Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Carole stood in the check in line and tapped her foot impatiently. She cursed her own efficiency. That was her problem. She was too efficient. As finance director to a medium sized company she had been proud of her cost cutting measures; proud particularly of her plans to cut the travel budget. But when she had put the plan to the MD, the plan to ban business class travel and make everyone go economy, she had assumed that it wouldn't apply to the MD or herself. The MD however saw things differently. He embraced the plan enthusiastically - said that he of course would comply with the ruling. All the board would have to set an example! So Carole was now thoroughly disliked by the rest of the board, not that that mattered - she didn't care about upsetting people - but she was having to travel back from New York in economy. Never mind, she thought, once she got to the head of the queue she'd demand an upgrade. Once they saw how important she was they'd have to give her one. Maggie, working on check-in saw the smartly dressed woman, getting to the head of the queue. Power dressed in a smart tailored jacket over a crisp white blouse and short figure hugging skirt she wasn't afraid to use sexual attraction to get her way either. Just the sort Maggie couldn't stand - just the sort who'd expect to get an upgrade. Well she wasn't going to get one if Maggie had anything to do with it! Carole fumed, Carole cursed, but Maggie was immovable. Why should she get a free business class seat just because she was travelling on business? Carole had to stand in line with the rest of the common throng to get on the plane. She was perhaps 32 years old, tall, but not overly so, slim and good looking. Under her jacket and skirt she wore the special satin lingerie bought in Paris, that made her feel good; she needed to feel good. A person who felt good, felt confident. And a confident person commanded respect - got the job done. On her feet were high heeled shoes in the latest fashion, giving her that extra height and poise that was so necessary. Slowly she approached the plane, pulling her wheeled carry on bag behind her. "Oh my God!" she groaned. There was that objectionable woman from the check-in greeting people on the plane. She must be a cabin steward as well. Maggie saw her coming. She, take the stuck-up little so-and-so down a bit. "You can't take that thing on the plane with you!" she said, pointing at the wheeled case." "What!" said Carole, "I've never had a problem before" "Perhaps you were always in Business Class before", said Maggie enjoying this. Carole fumed. She was right of course. Carole hadn't realised that there were more privileges to business class than just the big seats and the fawning attendants. Snarling, she handed over the case to be out in the hold luggage and made a mental note of what was to go in her letter of complaint to the airline. She broke out in a sweat. She wasn't used to the standing, to being treated like this. She took off her fitted jacket and held it over her arm. She stepped forwards to go on the plane. And disaster struck. The narrow heel of her expensive fashion shoe went down the gap between the air bridge and the plane. The shoe was ruined. Carole bent down to retrieve her shoes. "Hurry up there", said Maggie imperiously. Carole tore off her shoes and flung them out the plane. "The airline will pay for those!" she screamed at Maggie, as if it had been her fault. The other passengers looked round. What an objectionable woman, they thought. Carole pushed her way in and down to her seat. It wasn't until she was in the seat and taxiing away that she realised she, left her smart fitted jacket outside. She shouted out to Maggie to stop the plane. But Maggie couldn't do anything now. They were on their way. "I'll make sure the airline pays", shouted Maggie, and the other passengers scowled at her in dislike. She looked at who was sitting next to her. My God, it was a scruffily dressed woman with a little child. How appalling! Carole hated travelling with children; they screamed all the time and were sick over you. She marched up the aisle to Maggie. . "I can't be expected to travel next to that" she said in a penetrating voice, "I demand an upgrade" The other passengers were shouting at her, telling her to sit down. Awful woman. Who did she think she was, not wanting to sit beside the darling child? Carole marched back to her seat. Only when she got there did she realise that without shoes her specially sheer 8 denier tights were laddered and ruined. Not caring what people thought she tore them off and hurled them at Maggie. "Look what you've done", she yelled. I'll have compensation for those." She tried to settle down in her seat, but the child next to her kept fidgeting. It didn't look happy. It didn't look well. An hour into the flight it had turned a very pasty colour indeed. And before Carole could do anything it had been sick all over her crisp white cotton blouse. "Look what this child's done!" she screamed at Maggie, surely there's a spare seat in business class. "I'll go and see", said Maggie. Two minutes later she returned all smiles. "There's one spare seat", she announced. "Thank God, for that", said Carole, preparing to move. "Not for you", said Maggie as politely as she could, "for this lady and her little boy. We have to give preference to sick children you know" The other passengers nodded their approval. "What am I supposed to do with this", demanded Carole, pointing at her ruined blouse. "That Madame, is your business", said Maggie. "Well I'll tell you what", said Carole, pulling the blouse off and hurling it at Maggie, "you can chuck it out because the airline's going to pay for it" Well, let the passengers stare. She was quite respectable in her satin petticoat from Paris, and she wasn't going to sit in that blouse for the rest of the trip. At least, Carole thought, she wasn't going to have the abominable child next to her any more. The meal was brought round. Carole looked at it in disgust. What muck they were served in economy. It looked like some sort of microwaved stew. What was she to eat it off? In business class there was always a neat little table which folded out of the chair arm, but she couldn't find it. She searched for five minutes before shouting at Maggie and demanding to know where her table was. Maggie exasperated showed her by folding down her table from the back of the seat in front. Carole plonked her tray on it. She opened up the meal tentatively and stuck a plastic fork in it. In front of her was Joel. Other people said