Star Girl

by Alan VanMeter

  “I’m glad.”

  She rubs my leg as she drives us back to her place for more hot sex. “You really are baby. You are a bad-ass woman!”

  “You are a sexy woman Hiroki, the best.” I spread my legs and let her rub me.

  She becomes an instant fixation for me, and I am at her complete mercy sexually, even though I do dominate in bed. She can get me to do anything she wants it seems, and I like it. Soon I have to go back for duty, but I tell her I would like to spend my next days off with her, and that I will bring the jet again. She is down for that.

  I get so involved with her so quickly that I start to miss the off duty day war games of the squadron. The guys don’t make a big deal of it, other than to say they miss me, honestly. I tell them that I have a hot relationship developing, and they just smile from ear to ear, all of them. They all know; when you got some hot loving waiting for you, go get it!

  Over the next couple of weeks though, I can sense that Hiroki is losing interest in me some. She just doesn’t greet me with squeals and kisses any longer. We are still very sexually involved, but I can tell that I am losing her. Then the next off duty day that I call her, she breaks up with me on the phone. Explaining that she is still into guys too much to leave them alone, and that she found a guy. It hurts like hell. I was starting to see a possible long distance future with her, and god do I miss her tight sexy body, and that face of an angel. The guys can all tell I was jilted, and they are extra gentle with me for a while.

  It takes me a long time to stop hurting from it. I realize that I will always miss her, and our love together. Then as I am evaluating my almost non-extant love life; the thought that maybe I am not destined for love, or even sex, nests in my head. I’ve lived without it for so long anyway, I might as well just accept the fact that it isn’t going to happen for me. Can I live with that though? Yes… I’m goddamn tough! This brings me back to the wonderful world of the great honchos around me fully, and the amazing dogfight games we have.

  My squadron is celebrating the fourth of July with a party at the lounge. This is my first fourth celebration here, and I decide to wear my Grandpa Joe’s old bomber jacket to it. The fellows haven’t seen it yet, as I only wear it very occasionally. When I walk in they all greet me with a chorus of “Stephanie!” then Dan comes over with Ed to see my jacket, and I proudly display the colorful back emblem to them.

  “Holy mackerel! Look at this boys! Where on earth did you get this from Steph?” Ed is instantly excited.

  “It was my Grandpa’s, he gave it to me for a graduation present from the Academy. You like?”

  Dan nods approval with a big smile. “Now this is old school rocket jockey paraphernalia here. The three sixty sixth huh. Let’s see, wings too! Those aren’t pilot wings though… hey fellows, here’s an old pair of wings from an electronic countermeasures officer.”

  All the other guys are already joining us by the door for a look.

  “That is really something Steph.”

  I’ve got their paws all over the jacket, but I don’t mind. I love my guys.

  It isn’t long before they also outfit me with dark aviator glasses, and an old sweat stained cowboy hat that hangs on the wall, left by some old honcho from years faded past. Then Ed has to top it off by handing me a cigar.

  “Now you look the part pilot!” He laughs, and everyone joins in. I look at myself in the mirror, and son-of-a-bitch I look tough.

  So I quickly develop a mock gravelly voice and start having fun with the boys, making like one of them, or more as a composite sort of character. This takes on a life of its own though.

  “Where’s my goddamn drink? One of you shysters make off with it, goddamn it? I earned that damned drink you slimy pukes… two freaking tours! I earned that son-of-a-bitch!” I get them all rolling with that shit. “They pin a damn ribbon on my chest telling how proud they are of me, and then one of you bastards takes my drink!”

  Just as I am getting going, and the fellows are all in stitches; Beck, the old man, and a couple other of the staff officers enter to join the party. I can see right away that they don’t recognize me just by their curious looks my way, so I decide to really have some fun.

  “Is this you bastard’s CO here? You ought to be ashamed of yourself old man! These boys are totally out of control… way over the damn deep end. And you let them get this way! What the hell were you thinking man?” I grumble with my gravelly voice and head over to the bar, facing away from them. I hear it though.

