Out of a Clear Blue Sky
written by:
Janet Fremont

Out of a Clear Blue Sky

Janet Fremont

Oh, I have slipped the surely bonds of earth And danced the skies on laughter silvered wings; Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of

from High Flight by John Gillespie Magee Jr.

"That's it, Sandy. Just follow me on the controls and get the feel of it this time."

The voice came clearly through my headphones and my hands moved to rest lightly on the second stick. No yolk in this one. An old fashioned stick. For a few seconds we traveled straight and level and then the horizon rose slightly as we started down to pick up speed. Then it dipped once again as I felt myself begin to be pressed back into my seat. I could feel Sam's gentle pressure on his controls as we passed through level and the horizon continued to fall. I was forced more deeply into my seat as the horizon dropped totally out of sight and we began to claw our way up, up, up, all the while continuing to arch over further. Then we were passing the top, our heads now pointed towards the earth below but centrifugal force pulling us towards our feet as though we were still flying straight and level, until our continuing smoothly curved path brought our nose downward as we screamed down the back side of the loop until finally we were once more flying level with the horizon right where it should be in front of us.

"Feeling OK?"

I heard Sam's voice in my headphones and returned to the reality of the cockpit. I pushed the intercom switch. "Physically I'm fine. But otherwise I'm high as a kite." I gave a quick laugh. "Actually, quite a bit higher. I loved it, Sam. I want more."

"All in good time, all in good time. OK, we'll try another one. This time move the controls along with me. In fact, I'll just follow you and take it if you overdo anything."

"Roger." I took a deep breath and let my hands relax on the stick, my feet just touching the rudder pedals. A little forward pressure and I watched the air speed indicator begin to pick up as we started down the shallow slope.

"That's it. Let it gain another ten knots or so."

I didn't answer but when we reached the right speed I started back on the stick and we began to climb. "Good, good. That's just right." I held a smooth pressure and we made our way around the big circle until we once again reached the bottom and leveled out. "You are a natural at this, Sandy. I'd say there must be some bird in your genetics somewhere."

"I did say flying was in my family, didn't I? Really, Sam, did I do that all right?"

"More than all right. Best I've ever seen from a beginner. Really."

We spent another half hour with Sam taking me through several more maneuvers and letting me get the feel of them. I wasn't ready to try any of them completely on my own, but I could see that I might be before too many more lessons. At last he said, "OK, Batgirl, bring us back in."

I made a slight face at Sam's way of addressing me, but I wasn't going to say anything. He seemed to like the nickname and it really didn't bother me. It was better than Junior Birdwoman, anyway.

I turned back towards the airport and made my approach. This plane was designed for acrobatics and handled a bit differently than those I had flown before. Even though this was my first time in this type I had picked up a feel for it fairly quickly and my approach and landing were pretty smooth. I taxied over to the hanger and made an orderly shutdown. As the engine died, the silence replacing the torrent of sound which had been engulfing us for the last forty five minutes seemed to lift a physical weight from my shoulders and I felt them relax as I removed my headphones. Actually with modern noise canceling headphones the sound isn't overwhelming but you are still aware of it and if you lift the phones for any reason it becomes a physical assault.

We climbed out and I helped Sam move the plane and tie it down before we headed inside to his office. Sam was in his fifties, an ex-Air Force fighter pilot, and had been my flight instructor for the last two years. He had seen me through my commercial license and Instrument rating and I couldn't imagine a better flight instructor. Always ready to guide me but never pushing too hard or being overly aggressive. After the last lesson I had said something about "milk runs" and Sam had replied, "Getting bored? Maybe you'd like to try some acrobatics. Come on out Friday and I'll give you a taste for free." He knew I was on a tight budget. Flying is expensive, especially when you have to pay an instructor also.

"You mean in that low wing job over in the next bay? I'd love that, Sam."

"OK, then Friday, say about two. That sound all right?"

"Perfect! I'll be here."

Now as we went into his office I think my feet never touched the ground. He moved behind his desk and I took a seat in front of it. "Well, how did you like it?"

"Fantastic! I loved every second of it."

"Want to come back tomorrow, say about ten, and try some more?"

"Oh, Sam, I'd love to but I don't know if I can afford it."

He sat back for a few seconds in thought. Then he slowly said, "Suppose I throw in the instruction for free and you just pick up the regular wet rental cost?"

My eyes opened wide. He was making me quite an offer. Almost shaking I replied, "For that I'll manage somehow, but, Sam, that isn't fair to you. You should get paid for the instruction."

His face turned a little more serious. "Sandy, you are the kind of student who comes along only once in a blue moon. You have a potential I've rarely seen and it wouldn't be right to let it go to waste. I know you aren't planning on flying for a living but flying is a deep part of you never the less. Having a student like you is reward enough for me."

I felt my face go warm at this unexpected high praise. "Thank you, Sam. I don't know that I'm quite that good, but I really would like to learn some acrobatics." Then I hesitated for a few seconds. "I would love to take you up on the offer for tomorrow but I'm afraid it'll be another two weeks before I can even pay the rental."