he was fat, but he was proud of his 400 pounds. He had already eaten his stew, and his sandwiches, and the cookies, and it was time for a sleep. He pressed the button on the arm of his chair and with a big sigh pushed the seat back as hard as he could. The seat went backwards and the `stew' slid forwards off Carole's seat-back table and straight on to her lap. She yelled at Maggie, "look what you've made me do now!", and despite protestations she charged to the rest room to try and clean her designer, tailored skirt. Washing it just made it worse. Well, thought Carole. I'll just have to sit in my petticoat won't I, it's quite respectable, could even pass for a cocktail dress at a distance - a bit odd perhaps but it's not as if anyone could see through it.. Anyway it's the airline's fault and they're going to pay. After all it was a piece of fashion lingerie, a power petticoat if ever there was one. Black satin with lace frills. It was certainly respectable, even sexy; Carole smiled to herself. That would show them! She flung the skirt at Maggie as she passed. "Yes I know", said Maggie, "the airline's going to pay". An announcement came over the speaker "Clear air turbulence, Please remain seated and fasten your seat belts" "Coffee", Carole demanded of Maggie "Not now", said Maggie, "we're hitting turbulence" "Look", said Carole "when I ask for coffee I expect to be given coffee. Who's the customer here!" Lazy so-and-so she thought, give these people an inch and they'd take a mile. Maggie came back with the coffee. She started to pour it, but just at that time the plane hit a pocket of turbulence. The coffee missed the cup and went al down Carole's front. Carole screamed. Maggie was just grateful that the airline only ever served luke warm coffee so that no one would ever get scalded. "You stupid woman", shouted Carole, and pushed past her, back to the rest room. Her bra, her lovely black satin bra was ruined. Exasperated, she tore it off and flung it in the trash can. The airline was going to pay again. When she came out she was sagging a little more than before, but she had pert little breasts and she didn't think anyone would really notice. Well, nobody could see through the petticoat could they? There was an hour left on the flight and Carole thought she had better go to the bathroom to freshen up, as she euphemistically put it, before the crowds. Regardless of the stares, and scowling at people as she passed she marched up to the rest rooms and pulled at the door. The door opened - oh my God there was a man inside. She slammed the door shut. Why couldn't he lock it properly? When he came out she castigated him loudly. He tried to say something, but she wouldn't let him get a word in edgeways and he gave up. She pulled the door open, when in, slammed it shut, slid the bolt, pulled down her knickers - her beautiful French lacy satin (and rather brief) knickers and sat on the toilet. And then there was a rattle on the door and it started to open. That was what the man had been trying to tell her, the door bolt was broken and didn't work properly. Carole could weather most humiliations, but not being caught sitting on the toilet with her knickers down. With a scream she leapt up, grabbed the door and pulled it shut. Thankfully whoever was outside let go and the door slid shut again. She looked down at her lovely satin knickers. With leaping up and jumping forwards she had just torn them apart. Both legs had split at the seams. Angrily she tore them off and stuffed them in the trash. Let the airline pay for those as well. It was not her problem, she still had her perfectly respectable petticoat, nobody would know she had no knickers on. She went back into the cabin and gave Maggie a piece of her mind again. Maggie paid no notice. At last the plane was landing. Carole stood up with all the others as the plane taxied in. She would walk proudly out in her petticoat. It was a power petticoat. Nothing could cower her. But unbeknown to her the boy in the seat behind was wanting his play station down from the luggage compartment above the seat. He wasn't quite tall enough to reach it and decided what a good idea it would be to stand on the seat arm to reach up. As he did so the plane lurched suddenly, he lost his balance and fell forwards clutching at something to save him. The funny dress of the angry lady in front of him! That was all there was. His hand reached out to the satin back of the petticoat and grabbed it, he was still holding it as he fell and the flimsy shoulder straps gave way. Quickly his mother stuck her hand over his eyes. Carole's lovely satin, smooth, power petticoat slid gracefully to the ground, and she found herself standing there stark naked in the aisle. Carole to outface anything, so she had thought, but not this. It was her clothes that gave her power, and here she was, she had now lost every stitch of clothing on the journey and was standing there in the nude for everyone to see. It struck home to her. She was standing in the aisle of a busy plane completely in the nude. Most people hadn't noticed that she'd gradually taken off everything except her petticoat. They stared. She felt people's eyes boring into her. Their eyes travelling down over her pert little breasts with their pointed nipples, down across her stomach, her cute little bum and round to her - oh no - her neat little bikini waxed secret place! Carole exposed, naked, all of it on show. If it had been anyone else, somebody would have come to her aid, covered her up. But it was the dreadful woman who had complained all the flight. It was not as if they laughed, it was worse. Somebody started clapping, then another, and another, until all the passengers were craning to look and applauding Carole's humiliation. She could just stand there trying in vain to cover her embarrassment with her hands, realising that everyone was applauding the fact that she had, little by little, been stripped naked in front of them. Then she ran. Down the aisle. People stood aside to let her pass. She ran out the plane. She had only one thought; to find her wheelie case, which had her clothes. She had no idea where it was, so she ran and ran, naked through the airport. Next day the MD was reading his morning paper as was his wont. Time enough to start work after lunch, he thought, possibly a long time after lunch. His eyes glanced down at a strange story. 'Streaker runs amok in Heathrow', his eyes glanced over the accompanying picture. Didn't that rear end look a bit familiar? Carefully he cut the picture out the paper and pinned it up on the wall. He'd ask Carole - she'd know.