Post: #1

Quote:For more than a decade, Mandy Smith was an “international air hostess” for Virgin Atlantic Airways.

In her new book, “Cabin Fever” (out Tuesday), she dishes on partying with Virgin mogul Richard Branson, meeting first-class billionaire suitors and joining the Mile High Club in a Cessna. Now 41, the happily married mom tells The Post’s Doree Lewak how after years of looking for love in the sky, she found it in her own back yard…

I was spending my layover in Dubai lying by the pool at a five-star hotel when a server came over with a bottle of Dom Pérignon.

Then, a dark-haired hunk in a crisp white shirt approached me. “You look beautiful,” he said, as he extended his hand. “I’m Mahir Asker*, and I’d love to take you out tonight.”

Hours later, a Bentley arrived at the hotel to pick me up and a white-gloved driver helped me into the car, which escorted us to our date aboard Asker’s million-dollar yacht. We spent the night sailing around the Persian Gulf, holding hands and munching on salmon tartare, lobster and caviar.

This romantic evening with the handsome billionaire was one of many glamorous dates I had during my 10-year tenure as a Virgin Airlines flight attendant. Life was a blur of moneyed suitors and over-the-top parties.

It was more than I could have ever imagined when I was a little girl growing up in the modest town of Hartlepool in northern England. I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up, but I did know that I wanted a love like my parents had. They were always cuddling and kissing. Even changing gears in the car, they’d hold hands. They met in school and married at 16; their love was unshakable.

I was 9 years old when I first flew. My father — a sales director for an insurance company — would take us on a few holidays a year.

On one trip, while flying to the luxe coastal city of Nerja, Spain, I was mesmerized by the glamorous air hostesses in their yellow and blue uniforms. They looked so elegant and I wanted to be one of them. But at my dad’s urging, I went on to study computer science at Hartlepool College.

After graduation, in 1995, I got a job at Virgin Airlines as a planning support officer in the engineering department. But after three years, I grew bored.

“You know, you need to live a little!” my colleague told me after a long, tedious afternoon at the office. I was 26 and had just gotten out of a bad relationship and decided to take the advice to heart.

I applied to transfer to cabin crew, figuring I’d rack up some fun experiences and get over my breakup. Who can resist an application that says: “You will work hard, but you will party harder”?

I couldn’t believe what goes on thousands of feet in the air. More than once, I had a passenger slide his hand up my skirt when I was attending to the overhead compartment. And when the lights are dimmed on overnight flights, I’d see randy passengers masturbating while everyone else around them slept. Then there was the couple in the throes of passion who ran around upper-class buck naked. It was a lot to put up with, especially for my meager starting salary of 12,000 pounds (about $19,000) for my 1,000 flying hours a year.

But it was so worth it.

From the Caribbean to South Africa, I had a guy at every port.

My favorite spot in Barbados was this club full of hot guys. One drunken night, I spotted a rugby team partying at a long table. I jumped on it and knocked back their drinks one by one. Later that night, back in my colleague’s hotel room, the hot tub collapsed because we had invited too many rugby players to join in the fun.

But nothing beats the InterContinental in Johannesburg, where the altitude is 6,000 feet and the booze goes straight to your head. We threw epic parties at the hotel — one time a steward tossed a sofa out of a hotel window. I always brought some wild props with me — my suitcase was like a traveling sex shop.

Eventually, I started dating a pilot-in-training named Jonathan. His wings ceremony was epic — held at Sir Richard Branson’s mansion in Cambridge.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I walked up to the moat leading to the mansion. Richard shook my hand and welcomed me to the party.

I’ve never seen so much Champagne in my life. Richard managed to spray everyone with all the open bottles.

I stayed up for 24 hours, wired on Red Bull and vodkas. At the end of the glam weekend, guests left with goody bags in hand — stuffed with condoms.

Since I had a steady boyfriend, I decided the time had come to cross another item off my bucket list: the Mile High Club.

Jonathan was flying me down to the Florida Keys in a two-seat Cessna when I decided to seize the moment. I climbed on top of him while he was flying and sealed the deal.

We had fun together, but my relationship with Jonathan didn’t last. He didn’t want to commit — and I had an endless supply of handsome, wealthy men at my disposal.

One billionaire I met on a flight to New York pursued me relentlessly. He was in his late 30s and chubby, but when my friend told me his family owned football teams, I was intrigued.

Robert came to England a few times to try to woo me, but since he was such a public figure, he didn’t like going out, so we’d get room service — Champagne, chocolate-covered strawberries and oysters. But I wasn’t really into him, so it was on to the next one.

In Gatwick Airport en route to Vegas, I met a dapper doctor — a Hugh Grant look-alike with a posh British accent — named Stephen. I was convinced I’d found my husband.

