With admirers

The sound of applause exploded in her ears like an electric shock. Mackenzie stopped abruptly at the bathroom entrance, her cold, bare feet stuck to the carpeted floor of the hallway. Each clapped hand was a slap, every mocking smile a reminder of her total vulnerability.

—"Now that’s a real uniform!" someone yelled from the fourth row of executive class.

—"What a fantastic choice!" another cheered.

The blood, which a moment before had been frozen in her veins, now rushed up, burning like lava, toward her face. Her pale skin, a trait of her Scottish heritage, flared a deep, intense red that contrasted violently with her red hair. She looked like a human torch, consumed by humiliation.

Vanessa appeared at her side with a barely disguised triumphant smile.

—"Look, Mack, everyone is admiring you. This is your moment," she whispered, giving her a little push toward the central aisle.

Every step she took was agony. The white, semi-transparent micro-skirt billowed like a treacherous curtain of smoke. The fabric, incredibly soft, clung to her thighs and revealed more than it covered, exposing the pale curve of her buttocks. From the front, the thin material pulled dangerously across her pubis, delineating every fold with obscene clarity.

The sleeveless top, two sizes too small, compressed her breasts into a deep cleavage. Her nipples, hardened by the cold and shame, jutted through the translucent fabric like two pink, bold points. They glowed like embers under every stare.

—"Go on, gorgeous, show us how to walk with style!" a middle-aged man cheered, recording with his phone.

She tried to cross her arms, an instinctive gesture of modesty, but Vanessa was there to stop her.

—"Uh-uh! Flight attendant posture, Mackenzie. Always upright and accessible," she said, gently tugging her elbows to leave her completely exposed again.

The walk to the galley felt eternal. She felt the stares like scorching fingers tracing her body: they lingered on the tremor of her thighs, on the moist sheen that betrayed an involuntary excitement, on the hypnotic rise and fall of her chest. The applause was nothing more than rhythmic commands, a constant celebration of her submission.

When she finally reached the relative safety of the galley, gasping and with her face still flushed, the noise ceased, though the ringing in her ears continued. She leaned against the cold wall, seeking a relief that didn't exist.

Vanessa approached, her eyes shining with satisfaction.

—"You're doing great, Mack. Just remember," she added, moving so close that Mackenzie could feel her breath, "this is just the beginning. The main course is yet to be served."

She winked before leaving, leaving Mackenzie alone. She was trembling, dressed in little more than the flush of her shame, and desperately wishing to be swallowed by the floor.