He smiled at me. "Don't worry about that. You can owe me. Sandy, honestly, I've never had a student take to acrobatics like you just did. I think you must have been born with wings."

Was I born with wings? Maybe not really but as I had told Sam there was aviation in my family. My dad had been Air Force and flew F-16s. His Dad had flown F-105s in Nam. My mom's grandfather had flown P-38s in Europe and his brother had piloted B-29s over Japan. I was never interested in a military career but the flying always did fascinate me. I remember my dad took me flying in a Cessna when I was six and even let me move the yolk a little. From then on I was hooked. Like all the other kids I got my driver's license when I was sixteen but I was less excited about that than starting flight lessons. Before my seventeenth birthday I had soloed and now, at twenty-two, I had private and commercial license and instrument ratings.

As Sam had remarked I wasn't going to earn a living flying. I had graduated the year before with a degree in Information Technology and I had a job running the IT department for a small biotech company. But flying was still a major factor in my life. I flew whenever I got a chance. Somehow when I climbed into the cockpit and left the earth below I became more complete. On the ground I was a cog in a machine - a successful cog, I'll admit, but still a part of something over which I had no control. In the air I was complete. Just myself and the aircraft and sometimes it felt hard to separate the two. Alone, up in the sky, far away from everything else, I was complete. Complete, fulfilled, and happy.

Perhaps this had something to do with my less than successful love life on the ground. I'm not unattractive. I'm five foot seven, slim, in quite good shape physically. I have shoulder length auburn hair, deep green eyes and a figure most men find quite attractive. Maybe a little small in the boob department, but not really too small. I've been told my face is quite nice and I have seen a number of men closely watching my long legs and I've seen them enjoying the view as I walk past. No, the problem is not in getting men to notice me, but rather in keeping them.

It's not like I don't want more. In fact, quite the opposite. I've tried meeting men in a number of different ways. I've even tried the bar scene a couple of times but while I had no trouble meeting men there, there weren't any I wanted to see anywhere else. I have tried a couple of on-line dating services, looking for someone with some interests in common, especially flying. I tried meeting men around the airports. OK, picking up men around the airports, but not with the idea of taking them home to bed. Just to hopefully find someone I can get along with and who can get along with me.

I think a lot of it was just that most men don't know quite how to handle a girl who flies planes as much as I do. Even a lot of the male pilots I knew seemed to be a little touchy about it. One of them once hinted that it was because I had a lot more in my log book than most of them even years older than I am. Once I mentioned that comment to Sam and he agreed that might bother some of them. Then he added, "It also might be because you are a lot better pilot than they are or will ever be." Did he really think that? Well, I know I'm pretty good even if I haven't had much chance to compare myself with many others.

Whatever the reasons it seemed that men didn't keep interest in me for very long. Still, I wasn't about to give up flying for any man: I loved being aloft too much. I was most happy when alone with just myself, the aircraft, and the open sky.

Perhaps part of it is that I'm kind of a loner. I don't mean I try to avoid people or anything. No, it's more that I don't seem to really NEED people most of the time. I'm largely self contained, doing things on my own. That doesn't mean I don't want friends. Or lovers. Sometimes I feel terribly lonely and wish so much for someone to share my thoughts and feelings. In fact, a lot of the time I feel at least somewhat lonely. It may seem strange, but the only times I seem to not be lonely at all is when I'm by myself up in the totally empty sky.

Saturday at a quarter of ten I pulled up and parked. The air was cool and the early September sky was perfectly clear, a flawless blue in the morning light. I made my way inside to Sam's office where he was just finishing some paperwork. "Hi, Batgirl," he greeted me.

"Hi yourself, Blue Fox." He had once told me that "Blue Fox" was his call sign when he was flying F-16s.

He grinned in response and said, "OK, want to go tear up the sky a little?"

I smiled back at him and made a ripping motion with my hands and we headed out to the hanger bay. I helped him pull the stunt plane out into the open and then he surprised me by saying, "Why don't you do the preflight."

"You trust me to do that?" I asked. It takes a lot for one pilot to let another preflight a plane for which he is going to be responsible.

"Sandy, I've watched you do preflights for, what, over two years. I definitely trust you. You are careful and complete. Never take any shortcuts and always make sure of everything."

"I guess I got that for some of the stories my dad told. He told me one he heard around the aero club at Wright Patt. Must have happened long before he was there but they still told it. Seems one day a guy came in to fly and when he went out to do his preflight there was an old guy doing one on another plane. The first pilot finished his, went back inside, checked the weather and talked a little while with the guy behind the counter. Then he looked out the window and saw that the old guy was still taking his time and doing his own preflight. He made some remark about how that old guy must not know much about flying. The man behind the counter looked rather surprised and asked, Know who that old man is?' The pilot shook his head and the counter man said, That's Charles Lindbergh.'"

