like some cosplay whore, was a view you would not easily come by anywhere.
Rustle. Rustle.
Even half-naked she never lost her receptionist's smile, and at last she had removed every piece of underwear. Soft silk lingerie, still holding a deep floral-diffuser scent and the lukewarm warmth of her body—she folded that female's offering with care and presented it at his feet.
"Is there anything else you require?"
"Ticket me on the fastest plane to Newark or JFK. I don't have a passport, so you handle the boarding process yourself. And I want to see something like profiles, faces included, of the crew on the flight I'm taking and every bitch waiting around the airport."
"Yes. Will you be making the choice yourself?"
Woo-joo nodded without a word. He lifted one foot to see just how filthy the sole was, then pressed it slowly down onto Se-hee's lingerie and knocked the dirt and dust off against it—concentrating, in particular, on the molded cup inside the bra and the gusset lining the panties.
"It's going to take a good ten hours at the least. Of course I am."
"You'll be able to view the personnel cards through my tablet. Please ask freely about anything the profiles and photographs don't make clear."
"Yeah. I hate waiting, so hurry up and get back."
"I'll finish only the necessary procedures and return at once. Please look over the cock-house bitches you'll be using during the flight on this pad."
Se-hee brought over the work smart pad that had been sitting on the desk as she said it. After a bit of simple setup, the device stamped with the Stargate Airlines logo became a window through which he could look over every cabin attendant currently on duty.
Woo-joo caught himself grinning before he knew it. Flipping through the files on nothing but names, ages, and faces felt uncomfortably like using a dating app—even though all he was really doing was sorting females to toy with for the length of the flight.
Only a few months ago, this would have been possible inside a fantasy and nowhere else.
Not anymore. From his pants pocket he drew a pack he had nearly smoked through and set the last cigarette between his lips. Every international airport was nonsmoking as a rule, but what did that matter? He was a king here—no. Something closer to a god.
"Se-hee. I'm going to have a smoke."
"Yes. The tasks you ordered are nearly finished."
In front of the desk monitor, receiver pinned to her shoulder, she had been hammering at the keyboard, and somewhere in the middle of it she printed a one-way ticket to New York. Perhaps because this was a body assigned to first-class passengers, she was brisk about it.
"Master, your ticket to JFK. About thirty minutes from now, gate 130."
"Thanks. I picked out a few bitches here who suit my taste, you know?"
"Yes. An excellent selection. All of them are among the beauties of the company."
"Put every one of them on the flight as eye candy. And is there a bitch fresh into her newlywed days, and one around forty with no kids? Assign those two as my attending crew. Figured I'd fuck them on the way and try a little Takran."
Se-hee came over to the sofa, crouched, and wrinkled her face. She looked over the list checked off on the tablet and put on the show of thinking it through in earnest—a professional reception, worthy of a concierge. Rummaging through her memory and turning her colleagues' personal details over one by one, she opened her mouth.
"In that case, I recommend Flight Attendant Yoon Ji-ah. She's on the young side at twenty, and she was married a few months ago, a new bride, so she'll be satisfying to play with."
"I like it."
"For the other, how about Assistant Purser Hwang Hye-rim? She's forty-one, a little older than the age you requested, but she keeps herself so well that she passes for the late twenties or early thirties. Ten years married and still no children, so if you were to impregnate her, I believe you'd feel a real sense of accomplishment."
The outrageous remarks kept coming. In that soft, pliant voice, Se-hee went on selling out her colleagues as if it were nothing. Offering up women she ought to have cherished, woman to woman, and leading the way herself—the attitude was so commendable it got him hard.
"…Hoo. Is that so."
Woo-joo blew out a pall of smoke and pinched the nipple standing up through Se-hee's shirt. Satisfied with the way she held her smile even while her face tightened just a little, he tapped the long-burned ash off his cigarette onto the lingerie panties spread across the floor.
"Then make it those two. And get me an ashtray."
"I'll bring one right away."
"The hell did you just say? Open your mouth."
"Ah. Yes."
The female tipped her head gently back and shyly revealed the scarlet inside of her mouth. She offered up the long red meat of her tongue like a carpet rolled down a boulevard for a triumphal procession. A tongue wet with damp breath, clean, without a crack or a speck of coating—Woo-joo brought the shortened butt to it and ground it there.
Hiss. Hiss-hiss.
The sound of the ember dying against spit. Even then the butt was hot, pressed hard to the flesh while its leftover heat went out. It was not an act that could fail to hurt, however small the pain. But Se-hee still showed no sign of suffering, and only worked the lips painted in pale lipstick.
…Gulp.
An order from a Uniform Master had to come first, even when it collided with airline regulations. No matter how first-class the passenger, smoking inside the airport was strictly forbidden, so if only to leave no evidence she had to swallow the finished butt and make it disappear.
"Watching you eat made me hungry. There's a buffet in here, right?"
"Of course. It's prepared farther inside."
"I'm going. Call me when it's time for the plane."
"Yes. For the staff to escort you, I'll have the two you designated earlier standing by."
Woo-joo told her to do that and stood. After the smoke, saliva had gathered idly at his mouth for no good reason, and he spat it at his feet. Watching it run thick down the smooth face of a flight attendant would have been pleasant enough, but a more amusing idea had occurred to him.
"Weekday morning. Nobody around, huh."
"Yes. Our airline's first-class lounge is generally on the quiet side."
"Would've been better with an audience. Still, playing by myself isn't always a bad thing."
He crooked a finger the way one calls a pet dog, and when Se-hee came to his side he turned her body over. Over the skirt, which had by now fallen back into place of its own accord, he slowly stroked the resilient outline of her ass—and then, smack!
He said it as he struck with an open palm and all his strength.
"Give me your number. I'm curious about the review."
"Which review do you mean?"
"You don't need to know. Just recite your number."
"Hah—! I'm sorry. This stupid bitch forgot her place."
Woo-joo waved it off as fine and saved Se-hee's number into the smartphone with Moonlight stamped across it in large letters. Then he shoved aside the bra and panties—trampled under his sole, packed with dirt, and smeared with cigarette ash and spit—and spoke.
"Underwear's filthy. Just put it back on yourself."
"…Ah. I am truly sorry I could not provide you with a satisfactory trophy. If it would be all right, might I ask for an address where a parcel could reach you? Afterward I will send, by way of compensation, a USB of photographs and videos of my obscene self, my engagement ring, a full set of the underwear I treasure, and so on."
She put her legs back through the ruined panties and drew them up again without so much as a thought of brushing the filthy parts clean. The stockings had laddered, but she had a spare pair on hand, so she only fastened the hook of the bra and apologized in a rush.
"Forget it. I'm going to go eat."
"Once again, I apologize for ruining my Master's noble time and pleasure through my own foolish mistake. I feel it to the bone that the wrong I committed is by no means light. If you visit us again, I will make it up to you with the very best service."
"Sure. I'll look forward to it. Work hard."
Feet in heels, the backs of the shoes clicked flush together. Both hands gathered at the navel, and the gaze directed below the guest's face. A salute once, by slowly bowing the head, and a second time by bending at the waist to forty-five degrees.
"Thank you for visiting today, Master."
The so-called formal courtesy bow. The reason it was forty-five degrees and not ninety was simple.
"Companion to a beautiful journey—this has been Flight Attendant Han Se-hee of Stargate Airlines."
Because that, of all postures, was the optimal one for appraising the face, the breasts, and the ass all at once.