Mister Weston

“So...” A man in a badly tailored blue suit stood in front of the small conference room, addressing me and twenty other pilots. “As you all know, we at Elite have the best benefits packages out of all commercial airlines, the best planes in the sky, and we also have the best track record for safety.”

“Did you really call us in here to read the company brochure aloud?” I asked. This meeting had gone on for half an hour too long already. “I have far better things to do in Hawaii.”

“Of course, you do, Captain Weston.” He rolled his eyes and hit the lights, forcing a screen to fall down over the wall. “I called this meeting to discuss our non-fraternization policy.”

All of a sudden, a grainy image appeared on the screen. A pilot in uniform tugging the hand of a flight attendant past an “Under Construction Zone.”

“Now, the airports don’t typically install the high grade cameras in the construction zones because, well...What would be the point of that since they’re practically off limits, but a passenger caught this happening weeks ago and posted it on social media with the caption: Bet the pilot is about to fly his cock up her runway.”

There were a few laughs from the other pilots.

“There was also this clip.” He clicked the remote, and a far clearer picture began playing. A video of a pilot in uniform kissing a woman against a wall in a closed and empty food court at Seattle International.

“Now,” he said. “This is only a formality, as we’re simply speaking to all Elite pilots who have flown routes to these particular airports during the times that the videos were taken. Needless to say, although what goes on in your personal bedrooms is none of our business, the idea of two employees blatantly breaking our non-fraternization rule when we so adamantly market our rules to the public is a bit...” He tapped his chin. “It’s a bit shameful. No, another ‘s’ word...Shocking? Staggering? No... Scandalous.”

He finally settled on a term and hit the lights. “If you know who this is, I suggest you tell them that we’re on to them. And if it’s you, I suggest you tell us immediately so we can immediately terminate the flight attendant and have you sign off on the pilot’s breach of policy form. You’ll be subject to a disciplinary action, but you’ll keep your job as long as you cooperate. ”

He continued to talk as he handed out paperwork, but I kept my eyes on the screen behind him. The videos were playing on a loop, but since me and Gillian’s faces never looked up or to the side, there was no way of knowing it was us. It only appeared to be two employees who worked for the same airline, two employees who were kissing in a way that looked like they didn’t give a fuck if they got caught.

“Are you listening to me, Captain Weston?” His question snapped me out of my thoughts. “Captain Weston?”

“Yes?”

“I said you can leave the airport as soon as you sign the non-fraternization policy again.” He gestured around the now empty room. “You’re the only one still sitting here.”

I looked down at the paper, noticing the red lined change: I, Jake Weston, have never, and will never engage in a relationship with any employee of Elite Airways, in any department or extension of Elite Airways. I also am in compliance with the original non-fraternization policy below.

Picking up a pen, I signed my name and he took the paper from me. I stood up and headed for the door, but he called after me.

“Yes?” I looked over my shoulder.

“Um, you left something in your chair.” He pointed to a crumpled pair of black, lace panties.

“Thank you.” I picked them up and returned them to my pocket, not letting him ask whatever the hell he was tempted to ask. I stepped out of the room and into the terminal at Honolulu International, in no rush to spend my next four off days on the island.

Years ago, I would’ve relished the idea of spending countless hours near the beaches and fucking as many women as possible, but for some reason, that idea wasn’t as appealing right now.

I pulled out my phone and looked over Gillian’s line. She was currently in Orlando en route via a red eye flight to Seattle. From there she had a trip to Los Angeles with a three day stopover.

I calculated the math in my head: Los Angeles was only a five hour flight away from Hawaii, with a three hour time zone difference. Seattle was six hours away from Orlando, so she’d land there within the next couple of hours for a short flight to Los—

I immediately stopped my train of thought.

What the fuck am I doing?