“Walking through the terminal, I saw something beautiful You left for your duty call. Next I’m getting on the plane, that’s when I see you again - I can’t get you off my brain. That uniform you’re wearing - so hot I can’t stop staring, you’re putting on an awesome show. The cabin pressure’s risin’, my coke has got no ice in. Air Hostess I like the way you dress… Gonna see you soon, in my hotel room, for a holiday romance – Air Hostess.”

Karen felt consciousness returning slowly. Her head was throbbing – that wasn’t too new after a night in a hotel bar but she’d only had one or maybe two. Oh yes and the drink she’d had with the passenger that she’d bumped into from the flight out. But oh, this was bad. She felt she couldn’t move, she couldn’t see, and her mouth felt foul.

Then, slowly, she realised. She really couldn’t move. She was spread like a star fish on the local beach. Her arms were stretched out and her legs. And she couldn’t move them.

And it wasn’t just that her mouth felt foul, something was stuffed into it and no matter how she tried she couldn’t push it out with her tongue. She became fully aware of her situation. She was tied helplessly. She could feel she was naked. She was blindfolded, She was gagged. Feeling panic, she tried to pull herself free from whatever held her. She groaned and heard her own muffled cries coming back to her.

Then she heard his voice. “Please don’t be afraid, you’re quite safe.”

She stiffened as she heard him and then recognised his voice. It was him. The passenger from the flight. Seat 23a. The man in the bar. She turned her head to the sound of the voice and whimpered through the gag in response.

“No really, it’s all right. I can explain this. Please don’t struggle I am sure that you will only hurt yourself and I would hate for that to happen.” She shook her head, trying to dislodge the blindfold. “Oh don’t do that. Here. Let me.”

She felt him reach behind her head and loosen the knot that held the blindfold in place. She blinked as the cloth was pulled from her eyes and tried to focus on the source of the voice. She could see that it was him, even though he was wearing a mask – a silk scarf of some description tied to cover the lower half of his face. Above it, his eyes were darting back and forth watching as she struggled against – against what? She looked up to where her wrists were tied and down to her ankles – ropes fastened each to the bed frame. He stood impassively as she looked around. She didn’t recognise the room; she didn’t think they were still in the hotel. She struggled again, looked towards him again and gave a muffled grunt.

“Oh, don’t be angry. I’m very grateful that you’re here. It’s good of you to contribute to my collection.”

Another grunt; of puzzlement this time. The man gestured towards the other side of the bed and Karen turned her head.

The sight was at once bizarre and terrifying. Lined up along the opposite wall of the room were five mannequins, shop window dummies, four of them wore flight attendant uniforms from different airlines; the fifth was naked. Karen screamed into her gag.

“No, no. Please don’t be upset. Look, I’m very selective. You see – no charter airlines and none of the ‘no frills’ carriers either. I don’t think that treat they their staff as well – do you? I think the uniforms are much lower in quality. Look,” he said reaching for the hem of the first mannequin’s skirt, “this is properly lined. You can tell by how it hangs. You just don’t see that sort of care from the low cost operations.”

Karen wriggled and squealed again.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, gesturing towards the naked dummy. “I didn’t mean to offend you with her – she’s for your uniform and I’m just so pleased.” She watched as he crossed the room and pulled a trolley bag – her trolley bag – out from the closet.

He began to unpack it. “I guess you must be quite new to the job,” he said, “I can’t always get all the pieces at one go. I mean there’s your gloves and your scarf and your hat and the blouse and the skirt and the jacket. That was really good. The proper shoes too – so often the girls seem to have their own, even though it’s not supposed to be allowed. But I was so glad to have your staff handbook as well as all the pieces of the uniform. It just makes it that much more authentic, I can get things just right. I mean I know I can dress Karen here, just as she should be,” he waved to the dummy as Karen gave another gagged scream.

Karen watched still struggling ineffectually, scarcely believing as he dressed the mannequin. “I want you to know,” he said, “how much I like this uniform. I really like the retro look - this white blouse and the straight navy blue skirt. Neat short sleeves on the blouse, simple collar – not one of those fussy necklines so many of them have now. You must have been pleased with how you looked?” |The rhetorical question earned a moan of complaint. He ignored it. “It just harks back to the ’60’s for me. That was the golden age I guess. You’d have been an ‘air hostess’ then not a ‘flight attendant’. Doesn’t that sound more welcoming? I mean ‘hostess’ - someone that looks after people; ’attendant’ - someone that just stands by waiting is what it says to me. And this cap is really great,” he perched it on the mannequin’s head. “I mean its right back to Pan-Am in ’64. Would you have liked to fly on 707’s? Maybe not I guess the wide body jets are easier for the crew.”

Karen realised where he had got his mask from – a uniform neck scarf from Trans European Airlines – and at the same moment remembered that one of their fight attendants had gone missing only one month before. She renewed her struggles against the ropes. He looked at her, unconcerned. He fastened Karen’s name badge – ‘Hi, I’m Karen. Let’s have fun flying!’ to the left breast of the mannequin’s blouse as prescribed in the handbook. “There, finished. Although I think that badge is rather more flirty than would have been thought proper back in the early ‘60’s ” he said. ”Now the girls can watch us.”

Karen bucked against the ropes as the masked man sat down beside her. He traced a finger across her naked breast and she shuddered.

“I expect you are concerned about what will happen to you now.” He stroked her belly as she tensed in repulsion. “Of course, I don’t really need you now. I could have just stolen the uniform I suppose but it’s not the same. I like the girls here to see where their uniforms come from I suppose. But I know someone who’ll pay to take you off my hands. It’s very convenient; I have my collection,” he waved again at the dummies, “and I can be sure that you will be looked after.”

He reached forward and squeezed a nipple. Karen squealed into her gag. “But before them, I am afraid there is the question of your underwear.” Karen’s quizzical squeal gave way to a gasp of pain as her attacker squeezed again. “I’ve read these instructions very carefully,” he said, waving the handbook. “They say quite clearly say that your underwear should be white and I am afraid that I find that quite hard to reconcile with the five pairs of black panties that were in your case. Now, two of them are helping to make sure that your cries don’t disturb anyone which is some form of penalty I suppose. The problem is that I was quite looking forward to, err, making use of them, if you understand what I mean. And, of course, these really won’t do.” He waved the remaining three pairs in front of her, before tossing them aside. “I’m afraid the handbook is quite explicit – they must be white. So, I’m sure you’ll understand that I can’t use them. It would be a shame to disappoint the girls, though – they just love to watch – I’ll just have to manage without.”

Karen screamed again – her cries stifled by the panties that gagged her– as her captor began to unfasten his trouser belt.