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Temporary Girlfriend: The Flight Instructors Ch. 01

By: Romantic1



This is the second sequel to the Temporary Girlfriend series. The main characters have been introduced in the initial story and, if you're new to this series, you will find your enjoyment enhanced by reading that first. Please vote and comment. Enjoy life.

*

"November One Bravo Foxtrot descend and maintain one-six-thousand feet."

My voice rang out clear and strong as I replied to Kansas City Center, "One Bravo Foxtrot out of Flight Level two-four-zero for one-six-thousand."

"Nicely done, Megan. Now, what would you do with an engine fire on descent?" Greg asked.

Greg was my flight instructor at the Cessna Flight Center where I'd been in the process of learning about the Cessna Citation. I'd flown in this aircraft many times before and even joined the Mile High Club in it. Now I'd been getting a 'type' certification for this particularly high performance aircraft added to my 'ticket'. A 'ticket' is pilot slang for their FAA pilot's license and all the extra ratings they've gotten.

A month before I'd culminated a couple of months of intense study with a week at the Cessna Flight Center getting my commercial-instrument and multi-engine ratings. I had to take a flight test for each of those, although I combined the first two ratings in one program. After completing my training on the Cessna Citation I would take a check ride with an FAA examiner and get signed off for the sophisticated jet.

Greg, one of my flight instructors on the Citation and the one riding in the co-pilot's seat today, continued to look at me expectantly after he'd posed the question.

I started to crisply reply from memory the checklist items I'd memorized, "Announce engine fire to crew and passengers; identify defective engine," I pointed to the engine instrument cluster in the center of the panel and overhead identifying how I'd ensure I knew which engine had the problem, "shut down defective engine; discharge fire retardant system for that engine; pull written checklist that includes the following key items: identify nearest suitable airport; advise ATC; begin emergency descent; ..." I continued.

Greg took notes as I talked. In the meantime the sleek ten-passenger jet descended with all engines intact at normal speed towards one-six-thousand feet.

I'd managed to draw Greg Bellsen as my instructor the month before and sometimes his also hunky sidekick Dave Lafontaine. Like my boyfriend, both guys were 'easy on the eyes'. They had square-jaws, trim weight, muscular arms and tight buns as displayed by the tight dark slacks they usually wore. I noticed things like that -- including the occasional bulge they got in the 'right' place.

The jet I flew belonged to the Bannock Foundation -- a charitable and philanthropic organization my boyfriend-fiancée, Josh, headed and ran. Josh wanted me to be fully qualified on the jet so we could fly together to Europe, the Middle East and Africa in a few months on the Foundation's business and a bit of holiday -- even an extension of our honeymoon.

Josh and I were to be married in Andover, Massachusetts, in mid-May in the chapel at Phillips Academy. Josh had gone to school there and my family loved the idea of our marriage occurring on the picturesque campus. Except for a few final details my wedding had been mostly planned by one of my lovers -- Katelyn. She also happened to be Josh's sister and one the objects of his affection as well. We shared a lot, including both his sisters -- and their husbands -- and their friends -- and in one case the sister's wife from their ménage a trois.

Josh and I met ten months earlier at a Starbucks near our respective jobs. The next day he asked me to be his 'temporary girlfriend'. A week later, after learning of our shared philosophy about love, life and body-mind-spirit, he asked me to marry him. I accepted, however, I chose to retain the title of 'temporary girlfriend' since I liked it's catchy sound. It also inspired discussion when I used it to refer to myself or my relationship to Josh and usually ended with a renewed affirmation of his love for me -- something I never got tired of hearing,

"One Bravo Foxtrot turn right to one-six-zero degrees, descend to fiver-thousand. Contact Approach on one-two-four-decimal-five," the radio requested in my headset.

"Kansas City, One Bravo Foxtrot is through one-six-thousand to fiver thousand turning to one-six-zero for the heading and over to Approach on twenty-four-five," I replied to ATC. I checked in with Approach.

Greg said, "You're radio work is flawless, Megan. Now, tell me the key speeds for this aircraft in its landing configuration?"

I replied, "There are many of them. V-LE is the maximum landing gear extended speed or one-ninety knots; V-MC the minimum control speed with critical engine inoperative speed -- about ninety-five; V-REF the landing reference speed or, today, one-hundred-twenty-on knots; ..." I thought of about a dozen more key speeds and told him. 

Greg smiled at me. I'd caught him glancing at my legs, however. I'd chosen to wear a skirt for my more recent flights and training sessions, in part because I know I have good-looking legs and I wanted to tease Greg or Dave a little. Usually as soon as I got situated in the plane, I hiked my skirt up a few inches over my knees as though that gave me some extra flexibility. The last two days I'd been able to reveal my shapely thighs right up to my lacy underwear by careful adjustment of how I sat. 

I'd also given up wearing a bra during my lessons. I wanted my instructors to see the excitement I felt during various parts of our lessons, particularly when our hands touched over the controls in some way.

The radio came alive again and Wichita Approach Control came on, "One Bravo Foxtrot descend and maintain 3,000 feet; cleared for the ILS Runway One Right approach." I repeated the clearance back to ATC and put the Jeppesen approach plate into the clip on the yoke. I'd flown the approach twice before this week so expected no surprises.

I lost the excess altitude and made a smooth intercept of the inbound course on the ILS -- the instrument landing system. I'd successfully added flaps at all the right parts of our descent, and now, just as we started to capture the glide slope, I lowered the gear and re-trimmed the aircraft. I could have had the autopilot handle the flying duties, however, Greg and David were having me handle every maneuver and adjustment manually since is what the examiner in the check ride would expect.

A few minutes later the beautiful jet dropped below the cloud deck and set down flawlessly on the Wichita runway. Tower handed me off to ground control and we taxied in and stopped at the Flight Safety Cessna Training Center.

Greg watched me go through the shutdown checklist, verbally calling off each item. 

"Who taught you to do your checklists verbally?" he asked.

"Josh," I replied. Greg knew Josh from some training he'd taken there a couple of years earlier in the same airplane. Josh had taken a refresher from Greg for two days while I'd been working on my multi-engine rating in a rented Cessna 421. He also knew that Josh had coached me in various aspects of the large jet over the past half-year as we flew in it week after week.

"He's passing along from very good habits," Greg said. "People tend to skip items more when they go through a checklist silently. Your saying thing verbally is excellent."

"Oh, I have excellent oral skills," I told him; laughing uproariously at the double entendre I'd just pulled off. I glanced at him to see if he'd caught the double meaning; he had. I tried to look innocent.

