Fly Girl Ch 05

Fly Girl V: Base-to-Final

By PygmyCoho

Agent Al Scott murmured to his partner, "So, this is somethin', huh?"

Agent Wayne Little answered, "Yep. Makes a fellow feel kind of important." He chuckled.

The quiet offices of the Sheriff had taken on a bustling life with extra personnel assigned to run down leads. Two of the more promising tips led to areas of interest, one of which was on the list that Tom provided. Al's instincts told him to go with that one.

"How sure are you about this Tom guy, Al?"

"Got a pretty good feeling about him."

"Anything to do with him and your cousin?" Wayne picked up his long-cold sub sandwich, decided against it and tossed the remnants into the trash.

"I thought 'bout that. Thought hard, too. Even allowing for some favoritism, I still like his pick better. Why? You wanna bail on me?"

"Nah, just checking your gut. I'll stick with you. But . . ."

"But?"

"If you're wrong the drinks are on you. For the

whole

night."

"More like tomorrow night, or the next, with all the paperwork. That's if we even go today. It's getting kind of late."

"Yeah," Wayne admitted. "Either way it goes, paper up the wazoo, huh? Okay so two nights after the deal goes down?"

"Okay. Uh, you, or the squad?" His smile faded as the older agent appeared to give the question such serious consideration. Al's brain kept increasing the bar tab as time dragged.

"Ha! Gotcha. Just me." Wayne grinned.

"Okay," Al sighed, relief on his face. "And if I'm right?"

"Same bet," Wayne offered.

"Except," Al stated, "you need to let me invite the civvies."

"That's what, another two, right?"

"Yeah . . . no,

four

," Al confirmed. "You up for that?"

"If I get to invite four, too."

"Deal," Al said, extending a hand. They shook.

"Hey," Wayne thought out loud, "What if neither one hits?"

Al shrugged and turned back to his computer. He did not want to think about a shut-out.

* * * * * * *

"Are you ready, little one?"

The girl nodded, but Maria read her face. Feral fear simmered deep within Lucinda's eyes.

"All right. It is time. Soon we will be free of this place. We will be happy. Together. For always, yes?"

Lucinda nodded again and managed a fleeting smile.

"All right,"

Maria whispered.

"Now."

Despite Maria's warning, the shriek startled Lucinda so badly she almost dropped the table leg.

They heard the thump of boots. Maria screamed again for good measure and the footfalls sounded faster in the hallway. The door flung open and a short, fat man rushed into the room.

"Now!"

Maria shouted. Lucinda closed her eyes and swung with all her might. The improvised club caught the man in his protruding gut and knocked the wind out of him. In the breath-cloud of garlic, beer and beans Maria wielded another table leg and caught him where his shoulders met his neck. He hit the floor face down like a sack of lard and lay motionless.

"I never liked you, Manuel,"

she spat at the man's back. The Maria bent down and rifled his pockets until she found his keys. There was a knife in the back of his belt, and a pistol. She debated for an instant, took them both, and turned to the girl who trembled with shock.

"It is all right now, my little one. You did so well. But we must get away. Now. More men will come, soon. Do you understand?"

Maria grabbed her by the shoulders and shook.

"Lucinda!"

At the sharp sound of her name the girl heard Maria at last. She focused on the woman's eyes, tightened her jaw, and nodded

"Good. Run, now!"

Maria led the way down the hall and into a room. It was empty, just as she hoped. She pushed into the tiny closet and knelt. Putting her weight on the back wall she was just able to push the thin wood away at the baseboard.

"Help me."

Lucinda bent and put her hands on the paneling. They pushed together and the gap widened.

"Manuel?"

came a deep voice from the direction of their room.

"Shit, you stupid, fucking pig!"

"What are you doing?"

Maria could not believe that the girl had run back into the room.

Did she want to get caught? Did she change her mind?

"The door,"

Lucinda panted when she returned a moment later.

"It was not closed. They would find us."

Maria gasped,

"Good, hurry now!"

Lucinda needed no encouragement. She squirmed low behind Maria and shoved on her body. Maria's weight drove forward and the board let go with a sudden crack. The woman fell part way through. Lucinda grew more desperate and pushed again as Maria struggled for balance. They both tumbled through the hole, Lucinda cutting her arm on a jagged edge of the board. Maria rose, surprised that she stood outside in the dark. She grabbed at her lover and helped the girl to her feet. Neither one noticed that the knife dropped into the grass.

"All right?"

she asked.

"Si,"

Lucinda hissed, holding her forearm.

"Vamos!"

