by Alina Sawyer
The End.
Fly Girl
The weather warmed with the oncoming spring. Steve worked as an instructor at a small flight school. He used to be a good instructor, but took a hiatus and only recently returned to the profession. He could make the technical sound simple, was patient and rarely got ruffled. Now he had a steady schedule of students, enjoyed himself, and found the process as fulfilling as ever. The pay was lousy, but the rewards made up for it.
He lived on the airport, making due in a small block building. Simple and convenient, it suited his new, streamlined lifestyle as he tried "to find himself." It could get a little lonely, but relationships seemed troublesome for him. Oh, well, he thought, it's okay for now. He sighed. Besides, it's not like some great girl is just gonna drop from heaven.
Steve paused at the door of the terminal building and searched the empty northern sky.
"Any word, yet?" he asked as he entered to lobby.
"Not yet—but she ought to be calling in any minute," Tom answered from behind the counter.
"Coffee fresh?"
"'Bout two hours old."
"Close enough." Steve shuffled down the hall toward the pot. As he poured, the radio came to life.
"Augusta Unicom, Cessna eight-four-two-alpha-alpha, airport advisory, please."
"Hey, Steve—"
"Yeah, I heard."
Tom picked up the radio microphone. "Two-alpha-alpha, this is Augusta Unicom. Wind is zero-two-zero at seven, favoring runway three. No reported traffic." Tom released the mike button.
Steve whined, "C'mon, man, don't keep a poor flight instructor in suspense!"
Tom ginned. "Don't ya trust her?"
"Don't make me hurt you." Steve smiled and sipped his coffee.
"Well?" the counter man asked into the mike.
"Augusta traffic, Private Pilot Stephanie five north, inbound for landing." Her smile carried over the radio waves.
"Hot damn," Steve cheered. Stephanie was his first student as a born-again flight instructor. Her process, just as with anyone who learned to fly, had been hard work, joys and setbacks. But she had persevered. He felt so proud of her.
Steve and Tom were outside as the Cessna touched down in a textbook landing.
"That looked nice," Tom observed.
Steve grunted agreement.
The airplane breezed across the ramp and stopped at its parking spot. The propeller clacked to a halt, the door popped open and a pretty, freshly minted pilot stepped onto the ground. The two men clapped loudly. They could see her blushing and grinning from a hundred feet away.
"Thanks," she called, throwing them a self-conscious wave. With a flip of her curly brown ponytail, she turned and began tying down the airplane.
"Find me when you're done," Steve called to her.
"Okay," she nodded before she resumed her task. He told her often enough to take care of her airplane. It satisfied him to see her doing just that.
A few minutes later, Stephanie met Steve in the break room. He was rinsing out his coffee cup.
"Hey, congratulations!"
"Thanks, Teach." She flashed a perfect smile; her face altered from long to beautiful. Her eyes always seemed happy, but now they glowed a just bit brighter. She reached behind her and loosened her hair. He glanced at her breasts. She shook her head and brunette curls cascaded like a waterfall across her shoulders.
He refocused himself with an effort and resumed his role as her teacher and mentor. "Well, lemme see it!"
She fished in her back pocket, pulled out her temporary airman's certificate, and waved it at him. "God, I'm sooo excited. It was great!" Then she prattled on about the details of her checkride in a singsong monologue. Steve listened and grinned.
"Hey, guys," Tom yelled down the hallway. "I'm goin' home. Can you lock up?"
"No problem," Steve assured him. "G'night."
"See ya manana. Congrats, Steph!"
"Thanks, Tom."
They heard the door latch and the lock rasp home. Stephanie appeared to have lost her train of thought. Steve noticed a fleeting expression in her blue-gray eyes.
"Okay, so in celebration I buy my students dinner when they get their licenses. You interested?"
"Sure," she answered without hesitation. "You choose the place, and I'll drive."
"No, you choose. It's part of the tradition. And we should probably drive ourselves 'cause I have to come back here."