As we exited the jet, he said, "You know, Megan, if there wasn't a boyfriend I'd make a play for you. I find you one interesting person on so many levels."

"Well," I said slowly as I looked at him with my flirty eyes, "Just because I have a boyfriend doesn't mean I won't accept your offer. And, I might add, I find you interesting too -- and Dave, I might add."

"I don't want to get cross-ways to Josh," Greg stated in a caring tone.

"Oh, you won't. We have a very 'open' relationship. We may involve others -- and have from time to time. Part of it has to do with our shared philosophy about relationships and marriage."

Greg eyebrows almost rotated up to his hairline. He asked, "Might you be willing to tell me the details of this 'agreement' over dinner. I mean, seriously, this sounds interesting."

"Yes, I'd be delighted," I said, "Providing you walk me through the Citation's hydraulic system one more time." He laughed. 

"Yes, of course," he said. "I'll swing by the study room at four-thirty and we'll do a review, then we can go to a nice restaurant I know."

The study room was a posh living room with several study desks in it, a couple of white boards, and several DVD-equipped televisions. I'd staked out one of the desks for the ten days I would need to prepare for my type rating. I'd initially thought I'd knock off the rating in a week, however, I knew little about jets and most of the first four days had been a generic education about jets -- little ones, like the Citation, right up to big ones like a 747.

I'd accumulated about six volumes of manuals and workbooks in the few days I'd been there. Greg and David alternated my ground school training and my air work; however, today I'd spent almost all day with Greg. He'd done a credible job relating the generic material about jets to the Cessna Citation. We'd also focused on emergency procedures in their simulator in the morning and then taken a ninety-minute flight after lunch to give me actual flight time in the jet.

I broke open the manual that talked about the mysterious plumbing and valve system that made up the dual hydraulic systems on the jet. About an hour later I heard the door open behind me; soon two strong hands dug into the knots in my shoulders giving me a good massage.

"Yummmm," I muttered. "Do you hire out?"

"Yes, but you can't book the time in your logbook," came Greg's reply. I laughed, particularly since I still felt that building flight hours would get me to some kind of heaven faster. Hours! Hours! I wanted hours.

I put my head back and Greg stroked my cheek in a sensual manner as he turned to sit next to me. He asked, "Want to talk about hydraulics for a bit?"

I nodded reluctantly, although we were probably both aware that his thirty-second contact had spiked our sexual temperatures several degrees. He gestured for me to follow him to a white board. 

Over an hour later, we'd filled the white board a dozen times with lots of diagrams and even an equation here and there. I felt more confident about this major system in the jet and able to cope with most of its dysfunctions.

"Tomorrow one of us will do the white board with you on the electrical systems of the Citation," Greg said finally, signaling an end to the day. I sighed with relief and smiled at him. My brain pleaded with me to stop feeding it new input; I was ready for some change of focus.

Greg said, "Get your stuff together and I'll take you to my favorite hang out for dinner and fun."

"Do I bring books?" I asked.

"Nope. Not tonight. You need to give you head a chance to recharge. Some dancing is probably just what you need -- me too. This place has some good bands in their lounge. After dinner we'll see what's happening in there."

While I had a car, I'd barely touched it except for a couple of pizza runs. My motel turned out to be a short walk from the Flight Center and I liked the start and end of day exercise, however modest. 

Greg drove us and five minutes later he escorted me into a restaurant called Horse Feathers. A piano player in one corner of the restaurant provided some light background jazz.

"It'll get a lot livelier about eight-thirty or nine o'clock," Greg said. "This is the dinner crowd. The dance crowd will show up a little later."

We got some soda water and lime, keeping in sync with the no alcohol within twenty-four hours of making a flight that the school preached and that Josh abided by as well. Greg also ordered us some baked brie to share as an appetizer.

Greg sat back and abruptly returned to our earlier conversation, "So tell me about your 'open' relationship. I'm fascinated." He had a slightly lecherous look to his countenance.

I laughed, "Ah, the man has a one track mind." I put my hand atop his and squeezed affectionately. "You want to get in my pants? Right?" I asked him with a smirk.

Greg coughed and sputtered at my directness, "Well, NO! I mean, I think you're a beautiful woman, BUT, well, if the opportunity ... I wouldn't want ..."

I interrupted him, "Oh, stop. I hope tonight we can spend some time back in my motel room making love. I happen to find you pretty interesting too and feel close to you more each day we spend together, even if most of it is professional."

"You mean ... We're going to ... I want ... You ...," he continued to sputter but now I'd given him even more to think about since I'd reversed the tables and removed any mystique about where the evening would end.

I sipped my drink and ate a wafer with brie on it. The silence from Greg was palpable.

Finally, Greg said, "Megan, I am flattered and am honored we feel the same way about each other, but what about Josh. I like him and don't want to come between the two of you in any way at all."

"Josh approves of our having a relationship," I told him. "We even talked about it last night again when we telephoned."

"Is this what your 'open' relationship means? You can both sleep with whomever you want?" he asked.

"That's only part of the picture and the part everyone thinks about when they hear the term 'open relationship' or 'open marriage.' There are a whole lot of other parts to an 'open' friendship, however."

"Tell me," Greg said with great interest in his voice.

"Let me ask you which sounds more open: a democratic or autocratic relationship?"

"Oh, democratic," he said.

"Lots of communication or a long list of topics you can't discuss with your partner?"

He stated firmly, "Lots of communication, of course."

"Ownership of one partner by the other or two independent people sharing their lives together?" I asked.

"Two independent people," Greg said with a smile. He seemed to get the picture.

I continued with another contrast, "Denial of self to preserve the relationship versus dedication to each other's growth and evolution?"

"The latter," Greg said, sitting forward for the next pairing.

I asked, "Rigid relationship roles or flexibility in the various tasks and responsibilities in the partnership?"

"Ultimate flexibility," Greg said with a grin.

I added to the list, "A 'couples only' front or individual freedom?"

"High on the freedom scale," Greg stated.

"Exclusivity or mutual permission to expand and be open with others?"

"Ability to move freely without worry that you'll piss off the other person," he said.

I asked, "How about 'total fidelity' versus trust that you are your mates are 'home base' to each other?"

Greg said, "I opt for the mutual trust you'd have in an open relationship."

"So," I asked, "What would it be like living in an open partnership? How would it feel?" 

