She can't cover herself

Vanessa offered her nothing. She merely looked at the shreds of cloth hanging from Mackenzie's body and smiled with satisfaction.

—“There’s no time for a change, Mack,” she said, her voice a thin thread of false pity. “Dinner service must continue. And besides,” she added, lowering her voice just for her, “I think our passengers appreciate the new... look of your uniform.”

Mackenzie was petrified. Would she have to continue working like this? With the white top ripped from neck to waist, hanging open and revealing her entire torso, her bare breasts and her erect, pink nipples quivering in the cold air. With the micro-skirt split open at the side, showing the long line of her leg, the curve of her hip, and the bright red pubic hair with every movement.

A burning blush surged from her chest to her hairline. She tried to cross her arms over her chest, but Vanessa clamped down on her wrists.

—“Flight attendant posture, Mackenzie! Always accessible!” she snapped. “Now, push the cart. And smile.”

The first push of the heavy dinner cart was agonizing. The cold metal of the handle dug into her palms as she moved into the first-class aisle. The silence was absolute, broken only by the rumble of the wheels and an occasional choked gasp. A hundred pairs of eyes locked onto her. On the scraps of white cloth that swayed over her breasts, concealing and revealing them with an obscene rhythm. On the long slit in the skirt that, with every step, parted like a curtain, showing the soft relief of her lower abdomen, the shadow of her navel, and the unmistakable flash of her completely exposed sex.

—“Miss,” a voice called from seat 3A, “the wine list?”

It was a middle-aged man, with a smile that didn't reach his cold eyes. Mackenzie had to approach, leaning toward him to hand him the list. As she did so, the destroyed top splayed open, hanging freely and offering the man a frontal, unobstructed view of her breasts. He didn't look at the list. He stared fixedly at her nipples, which hardened even more under his intrusive gaze.

—“Thank you,” he murmured, prolonging the moment, his fingers brushing hers as he took the list.

As she straightened up, she felt the skirt, weakened by the tear, give way a little more. The side slit extended a few critical centimeters upward, now exposing not only the side of her pubis, but also the beginning of the lower curve of her buttock. A murmur ran through the nearby seats.

The drink service was a crucible. As she bent over to pour a glass of champagne, the edge of the torn skirt caught on a protrusion of the cart. A dull "rrrip," more gut-wrenching than any previous sound, resonated in the cabin. The waist seam, already weakened, gave way completely on the left side. The skirt was now held up only by the right side, hanging from her hip like a useless rag, while the left side of her body, from the waist down to the thigh, was completely exposed: the soft curve of her belly, the pale hip, and her entire sex, naked and defenseless, in full view of everyone.

Mackenzie let out a muffled moan, dropping the champagne bottle, which shattered on the carpet, scattering foam and glass. But no one looked at the mess. All eyes were fixed on her, on her body half-clothed in rags, on her utterly exposed intimacy.

Vanessa appeared immediately, but not to cover her. She stood beside her, with a triumphant smile.

—“My, how clumsy!” she exclaimed, pulling out her phone and taking a quick photo of Mackenzie's distress. “But don’t worry, we all understand these are... exceptional circumstances.” She turned to the passengers. “Isn’t that right, gentlemen?”

A chorus of laughter and complicit nods answered her.

—“Now,” Vanessa continued, grabbing her arm tightly, “clean up this mess. And then, continue with the service. The show must go on.”

Mackenzie, with tears of humiliation streaming down her cheeks, knelt to pick up the broken glass, feeling the cold air circulating over every inch of her naked skin, while the passengers' stares devoured what was left of her dignity. She knew there was no escape. Only the long, exposed descent to the bottom.