Who doesn't like a man or woman in uniform? Whether it's fit firemen or naughty nurses, most people I know have a favourite uniform. I have to confess, firemen don't do anything for me, I'm into dashing airline pilots.
When I joined The Airline, people used to say to me 'ooh, think of all the hunky pilots!'. Back then, I wasn't interested, I was more interested in looking at the passengers in our Mediterranean destinations, namely Greek Gods and Italian stallions. However, that all changed one day when some dirty bitch of a sky mattress was talking about her latest conquest, Captain Nigel. "His uniform was on my bedsit floor" she breathed. "It felt so hot yet so naughty. Then the next morning, I saw him putting on his stripes..." I was nearly sick, especially thinking about this overweight woman in the bedroom entwined in a hunky airman, but it got me thinking. I am working with men that some women have fantasies about! So, in the great tradition of the MILF, let me present to you- the PILF!
The PILF, like the cabin crew, comes in many different ways (no pun intended, you dirty people!) and has lots of different guises. Some have only faces that a mother could love, so he has to really earn his PILF stripes by having the obligatory Lovely Personality. Some are cheating little Fanny Rats but girls and gays still fall for their charms, the same way starlets throw themselves at womanising Hollywood stars "I can change him!". "His wife doesn't understand him" etc etc. Some are Mr Average and are seen as a conquest for the most brazen of Flight Deck Floozies to pull! Which brings me on to a funny story. There was a first officer at The Airline who looked like Tony Blair, and one girl spread a rumour around about him that he was still a virgin. He let slip one day that he fancied my friend, so I arranged a date for the two of them, much to the ridicule of my friend. She was worried she would be bored on the date, or even worse, have to pop his cherry! So she went on the date.
The date got off to a chatty start, but after a while, she got a bit bored. He was rabbiting on about classical music, and not Russell Watson and Andrea Bocelli, but Beethoven of all people! She thought he was talking about a St Bernard dog! As the evening wore on, my friend was becoming increasingly bored and he even made her pay Dutch- the bill came to 5€ but her drink was 3€ and he made her pay the three piddly euros, didn't even let her off with 50 cents, how chivalrous! They moved on to the next bar, where she was getting desperate for conversation as it was all becoming rather stilted. She dashed to the toilet and texted her friends to rescue her, but told them not to mention they had planned to meet her.
Eventually, her friends came to rescue her, getting the conversation going and managing to keep Tony Blair occupied. Then, she spotted a real hunk across the bar. And he spotted her, too! What's a girl to do? Boring PILF with no conversation or a tall, dark and handsome stranger? So, her friends distracted big ears Blair while she disappeared and pulled the fit bloke! No more flight deck for her then!
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