He started slowly as he responded, "My eyes are opening up rapidly in this discussion but let me try. There wouldn't be the possessiveness I've felt in some relationships. I'd feel we were working towards some mutual goals yet I'd have my own goals and my partner's encouragement to pursue them. There wouldn't be any jealousy, only support and encouragement. We'd both share a lot through conversation -- share what we're doing, how we think about things and other people, what we want from life and our plan for getting it."

"Go on," I told him, "You're doing well with your list."

He grinned and continued, "There wouldn't be any 'head games' -- like one of us trying to 'one up' the other. There'd be no sacred cows in terms of conversation. Consequently, we'd align on some pretty realistic expectations about our lives together. There'd be no myths we'd be trying to propagate and no wishes or fantasies we'd be trying to hide from the other."

I nodded to Greg and he went on, "We'd be equals in the relationship. We'd be two independent people that are more because we're together. That wouldn't mean we'd exclude others, to the contrary because that would be how we'd grow and bring interesting things we learn back to the relationship -- or even bring the people back to the relationship."

"What about privacy?" I asked.

Greg thought for a minute as we sipped our sodas. Finally he said, "You could have too much 'together time' in a relationship. It'd be good to go out on your own -- to be alone or to have a private time with someone else perhaps. Sometimes, you can be in the same room with someone but you need some psychic space to chill your mind."

The waitress brought our dinners. I could see Greg appreciated the break from the intense drill I'd been putting him through. I actually thought I'd made him think harder about relationships than he had me on the Citation's hydraulic systems.

I asked a question in the area we both carefully avoided so far; "Greg, we've not mentioned sex or intimacy so far. How's that fit now that we've laid this foundation?"

He pondered the question and sipped his drink. He finally said, "It's almost irrelevant. By definition an open partnership has a deep intimacy in it so the sex must be fantastic."

"Is it a monogamous relationship?" I asked.

He thought again and said, "Not necessarily -- in fact, I guess thinking about the way we talked about trust, sharing, reaching out to others, growing and evolving through each other and with others, that it'd be unusual if from time to time others weren't involved in some intimate way -- sexual perhaps but not a requirement."

"Would the other people you brought into your open relationship be just with you or with the 'couple'?" I asked.

"Either," Greg said. "Or both or just one of the two."

"Two?" I asked.

Greg frowned, "I don't understand the question."

"Does your partnership have to be restricted to two people -- your relationship?" I asked.

"Wow," Greg said. "No. No, it wouldn't have to be would it. You could have three, four, or more people in an 'open relationship' couldn't you?" 

"Yes. I'll give you an example; Josh's sister Fiona got married last May to a really nice guy -- Ray. The two of them had long before formed a relationship with another woman that they both love dearly and in every way you can imagine. Her name is Stacy and she's pregnant with Ray's child and Fiona is jumping around like an expectant father to be too."

Greg nodded as he heard the story; he chuckled.

"There's more," I said and Greg leaned forward so as not to miss anything. "Fiona, Ray and Stacy and intimate with other close to them -- like Josh and me, and Josh's other sister and her husband. There's are unbelievable support network you feel in these relationships."

Greg sat back almost stunned by what I'd told him.

I then added, "So many guys or gals think that they'll be happy when they get in the 'right' relationship so they keep looking for Ms. Right or Mr. Right. The starting place has really got to be that they're happy NOW with whom they are. You've got to be a whole person yourself to enter into an open partnership."

Greg asked, "What about when you try to change the other person?"

I laughed, "Well, that'll probably always happens but here's another perspective on it. If you form a partnership -- and say get married -- with the expectation that you'll change the other person you'll probably be disappointed in your own success and in how you perceive the flexibility of your mate. If you take someone as they are and appreciate how they are in their freedom and independence, you'll be happier longer than being mad that they haven't changed in the way you want."


Temporary Girlfriend: The Flight Instructors Ch. 01



"Any difference between guys and gals?"

"Fundamentally, no," I told him. 

Greg suddenly asked, "So, wait. You and Josh have an open relationship, yet you've said that you want to sleep with me. How's that work? Is this OK with him? Don't you have to ask him first?"

"Greg, I would do nothing to hurt Josh and he knows that. I love him dearly and I know he loves me. We work at our open relationship and it'll become an open marriage in May. We may not get it right all the time but we'll be trying everyday."

I paused and looked at Greg with a silly grin. I went on, "Now, to tell you the truth, we've used you in our recent lovemaking as an erotic stimulus. Josh has said to me, for instance, 'Greg's going to fuck you now; feel his cock slide into your pussy; and so forth.'" I watched Greg blush.

I went on, "So I got to know you -- and Dave too, I should add -- well over the last month in ways you don't even know about. You've been a part of my fantasies- our fantasies. I am so grateful for the two weeks we spent together last month on my ratings and now we get to do it again. I like you guys a lot -- and being with you enriched my life in so many ways."

I told him, "I shared my feelings for you with Josh including how I felt about you emotionally and physically. He told me to follow my bliss because he knows I will always come back to him stronger, smarter, happier, and more integrated because of you."

"Megan, you are amazing," Greg said. He reached over and took my hand and kissed it, wrapping the kiss inside my palm.

More in a mischievous mood, I took his middle finger and sucked it into my mouth in a remarkable simulation of a blowjob. Greg groaned and rolled his eyes upward.

About that time we heard the band start playing in the adjacent lounge. I immediately stood and took Greg's hand. I told him, "You promised me a couple of dances. Stand and deliver, you stud!" 

He grinned at my forwardness and followed me towards the lounge. We danced a couple of fast numbers and then melted into each other's arms as the band started a series of slow dances. The dance floor filled up even further as we pressed our bodies together. I could feel Greg's rising interest in me and responded to show him the feeling was mutual.

* An orange light from the mercury vapor lights in the parking lot of the motel leaked around the curtains and filled my motel room with an eerie aura. 

Greg and I faced each other as we stood between the beds, our tongues deeply entwined and our hands stroking each other's nakedness. He had a gentleness about him -- a carefulness. He made me feel special and told me I had the same effect on him.

He lowered his face to my left breast, sucking as much of my breast into his wide-open mouth as he could. His tongue danced around my areola and my nipple stiffened. He shifted his attention to my other breast as I stroked his back and arms.

He stood so we could kiss again. I reached and held his erection in my right hand, slowly fondling the mushroom head and flexing his foreskin as I rubbed the tips against my mons. 

Greg's right hand found my slit -- now exceptionally wet with my welcoming fluids. I could smell my nectar and knew I was sending out attraction scents.

"Let me love your pussy," Greg whispered to me. He turned me towards the bed we'd pulled the covers from earlier. I lay back.