He smiled at the story and I added, "I've also often heard that there are old pilots and bold pilots but no old, bold pilots. Dad always said that came for Chuck Yeager, but no matter who said it, I believe it."

"That's true. If you get careless they - the Fates or whoever - are always waiting. Now go ahead and preflight the bird."

I did that, carefully checking fuel and oil and control movement. When that task was finished we climbed into the plane, Sam in the rear cockpit and me in the front. For the next hour and a half we tore holes in the sky. Loops and rolls and stalls. Even an Immelmann. Sam would guide me through a maneuver and then have me try them, correcting any mistakes.

When we landed I was again more excited than ever. I found I loved this and longed for a time when I could try them solo. Well, someday. As we walked back towards the hanger door I commented, "I love it, Sam. The gees don't bother me at all and my stomach never even quivered. The only thing that would make it nicer would be if we could get rid of the engine noise. Looping around the sky in silence would be truly fantastic."

He stopped and looked up out over the end of the field. "You've never been up in a glider, have you?" I shook my head. He nodded in the direction he had been looking. "Watch."

I looked where he indicated and saw an aircraft in the distance. From that range I couldn't really tell anything about it but I watched for a couple of minutes as it came closer to the field. Then it dawned on me that I didn't hear any engine noise. The craft made a pass overhead and then a steep banking turn, reversing direction to some around and settle on an approach. However it didn't look like he was lined up with the runway. Instead the pilot made a sharp change in direction at the last second and brought the craft onto the grass parallel to the paved runway, letting it slow to a stop less than a hundred yards from us.

Sam said, "Come on over and I'll introduce you." We started walking towards the plane as the canopy slid back and the pilot started to climb out. As we approached more closely I saw that the pilot was a young man, probably no more than three or four years older than me. He was tall - near six feet - and had a thick head of medium length light brown hair which swished as he shook his head back and forth after removing the earphones and a baseball cap. I couldn't see his eyes through the gold framed flyer's sunglasses he wore but his face wore a wide smile as he turned towards Sam and said, "Hi, Sam. Lovely morning for flying. I saw you stunting out there."

"Hi, Tom. Yes, beautiful morning, but it wasn't me you saw. I was just along for the ride. Let me introduce you to Sandy, one of the best students I've ever had." He turned towards me and said, "Sandy, this if Tom Larson. He flies that silent kite but he also flies other things, including a Lear."

I smiled and stuck out my hand. "Hi. Sam is exaggerating a little. This was only my second time in a stunt plane and Sam was showing me a few things."

Sam put in, "I let her follow me once for each maneuver and then she mostly did everything after that."

I felt a little embarrassed but before I could say anything Tom said, "I'm certainly pleased to meet you, Sandy. If Sam says you are good you might as well not try to defer. Even if you were just a passenger I would still be very pleased to meet a lovely woman who appreciates flight like that." With a smile he added, "I can tell you appreciated it because you are not throwing up."

We all laughed and Sam said, "Sandy was just saying how she wished she could avoid the engine noise when I saw your little kite coming in. I told her she should try a glider sometime."

Tom looked at me more closely. "I would be honored to let you have a ride some time, Sandy. It's like nothing else in the world."

"Would you really? I'd love that." I was finding I was becoming very interested in Tom, not only because he had a glider and was offering me a ride but also I was finding him very attractive as a man. Not just physically although he certainly was that. But mostly because he still seemed interested in me and very friendly even after he knew I was a pilot and, from Sam's comments, a good one.

"As I said, I would be honored. I'll even let you play with the controls if you'd like."

Sam glanced at his watch. "I'll leave you two to work out the details. I've got a student coming over in twenty minutes and this one is not nearly as good as Sandy. I'd better go take my tranquilizers to get ready." We smiled at his kidding and as he turned away he added, "Sandy, let me know when you're ready for another lesson and Tom, nice seeing you again."

Tom turned towards me and said, "OK. When would you like your ride?"

"Anytime. I mean I do have a day job but I can probably work that around the time that's best for you."

"Well, I have a day job, too." He didn't say what it was but He looked up at the clear sky in thought for a couple of seconds. "This high pressure should stay around for a couple of days. It will be sunny and we should get some nice thermals by the afternoon. Are you free tomorrow?"

Surprised I quickly answered. "Yes, just tell me when."

"I'll set up a tow for two tomorrow afternoon." Then he stopped a second before saying, "So why don't you meet me for brunch at the Falcon Club at eleven. That will give us time to eat and get to know each other a little better and let me tell you a little about gliding."

The Falcon Club was a small restaurant just off the field. Surprised again, I hesitated a second and then surprised myself again by saying, "I'm not sure that will be enough time. I'll agree to your schedule if you'll let me take you to dinner tonight." I was most interested to see how he would react to such an invitation from a woman. Many men would turn and run - well, maybe not literally, but many would certainly be put off. I really hoped Tom wouldn't be one of them.

