Dreams of Sally Sonic update (Patreon)

Onboard the humongous 809-T, you could forget you were on an airplane. It carried eight hundred passengers on two decks, had a crew of thirty, could show two different movies at the same time—one for adults, one for children—and had a full bar.

There were two conferences rooms as well, where a company’s executives could hold a meeting in total privacy. With the Board of Directors or simply with a secretary. Each room held its own minibar, lounging chairs, a private bathroom, and even a foldout bed for a stressed businessman who needed a rest. It was a double bed, in case that secretary needed a rest too.

At the moment, Conference Room One was going unbooked. Sally Sonic had the key to it and was to make sure no one tried to peruse it; the company wanted it ready for its next usage without paying for any cleaning or repair.

But here she was, with the key in its lock. She was one of the thirteen hostesses hired to pamper the passengers. She got flirted with, pinched, felt up, and knew that the company expected her to leave their hallowed employ the moment she met a millionaire and significantly enticed him so as to make her an honest woman.

Sally didn’t know if she wanted to be married, though, despite the cliché. If she married a man, she’d have to quit going out with women. The same thing would happen if she married a woman, only with men. And she liked both too much to give one up. It was a conundrum, but it could be a lot of fun trying to figure out which side of the fence she should be on.

Sally, who was about to go off duty for a few hours, had been parading her hips down the aisle when she became aware of a woman about her own age. She wore a severe tailleur, hiding exquisite curves, or curves that could’ve been exquisite, from all Sally could see of them. The woman smiled at her and seemed to not be able to help running admiring eyes over Sally’s tailored uniform.

She didn’t have the kind of figure that invited a tailleur. It seemed like the best thing for her physique would be to travel in something even skimpier than what Sally was wearing. Which set off an alarm inside Sally. Why did a woman hide being womanly? Because she wanted to be a man, of course. But this woman didn’t strike her as that type. She was too delicately built, with too much care taken in her make-up and hair. She was proud of her femininity, alright, hiding it but coyly expressing it, so that only another woman could know of it. Men were verboten.

Sally got a tingle in her nipples, thinking about it.

She stopped at the woman’s seat. “Is there anything I can get you, miss?” she asked, with sly insinuation in her voice that the woman had signaled her for something, even when she clearly hadn’t.

“Oh, no thank you.” There was insinuation in her voice as well. Soft and sensual. “Except I was just wondering about you airline hostesses. Do you have time to answer a few questions?”

Her smile, too, was polite but something more. Possibly only Sally had the angle to see the truth of it.

“I was about to get off. I’d be happy to take you with me,” Sally said with her own polite smile, only her low words and closeness in combination getting the flirtation to the other woman.

Anyone watching would’ve told themselves they couldn’t have heard what they’d thought they’d heard.

“Yes, it is a little private. Do we think we could talk somewhere… alone?”

It was as if the woman knew Conference Room One was right there for them to play in.

It was a golden opportunity, but Sally hesitated before taking it. She wondered where the plane’s captain, Dennis, could’ve gone. A little while ago, she’d poked her head into the cockpit to touch base with him. The co-pilot had said he was taking a break and was somewhere in back. He (said with a grin) wouldn’t be surprised if one of the passengers had gone missing too.

Even now, Sally felt a pang. She would’ve liked it if she had gone missing with him. But there was no use crying over spilled milk. Not when she could still go missing by herself.

The passenger was named Alix. She went with her to the conference room, sat politely while Sally served her from the bar, and touched her hand when she took her drink from Sally. Under the table, their knees met. The table was small and softly lit, but it wasn’t that small. And even if it were, Alix didn’t have to move her leg so it gently rubbed against Sally’s.

Sally stopped thinking about Dennis. She wouldn’t be jealous of him. He should be jealous of her.

“I was just wondering,” Alix said, keeping her knowing smile instead of a more obviously flirtatious one—out of a kind of perversity, Sally supposed. “Wondering if your airline accepts lesbians as hostesses.”

Sally drew in a deep breath. Between her legs, there was both warmth and moisture. She had to pause a moment to let them tangle together before she spoke. “Our hostesses are all expected to show their appreciation of our frequent fliers, who are largely men. But there are women fliers and most of them like having a stewardess that’s… intrigued by them.”