Greg parted my legs and kissed from one knee down to my pussy then repeated the process on the other leg. I moaned each time his lips touched my pussy. He made purring sounds to let me know he liked what he was doing.

"Oh Megan, you smell so good and taste so good. I never want to stop."

He thrust his tongue into me -- a very long tongue. He moved it around inside me then stroked up to my clitoris. I stiffened and jerked at the stimulation. My legs embraced Greg's torso and pulled him into me. I wanted more tongue.

My clitoris rose from my body almost like a miniature penis, accepting every bit of stimulation that Greg could deliver to me. A finger and then two found their way into my vagina. I felt him search for and find my G-spot. I stiffened my body again in a purely autonomic response to his deep touches.

"If you make me cum with your fingers there on my G-spot, I usually squirt. It can be messy, if that makes a difference to you," I warned.

Greg pulled away from me for thirty seconds and went to the bathroom; he returned with all the towels from my bathroom. "I love wet sex," Greg said. "These are to mop up later."

"Save at least one for after showers," I requested. He tossed one of the larger towels towards the bathroom, keeping the others for our lovemaking.

Suddenly, Greg's mouth reattached to my labia lips and his two fingers reinserted. I arched my back in response to the pleasure.

"I love your pussy, Megan. I love you," Greg shared. His fingers sped up their masturbation of my body; thumb rubbed clit and fingers curved and stroked my internal sensitive skin.

I came. I came in buckets. I ejaculated girl juice all over Greg, yet through my squinted eyes I could see him trying to catch some of the ejection in his mouth. I froze for a short while. I stopped and floated down to earth from my orgasm. Greg gently stroked the sensitive area all around my pussy without touching my actual genitalia.

"Oh, that was very nice," I whispered to him with a hoarse voice.

"I love the way you cum," he said. "You inspire me to want to try all sorts of other things."

"Right now, just come and fuck me. Make love to me. Connect with me."

He moved up over me and I reached and took hold of his large penis. I liked the feel of his hardness as I directed it to my vagina.

I told him in my husky voice, "Push into me. Push. Now." 

Greg slid his length into me slowly and we both groaned with the sensuality and eroticism of those few seconds. He bottomed out and we kissed passionately, our tongues searching and exploring each other's mouths.

After our kiss, Greg rose on his arms so he could watch me in the dim light. I liked watching his body stroke into me. My legs wrapped around his mid-section, urging him into me.

We stroked together, my pelvis rotating to meet his downward thrusts.

After a few minutes, Greg pulled out. He said, "Come over me. I want to be in you and be able to make love to your body at the same time."

I mounted Greg facing him; his long full cock again found its way deep inside me. We kissed and I dragged my erect nipples across his chest. 

"You are one beautiful, sexual creature," he told me between kisses. I smiled.

"I do like sex," I told him. "Given a choice of sex or no sex, I'll always take sex."

"My kind of person," he said.

Greg leaned forward and sucked one of my breasts back into his mouth. He had a unique way of sucking rapidly on my tit, almost the way a baby would but much faster. The combination of that stimulation to my tit and the feel of his penis deep in my body brought me right back to another climax.

I told him as it started to cum, "Oh, Greg. I'm going to ... I'm cuming ... Now!" This time I didn't squirt but I oozed. My nectar flooded out of my pussy from around his cock. I thought Greg had cum too there was so much fluid then realized that he was still harder than steel inside me and showing every desire to continue.

Greg nestled me into his body and held me tightly as I crested and slowly came down from my high. 

"That was niiiiiiiiccccccceeeeee," I told him in a little girl voice. Then I added, "Do it some more!"

Greg started up again. He told me, "I'm pretty close actually. I almost came that time with you. Do you know the muscles in your pussy do marvelous things to whatever's in there?"

I smiled as I started to lightly bounce on his cock again. "Oh you like that do you? Try this?"

I'd learned some modicum of control of those muscles by using some of the toys Josh had gotten me for Christmas. I squeezed and released several times. Greg said, "You're making me get nearer. Can we go back to me being on top?"

"Yes, I'd like that," I told him as I rolled off of him.

I spread my legs and Greg sank his purple-headed erection back into me. 

"Hard and fast," I told him. "I want you to cum in me. Fill me with your juice."

Greg sped up, his body slamming into me with great force. The bed started to vibrate against the wall. The bed made about a dozen hits to the wall and then stopped.

It stopped because Greg came. I came too. His body arched over me as he made his final lunges into me, delivering his seed deep within. Our breathing stopped for a few seconds. 

He then collapsed onto me, showering my face with kisses. "Megan, you are a magnificent lover."

"You too, Greg. Thank you for all my orgasms. I like the way you make love. You can do me anytime you'd like."

"Oh, careful with an offer like that, I'll be fucking you morning, noon and night."

"Fine with me," I told him with a grin.

We stroked and cooed at each other for half an hour. I decided I wanted to make love some more, so I dropped down Greg's body and took his mostly flaccid cock in my mouth. I make love to his tool, carefully holding and stroking it with my hand and with my tongue. I cleaned off the remains of our earlier lovemaking and then slowly brought him back to ramrod status.

We loved again. We were wetter and sloppier this time. Some of our mixed fluids from our earlier session flavored our bodies in various ways the second time. I like it and so did he.

We fell asleep wrapped together. 

To be continued.



Temporary Girlfriend: The Flight Instructors Ch. 02



This is the second sequel to the Temporary Girlfriend series. The main characters have been introduced in the initial story and, if you're new to this series, you will find your enjoyment enhanced by reading that first. Please vote and comment. Enjoy life.

*

Dave Lafontaine stood at one of the white boards; the board filled with the circuitry of the entire electrical system of the Cessna Citation I'd been learning about all week. He finished off one last thought about the tutorial he'd been giving me, "So, if the ground power is on and the auxiliary power unit or APU doesn't start, this relay will never trip and put the aircraft on its own power source."

I nodded. I'd taken about twenty pages of notes from Dave's two-hour tutorial.

"Now one more question for you," Dave said, "How about some company for dinner? I know a neat little place just down the road that had some nice music."

"Not Horse Feathers?" I retorted.

Dave looked surprised. I told him, "I ate there last night with Greg."

Dave said, "Oh, he didn't mention where you two ate. He did say you went out and had a great conversation. He said he learned a lot and that I am to ask you to repeat everything you told him."

I laughed, "Now that's a tall order. Don't you want to ask me about the Citation's systems?"