A wide smile crossed Tom's face. "I would be delighted. It's a rare thing for a beautiful woman to be so decisive so soon. I believe we are going to get along quite well."

The same thought came into my mind also and I hoped we would still feel the same way after we spent a little more time together. I smiled back at him. "Perhaps at the Brown House?" I'd have to work that into my budget but I felt sure Sam would be happy to let me go more than two weeks to pay for today's flight.

"That would be perfect. Tell me where you live and I'll drive."

I gave him the address of my apartment and we agreed on a time of six. With smiles and handshakes we parted company and I headed back to my car and home. I wouldn't have a lot of extra time if I was going to finish the few things I needed done today and still have time to get ready for tonight.

By ten of six I was ready. I had changed from the jeans and shirt into a short cocktail dress. It would probably cool off at least into the lower fifties tonight so the green velvet wouldn't be out of place. The Brown House would have a variety of dress so it wouldn't be out of place there, either. This dress was fairly low cut and came only to mid thigh. Three inch heels and a small clutch completed my wardrobe. My only really good jewelry was an emerald solitaire necklace and a pair of matching ear studs. I looked at the necklace against the skin above the low cut dress and decided it set off my eyes nicely. I had brushed my hair until it almost glowed and I was wearing it loose about my shoulders. OK, I'll admit I wanted to impress Tom Larson.

Just at six he knocked on my door. I opened it and he looked me up and down and gave a most decided wolf whistle. He must have a lot of confidence to do that with someone he had just met hours before but I was definitely pleased that he did so and simply said, "Thank you, Sir. Please come in."

He smiled and did so as I turned to get my wrap. Since it wasn't going to be really cold I had a cape instead of a coat. He reached for this and I relinquished it as he held it for me. Manners. Rare, but definitely appreciated.

We left my apartment and I locked the door behind me before turning and seeing the car at the curb in front. A Porsche! Tom Larson must have been fairly well off. He held the door for me as I took my place inside. Fortunately I had learned how to enter a low sports car. If you know how such an entrance can be smooth and even sexy whereas if you don't it will look clumsy at best. One boyfriend in college had shown me how so I put one foot inside, swung my ass into the bucket seat and pulled the other leg in after me. This not only looks smooth but shows a lot of leg - especially with a short dress - and is generally appreciated by men. Tom looked like he appreciated it.

He went around to his side and entered. He started the powerful engine with its low throated throb and said, "To the Brown House, My Lady," and put the car into gear. The short drive took only a few minutes and we soon pulled into a space in the parking lot. Once more he moved around, opened my door and reached out a hand to help me out.

I know a lot of women - especially ones who have accomplished something unusual - such as flying - feel insulted when a man does things for them like opening doors. They seem to think he is saying he thinks they are incapable of doing it on their own. I've never thought like that. I just feel honored when a man shows such courtesies.

Tom offered his arm and led me to the entrance where he again held the door. We entered and moved towards the reception desk. This would be where there would be a problem if Tom was uncomfortable with my asking him out. We'd soon see.

The maitre'd approached and spoke. "May I help you?"

I quickly spoke. "Yes, I have a reservation. Branson." I glanced at Tom's face. If he was bothered it didn't show at all. He seemed perfectly comfortable with my arranging things and made no attempt to take over in any form.

The man glanced at his list and replied, "Certainly. If you'll follow me, please."

He led the way, me following, and Tom bringing up the rear. I did notice that none of this seemed to bother Tom. Points in his favor. He had enough confidence that having a woman set things up didn't bother him. And he didn't mind that I flew. He seemed almost too good to be true.

Dinner went smoothly without a flaw. There was no awkwardness or hesitation on either of our parts. Instead we spoke freely and easily. I'll readily admit that one of the problems I have with men may have to do with the fact that I won't hide myself and play the helpless damsel. If I have an opinion I'll give it. Tom seemed the same way. If our opinions differed we were both willing to accept that and go on. We might try to convince the other of our position but if it didn't take we let it go. Neither of us felt we had to win.

Fortunately there was little difference of opinion at all. We seemed to think alike on many subjects. Especially flight. But not limited to that. I quickly found that Tom was widely read and knowledgeable on a variety of subjects. I also found he managed an air charter service. Managed and, I gathered, largely owned.

Because we would both be flying in the morning we limited ourselves to one glass of wine. Thankfully. I say thankfully because I was paying for dinner and I knew it would already be straining my budget. Another thing I found I liked about Tom. I'm sure he realized from our talk that I was not loaded financially. He obviously was much better off in that department but he never made any suggestion that he pick up part of the tab. He was astute enough to realize I would be hurt if he had. The more I knew him, the better he looked.

When the waiter brought the bill I simply reached for it and handed over my credit card. Tom made no move to interfere and I could see it didn't bother him to have a woman paying the tab even though I was sure that was a rare occurrence for him.