Maria flashed a brief, manic grin, turned and ran. Lucinda followed close behind. The foliage swallowed them.

"Here! She's getting away. Shit!"

Sharp reports of an automatic weapon cracked through the night.

"She can't get far out there. It will be light enough to hunt in two hours. I'll kill her then."

Perdo walked back into the building and glared at Manuel, who was barely able to stand. Pedro lifted his gun and shot Manuel in the face.

* * * * * * *

Tom padded into the kitchen. "Morning."

"Morning." Patsy poured him some coffee. She handed him the mug and told him, "I'm worried, Mr. Man."

"About what? Al? Steve and Steph?"

"Yeah, all o' them. I know Al's good at his job. But anything can happen, you know? As for 'the Steves.' I'm kinda worried 'bout them 'cause they could be in danger. And 'cause they're goin' though some stuff. I don't know if they're gonna keep being a couple, you know? But they're so good for each other."

"The 'Steves'?"

"Well, yeah. Steven. Stephanie. Stephanie is the girl version of Steve, right? Sooo—"

"The 'Steves'," they spoke together and chuckled.

"I think they'll be okay," Tom muttered. "I saw how they were when she was learning to fly. And I know Steve kept professional until Steph got her license. But I also know how he looked when she was taking lessons."

"Really? How'd he look?"

"Hell, like he was in looove. He'd be happy when Steph was scheduled to fly. He'd light up like a neon sign when she got to the airport. And he tried to look busy when she left, but I'd see him watching her go."

"Now wait a minute. When I told you they were sleeping together, you were surprised. Don't deny it!" she warned when he opened his mouth. "And now you're telling me you knew it all along? I don't think so. Can't have it both ways, ya know?"

"Well, I got to admit that I was a little slow on the uptake—"

"You think?"

"But after you told me they were sleeping together, and I remembered how Steve was around her, well, it seemed pretty obvious."

"Uh, huh," Patsy said. Then the ghost of her smile vanished and she asked, "You think they'll be okay?"

"As a couple, or the other?"

"Both. Besides, I'm worried somebody might come after them."

He thought for a moment. "Yeah, I think they'll stay together. Like I said, he's in love. He'll step up to keep her. As for the bad guys, guess we'll have to trust in Al, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Patsy and Tom tamped down on their respective unease and got ready for work.

* * * * * * *

"Damn, I feel really rusty."

"That's normal after a lay-off. Right rudder."

"See?" Stephanie asked, applying a little extra right foot pressure. "I knew that. Why can't I do it? Shit."

Steve smiled. "Rudder coordination's the first thing to get rusty. Just hang with it and it'll come back pretty quick."

The Cessna climbed through three thousand feet. Stephanie had not flown for nearly three weeks and, once she and Steven renewed their relationship, she suddenly realized how much she missed it. She maneuvered the old metal airplane and her feet began to work in harmony with the other controls again.

"Yeah, that's better. You're doin' great."

"Doing okay," she admitted.

"You're doing great, babe. How high're ya going?"

"Five, five."

Steven just said, "Huh."

She watched him out of her peripheral vision.

He muttered, "That's more than, uh, a mile high."

"Yeah," she grinned, looking straight ahead through her sunglasses. "That okay with you?" She glanced in his direction.

"Yeah," he said with a smile that reminded her of the wolf in Red Riding Hood. "Just wish we had an autopilot."

"We'll make due. Traffic at eleven o'clock."

"Got him. So, what did you have in mind?"

"Well, I kinda missed those, um, those magical hands of yours." Her cheeks colored while she visually tracked the other airplane.

"You sure that's gonna be enough," he teased.

"Yeah, unless . . . ."

"Unless, what?"

"Unless

you

want to be the one to get all twisted up in this tiny cockpit."

"Hey, it's bigger than a one-fifty," he retorted, comparing their four-seat mount to the smaller two-seat Cessna cousin.

"Yeah, well, as much as I like having you inside me, my legs and hips cramp up sometimes."

"Maybe we need a bigger plane," he thought aloud.

"Or yoga." She smiled. "Besides, we can always go to my place after. If you feel like it . . ." She added, watching him from the corner of her eye once more.

He reached to his left and ran his hand up the inside of her thigh. "I'll feel just like it. A lot." Her skin was soft, smooth and warm under his touch. He felt the hem of her shorts and traced along the edge before stroking down to her knee.

"Mmm, that's nice. Now, ya know we're only at four thousand three hundred?"

"Just warming up a little," he snickered.

"Yeah, me too," she whispered to herself.

