Caught Short in the Cockpit

By Sam Hoode

Although being reluctant to attend the party, a chance meeting with the beautiful and captivating Sarah, leads to a story of intrigue, amazement, and arousal. The story involves hot airline pilots, an off duty hostess, and doing things at 30,000 feet in the cockpit of a 747 that weren't covered in flight school.

Thankfully the night ends with a romantic moonlit love making session where Sarah ticks off a first and finds her soulmate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sam Hoode
• Release date: Aug 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310953200

Sam Hoode

Sam lives and works in Christchurch, New Zealand. Whilst there is a 120,000 word full length novel securely hidden somewhere, Sam prefers writing short story erotica. The sort of thing that you can sit down and read within one sitting. Story lengths run from 2000-5000 words and cover mainstream erotica - nothing hard core. Sam writes in two styles, one is a the ultimate-female-fantasy series and the other is more down-to-earth-real-world-house-wife series. Hopefully one or the other will capture your attention. Feedback is welcome at [e-mail]

Book preview

Caught Short In the Cockpit – Smashwords Version

Copyright 2014

Sam Hoode

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I’m lost. I know I’m lost. I must have missed a turn-off or there must have been a sign I’ve gone past. The rural airport is down this road unless someone tampered with the sign.

I’m running late for the party of someone I barely know. However, a number of good friends have made the effort to go and I don’t want to be the one that lets the team down. I’d rather be at home reading and resting my weary feet. In the bath. With an iced tea. A Long Island Iced Tea. And some candles. And a bronzed swedish model in a string bikini to massage me. I laugh aloud to myself. If I had a swedish model, I wouldn't have left the house.

But the idea of the bath is appealing. In fact, it’s such an appealing proposition that I start to wonder whether I have a headache forming and should head home. But I have already text to say that I am on my way. Not that anyone bothered to reply.

I am starting to think of other excuses I cut myself shaving, My dog ate my shaver, I cut my dog while shaving, when I finally see the airport sign. It’s quite literally at the end of a very long road in the middle of nowhere.

The party is at the airport and while I don’t know him that well, Mike said there was free food, drink and music, which is the premise for a good night.

There are large hedges surrounding the airport and an embankment that runs down the far side of it. If I had to guess, I’d say there was a river on the other side judging by the trees. I pull into through the gate but I can’t see any signs of a party. Or any signs of life. And no planes either. It’s basically about twenty big hangars that all look the same. I drive around behind them as that’s the only way to go.

After I past the sixth one I am starting to feel a bit weird. No-one knows where I am and I could be walking into an ambush of strange country folk. The sort of folk who’d cook a lost stranger. A cauldron, a fire, some onions bobbing around me and an apple stuffed in my mouth. I shake my head with a laugh. From swedish bronzed models to cannibals in the same drive. I really should go home.

Relief warms me as I pull around the corner of a big hangar and there is a large group of cars flanked by a