We left the restaurant about a quarter of eight and walked over to his car. Tom once again held the door for me as I entered - and watched my legs as I swung them inside - before going around to his own side.

"It's still early. Is there something you'd like to do now?"

It was a lovely night. Warm for September with the temperature in the sixties and Tom had the top down on the Porsche.. The sky was still perfectly clear and the evening stars had begun to appear. I looked up at them and on impulse said, "Maybe we can just go somewhere where we can look at the stars and talk."

My hand almost came to my mouth as I realized what I had said. On a first date - well, not even really a date - and I was suggesting something like this. However the suggestion didn't seem to phase Tom at all. Instead he replied, "Sure. How about up at Indianhead Park? The parking lot at the top of the cliffs."

I smiled at him. "Perfect."

He started the throaty engine and pulled out of the parking lot. In another few minutes we were heading through the outskirts of the town towards the park in the hills above the river. The sounds of the town faded behind us and by the time we turned into the park entrance the traffic had diminished to only an occasional car. It was Saturday night, classes at the college had begun, so it wasn't surprising that there were a few cars parked at various places in the park but most seemed to be in small side roads or parking areas and as we climbed to the high ground overlooking the river they became fewer in number.

The lot at the top was fairly large, serving both the viewing area and a medium sized picnic grounds. Now the picnic area was empty and only three other cars were parked where they could look out at the view. These were separated and besides I think the couples inside were too busy to notice anyone else.

Tom pulled into a space near one edge, looking out from the top of the high cliffs. He turned off the engine and silence seemed to flow over us. Not really quite total silence. We could still hear distant sounds from the roads and the town below as well as closer the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. We were facing northeast and in the darkened sky I could see Ursa Major and Cassiopeia circling the North Star. Off to our left the bright spot of Jupiter out shown the lesser stars. I leaned back in the leather seat, just looking up, for long seconds. Almost under my breath I quoted, "and a star to steer her by."

Tom turned his head towards me and from the corner of my eye I saw him smile. "Yes, that would do, but sometimes GPS helps."

I gave a slight laugh. "True, very true. But still there is something about the stars that no digital display can match. Sorry, Tom, I've always loved looking up at the stars."

"Nothing to be sorry about. I've always loved that myself." He was silent for half a minute. "Sometimes I wonder if traveling out there might be like the glider. You know, big and open and quiet. To where you are almost one with your craft and can almost become part of the universe itself."

"I've never been in a glider but I get the same feeling when I'm alone in a Cessna. After the last couple of days I think it would be even better in a stunt plane."

"Maybe tomorrow you'll see the best of both. I'll admit that sometimes I love the throb of a powerful engine but the silence of a sailplane is something else. There's also that you almost have to become part of the plane because you don't have an engine to provide brute force to get you out of trouble. Sort of the difference between a powerful motorboat and a kayak."

I smiled at him. "Do you use a kayak?"

"I have one and try to get out in it as frequently as I can, but never enough. What about you?"

"One of my few possessions. A twelve foot Wilderness Systems. I'm not really into white water but I would love to have time to make a long trip - maybe a week or two - down some river. Mostly just paddling with the current, camping at night. Just me and the boat and the wilderness. That sort of thing."

"Yes, that does sound nice. It's not like flying in an empty sky but, then, it's hard to just pull a plane over and camp for the night."

I gave a small laugh. "True, true."

We were silent again for a couple of minutes, just gazing out at the incredible celestial display. Then without looking around Tom said, "Tell me some more about yourself. I mean I can almost see the wings that should be showing at the back of that lovely dress, but tell me a little more."

I smiled again and then also without looking around I replied, "I guess I grew into them." I went on to tell about my dad and granddad and my mom's granddad and my great uncle. " Oh, and dad's sister was in ROTC and wanted to be an F-15 pilot. She changed her mind before she was commissioned but while she was still in college she started working on a private license. She once told me that during her ROTC summer camp they all got F-16 rides. Somehow she managed a slightly longer one than usual and the pilot let her handle the controls a little and actually put it in her log book. She had only a few hours then but her book read Cessna, Cessna, F-16, Cessna...' Dad first took me up - I mean not just as a passenger - when I was about six. It was in a 172. He actually rigged some kind of booster seat for me on the right so I could see and even reach the yolk. He even let me help make a few turns and a couple of altitude changes. I think I was hooked from then on. I got my license as soon as I was legally old enough but before then I actually had quite a few hours even if I couldn't log them. I now have a commercial ticket and instrument rating but only for single engine."

"Are you planning on making flying a career?"

Slowly I replied. "No, I don't think so. I love flying and want to do more and more of it, but I don't want to do it for a living. I know that might sound a little funny but I guess it just seems that if I do it every day as a way to make a living, it will become routine. No, that's not the right word. Maybe not routine but it would be like ... like the magic had gone out of it. I guess I'm not putting this very well, am I?"