He frowned slightly and said, "Not really. I much rather get to know you better. So much of our time has been around ground school. Now let's open up Megan school so I can learn about you."

"Smooth," I told him with a grin. He grinned back now that I'd caught him in a blatant flirt.

He said, "How about I cook you dinner at my place? I am actually a pretty accomplished man in the kitchen. What do you feel like?"

"I accept your offer and I feel like an omelet with everything in the world in it," I told him.

He checked his watch and said, "I'll leave now and run by the grocery store for a few things. Give me about forty-five minutes before you leave then drive over to my place. Is that OK?"

"Yes, that'll give me time for a pass through all these notes," I rifled through the pages on my notebook. "Directions?"

Dave drew a little map. Things were pretty simple since he lived near the airport and in a condo just off the main highway.

An hour later I knocked on Dave's door. He opened the door with a smile. I moved into his arms and gave him a long kiss on the lips. I even slipped a little tongue in at the end before he had a chance to respond.

"Thank you," Dave said. "I like welcomes like that!" 

I'd brought a bottle of San Pellegrino -- a sparkling water that tasted to me almost as good as some wines. Dave took the chilled bottle and poured it into two wine goblets and presented me with one. We clinked glasses, toasted each other and I sat as his kitchen counter as he went to the other side to work on dinner.

I looked around the condo, taking in Dave's decorating, art and the layout of the place. There was no doubt the unit belonged to a pilot. Around the entire room and down a hallway I could see, every piece of art tied to aviation in some way. Many of the pieces were not cheap posters but, upon closer inspection, original oils or acrylics. There were paintings of pastoral scenes from above, a pilot's perspective, with a bi-plane in a field; another of a modernistic view of the ILS lights on a runway just before touchdown; another an impressionistic piece of a jet banking away from a majestic thunderstorm -- a bolt of lightning illuminated the dark sky.

"These are good!" I exclaimed.

"Thank you," he said, "They're mine."

"They're yours? You did them all?" Dave nodded.

"You are a man of many talents. You could sell these for a lot of money. They're fantastic. I'd even like to buy the one over your mantel if it's for sale." I gestured to the plane avoiding the thunderstorm. "Heck, I'd buy most of them."

"Well, let me think about that. By the time I paint them I've fallen in love with them so much I hate to part with them. I've given a couple away for charitable reasons -- silent auction and such -- but never sold any. One went for $725 at a silent auction."

"Just give me first dibs," I asked.

"If you try the powder room and the master bedroom you can see some of my photographic work too. Those pieces are not related to aviation as you'll see." He gestured down the short hallway.

The bathroom had some black and white and sepia portraits of older people. Every one of the photos captured a mood, a look, a depth into the person's personality; the all showed an awesome ability with the camera. I had to tear myself away from the seven photos.

Further down the hallway I entered the master bedroom. The pictures on the wall showed the same skill and ability to capture a mood. In this case, however, the photographs were larger and of varying sizes. Each captured an erotic scene of a man and woman making love and even in their orgasms. 

The photos required study in some cases to verify what you were seeing: the woman's pussy, a tongue and a flaccid cock covered in juices, legs locked behind a back as two bodies moved so fast their bodies blurred, breasts with erect nipples, two nude females kissing, and so on. Each photograph displayed a sensuous aura and inspired.

I strolled back to the kitchen. I said to Dave, "Trying to inspire me?"

He laughed. "Ah, you found the pictures in the bedroom. I took those about two years ago."

"Are you the guy?"

"Yes," he said.

"Two women?" I asked.

"They were a package. I loved both of them -- still do, but they moved away about a year ago. They lived next door but we all slept in that bed most of the time."

"Ménage a trois," I stated. Dave nodded.

"So did Greg tell you about our conversations last evening?" I asked.

He chuckled, "He said you and I shared a common philosophy about relationships only you explained it more clearly than I did."

"We talked about open relationships quite a lot," I told him. "I had to shift Greg's definition of the term from thinking it was just about sex to a unique partnership that touched every aspect of your life. You share yourself but remain independent and strong."

"I think he got that now, and you do say it better than I could," Dave offered.

"Did he say anything about the relationship I have with Josh?" I asked.

"No, but from his comments on the discussion I presume you and Josh have an open relationship."

"We do." I paused and asked, "Are you in a relationship now? Anyone special?"

"I am a man without portfolio," Dave said with a smile. "I know that will change some day but I'm not rushing it. I find it hard to find a girl that can handle an open relationship. Most women I meet want an exclusive, monogamous, stereotypical TV Pleasantville, little house and picket fence relationship. I know I'd get tired of that in about a week."

"Go on," I said.

"The person or persons would probably be professional women, because they'd be meeting and dealing with other people. It'd hone their personalities and make them stronger. There wouldn't be time for petty jealousies or arguments. We'd talk openly about everything. The level of respect would be awesome. We share all the traditional roles that make up a relationship. We look for and share peak experiences."

"What about your friends -- in the photos?"

"Marlene and Kim," Dave said. "I thought they were lesbians until they opened up to me. They taught me a lot about relationships and helped me clarify what I'm looking for. Marlene got transferred to San Diego with Bank of America. Kim is a strategy consultant and can work from anyplace with an airport. I miss the two of them but they had the stronger and longer ties. It wouldn't have been right for me to hold them back, particularly Marlene -- it was a big promotion. I've gone out to see them twice but it's not the same as being involved with each other on a daily basis."

I went around to Dave and he opened his arms to me. We kissed very tenderly and then more passionately, adding our tongues to the kiss to reinforce our feelings for each other.

Dave finally said, "If you continually molest the cook you won't get your dinner! What you seem interested in is called dessert and I am as intrigued by that thought as you apparently are."

I kissed the end of his nose and went back to my chair. Dave finished chopping mushrooms, peppers, onion, parsley, and a few other things, leaving each in piles around the edge of the cutting board. Our eggs flew into a dish and he used a whisk to bubble them, gradually adding some of the chopped ingredients as well as many herbs and spices. 

We ate side by side at the counter. We kissed often.

Dave said, "Megan, you are one interesting person, and I guess Josh must be too. I am grateful to Josh and the Universe for sharing you with me tonight." We kissed again. He said, "What will you tell him?"

"Well, first, you should know that Josh knows I'm with you tonight. He told me -- us -- to have fun and enjoy each other. When I'm back there, I'll tell him every little detail -- every detail I can remember. He gets really hot when I tell him about having sex with someone else. He gets bigger, lasts longer, and cums more often than the times we do plain vanilla sex."