  “Who the hell is that? Is he one of your friends? Well I really don’t like that sawed off sack of shit.” The old man growls as Dan tells him to relax, choking on laughter himself.

  I see the bartender take a tray of drinks over to the old man and company.

  “Where’s my goddamn drink? You bastards…two tours!” I grumble loudly, chewing on the cigar. Then I wait to see the barkeep come back with an empty tray. I turn and approach the old man who is holding his fresh drink and glaring at me.

  “Why you low down, good fer nothing snake! There’s my damn drink!” I deftly and quickly pluck the glass from the CO’s hand, and turn on my heel towards the bar.

  “You son-of-a…”

  I hear Dan say my name, laughing hard.

  “What? Romero?” The old man asks.

  I turn to remove the sunglasses, and I smile real big at the Colonel, the old man, and I give him a wink.

  “Romero! You bastard!” he howls, and then, “You beautiful goddamned bastard! I love it!” he busts up as does everyone else. The party is epic. Of course we take a bunch of pictures too, so the event is commemorated properly, and especially a squadron group photo.

  Within a couple days I see the squadron picture hanging on the wall of the lounge, where all the other old squadron photos are displayed. There I am with the bomber jacket, the dark aviator glasses, the cowboy hat, and that big nasty cigar; giving a thumbs up with the guys. I guess that is how I will be remembered here.

  I am now always in on the war games again, as I was always invited to be. I still miss Hiroki fiercely, but the aerial combat games do make me forget her while I’m playing. So I play a lot. Sometimes just me and one other pilot competing. Finally I shoot down Dan. He was the hardest of them all. Though they all still get me much more than I could ever repay, so when I do get one of them it is note-worthy. Colonel Dan congratulates me right after the flight with a sharp salute, followed by a firm, friendly handshake.

  “Nice flying Captain. I saw it coming, and I did try to do everything I could to prevent it, you are the better pilot… today.” He grins with pride.

  “Yeah you did.” I nod my head… “Sir.”

  I am qualified on all the birds except one by this time, and I have been bugging them to put me on the Blackbird for months now. They just keep hemming and hawing, saying sure they would, but then they just forget about it. I sure don’t. Finally one fine morning in December, Dan meets me at breakfast in his full dress uniform, and asks me to go with him to the lounge. I go in behind him and see that the whole squadron, the old man, Beck, and several other staff officers are all in dress uniform. I feel out of place as I am wearing my camouflaged BDU today. The old man calls me front and center to attention, and he presents me with my oak leafs, making me a damn Major! I’m not quite twenty six now, so yet again I guess I’m destined to break records.

  Dan explains to me after all the staff have left, that they have a rule about flying the Blackbird. Majors and up only. They had to buck my promotion way early so I could qualify on the bird. Because we are in the lounge I give him a big hug and a tender kiss on his cheek. Of course all the other guys are lining up for this special treatment too, and I hug and kiss all my family of wonderful guys.

  The very next morning Dan takes me out to the Blackbird, and gives me ground school the old way again, as they always do. Then he takes me to a locker room in the back of the hangar, and he fits me for a pressure suit and space helmet. He doesn’t just hand me they keys as be
fore on all the other birds, no, he takes me up for the first ride, and he is explaining the utterly complex flight envelope of the bird. It is a very narrow envelope, and the bird has to be flown at high speed, and high altitude to be anywhere near the optimal parameters.

  Dan takes me way out over the Pacific and up, and up, and up. Pretty soon I can see the curvature of the Earth easily, and blue sky turns to black space. The Blackbird is almost a space vehicle, very close. A sub-orbital craft as Dan says. It is over too quickly and we descend from heaven back down to the planet.

  “So do you think you can remember all the critical protocol Romero?”

  “Not just yet sir. Maybe after another ride. This thing is intense.”

  “Rodger that.”