"Don't worry about it, you're putting it just right. I know exactly what you mean. Look, I fly a lot as part of the business but the glider is something else entirely. I would never want to do that as a career. I want to keep it different. Special. Keep the magic in it."

We were quiet for a few more minutes, just watching the stellar display. Then Tom spoke softly once more. "Tell me about the rest of your life. Friends, boyfriends, what you do when you're not flying or working."

I let the question swirl around in my head for a minute or so. "Not really that interesting. I tend to be rather a loner. I don't mean I don't get along with other people. Rather that I just don't seem to have a lot in common with them. Parties and drinking are not my thing." Then I added, "I like to fly and I couldn't if I drank much at all. You know, no flying for twelve hours or so. Mostly when I'm not flying or working I do things like reading or just listening to music or watching a DVD or something. If I have longer I might go hiking or take the kayak out or something like that."

"No boyfriends?"

My voice dropped a little more. "Not really. Somehow I don't seem too attractive after the first date or so."

With surprising force he said, "I find that hard to believe."

"You can believe it. Once they find I fly most lose interest."

"What about men who fly themselves? Surely you must meet some of them."

I looked down hiding my face a little. "Mostly they don't even try the first time."

He was silent again for some seconds, then quietly said, "I'll bet that's because you're better than they are. If Sam gives you kind of praise he did, then I know you are very good. And what you've told me about your background confirms it."

I could hear the almost disgust in his voice but I didn't think it was for me. This was confirmed a second later when he said, "I can never understand men who are afraid of someone who knows more or is better at something than they are." I looked up in surprise at the tone of his voice. "Those who are really good have no fear of others who are good - men or women."

Still trying to absorb his attitude I tried to change the subject a little. "What about you? I know you said you weren't married. What about girlfriends?"

Tom shook his head slightly and then turned smiling towards me. "No one in particular right now. Want to apply for the job?"

I felt my face go warm. Maybe that was what I was thinking. Still I managed to get out, "Should I be filling out an application? Or are you just thinking about taking me for a test flight?" I tried to make it sound like a joke and from Tom's reaction I believe he took it that way.

"Well you always want to know someone's qualifications before they fill a position. However, I never take anything - or anyone - for a test flight unless it's wanted by everyone involved."

"Seriously," he went on, "I don't have much of a social life. I guess like you I'm sort of a loner." He stopped for a few seconds. "I guess it's hard for a human to compete with the open sky."

I thought about that. "Maybe. In most cases, I think. Still a lot of birds flock together."

"True," he replied. "But not all. The best birds - the exceptional ones, the eagles, the hawks, the falcons - they go solo."

"Yes," I agreed. "Although I have read that when they do find another like themselves, they mate for life." We looked at each other but neither of us said anything. I think we both felt we might be reading a little too much into that observation. I don't even know if I had been when I made it.

We changed the subject again and Tom asked a little about my job. I told him how I handled the IT services for the little biotech firm. Nothing really too complicated. Just keep their machines up and running and try to prevent any malware getting in and doing any damage. Mostly boring. No, not really boring. I like what I do and always found it interesting but most of my tasks were pretty routine.

"You know," Tom remarked, "we're getting to the point where we should probably think about hiring an IT person for our company. I expect a biotech firm uses more computing power than a charter outfit, but we still have a lot of computers and I'd hate to think of the mess if the whole system got messed up."

"I assume you do back up everything?" I asked.

"Certainly. But isn't it possible to get the same virus or something into the backups also?"

"That's always a possibility. Also, back ups should not be located in the same physical place, in case of a fire or something."

"Oh, we do have off site back up as well. I wouldn't want everything off site because then I'd feel we would have lost control."

"Actually, that's a very good attitude. Keep multiple back ups, but keep them in different places. Makes it harder for a real catastrophe to happen - either by accident or on purpose."

We talked some more about his system and I finally remarked, "It doesn't sound like your system is really too complicated. You could probably get by with an on call consulting company instead of a full time IT position. Who takes care of your problems now?"

"We do have a guy who seems to know quite a bit about computers and he is able to straighten out the small problems when they occur. Thankfully, we've never had a really big problem." He stopped for a second and then said, "Maybe I should hire you as a consultant."

I wasn't sure if he was kidding or not. "You don't really know anything about what I can do. I might just mess things up worse for you."

He smiled. "I doubt that very much." He hesitated a few seconds, obviously thinking. "Seriously, maybe you could come over some time and see just what we have and decide if maybe you could be of some help to us."

"Sort of taking me for a test flight?" I kidded.

"Maybe something like that. But, Sandy, I'm serious. Come out sometime. I'll pay you as an outside consultant. Or ... Maybe you'd like to take your fee as some flight time in some types other than Cessnas?"

I sucked in my breath. "He did know how to get to me. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. You have a commercial ticket. You couldn't fly if we were carrying passengers, but most of our business is moving small cargo. I could put you in the right hand seat of a couple of different birds."

"I would love that! Damn, Tom. You haven't known me twelve hours yet and you already can see right inside and know what makes me tick."