Dave looked surprised but accepted the statement.

"Second," I went on, "we've used you -- and Greg -- in some of our sexual fantasies. Both of you excited me when I took my advanced ratings a month ago. I told Josh and that led to involving you as we talked and fantasized during sex. I knew a month ago we'd be making love like tonight."

"I'm flattered," Dave said. "Wish I could have been there."

I turned to face him and said, "You're here now. Now is all there is. Make love to me."

We went in Dave's bedroom -- the room with the pornographic art. As I looked at each picture again and let my arousal sweep over me, Dave undressed me. I undressed him and we rubbed each other's bodies together for a long time, exploring and learning about each other's hot buttons and erogenous zones.

We made love twice that night and I stayed over night, nestled in Dave's arms. When we went to sleep Dave's long cock remained deep in my pussy. I woke up a couple of hours later and it was still there. I used my vaginal muscles to clench and squeeze his flaccid rod. I felt the blood surge into it and soon his cock declared to me that it wanted to fuck.

"Fuck me, Dave," I whispered. "Make love to me again ... and again."

We made love a third time before falling asleep wrapped together, his cock still in my pussy. I liked this man, his style and his philosophy.

*

Dave and I showered together in the morning. I felt wantonly wonderful after our night of sex and wandered around the apartment nude as Dave, equally unclad, fixed us some cereal, juice and coffee for breakfast.

There was a knock on the door. Dave didn't look surprised, but wrapped a towel around his waist and headed to the small foyer to open the door. I sort of hid in the hallway lest I display my nudity to whoever was calling at this early hour.

"JOSH!" I blurted out as I saw who the visitor was. I ran across the living room and threw myself into his arms; wrapping my svelte body around his. We kissed several times -- hard. 

"Oh my God, what are you doing here?" I asked as I uncurled from his body. 

Josh hooked his hands beside my breasts and stimulated my tits with his thumbs until the nipples were standing at attention.

"I missed you. I knew you'd be finishing up today or tomorrow. I caught a ride out here in Mel Reynolds Learjet late last night only he had to drop someone off at Midway so it was real late when I got here."

"Where'd you sleep?" I asked.

"In your bed," he said. I gave him my sad face. 

"You should have told me; I would have waited for you with open legs," I said. He and Dave laughed.

"I wanted you and Dave to enjoy yourselves. I knew you were here. I talked to Dave just before you guys went to dinner last night and told him -- as I told you -- to enjoy each other. Don't forget we've known each other for about five years -- since I got into high powered aviation."

Dave said, "Breakfast for three is served." This time we ate at the table; two of us nude, and Josh in slacks and a sport shirt.

As we talked Dave slipped away with the dirty dishes and then down the hall. He reappeared a few minutes later. "Just pull the door behind you when you leave. It'll lock automatically. Have fun yourselves. Megan, we'll see you mid to late morning. I thought we'd take a flight this afternoon and work on emergency procedures; Josh come with us; Greg might come too."

Josh and I fucked like bunny rabbits as soon as Dave left his condo. I described some of Greg's and Dave's lovemaking tricks to Josh as he stroked in and out of me, getting ever harder, longer, fuller and more energetic. 

I squirted when I came. I guess I'd really missed Josh. I told him I need to mark him with my juices and odor so all the other dogs would know we liked each other.

We showered and I put Dave's bed linens in his washing machine.

Josh and I arrived at the Cessna Flight Center about eleven o'clock. Greg and Dave both hailed us into the study room. Josh had brought a brief case and took a desk in the far corner and Greg, Dave and I started to talk about the jet and emergency procedures.

Greg asked, "If you lose full cabin pressurization at 40,000 feet how long do you have to get your oxygen gear on before you lose consciousness?"

I answered, "If we're above 33,000 feet the mask must provide a positive pressure of 100% oxygen otherwise it's useless and we'll black out in a seconds - probably five to ten seconds and no longer than 20 seconds. You'd have to be prepared for decompression sickness too. An immediate descent is highly recommended. The Citation can descend at 8,000 to 12,000 feet per minute in an emergency. A blowout at 20,000 feet however and you wouldn't even have time to write your name unless you went on pure oxygen almost immediately -- or had a short name."

Both men nodded. "Good answer," Dave said, "Megan, tell us about the Yaw Damper?"

"The unit smoothes out the tendencies of some aircraft to Dutch Roll. On some aircraft, it is on all the time; on others like the Citation you turn it off for takeoff and landing so the pilot can use full rudder deflections, particularly in crosswinds, without fighting the damper. The damper on the Citation works on both hydraulic systems A and B."

Greg nodded and offered up the next question. The two guys alternated for over an hour. When I hesitated on an answer, one or the other would leap to the white board and give me a two-minute tutorial on the subject. I noticed Josh looking over occasionally with a smile, particularly when I got an answer correct.

The four of us had lunch and in the airport's Spartan sandwich shop and then I went to prepare the jet for a two-hour flight up over Montana and back to Wichita. I filed the flight plan and asked for a block of airspace unusually large to accommodate some training maneuvers.

An hour later I sat in the left seat as I directed the white, streamlined jet through twenty-four thousand feet.

Greg calmly told me as I leveled out, "I booked your flight test."

"Oh, my God," I stated nervously, "When?"

"Tomorrow, one o'clock to three o'clock. Ralph Hinson will be the examiner. You've never met him but he's fair but tough. He'll give you a work out."

"Am I ready?" I asked Dave who stood behind me in the tight cockpit space.

"More ready than I was," Josh offered as he wedged himself in the tight space behind me. "I listened to you the past month and then today. You really know this plane. I'd go anywhere with you, anytime, with you as pilot in command."

I felt my self-confidence take a little leap.

Greg reached over a pulled the throttle back on the starboard engine. "OK. You've just had lost an engine ... and don't actually shut down the engine."

I went into automatic mode, reciting one of the fifty checklists of various lengths for the plane. After we'd started a smooth descent towards a nearby airport, in this case a diversion to Omaha, I pulled out the written checklist and read each item aloud as we slowly descended. Greg eventually stopped the descent and brought us back up to twenty-four thousand.

For half an hour we played a very stressful game where one of the three guys would pose an emergency situation and I'd respond, walking them through every step to bring the craft to safe conclusion.

Finally, my bladder could stand it no longer. Diet cokes do that to me. I said, "I've got to use the little girl's room for a minute; one of you fly this beast." We all maneuvered so I could slide my seat back and head towards the back of the plane. Josh slid into the captain's seat.