He spent time caressing her thigh. His touch became more bold and inched a little higher with each transit. He reached the junction of her leg and crotch, so close to her labia. She purred through the intercom, and he felt the Cessna being brought to level.

"We there?" he asked as he glanced at the altimeter.

"Getting there," she moaned in a way that had nothing to do with the altitude.

"In a hurry?"

"Absolutely not."

With another wicked grin, Steven let his hand wander over her shorts. He stroked the bare skin below her hem then moved higher to tickle her midriff beneath the t-shirt.

"That's nice," Stephanie sighed. She tweaked the trim wheel and adjusted the throttle; the plane obeyed and maintained altitude for her.

"Try a zero-three-zero heading. We won't have to worry about airspace for a hundred—nautical," he offered.

"Rog-geeer, oooh."

"You like that, my little pilot?" His finger ran up the seam and along her zipper. The pressure played over her slit to her clit.

"God, I'm so wet already," she breathed.

"Really?" He unhooked the button of her shorts. "Lemme see." He fumbled with the zipper but could not quite manage the angle.

"Can fly a plane but can't work a zipper," she chided him. "Damn pilots." She released the controls to undo her shorts then slid them past her knees. She looked down at herself then at Steve. "See?"

His eyes were already there. Her excitement made the tiny white triangle of material partially transparent. The last vestige of her decency disappeared as her arousal continued to flow.

"Gawd," he sighed with reverence. "You are so damn beautiful." His entire hand applied a soft, steady pressure from her waist downward until he cupped her flesh. Her sex felt delicious; yielding, wet, and hot to the touch. His fingertips rubbed in languid circles and her legs quivered.

"Mmm, baby, that feels so good! God, don't stop."

"Yes, ma'am. I mean, no, ma'am," he answered.

She closed her eyes and lost herself in his touch. Her focus shrank until her mind centered on the movement between her thighs. All of it—the fingers gliding up and down her as she parted, the occasional brush over her hood, the lingering press of cotton and his hand at her opening—pushed her further into a very warm, electric pleasure.

Steve gazed at her gorgeous expression. Her eyes were lidded, her lips parted and her quiet gasps just broke the squelch so he could hear her through the headphones. He turned up his volume, corrected a slight bank of the wings, and slid beneath the clinging wet fabric.

"Oooh, yeaaah," Stephanie's hips went forward to meet the thick fingers. "Oooh!" She gasped as one slipped into her.

"Mmm," she moaned again and again, matching the rhythm she and Steven found. His hand pressed the upper portion of her vee and he noted the hardened pearl rubbing against his palm.

Stephanie noticed, too, and she shuddered. Her gasps became louder as her passion rose. Steven slipped a second finger into the steamy whirlpool.

"Ungh, God!" her legs wanted to close but she kept them spread by shear willpower. Stephanie sought to give him access, wishing he would go deeper.

"More, Steven. Please!"

The pace began to increase in proportion to her need. His fingers just reached her spot and his palm pushed against her pelvis, compressing her pulsing flesh. Heat spread from deep inside Stephanie to range throughout her body. Her labia clung to his thrusting fingers. Steve imagined he could hear how wet she was over the noise of the airplane and through the muffle of the headphones.

Stephanie moaned and groaned in the final climb to fulfillment. She thrust her hips and squeezed hard onto the welcomed invasion of her lover's thick fingers. Her body stiffened and she grasped his forearm. She shoved him into her and held on as her legs slammed together.

"Oh, God, yes! Fuck, baby! I'm, ungh, ungh, Gawd!"

"C'mon, baby. Now," Steven commanded.

Stephanie plunged into orgasm. Her body spasmed and writhed, her pussy boiled, and cum ran freely from her to drench Steven's fingers. He tried to move inside her, but her hand and thighs trapped his forearm. She rode out her passion in a long, clenching release that ultimately left her a gasping mass of satiated feminine flesh.

He kept the airplane on course with his right hand and he squirmed his left hand as much as she allowed. He watched her slow descent with a satisfied smile.

"God," he told her again, "you are so beautiful."

"Mmm," she sighed. "God that was sweet. I love you, baby."

He rotated the boom microphone from his mouth and leaned over to kiss her temple. He replaced the mike and said, "I love you, too. My queen."

She turned a gentle, post-orgasmic smile on him and blew him a kiss. She leaned back, slowly returned to herself, arranged her tiny white panties and pulled up her shorts.

He pivoted the Cessna back toward the airport, now about forty minutes away. He was busy checking for traffic and calculating when to begin their descent when he felt her hand running up his leg. She touched the tip of his erect cock through his pants and he shifted in his seat.