"No, I'm just seeing the surface now. But I very much like what I see. In more ways than one."

We changed the subject again to less intense topics, but before too much longer we headed back to my apartment. Tom pulled up and parked out front and came around to open my door and help me out. He walked me up to the door and when I took the key from my clutch he reached for it and unlocked it for me. I wondered if he expected me to invite him in and if so I wasn't sure what I would do. Normally I never would with someone I had just met, but I did feel quite comfortable with Tom. However as he returned the key to my hand he said, "I'll still see you at eleven tomorrow?"

"Most definitely. I look forward to it." He still had hold of my hand where he had placed the key and I started to shake his but before I could he turned my hand over, raised it to his lips and placed a kiss on the back. He then released it and with a smile turned to go back to his car. I stood watching until he rounded the vehicle and entered his side. I was still watching as the deep sounding engine came to life and he drove off.

Sunday morning I once again dressed in jeans and an open neck shirt, picked up my baseball cap and aviator sunglasses, and just before eleven drove out to the field where I parked by the Falcon Club. I saw Tom's car already there. When I went inside he saw me and waved me over to his table.

We greeted each other and the waitress brought over another menu. After making our selections Tom turned to me and asked, "Ready to try some silent flight?"

"More than ready." I answered back. "Thanks again for asking me."

Our conversation was light, nothing serious. Just easy talk, two people getting to know each other. When we finished our meal Tom paid the bill and as we walked out he said, "Just follow me over by the hanger and then I can spend a little time telling you about the differences you might expect. There are some things you can do in a powered craft that you'd better not try in a glider."

"Oh, you mean like taking off?" I quipped.

He laughed. "Well, that, too. Although there are some ... One type is a Sperber which is really a powered glider. I think it actually used a Volkswagen engine. You could do a ground takeoff and once aloft cut the engine and fly it like a glider. But what I really meant was about how you have to seek out thermals if you want to climb and things like that."

He got in the Porsche and I got back into my little car and followed him the short distance over to where I parked next to him beside the hanger. We climbed out and walked inside. Here the glider rested on its sleek belly with the nose tipped downwards onto a skid. The plane had a set of small wheels but the center of gravity was such that after landing the plane dropped forwards onto a nose skid.

The plane had two cockpits, one behind the other, with a single canopy covering both. The low wings were much longer in proportion than I was used to and were in general more narrow, tapering to a very narrow tip. Rudder and elevators looked much the same as other craft but the nose was smooth. No propeller. The aft end also tapered to a small, smooth and rounded termination.

Tom walked over and slid his hand along the forward edge of one of the long wings. "Probably one of the first things you will notice is that it's a lot lighter than a conventional craft. Not surprising since there's no engine and no heavy landing gear. All the control surfaces are directly coupled. Because they are light also there's no need for hydraulic assist, even less so than in other small planes."

We moved over to where I could look down - yes, down - into the cockpit. The seats rested only a few inches from the ground and the top of the canopy was well below my head height. The thought came into my mind that this was a lot like a kayak compared to a larger motorcraft or even compared to a sailboat. A kayak is just a thin skin with a seat inside. No keel or centerboard. The person in the cockpit - even the name is the same as for an aircraft - the person in the cockpit acts to keep the center of gravity low so a kayak is very stable. The glider looked like two persons would make up a major part of its weight.

Looking down into the cockpit the instrument panel didn't seem that different for those I was used to with the exception that there were no engine displays. There were no RPMs to keep track of, no engine vacuum, no mags, no oil temperature to monitor. The flight instruments, however, were quite familiar. There was air speed, altitude, turn and bank, compass. There was one I wasn't used to and Tom told me it was a very sensitive vertical speed indicator called a variometer. I did see a small radio panel and a GPS display.

I could just see rudder pedals and instead of the more familiar yolk - steering wheel to ground lovers - there was a stick as in the stunt plane. I closed my eyes for a second or two, imagining myself in that cockpit, my hand on the stick, as I swooped through empty space with only the sound of the wind. I shook my head slightly and opened my eyes to find Tom studying me, a smile on his face. "Yes, I can see you really are part bird," he commented and somehow I knew he knew what I had been thinking.

We moved back into a small room at the side of the hanger where there was a large table and a number of chairs. The walls contained several charts and maps of the area and a computer rested on a table at one side, its screen showing a display of current weather.

Tom held a chair for me on one side near the end of the table and then took a seat himself at the end to my right. "OK, let me tell you a little about gliders. I'm sure you already know a lot of this but I'll probably say it anyhow. Just don't go to sleep."

This brought a laugh from me. As if there was any chance I'd go to sleep. I was as excited as I could ever remember being about anything.

Tom began, "You know, of course, that a plane gets its lift from the air moving over the wings, not from the engine. That means that if we are moving forwards there will be a force holding us up. The trick is to get moving forwards and keep doing so. To get going we are going to get a tow from a powered craft. Once we're aloft and moving enough we will release the tow cable and he can go home and we'll be alone for as long as we can stay up."

