The dimly lit cabin of the late-night flight from Delhi to London hummed with the low drone of engines. Business class was half-full with tired executives, a few families in economy, but the real crowd was a mix of rowdy male passengers—mostly Indian businessmen returning from meetings, some expats, and a handful of young techies. Mishka, the 24-year-old airhostess with smooth caramel skin, long black hair tied in a neat bun, full breasts straining against her tight blue uniform blouse, and a short pencil skirt that hugged her round ass, moved gracefully down the aisle pushing the meal trolley.

She had joined the airline only six months ago, proud of her job. But tonight felt different. The male crew had been staring at her more than usual.