“I’m ready to settle down with a genuine girl,” he told me over a quiet dinner.

As we walked hand-inhand to the hotel room, I could see myself marrying him, walking down the aisle as a doctor’s wife.

We had a steamy night of amazing sex, but when I woke up the next morning, he was gone.

I was heartbroken and humiliated.

Soon after that, I decided the high-flying life wasn’t enough for me anymore. I was tired of the rich men buying me Hermès scarves and Manolos instead of making real connections. I wanted real love.

In April 2008, instead of going to an exotic island for my vacation, I went to visit some old friends in Brighton. We were catching up over beers when a 6-foot-4 hunk came up to our group to buy everyone shots. Glenn was a former professional rubgy player, and as he chatted me up that night, we realized we had loads of friends in common.

“I play Xbox for a living,” he joked. “I earn a fortune.” The conversation was so comfortable — we just sparked.

For our first date, he took me to a local pub — no yachts or limos. And I knew right away that he was the one. He’s certainly no millionaire, but he’s got his own company selling corporate gym memberships. We were engaged after just 18 months of dating.

Now that I had found my Prince Charming I knew that I needed to say goodbye to my old, high-flying life. Six years ago, I took a buyout from Virgin.

Today, Glenn and I live in West Sussex with our 4-year-old daughter. I write full time and work for Glenn as his personal assistant.

We still travel from time to time, but I couldn’t be happier to have my feet on the ground with my family.

*Some names have been changed.

http://nypost.com/2015/06/29/i-had-sex-i...tewardess/

She's "happily married" now, but I bet she didn't disclose her sexual escapades to her husband while they were dating.

Little did he know that his hoe rode the cock carousel harder than Ron Turcotte rode Secretariat, and she only got tired of it after she kept getting played by rich men who she couldn't lock down other than for ball-draining sessions; here's one for the Captain who made her an honest woman:

Post: #2

I applaud the guy who strung her along into a pump-and-dump, then went on his merry way. Would've been a great story if Glenn had followed up, and the rest of her story was her struggling through an unbroken chain of pump-and-dumps.

For shame, man. Winning the genetic lottery ticket, having a successful sports career, and squandering it like that.

Post: #3

She went to an event hosted by billionaires and partied for 24 hours straight wired on "Red Bulls and vodka".

Sure.

Post: #4

I like how she wasn't interested in that late 30's chubby dude until she found out he was loaded. Girls have a go at men for being superficial and not caring about personality but they are just as bad when it comes to guys with money.

Post: #5

The fact that she thinks it's ok to even write this article as a married woman says it all.

Post: #6

(06-30-2015 02:06 AM)CrashBangWallop Wrote:  The fact that she thinks it's ok to even write this article as a married woman says it all.

She didn't write the article. Someone else did....about the entire book she wrote with the express purpose of explaining why her current husband is paying for a heavily used, pre-owned product.

(06-30-2015 01:59 AM)Roardog Wrote:  I like how she wasn't interested in that late 30's chubby dude until she found out he was loaded.

Should have called the book "Hypergamy at 5,000 Feet

[quote='Roardog' pid='1054880' dateline='1435647553']Girls have a go at men for being superficial and not caring about personality but they are just as bad worse when it comes to guys with money.

Fixed.

Post: #7

Quote:One billionaire I met on a flight to New York pursued me relentlessly. He was in his late 30s and chubby, but when my friend told me his family owned football teams, I was intrigued.

add this to women.txt

Post: #8

"meeting first-class billionaire suitors and joining the Mile High Club in a Cessna. Now 41, the happily married mom tells The Post’s Doree Lewak how after years of looking for love in the sky, she found it in her own back yard…"
"From the Caribbean to South Africa, I had a guy at every port."
"My favorite spot in Barbados was this club full of hot guys. One drunken night, I spotted a rugby team partying at a long table. I jumped on it and knocked back their drinks one by one. Later that night, back in my colleague’s hotel room, the hot tub collapsed because we had invited too many rugby players to join in the fun."
"I always brought some wild props with me — my suitcase was like a traveling sex shop."
I stayed up for 24 hours, wired on Red Bull and vodkas. At the end of the glam weekend, guests left with goody bags in hand — stuffed with condoms."
"Jonathan was flying me down to the Florida Keys in a two-seat Cessna when I decided to seize the moment. I climbed on top of him while he was flying and sealed the deal."
"We had fun together, but my relationship with Jonathan didn’t last. He didn’t want to commit — and I had an endless supply of handsome, wealthy men at my disposal."

How to Slut 101

We had a steamy night of amazing sex, but when I woke up the next morning, he was gone.
I was heartbroken and humiliated.

Post: #9

The fact that it's even possible to put a wedding ring on her finger sickens me. She has slightly higher marriage value than a heavily indebted prostitute.

