James Thompson, an ambitious investigative journalist from London, arrived at the sleek glass headquarters of Indo Airways in Jakarta. He straightened his tie and checked his reflection in the mirrored elevator doors as he ascended to the top floor executive suite. After months of digging, anonymous tips, and following trails of bread crumbs, James finally had the chance to interview the elusive and powerful CEO of Indo Airways, known only as Mr. Santoso. James had uncovered a disturbing pattern – in cities all over the world where Indo Airways flew, people were disappearing without a trace. Through his sources, James also discovered that young women would also surface shortly, working as flight attendants for the airline. These women had no history, their only connection being that they always appeared days after those people went missing. James was determined to get to the bottom what exactly this meant for the airline, and its possible victims. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, revealing a spacious office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Jakarta skyline. Seated behind a massive mahogany desk was Mr. Santoso himself, an imposing figure in an impeccably tailored suit. “Ah, Mr. Thompson. I’ve been expecting you,” Mr. Santoso said, his accented English smooth as silk. “Please, have a seat.”
James settled into the plush chair across the desk and took out his notebook. “Thank you for agreeing to this interview, Mr. Santoso. I’m sure you’re a very busy man.”
“I always have time for the press,” Mr. Santoso replied with an unreadable smile. “Now, what would you like to know?” James asked a few softball questions about the airline’s history and business model, lulling Mr. Santoso into a false sense of security. Then he started probing into the mysterious disappearances.
“In several cities with your services, local people have gone missing, only for unknown Indo Airways flight attendants to appear shortly after. Care to comment on this?”
Mr. Santoso’s eyes narrowed. “What are you implying? Indo Airways has a rigorous recruitment process and our flight attendants go through extensive training before flying. If some are from the cities we service, I hardly see how that is unusual.”
James pressed on, undeterred. “I have multiple sources who put your employees near the victims shortly before their disappearances. That these people had families, careers, entire lives. Yet vanished without a trace. How do you explain that?”
A tense silence stretched between them before Mr. Santoso spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “I think, Mr. Thompson, that Indo Airways’ recruitment practices are not your concern and I suggest you drop this line of inquiry… for your own good.”
James felt a chill run down his spine at the implied threat, but he couldn’t back down now. He was too close to the truth. “If Indo Airways has nothing to hide, then surely you won’t mind me investigating further?” Mr. Santoso smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He pressed a button on his desk phone and spoke in rapid Indonesian. Moments later, four beautiful flight attendants glided into the room, surrounding James.
“Well, if you insist on learning about our recruitment processes, then a hands-on demonstration of our training methods would be best. Don’t you think so, Mr. Thompson? Girls, please help our guest… get comfortable.” Before James could react, the flight attendants seized him, their grips surprisingly strong. They ripped off his clothes effortlessly, ignoring his shouts of protest as they pinned him to the chair. James struggled helplessly as they forced an Indo Airways dress over his head. The material incredibly tight over his masculine frame. As he struggled against the silky material, a pair of much-too-small sandal wedges were jammed onto his feet. His toes protruding over the end and his wide soles spilling over the edges.
James tottered unsteadily as they yanked him upright to face a smirking Mr. Santoso. Mr. Santoso’s eyes gleamed with a sinister intensity as he took in James’ disheveled appearance, the Indo Airways dress clinging to his masculine frame like a second skin. “You see, Mr. Thompson, our training methods are… unorthodox. But effective. You will make a lovely addition to our team, I think.”
James’ face reddened with rage and humiliation as the flight attendants held him in place, their hands digging into his arms like vice grips. He struggled against them, but they were too strong.
“Let me go!” James shouted, his voice echoing off the glass walls of the executive suite.
Mr. Santoso chuckled, a low, menacing sound. “Oh, I don’t think so, Mr. Thompson. You’re going to be with us for a long time. And soon, you’ll be begging to stay.”
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