  It takes me two more rides before I have the flight parameters and procedure in basic grasp. My first time piloting was the best yet though. The Blackbird is now my very favorite. I send another e-mail to my other mom, Major Hanford, telling her that I now am qualified on the Blackbird. This she at least believes, and is very proud of me. She says the whole squadron still misses me and they all give me their love. I of course, had said similar in my letter.

  One day late the next October, Dan gets me alone at the lounge.

  “Steph, what are your long term goals? Are you wishing to stay here and retire from the squadron some day?”

  “No Dan. I love it here, and most especially I love you guys, but I can’t see getting fat on my ass here for twenty years.”

  He nods with a big grin. “We have had a couple of younger thirty year old pilots come through here before Steph, never one as young as you.” He shakes his head. “They are not being given an early retirement like us old gas bags are. You are not being given an early retirement either. There is another place… a place for the very special youth to go.”

  I hear him loud and clear, five by five! “YES!” I grab his firm muscular shoulders and I massage his muscles deeply as my face is wide with want. “Yes! Oh yes, oh yes…Oh please Dan… yes! That is the goddamn ticket I want punched! Please! Oh please oh please.”

  He is chuckling and yet he is also relaxing his muscles with my grasp. “Ohhh…Okay… you got it Steph…ahhh.”

  I look him deep in the eyes to make sure.

  “Yes Romero! Okay? You better let go now…as I don’t know if I can resist.” He grits his teeth and I see the lust in his eyes. I let go quickly, it surprises me… from a fatherly figure to me… but then I surely know Dan is all man indeed. My mind does a somersault as I see his crotch is making a big damn tent, oh my god. I want to tell him to think of the Queen, or baseball, but he gets up and turns from me, then adjusting himself.

  “Dan. I want this more than anything, please.”

  “You got it Romero. The sky is no longer the limit for you.” He turns back around and gives me a big grin, the way he used to, and the lust is gone from his eyes. “One thing though Steph. This is a permanent assignment. You will retire from that duty station. There is no coming back once you are there.”

  I nod smiling.

  I get my transfer orders, but they don’t say where I am being transferred to, no surprise there. I have one last week with my wonderful, virile old honchos. We don’t have but two war games before my last day, instead the guys all want to hang out and talk, and have a drink or two. So I let them drink, and I talk mostly, as I do love to run my mouth.

  “It’s too bad we don’t get to have nicknames like the Navy does.”

  “Oh, no. No, we are not like those salty seamen Steph. They need nick names because they don’t want people to know who they really are. We don’t need them because we are actual serious pilots. Besides, who the hell wants to be called Colonel ‘Bozo’ anyway?”

  That makes me laugh. “But we could have cool nicknames you know. I always wanted to be called Jet Girl.”

  “Jet Girl huh? I don’t think so Steph.” Dan shakes his head.

  “Oh come on! That’s a good one.”

  “Nope, I would say you got it all wrong. Not Jet Girl, but rather Star Girl, seeing as what lay ahead for you, perhaps.”

  The other guys all chime in saying it, and oops, it seems to be sticking.

  I like it, as it does have a catchy ring to it.

  The morning of my last day Dan meets me at breakfast, and tells me to eat light, as we have one last war game today. He then takes me out to the flight line after I change into my flight suit. The other guys are all there waiting for us, as is a very nasty bird. There is a Mig twenty nine Fulcrum on the tarmac as well today, and as we park I see a familiar face. I get out with huge shit eating grin and stride up to my old friend Colonel Tucker, and I snap him a sharp salute. He returns it and shakes my hand.

  “Damn good to see you again Major Romero, how have you been?”

  “Excellent! Outstanding Colonel. Thanks, and how about you?”

  “Never better.”

  “For a rusty old screw!” Ed adds in there with a chuckle.

  Tucker laughs.

  “So you came to play with us did you Colonel?” I ask.

  “Oh, this is where I sharpen my skills Major. I try to get out here more often, but duty so often calls. However, I didn’t come here today for a refresher.” He shakes his head with a grin. “I came out today for my last chance at sweet revenge Romero. I am going to smoke your damn tail pilot!”

  “Oh, it’s like that is it? All friendly one minute and now you want a piece of me.”

