Iron Maiden in the Sky with Mr. Salty Dawg’s Angels

Iron Maiden in the Sky with Mr. Salty Dawg’s Angels

Large Lad lay sprawled across a luxurious leather recliner, drool trailing down his chin, as Salty Dawg One soared through the African dawn sky towards Cape Town. The cabin was more like a five-star nightclub than a plane: neon blue ambient lights, a full bar stocked with premium liquor, plush velvet seats, and floor-to-ceiling windows giving panoramic views of the savannah far below.

His head still pounded like a war drum, but soon his ears perked up as the speakers crackled to life.

🎸 “White man came across the sea… he brought us pain and misery…” 🎸

It was Iron Maiden’s “Run to the Hills” blasting at full volume. Mr. Salty Dawg stood at the bar, nodding his salt-and-pepper head in rhythm, gold aviators gleaming under the LED strips. He poured himself a generous glass of aged Caribbean rum before striding over to Large Lad with a grin.

“Nothing like Maiden to blast the hangover demons out of your skull, Lad!”

Large Lad winced but forced a smile. “God, I love this song…” he croaked.

Mr. Salty snapped his fingers again. Instantly, four absolutely stunning women appeared from the private quarters at the back of the jet. Two blondes – one with ice-blue eyes and honey-tanned skin, the other with platinum hair cascading down her curves like liquid silver. A brunette with silky espresso hair and emerald-green eyes that glowed under the cabin lights. And a fiery redhead with freckles dusting her delicate nose and chest, her hair tied up in a messy bun that screamed sexy chaos.

All four wore tight white crop tops bearing the words “Salty’s Angels” in gold script, paired with tiny denim shorts that left very little to the imagination.

Large Lad’s mouth fell open. Even through his thumping headache, his groin twitched with faint hope.

Mr. Salty smirked. “Meet my angels, lad. Sierra, Nikita, Mia, and Ruby.”

The girls giggled in unison, each one giving Large Lad a little wave or a sultry smile. Sierra, the platinum blonde, handed him an ice-cold beer. Nikita, the brunette, plumped up his headrest and gently massaged his temples. Mia, the honey blonde, unbuttoned his Hawaiian shirt slightly to let his sweating chest breathe. Ruby, the redhead, sat at his feet, stroking his calves softly.

“Feeling better already, aren’t ya?” Mr. Salty laughed, raising his glass in salute.

Just then, the music changed. 🎸 “There goes the siren that warns of the air raid…” 🎸

Iron Maiden’s “Aces High” ripped through the cabin, bass vibrating the leather seats. Mr. Salty threw his head back and roared the lyrics, chest puffed out, commanding the cabin like a rock god.

“Run! Live to fly! Fly to live! Do or die!”

He gestured dramatically out the window where the morning sun blazed against the jet’s wings as it carved through golden clouds at 40,000 feet. The Angels jumped up, dancing around the cabin, hair flying, curves bouncing, their laughter ringing out over Bruce Dickinson’s vocals.

Large Lad tried to lift himself to join in, but his stomach lurched violently, forcing him back down. Nikita shushed him sweetly, wiping his sweaty forehead with a cold lavender towel while Sierra massaged his shoulders.

Mr. Salty Dawg, meanwhile, twirled Ruby around the bar area before dipping her low, pressing a kiss to her lips that made her moan softly.

“THIS,” he roared over the music, pointing to his Angels, his drink, and the party around him, “THIS is how we roll, Large Lad! Africa was just the beginning. Tonight, it’s my millionaire yacht in Cape Town harbour. Iron Maiden on the sound system, champagne towers, fireworks, and the most beautiful women in the southern hemisphere!”

Large Lad could only nod, eyes glazed with a cocktail of awe, exhaustion, lust, and pain.

As the Angels danced to Maiden, Mr. Salty poured another round, his gold chains glinting under the neon lights. Outside, dawn broke in glorious red and gold streaks across the sky.

Because with Mr. Salty Dawg, there was no such thing as rest – only life lived to the absolute fullest, at full throttle, with Iron Maiden screaming you into tomorrow.

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