"Oh, baby, you must be so turned on," she cooed. "You need to cum?"

"I can wait till we get back. But when I get you home . . . "

"You can wait, but maybe I don't want to." She undid his belt and opened his fly. Her delicate hand reached in and gripped him, sliding along his length. "Don't you want to cum for me?"

"Ooh, that's nice, baby,"

She pulled her hand back and gave her palm a sloppy lick. Then she wormed inside his underwear, made the soft skin of his hard cock wet and began to stroke him.

"That's good, Steph."

"But kind of hard to reach. Can you lift up a little?"

Steven raised his hips and she slid his jeans and underwear down to mid-thigh. "That's better." His cock throbbed in her hand and she moved back and forth in a luscious rhythm. "You know, it's only fair, right?"

"What's— Mmm, nice. What, uh, what's fair?"

"Having trouble concentrating, Steven?"

"Mmm, talk, yes, but—oooh—but, that, no." He sighed then asked "Uh, what's fair?"

"Weeell," she began, "I'm dripping wet, but you're not."

He was sitting back with his eyes closed, smiling. "And what're you gonna do 'bout that?"

She scanned for traffic then whispered, "This."

She moved her boom microphone, leaned over and ran her tongue around his tip once, twice, and once more. She bobbed down on him and he groaned. Stephanie pulled away, pursed her lips and dripped saliva onto his cock. Her hand spread it into his skin, coating half his length. He groaned again and thrust into her grip.

"Ooo, you like that, baby?"

"God, yeees," he hissed.

"Can you cum for me, Steven?"

"Yeah." He slouched into the seat and surrendered control to his lover.

"You getting close?"

"That's so good, Steph. I'm getting there."

She looked at his face and smiled. Then she looked at the thick, shiny muscle in her hand. His tip was swollen and a droplet glistened at the tiny slit. She could feel the thud of his heartbeat in her palm. When he began to dry she dripped more spittle and rubbed it into his taut skin.

"Ooh, God. Good, babe. Mmm . . ."

She looked for traffic again and corrected a left bank with a deft twist of the control yoke. She felt him stiffen and gazed at his body again.

Steve's tip had darkened and thickened as he approached climax. Stephanie took one last look outside, then turned her attention to her partner to help him finish.

"It's okay, baby, I want you to cum for me—"

"Oooh."

"You want to cum?"

"Oooh, yeah. Oooh!"

Stephanie knew this was his moment. She stroked his wet shaft and thrilled when he grew harder. Her thumb ran up the underside of his cock and circled his rim as he twitched.

"Oooh, damn!"

"That's it, Steven. Cum for me, baby." She palmed his tip to stop him from cumming on the airplane's interior. Instead, his milky essence ran down his length as the spasms gripped his body. She loved watching him cum, and to have him contracting in her hand made her feel powerful and sexy.

Stephanie kept cupping his glans. When he finished she moved up and down Steven's shaft, rubbing his sticky-slick offering. He felt so good in her hand that she forget how sensitive he would become. His whole body shook and he grabbed her wrist.

"Ooo, too much, baby. Wait, okay?"

"Okay." With a last twitch his member began to shrink. She released him and took her passion-coated hand from his crotch. She rubbed him into the skin of her tummy.

"God, that was so hot. I love to make you cum, Steven."

He lay back with a stupid smile on his lips. Steven gave her a sluggish "thumbs up" while keeping his eyes closed.

She sighed, enjoying the look of him. Then she resumed control of the plane. Stephanie appreciated the stability of the little Cessna. It was in a mild descending bank to the left. She checked the instruments and corrected the course.

"You know, we're down to about four thousand, niner hundred."

"Mmm," he answered.

"Yeah, we were probably below a mile high when you, um, you know. It doesn't count."

"Yeah, does too!"

The way he said it made her laugh. "You want to climb and try it again—"

"Uh, uh."

"—To make it official?"

"Cessna eight-four-two-alpha-alpha," he intoned in his imitation air traffic controller's voice, "turn left heading two-one-zero. Descend and maintain one-thousand-five-hundred."

"A right turn's closer from this heading." She glanced at him and smiled when she saw his eyes were still closed. Then she took a closer look and laughed out loud at his silly expression.

"Cessna two-alpha-alpha, turn

right

heading two-one-zero."

"Cessna two-alpha-alpha, roger, right to two-one-zero, descend, maintain one thousand five hundred. And Approach Control, suggest you raise your jeans to their upright and locked position in preparation for landing."