"That's right—you live out back, huh?" she asked.
Steve nodded.
"Okay. Well, I like the Seaside Inn—"
"Is that your favorite place?"
"No, my favorite's Marcello's."
Steve smiled but felt his wallet flinch. Marcello's offered the best Mediterranean cuisine in town—and was the most expensive restaurant as well.
"Marcello's it is."
"Oh, no, Steven." He adored the way her mouth moved when she pronounced his name. Steve fought a powerful urge to taste her pursed lips. "It's sooo expensive."
"No," he replied, holding up a hand. "It's part of the tradition."
She beamed at him. "Okay!"
"Good. Let me lock up and I'll meet you in the parking lot. I'll follow you, okay?"
"'Kay."
Steve let her out, locked the terminal door and climbed into his rust-sprinkled Honda. He pulled through the airport gate to the parking lot where Stephanie waited. Her car slid out front and drove away in a cloud of exhaust. Steve followed.
He enjoyed flying with her. She was a good pilot, and used wise judgment combined with a light, sure touch on the controls. Apparently, all that got left behind once she exited the airport grounds because the ride was more than a little wild. After two near misses and running a red light in vain attempts to keep up, Steve backed off and went to the restaurant himself. When he parked she met him with amused expression.
"You drive like a grandma," she teased.
"Yeah, I can see the headlines now. 'Flight Instructor Killed in Car Crash.' No thanks. If you flew like that, young lady—"
"Oooo, getting kinda 'daddy' with me, aren't ya, Steven?"
"No—"
She flashed a mock pout and held a finger to her lower lip. "Don't spank me for being a bad girl—daddy!"
"Jeez, stop it, okay?" Steve found his budding thoughts of role-play arousing. And a little bit frightening.
"You sure—daddy?"
He laughed. "Please, quit?"
"Okay." Again she beamed. Steve felt his chest warm. It triggered a vague memory.
He had spent quite a bit of time with this woman over the past several months. But the flirting and the increased familiarity were quite new. He always took great pains to avoid becoming overly familiar. Besides, his recent divorce left him uncertain.
But now she—they—felt very different. The relationship had taken a sudden lurching turn that threatened to upset his balance. Now that she had completed her training and had her license, they were no longer instructor and student. Did that mean they could explore other options? His mind still wrestled with itself when she waved a hand and told him, "Let's go—I'm famished."
She spun and strode toward the entrance. Once more, Steve played catch-up, but this time he watched the sway of her hips and bottom. It stirred him, and he pictured her gorgeous ass naked in his hands while they ground themselves together.
He decided right then. He desperately wanted to know Stephanie on a more intimate basis. He hoped it might become very, very intimate indeed.
* * * * * * *
After they ordered appetizers, the conversation roamed. They got to know a little more about each other. They chatted and laughed and relaxed.
At one point his face picked up the light just so, and his head turned just right. He looked so much like her first big crush back in high school. She obsessed about "her guy" and practically threw herself at him, but he had ignored her advances. Stephanie sometimes sat in class with her legs crossed and manipulated herself. Once she even came as she ga
zed at Mr. Jenkins. She got an A in his math class, but she had yearned for so much more.
Her legs crossed under the dinner table and the top one swung back and forth. The corners of her lips curled at the sensations.
Across from her and with the last vestiges of his reserve gone, Steven's mind strayed to carnal thoughts. He wondered if he was ready to be with someone again. The fear that this was the one chance butted headlong with the fear that he might get the girl only to lose her. The last couple of months had underscored his loneliness, but the possibility of loss interfered. Shit, he chastised himself, we haven't even gotten anywhere. Yet? His mind pictured her completely nude and his gaze strayed to her chest—
"Sorry, what?" he asked, startled.
"Hmmm. I'd like to know what you were just thinking."
"Careful what you wish for," he quipped. "Sorry, what were you saying?"
"I asked how long you've had this dinner tradition?"
"Oh, that. Well, actually—um—you're the first."