  He laughs. “Down here Major, we will be the very best of friends, but up there.” He points up casually. “Your ass is mine.”

  That makes me chuckle. “Oh goody, I get to shoot down another Mig.”

  With the trash talking done, we all get our teams together and make battle plans before lifting off. My bird for the day is a Falcon, and I can’t wait to show Major Tucker what I can do now. Of course we all engage as we would in a real situation, first come first served, but soon I see the Fulcrum turning to come for me. It’s on.

  Our dogfight becomes so heated that all the other guys back off and just watch the fun. Colonel Tucker just keeps pressing, and pressing to maneuver in on my tail, no matter what I do he just keeps coming, relentlessly. He really does desperately want a piece of my ass, but I don’t want to let him have it. Several times both of our birds brush the ground dangerously close, and yet we keep fighting. I almost have him a couple times, but he is so damn slippery, just like I remember he was before. Finally he pulls a maneuver that I have never seen before, one that melts my damn mind. He seems to almost let me start to get an angle on his six, but then he pops up vertical, and somehow manages to get his Fulcrum to actually somersault through the air! It slows his airspeed so quickly that I over shoot, and as I do; I can’t help but to be mesmerized by the stunt, just looking back in sheer awe at the impossible spectacle. Too late I realize he just pulled out of his somersaulting and is right on my six. An instant later my text alerts box tells me that I have just got my ass shot down, again.

  Back on the tarmac I shake my head at him in awe.

  “You got to be kidding me?”

  He laughs. “It was the only thing I could think of to get you Major. You are a goddamn slippery pilot!”

  It makes my crispy, sore ass feel a little better.

  That night the squadron threw me a farewell party, and Tucker was there too. As were all the staff. It was the second time in my life when I got drunk, but it wasn’t as bad as the first time, because Dan cut me off when I started stumbling. It was a good time, and one that I will keep close to me for its warmth.

  Chapter 8

  Midmorning I catch my flight from Edwards, to the desert north of Las Vegas. We land at Groom Lake Air Force base, which doesn’t exist, officially anyhow. It’s here, and so am I. A Lieutenant meets me, and takes me to my quarters. This BOQ is much like the one at Edwards, first class all the way. After I unpack, I go back down to have the Lieutenant take me to report to my new CO.

  My new Commanding Officer
is a one star general by the name of Johnson. He has me take a seat after I salute him.

  “Welcome to Groom Lake, or Area 51, which ever you wish to call it. Just never say those words off base ever. Is that understood?”

  “Yes sir. Five by five.”

  “Now, we have already had a very thorough background check performed on you Major. The rest of your clearance process will be handled by the FBI, after I’m done with you.”

  Oh shit… that means they know I’m gay. Damn, I hope I didn’t just screw up by taking this assignment.

  “You will be spending the next few days with ground school on the new craft you will be flying. After you are quickly qualified, as I have read your outstanding record Major, you will be flying every duty day, all day long. This isn’t like that country club you came from, we work here. We have a normal five day duty week, with additional duty quite often. Sleep when you can, eat when you can, and stay in shape on your down time. We need healthy, capable pilots because our task, as you will soon see; is huge. The things you will experience here will boggle your mind Major. If you have any concerns at all about anything, please let me know. There are some things which I may not discuss with you though, as everything out here is on a strict need to know basis. Any questions?”

  “No sir.”

  “Good, then the Lieutenant will take you to be sworn in and badged next. Get some chow and some rest afterwards, then we will start you on the ground school at oh seven hundred tomorrow. Dismissed.”

  The FBI guys finger print me, take retinal scans, DNA sample, hair sample, blood, CAT scans, and even a urine sample. Then they swear me to the utmost secrecy and have me sign the consent forms. Finally an agent comes and hands me my badge.

  “Welcome to tomorrow land Major.”

  With that the Lieutenant takes me to the chow hall, and asks if I would mind if he ate with me. I don’t.

  “You are going to love it here Major. Just the craft you get to fly alone.” He smiles.