As I shut the door I heard Josh ask Greg and Dave, "Do you guys belong to the Mile High Club?" For some reason that question sent a jolt of sexual energy through my body. When I peed, I noticed I'd become unusually wet with my vaginal juices.

I washed my hands at the small sink, dried them with a paper towel and opened the bathroom door. There stood Greg and Dave naked and heading my way. Both had lovely lecherous looks on their face.

"There's an old tradition about getting your type rating that we haven't told you about," Greg said as he leaned in to kiss me.

"Yes," Dave said, "it has to do with conducting Mile High sex with your flight instructors."

I played a little dumb as I reached for Greg's cock, "But I already joined the Club with my 'temporary boyfriend.' Do I have to join again?"

"Oh yes," Dave said, "This is different. Flight instructors are very different people and thus this ceremony -- a true and important rite of passage -- imbues you mystical powers that you will retain for your entire flying career."

By now I'd unbuttoned my blouse. I shrugged it from my shoulder. I was braless. "I guess we better hurry then," I said as I kissed Dave and fondled his cock as well.

My skirt came off and my thong. I stood nude before Greg and Dave. I saw Josh take a long peek back into the cabin and give me thumbs up and an "OK" sign. I blew him a kiss.

Dave guided me to one of the short sofa in the passenger area. It wasn't full length, however, I could recline on it, thrusting my pussy into the aisle of the plane. Dave knelt and leaned in, drilling his tongue into my pussy.

Greg knelt on the sofa next to me and I leaned towards him and inhaled his cock into my mouth. I could feel the surges of blood enter his piece as I sucked. Soon he had a raging erection. I nursed his erection, playing various games to keep him hard and to make him what I call super horny. He headed that way pretty fast.

"Switch with me," Greg asked Dave. The men smiled at each other. Greg knelt in front of me and replaced Dave's laps and aggressive tonguing of my pussy. Dave presented me his rising penis and soon I had his cock harder than rebar.

I felt Greg move up my body and then as I deep-throated Dave, I felt Greg's cock sink into my pussy. I moaned into the penis in my mouth.

"Oh, you feel so warm and wet, Megan. I love loving you!" Greg told me.

Greg delivered an orgasm to me, smooth and nice; the kind you'd write home to your incestuous sister. 'I must tell Fiona about this,' I thought, preferably as we're fucking each other.

"My turn," Dave whispered. Greg jerked his shaft from my tunnel and another jolt of sexual energy went through me. Dave's response to that was to jam his cock into me as fast as he could. Another jolt rang through my body.

"Oh fuck, guys. I love this; don't stop!" I told them in my sexual haze.

Dave stroked away at me, and then moved me so I was reverse cowgirl. This way Greg could see all the sexy looks on my face and if Josh peeked he could watch us fucking. Josh peeked -- a lot.




Temporary Girlfriend: The Flight Instructors Ch. 02



I came again -- and again -- and again. The guys switched back and forth.

Dave whispered to me when he was about to take me in the doggie position, "Do you want to try anal?"

"Oh, yes," I pleaded. "I'm so wet, just take some of my juices from my cunt."

He did and soon his large cock pushed past my sphincter muscles into my dark cavity. We both moaned. Greg inserted a couple of fingers into my pussy and started to massage that area and my clit.

I came again.

"You guys make me feel like such a slut. I love to make love -- to fuck. This is such an unexpected treat. I had a fantasy one time about the two of you, however, it wasn't this good. More! More! Fuck my cunt! Make me cum some more."

Greg sat on the small sofa beside me. "Come over me, Megan. Put me in your pussy."

Dave pulled from my anus and I moved over to Greg, mounting him. He sucked on my breasts, probably giving me a hickey from his passion.

Then I felt Dave behind me again. Greg paused and Dave sank his cock into my anal opening. I think everyone moaned.

The two men started a rhythm, in and out of my openings -- sometimes in sync and sometimes juxtaposed to each other. I could feel myself heading for outer space.

I entered that special sexual space where all you feel is the pleasure surrounding you, in you, of you, with you, in every way imaginable. My eyes probably closed but I felt kisses and returned them from all angles.

I started to cum, however, it wasn't a regular orgasm where I peaked and then came down. I worked up to this magnificent plateau and then just stayed there basking in one long continuous climax. The cocks plunged in and out of me. I know I sprayed my girl juices but I didn't care.

I came and came and came. And then my lovers came as well, driving their cocks deep into me with ever longer and stronger thrusts; almost tearing me apart. I felt a unity with the two men -- a unique closeness. I felt their jets of cum fill my cunt and fill my ass. I didn't want them to stop -- just to keep cuming.

I fell forward onto Greg. Dave massaged my back. Somehow I found my way back to this universe, this planet, and the little plane that flew above it. My eyes fluttered open. 

"That was amazing," I told them. Dave gently pulled away from me. I remained over Greg. Dave went to the small lavatory and used some paper towels to clean his privates and some of my ejaculate and fluids from his body.

Greg said, "Do you want to go?"

I pulled from him and said, "No, you go. I want to tease Josh."

"Ooooooh, Jooooosh," I called out as I sashayed towards the cockpit, holding my legs together to stem the exit of cum from my two orifices.

He looked around, "Jooooosh, wanna come and play with me. I'm feeling very slutty and I bet fucking three guys in the Mile High Club is some kind of record."

Josh looked interested but said, "You know, let's save that record for another flight. Make that one of your goals for next year -- maybe when you come back here for your annual refresher class or when we're flying my sisters and friends somewhere."

"Oh, spoil sport," I said with a theatrical pout on my face.

"But I will finger you cunt you little pussy, or is it finger your pussy you little cunt?" he said with a chuckled. I let him sink two then three fingers into my pussy.

"Oh, so nice," I told him. "I love you. Thank you for making that DP happen. That was special for me."

I waddled back to the lavatory, occasionally depositing a dollop of cum from pussy or ass on the plush carpeting. Greg and Dave moved aside to let me past. Both copped a feel of my breasts.

I sat for five minutes on the miniature commode thinking about the last half hour. I surprised myself that I shifted gears from flying to fucking so fast, and then to have the two guys screw me -- even DP me - in front of my fiancé; highly unusual. 

When I thought the drips had mostly stopped I made a pad of paper towels and exited the loo to find my clothes. Someone had nicely laid out my clothing in the order I'd need it right outside the lavatory. I dressed, washed my face again then headed towards the cockpit.

"Thank you, gentlemen," I said as I pushed my was through to see what was happening. "Where are we?"