She laughed.
Steve continued, "But I always wanted to do this for my students. Even back when I first started instructing. I just couldn't afford it then."
"Well, if you keep taking them to places like this, you may not be able to afford it now," she said.
He replied with a rueful grin.
"Let's split this, okay?"
"No, you're my guest. It's okay, really. Besides, I'm very proud of you."
"Thanks, Teach," She reached for his knee and squeezed. "Or should I say, 'daddy'?"
"I thought you were going to stop that," he said under his breath, but his tone was too playful.
Stephanie smiled at him for a few more delightful seconds. She removed her hand from his leg.
The oysters arrived. Stephanie picked up the nearest one, smeared some horseradish sauce on it, and licked the delicate folded edge as she stared into Steven's face. She took her time retracting her white-tipped tongue, then laughed at his glazed, open-mouthed expression.
"Gotcha!" she giggled.
He was just able to shut his jaw.
"So, want to hear about the checkride?"
"Please. Anything to maintain my dignity."
They discussed the oral questions and some of the answers that troubled her. He thought she did well, even now when she expressed uncertainty. The flying presented her with fewer problems, just as Steve had expected. He had spent enough time with her in the Cessna to know she flew well.
They talked through the entree, and into dessert. They were still chatting through a second round of coffee when the server asked if they wanted anything else.
"No, just the check," Steve prompted. When it arrived they had a brief tussle over it.
"No, Stephanie, this is my treat."
"C'mon, Steven. Let's at least split it—"
"No."
"Then let me leave the tip?"
"Okay," he sighed, a little relieved.
When they walked out, the darkness surprised them both. The late hour had arrived so quickly.
"Well, I better get going," he told her. Neither one moved.
"Thanks for dinner. It was great."
"You're welcome." Steve had been struck dumb. "Well, I better get going."
"Okay," she said. She took a step closer.
"I'm proud of you. Getting your license is a big deal."
"Thanks," she replied with restrained intensity. Then she hugged him around the neck and kissed his cheek. He turned into her, surprised to find her lips on his. The next moment he kissed her, really kissed her. He felt the mounds of her breasts pressing against his chest. Her tongue traced the edge of his mouth and he responded. When she noticed, she whimpered and pushed her thigh into his growing hardness. His tongue toyed with hers before he pulled away, pupils wide and breath rapid.
"Wow," she giggled.
"What was—Stephanie, sorry. That was, well, I mean, that was great, but I shouldn't have. I'm sorry—"
"For what?' she asked. Her arms encircled his neck and their bodies pressed together. He stirred and she smiled. "You're not apologizing for that, are you?" she asked as she rubbed her thigh between his legs.
"Stephanie, look, this isn't what—"
"Steven, I passed my checkride today." She looked at him to let it register. "You're not my instructor anymore. Remember?"
"Oh, yeah, I know. But— No, you're right. But—" But, his inner voice asked, is this too soon—too soon for someone who's not good at relationships?
"But—what?"
"Well, I only got divorced a few months ago."
"You married now?"
"No, the papers were finalized—"
"Good, that's settled." She released her grip and taunted, "Race you back to your place." She turned on her heels and trotted to her car. She thought, In yer face, Mr. Jenkins!
"Uh, oh," he mumbled to himself through a stupid grin. He had just unlocked his Honda when Stephanie's Mustang bolted from the parking lot. Its tires chattered under heavy acceleration.
* * * * * * *
Steve's place had fulfilled several roles over the years, though it had never been a home. But after the divorce Steven's housing need coincided with the flight school's desire to have a "night watchman." Some radios had been stolen from three airplanes late one evening; thus a symbiosis was born.
Steve let Stephanie in and her eyes darted to the ceiling. There, hanging in all sorts of flight poses, were dozens of model aircraft and spaceships. The back wall was completely hidden behind a huge bookcase. Rows and rows of flying text, pilot biographies, aircraft manuals, aerial histories, and bird books crammed into every sliver until she thought the case might explode in a shower of confetti. She turned her head sideways to read some of the spines.