Post: #10

Whoa whoa whoa! Did anyone notice this line?

Quote:I was spending my layover in Dubai lying by the pool at a five-star hotel when a server came over with a bottle of Dom Pérignon.

Don't care what she says, but there is a high probability she was shat on by that "handsome" sheik in all white clothing.

Post: #11

(06-30-2015 05:50 AM)The Beast1 Wrote:  Whoa whoa whoa! Did anyone notice this line?

Quote:I was spending my layover in Dubai lying by the pool at a five-star hotel when a server came over with a bottle of Dom Pérignon.

Don't care what she says, but there is a high probability she was shat on by that "handsome" sheik in all white clothing.

Or fucked by a German Shepherd and 14-year old boys.

Post: #12

Yeah but an air hostess has to spend time in Dubai - it's a major air hub. Much less suspicious than a non-hostess.

Post: #13

I want to see a picture of the chump that married her. Imagine how beaten down and sad this guy is? His shoulders are probably slumped over so far that he looks like one of those creepy ghosts from a Japanese horror movie.

Post: #14

Quote:I want to see a picture of the chump that married her. Imagine how beaten down and sad this guy is? His shoulders are probably slumped over so far that he looks like one of those creepy ghosts from a Japanese horror movie.

It's like playing a game of hot potato, except there's no timer. You only lose if you're stupid enough to keep the potato.

Post: #15

ask and you shall receive

Post: #16

(06-30-2015 06:14 AM)Peregrine Wrote:  

Quote:I want to see a picture of the chump that married her.

She married Matt Damon?

Post: #17

Quote:We had fun together, but my relationship with Jonathan didn’t last. He didn’t want to commit — and I had an endless supply of handsome, wealthy men at my disposal.

This guy saw her for the train wreck that she was and bounced.

Post: #18

"Happily married" women don't write tell-all books that brag about the sexual feasts they indulged in. Looks like she's doing this in an attempt to match the rush she received from her sexual adventures. Her dopamine receptors demand it.

Post: #19

Quote:We had fun together, but my relationship with Jonathan didn’t last. He didn’t want to commit — and I had an endless supply of handsome, wealthy men at my disposal.

Post: #20

(06-30-2015 07:41 AM)Suits Wrote:  

(06-30-2015 06:14 AM)Peregrine Wrote:  

Quote:I want to see a picture of the chump that married her.

She married Matt Damon?

He shares the same resemblance.

The image in post one is quite different than the image with the husband. Looks like a completely different woman. Makes me wonder if there's another "Mandy Smith" who's a flight attendant.

Post: #21

If her husband has half a brain, he'll cut and run after reading the book. How could you ever bring her to a family event or a work party?

Post: #22

(06-30-2015 01:29 AM)Hades Wrote:  She went to an event hosted by billionaires and partied for 24 hours straight wired on "Red Bulls and vodka".

Sure.

There are several details in this post that are suspect, just look at the comments in the linked story. People aren't buying it. Sex in a Cessna? No, that didn't happen. The other comments are worth checking out too.

I don't doubt she's a cheap ho that's done some scandalous shit. But this excerpt is written like a cheap tabloid whose sensationalist tone will no doubt titillate any number of bored career women.

Which leads me to conclude that there's still a huge market for this shit, it's right up there with 50 Shades of Grey. Men don't get off on this; most guys would find it disgusting. There are hordes of women that fantasize about this kind of lifestyle.

It's a telling insight into the dark soul of a woman that's "liberated". That this is an aspiration for women, to be the disposable party fucktoy to men of status and then eventually settle down with the boy next door, and then further attention whore for money through her exaggerated account. How you can be committed to someone like this is beyond me. I wonder if her husband had any inkling of any of this before he put a ring on it.

Post: #23

(06-30-2015 08:10 AM)Veloce Wrote:  I wonder if her husband had any inkling of any of this before he put a ring on it.

There's nothing he can do about it now. She's won.

Post: #24

(06-30-2015 07:57 AM)Roosh Wrote:  "Happily married" women don't write tell-all books that brag about the sexual feasts they indulged in. Looks like she's doing this in an attempt to match the rush she received from her sexual adventures. Her dopamine receptors demand it.

That, or she feels she has married beneath her, and she has come to resent him so much that she can't help but publicly humiliate him. She probably can't even articulate her own feelings, and her hamster worked overtime to convince her that getting it out there would be cathartic. This bitch is damaged.

Post: #25

Paraphrasing The Last Psychiatrist:

Quote:In America, everything is a commodity, everything has a price. So when post-gold standard capitalism gets access to everything except the secret desires of women, it will necessarily create a mechanism to get them, too. It took a decade but the system worked: This is the inevitable synthesis of feminism and Reaganomics, which is a sentence you will never read anywhere else.