Chapter 1
What did register, that year, was the Qatar Airways recruitment ad she found on a Tuesday night while procrastinating over a basket of unfolded laundry.
Cabin Crew. See the world. Be the difference.
She applied on impulse.
She didn’t expect a callback.
She got one.
Three months later, at twenty-one years old, Anna stood in front of the mirror in her Doha apartment, smoothing the front of a rich burgundy uniform that fit her as though it had been tailored just for her. The silk scarf. The structured jacket. The polished smile. The quiet, composed woman staring back at her looked older somehow—like someone who had already lived a dozen different lives.
She pinned her wings above her heart and smiled.
The sky, it turned out, was exactly where she belonged.
The first year of flying rewired her entirely.
Istanbul at dawn, the minarets glowing gold above the Bosphorus.
Cardamom coffee drifting through the narrow streets of Beirut.
The peculiar stillness of a night flight, when every passenger is asleep and you’re standing alone in the galley at three in the morning, thirty-eight thousand feet above the earth, surrounded by nothing but the low hum of engines and a silence so complete it almost feels sacred.
She loved it.
All of it.
Even the difficult passengers.
Even the jet lag that sometimes made her feel as though someone had taken her apart and reassembled her in the wrong time zone.
She collected the world in small pieces—a silk scarf from Bangkok, saffron from Tehran, Belgian chocolates from Brussels that she wrapped carefully before bringing them home for the people she loved.
She dated occasionally.
Nothing serious.
Her heart was too busy belonging everywhere at once.
And yet, every so often, after the excitement of another destination had faded and another flight was logged away, she would unlock the door to her apartment and be greeted by perfect silence. She had photographs from sixty cities, boarding passes tucked into journals, souvenirs scattered across her shelves—but no one waiting to hear the stories behind them.
She told herself that was enough.
Most days, she even believed it.
Then, on a quiet Wednesday evening after a long Amritsar turnaround, still exhausted and halfway through reheating leftovers, her phone vibrated.
A Facebook Messenger notification.
She barely looked up.
Another crew message, probably.
Then she read the name.
Mohsen Al-Rashidi sent you a message.
She frowned.
It sounded familiar.
A moment later it came back to her.
The office gathering in Abu Dhabi.
The tall man across the room.
The one she’d barely spoken to.
She opened the message.
“Hey. I think we met once. You probably don’t remember me.”
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips before she could stop it.
She curled her feet beneath her on the sofa. Her burgundy uniform still hung neatly from the back of the bedroom door, ready for tomorrow’s flight.
“I remember you,” she typed.
She hesitated for only a heartbeat before pressing Send.
Anna drifted off to sleep with the blue light of the phone still burned into her retinas, the image of Mohsen’s name lingering in her mind.
The dream started in a blur of gold and velvet, a luxury suite in a city she couldn't name. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and expensive cologne. She was still wearing her burgundy uniform, but the jacket was open, the silk scarf loosened and hanging precariously around her neck.
Mohsen was there, his tall frame blocking out the light of the doorway. He didn't speak; he simply moved toward her with a predatory grace. When he reached her, he didn't hesitate, his hands sliding firmly around her waist to hoist her up and press her back against the mahogany door.
*Thump.*
He didn't waste time. His hands tore open her blouse, popping a button that skittered across the floor. He reached into her bra, pulling her breast free. "Mmm..." Anna moaned as his mouth closed over her peaked nipple. He sucked hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive tip with a rhythmic, demanding pressure. *Slurp.* The sensation sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core.
"Please," she whimpered, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
He didn't answer with words. He swept her up in his arms and tossed her onto the velvet bed. He stripped her with a frantic urgency, peeling away the burgundy skirt and lace panties until she lay bare and trembling. Mohsen knelt between her thighs, his eyes dark with hunger. He leaned in, his tongue darting out to lick her from the bottom up in one long, wet stroke.
*Squelch.*
"Ah! Oh god!" Anna screamed, her hips bucking off the mattress. He buried his face in her, his tongue flickering against her clitoris with an intensity that made her vision blur. He drank from her, licking and sucking until she was sobbing his name, her body humming like a live wire.
Then, he moved up. He freed himself from his trousers, and Anna’s breath hitched. He was monstrous—thick, pulsing, and a staggering ten inches of hard, vein-mapped heat. The sheer size of him was intimidating, but she wanted it. She wanted to be filled.
As he aligned himself and pushed inside her for the first time, Anna let out a guttural cry. "Hnnn-ah!"
He stretched her wide, his thickness filling every millimeter of her, pushing deeper and deeper until he hit her cervix with a heavy, blunt force. The sensation of being completely occupied by him was overwhelming. He began to move, his long cock sliding in and out of her with a wet, slapping sound. *Thwack. Thwack.*
"You're so tight," he growled, his voice a low vibration in her ear.
The friction built into a frantic, pulsing heat. Anna felt the wave crashing over her, her internal muscles clamping violently around his length. She exploded, her body shaking in a massive, toe-curling orgasm that seemed to last forever.
Anna bolted upright in bed, gasping for air. Her chest was heaving, and she felt a warm, sticky dampness between her thighs. She had actually come in her sleep.
The silence of the Doha apartment rushed back in, oppressive and heavy. She lay there for a moment, her heart hammering, but the release from the dream hadn't been enough. The phantom sensation of those ten inches still echoed in her womb, leaving her aching and frustrated.
"Damn it," she whispered, her voice husky.
Unable to settle, Anna slid her hand down. She closed her eyes, picturing Mohsen's dark eyes and that massive, thick cock sliding back inside her. She began to rub herself, her fingers mimicking his tongue, faster and harder.
"Mmm... Mohsen... please..."
She worked herself into a frenzy, her breath coming in ragged hitches until she finally hit the peak, a sharp, shivering release that left her limp against the pillows.
She glanced at her phone on the nightstand. No reply yet. She sank back into the sheets with a soft, shaky laugh. Tomorrow's flight was going to feel very, very long.