A workbench had been built around three walls when a small maintenance shop occupied the building. The surfaces' new roles were counter space and desks. There was a small microwave and dormitory-style fridge that made up his kitchen. The bathroom and shower in the neighboring terminal building provided the missing facilities. The floor was oiled concrete hidden beneath a patchwork of area rugs that dressed up an otherwise ugly surface.
"You want something to drink?" Steven asked her. "I've got some sodas, juice, coupla beers..."
"What kind of pops?"
"Coke, ginger ale, Fresca—"
"Original Fresca?"
"Yep."
"That's good for me," she answered. She pulled a book on eagles from the case and began to thumb through it. She heard two cans open and felt him come up behind her. Her heart beat faster, but she remained with her back to him as she flipped pages without seeing them.
"Eagles are amazing flyers," he murmured close to her ear. She trembled at the tone of his voice. "In fact, they even mate on the wing." God, he thought, that sounded so damned lame!
"Really?" She pictured herself as a raptor, high above the Earth, coupled with a powerful male. They came together in bliss as the ground rushed up at them. Her swollen labia throbbed.
"Yeah. Can you imagine? Feathers blowing and wings beating as you and your partner tumble through the sky. The freedom! The urge to mate much stronger than the fear of crashing." She feigned a swoon and pressed against his lean body. One of his arms encircled her waist and steadied her. He pulled her closer and she felt his bulge insinuate itself between the cheeks of her ass. With a low moan, she pressed tighter into him.
"You want your soda?" he croaked.
"Shit, no!" she growled in a passionate whisper. She barely set the book down, spun around and was in his arms. She stretched and found his mouth. Her lips and tongue attacked him in a long, wet kiss. She clung to him and ground her tummy into his erection. Then she leaned back, unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it from his body. Steven managed to set down the two cans and the shirt fell from his arms. He grabbed her bottom and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist. The curve of his erection fitted to her and she pumped her hips up and down.
"Mmm h
mmm!" she breathed around their kiss. She established a rhythm that pleased her. Her body jerked from raw shock as her clit bumped against his cock.
Steve gasped. He wanted to rip her clothes off and fill her in an instant, but he was patient. The anticipation would increase their pleasure. Now he just had to transmit that message to his lower body.
She broke the kiss and leaned back. Stephanie stared right through him. Her pupils flared wide and her mouth hung open as she fought for breath. She grabbed the back of Steve's head and told him, "God, I've wanted you since that intro flight. Eight long months. Didn't you know how much I wanted you to fuck me?" His cock twitched as she uttered the word, "fuck," and she smiled
"God, Stephanie, I wanted you, too. But—I just, I couldn't."
She rolled her hips and more electricity whipped through her. She fought a sublime shudder and asked, "Couldn't, what?"
"I couldn't take advantage of the instructor/student relationship. It would've been a violation of your trust."
"Hmmm." She smiled. "I think there might be a 'violation' in your immediate future, mister man."
Steve chuckled in spite of himself. When he thrust upward into her steamy pit and her eyes closed, he knew she was right. "Besides, I'm lots older," he continued.
Her eyes eased half open and locked onto his. "Not lots older."
"Forty-four."
"I know. And I'm twenty-six, so that's not lots older. And if I don't care, why should you?"
"And I'm divorced," he went on, but groaned when she pressured his throbbing tip.
"As long as you're not married right now." She kissed him again with her eyes open and fixed on his. Her passion rose in leaps.
Steve's mind refused to let go of the last vestige of worry. He worried that he wanted to be with Stephanie, but they would end up just like his failed marriage. He worried that he might disappoint her. Then she kissed him, and he worried that he might cum if she kept grinding on him the way she was at that moment.
He pulled his mouth from hers. "If you don't stop that—"
"What? You're gonna cum?" Stephanie finished for him.
"Yeah," he hissed.