“That’s very interesting,” Alix said, but her eyes spoke so much louder than her soft voice. Telling Sally it was her that was interesting. “I’d love to be a stewardess, but men don’t really do it for me. Women, though…”

Sally took in an unsteady breathe. She let it out very slowly. “They, uh, do it for you?”

“They do everything to me.” Alix leaned close enough for her next exhale to touch Sally’s cheek, both warm and cool with her minty breath. “I hope you’ll be nice to me. I feel so uneasy, talking to you. Now that you know, I bet you could tell someone to make sure I don’t get in…”

“I would never tell anyone,” Sally assured her.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone either,” Alix said. “If there were something you wanted to keep private… just between the two of us.”

Sally couldn’t take it anymore. She got up and showed Alix how, at the touch of a button, the double bed unfurled from the wall.

Sally couldn’t say anything about it. Hot longing tightened her throat, made her cunt wet. Heat coming right out of her clit to make her panties a fierce morass, a swamped fire.

Alix looked at her and Alix knew. She still wore her secretive smile, perversely polite, but with a twinkle in her eyes to show she was pleased. That she approved. She shrugged off her unflattering jacket and showed Sally a low-cut blouse, clinging silk making her body somehow more delicious than it would be on its own.

Sally spoke without thinking. “You’re not wearing a bra!”

Alix’s smile widened, became a bit more debauched. Sally was grateful for that. She didn’t know if she could stand Alix wearing her first cool smile throughout what was happening. A little give told her that Alix was as excited as she was, or at least was a little excited. Could be made more excited, like a dam with a hole in it could let through the entire river.

Alix sat down, brandishing the tight little nipples that showed through her blouse so lusciously, and gave Sally a wink before she patted the couch beside her.

“I suppose I’ll have to if I become a stewardess,” she said. “I’ve noticed how you all have those firm tits up in the air, leading the way wherever you walk. It makes me wonder how much of the ticket price goes to finding women with exquisite breasts to hire? Ten percent? Twenty percent? But then, it doesn’t matter. I’d pay it. But do I have enough to make the grade?”

“Oh yes,” Sally said. “More than enough.”

Sally felt a tremor run through her, looking at Alix’s rounded tits. She had the perfect breasts for a hostess. Bending over a man to pour his coffee, letting him see down her neckline to the regulation bra that shows all and nothing. Then, standing, smiling, coming up with perfect poise and those lovely globes thrust out potently.

After a treatment like that, some men can’t get a grip on their coffee cup. Some women, either.

Sally felt like one of those women as Alix leaned forward and showed her the view down her blouse.

“Do you see the scar on my right breast?”

Sally shook her head spasmodically. “Scar?”

“Here.” Alix unbuttoned her blouse but didn’t open it. The silk hung onto her stiff nipples, caressing them in their jutting hardness. Sally saw the coronas of puckered flesh around the nipples and knew how it felt to be kissed there, going around and around and around the tiny pink bud. She knew Alix would like it if she did that to her. “Is it hot in here?”

“Yes,” Sally gasped and took off her uniform jacket.

“I’m glad it’s just us girls,” Alix said. “Right here.”

Sally saw a tiny white line on the slope of her breast, pointing at her left nipple like a guide. “That’s nothing, Alix, no one will notice…”

“My little brother threw a rock at me when I was twelve.”

“What a brat. But it doesn’t…”

“I thought it might show up through a less conservative outfit. That’s why I wear—“

“I don’t think anyone would mind seeing that!” Sally blurted out.

Alix was silent then. Sally reached out, watching her own hand like it didn’t belong to her, like it was controlled by someone else. Maybe even Alix. Shaking, one of her fingers brushed against the tiny scar.

“I can barely even feel it. You shouldn’t be self-conscious about it. You shouldn’t.” Her hand slid under Alix’s blouse. Containing her flesh as well as Alix’s, the silk gave up its hold on Alix’s nipple and fell away from her whole lovely teat. “It’s perfect. Yes. So smooth. The other one. If that’s as soft as… oooh.”

Sally was helpless with yearning. She cupped both breasts and kneaded them, feeling the swollen prod of the nipples into her palms. The flesh swelling, the nipples becoming harder, and her own hands shaking more, becoming rougher in their handling of Alix’s accepting tits.