Josh pointed to a GPS map and said, "I think we're right near Mount Rushmore but the cloud deck blocks the ground. I'm aiming for Custer National Forest then we'll turn around. Do you want to fly?"

"Not just yet," I told him. "I want to nuzzle with my two lovers for a couple of minutes." 

I pulled Dave and Greg back to the sofa and curled up so I could kiss each of them. 

"You made me feel very special and I hope I gave you some thrills too," I said.

"I wasn't a member," Dave said.

"Me neither," Greg confessed. "Never had the opportunity."

"Well, now you are and I hope you never forget me. You made me really get carried away and I want you both to know that I'll have sweet dreams about this for a long, long time."

"So will we," Dave said.

We sat for about ten minutes and were just quiet together. We petted and stroked each other, nothing really sexual, just maintaining the skin-to-skin connection once in a while. I realized I'd still been pretty high sexually and savored the feeling as I floated even further back to reality.

Eventually, I moved up front and swapped seats with Josh. This time Dave took the co-pilots seat. We did a one-eighty over the Custer National Forest, occasionally seeing the sweep of the grassy plains below us through the clouds.

"Are you ready for some further questions -- about flying?" Dave asked.

"I am but cut me some slack at the beginning until I get my head back into this lover," I told him.

Dave started, "OK, Megan. On takeoff you hear a loud thunk and your gear lights show neither red, amber nor green; what do you do?"

*

Ralph Hinson might have been in his early forties and he might have been in his late seventies. I couldn't tell. He had a weathered look and somehow I felt it was more the latter than the former and that he'd flown every kind of plane known to mankind.

"Nice to meet you, Megan." He turned to Greg and asked, "Is the study room open? Unoccupied?"

"Yes, it's all yours. I blocked it out for an hour but just let us know if you want more time," he said.

Ralph handed me a felt-tip marker and said, "Tell me about the Yaw Damper System on the Cessna Citation." 

Inside of me a little voice went "YES!"

An hour later, Ralph led the way back to the front office. He announced to everyone including me, "We're going to take a short flight to Amarillo. Megan, you plan the flight and file for three-three-thousand." I walked off to the flight planning room, checked the weather and filed a GPS direct route to KAMA. 

Soon enough we were in November-One-Bravo-Foxtrot leaving the earth behind at two-twenty in the afternoon. I noted the time on my kneepad. I ran through the various checklists routinely. 

As we topped ten thousand feet, Hinson pulled the throttle back on the starboard engine. "What now?" he asked.

I ran through my litany, pausing to ask he re really wanted a cold start at altitude or just pretend. He opted for pretending. I eventually pulled out the written checklist and orally went through each item.

Occasionally, Hinson would make a notation on a pad in his lap but other than that there was no feedback either positively or negatively about my performance.

As we dropped down into Amarillo's airspace, Hinson unplugged my headset for a few seconds as he arranged something with the tower. I guessed that he planned a missed approach at the middle marker to ILS Runway 4.

The ILS Runway 4 at Amarillo is not an easy approach coming in from the northeast. I got vectors to the eastern initial approach fix (IAF) and then had to fly a 14 mile DME arc around to the localizer. I'd been cleared for the approach. I dropped down to 5,300 feet once I captured the arc and carefully flew the jet until the localizer started to center.

I made a flawless turn to the localizer, rolling out exactly on the runway heading with no corrections required. I added some flaps and dropped the gear as the speed came in range.

"Megan," Hinson commanded, "tell me what you'd do right now if you heard a thunk but got no red, amber or green gear lights?"

I responded crisply. Was this a set up, I thought or do Doug and Greg just know Hinson so well they can second-guess his questions.

I intercepted the glide slope and ran through my final approach checklist. I called the outer marker to the tower: "Amarillo Tower, One Bravo Foxtrot is PANDE inbound." Tower acknowledged and confirmed I'd been cleared to land.

I bled off altitude at the accepted rate as we raced down the localizer. At least in a Cessna 172 you're going half this speed and have more time to think about what's going to happen.

Tower came on just as the Middle Marker because illuminated and the annunciation tone went off. I always thought of it like the doorbell, saying "We're here! Let us in to land."

"One Bravo Foxtrot, immediate missed approach NOW. Debris on runway."

I smoothly shoved the throttles to the wall as the jet continued to sink another fifty, then seventy-five feet towards the touchdown zone. I pulled up a notch of flaps and verbally went through a checklist. My hands flew around the cockpit as the 21,000-pound jet's engines finally bit into the air and started a positive rate of climb.

The engines roared as we soared back up into the sky. I took the plane up to 5,000 feet, leveled off and intercepted the one-one-eight degree radial from the Panhandle VORDME. As I entered the prescribed holding pattern, Hinson turned to me and said "Take me home. Back to Wichita."

I worked the radio with Amarillo approach and got us a new clearance to Wichita as well as a weather update. Hinson nodded, giving me the first indication of positive feedback since we started.

We shot up to about thirty thousand feet and almost as rapidly descended into KICT - Wichita. ATC cleared me for the KICT ILS Runway 1 Left approach. I had the approach plate already on the yoke. 

Twenty minutes later, Hinson lowered the stairway on the large jet and walked alone to the Cessna Flight Center while I went through the steps to close up the aircraft for the day. When I was through, I gathered up my charts and my flight case and strode into the Center.

"HURRAY!" Everyone yelled, even Ralph Hinson. "You passed your type rating," Josh shouted. "You're jet rated!" A tingle ran up my spine and a tear actually came to one eye. 

"Thank you all so much," I kissed Josh, Greg and Dave then on the spur of moment I planted a kiss on the stiff Mr. Hinson's cheek. He actually smiled.

Hinson endorsed my logbook and we filled out some forms for the FAA that he'd mail. I'd get another new license, this time with the endorsement "Multi-Engine Jet -- Cessna Citation Models 200/300/400/500." I leapt around the office hugging everyone as he did the paperwork.

Hinson finally finished and handed me my logbook back. I presented him the check for his examiner's fee and thanked him again. He tucked it in his wallet and started to head for the door.

"Mr. Hinson," I suddenly called out. "What about all your notes. What did you write down?"

He turned and came back to me. He pulled the yellow piece of paper from his pocket and presented it to me. 

All that was on the paper were nothing but unintelligible scratchings. He'd really written nothing to do with my flying abilities.

Hinson shrugged with an apologetic smile on his face.

I looked at him with a puzzled expression. 

Before he turned and walked away with a grin, he said four curt words, "Megan, you were flawless."

... More to come soon