I interrupted. "Just how long can you stay up in a glider?"

" As you know most any plane can glide for some time. If you lose your engine you look for somewhere you can glide in for a forced landing, right? There was a military plane some time ago, a delta wing fighter. I think it was an F-101 but I'm not sure. Anyway it had a flameout and glided over a hundred miles back to base to land. A plane designed to be a glider is even better. How long it can actually stay up depends a lot on the atmospheric conditions. If we can catch up drafts and the right winds it can be quite a while. I know of some that have stayed aloft for more than ten hours, but we won't likely be trying that." Then he grinned. "For one thing there is no bathroom in the plane."

I smiled at this. All small craft pilots are very aware of this fact. Some small military planes handle long flights with a device called a "pilot relief tube." At least they did when pilots were all men.

Tom continued. "Today the pressure is high - nice, dense air - and with the clear sky and sunshine we should be able to find some nice updrafts. Especially on the windward side of the hills. We can catch one of those and spiral upwards and then use the altitude to travel away from that location. We'll just have to leave enough altitude to get back where we can pick up another updraft or thermal. Otherwise we'll need to find a nice landing spot. Around here I generally don't have any trouble."

We spent most of the next half hour with Tom telling me about the subtle differences between controlling a powered craft and a glider. Tom would be in the back seat but he had told me he would let me try the controls a little. If I started to do something dumb he could always take it from me but it was better if I had an idea what and what not to do.

Shortly before two I heard the sound of an engine approaching the hanger. "That's probably our tow," Tom commented. "Let's get the bird outside."

He opened the big hanger door and together we rolled the craft outside into the early afternoon sunshine. A single engine craft was idling on the apron and we moved the glider in line behind it. Tom pushed a pair of chocks against the wheels of the powered craft and the pilot climbed out. He and Tom pulled a nylon tow cable nearly two hundred feet long into place connecting the powered craft to a lug on the nose of the glider. They checked over the connections to both planes and then I saw them give each other OK signs with their hands and the other pilot climbed back into his craft.

Tom ran up and pulled the chocks and then came back to where I was waiting next to the cockpit of the glider. The canopy was open and he helped me into the front compartment before climbing into the rear one. He closed the canopy and made sure it was latched. Then he said, "You might want to put on the phones, at least until we get cut free." I nodded and picked up the headphones as he donned his own.

I just listened as he spoke to the pilot of the other craft. He started to taxi slowly and when the slack came out of the tow cable we started forwards behind him. As soon as we were moving the wings righted themselves and we trundled along behind the other plane on the small wheels which must have been just inches below us. At the end of the runway the other pilot must have called for clearance on another frequency. We didn't wait long- it was Sunday afternoon and this wasn't a busy airport anyway. A quick word back to Tom on our frequency and then he pulled out onto the runway with us following.

Soon we were lined up and I heard the engine of the other craft pickup. Then he released his brakes and we began to roll forwards. We didn't gain speed as fast as I was used to on take off but that wasn't surprising considering he had to pull our weight along also. But we had plenty of runway and it didn't really take too long to reach rotation speed and I saw the plane in front of us leave the ground. Almost instantly I realized we were no longer earthbound either and I felt the thrill I always did when I lifted into the sky.

We climbed slowly for some time, moving away from the airport towards the line of hills. I could still hear the sound of the other plane's engine but it was much more quiet than I was used to. Then there were some words exchanged between Tom and the other pilot and suddenly I saw the tow cable pull away from our craft and I realized we were on our own. The other pilot waggled his wings and turned away from us, to head back down, I assumed. As he departed the sound of his engine disappeared and I Tom said, "You can take your phones off now if you want."

I lifted them clear of my ears and instead of the deafening roar I would have found when I flew, there was only the sound of the wind rushing past the surface of the plane. Tom had control and he flew us towards the line of hills in the near distance. As we approached I suddenly felt the pressure of an updraft as the warm air rose beneath us. Tom banked the plane enough to keep us circling in this rising column as the altimeter hands moved ever upwards. Looking downwards I could see the forested hillsides with their autumn leaves in changing colors appear to recede farther and farther as we climbed.

When he thought we had enough altitude Tom turned away from the hills and we started across the sky in near silence. He pulled the plane through a lazy eight a couple of times and then said, "OK, Sandy, why don't you try one?"

My mouth felt dry but I wasn't scared or anything. Just excited. I answered, "All right. Just tell me if I'm doing anything wrong before I get us in real trouble."

"Don't worry so. I'm sure you'll do it right. If you feel me pulling on the controls just follow and let me correct things."

I took the stick and began a gentle banking turn. The craft handled wonderfully! I began to feel as though I were a part of it or it was a prat of me. So soon and I was already feeling at home in this strange cockpit.

We spent more than two hours and during that time I found that a glider could perform some stunts also. Tom was a wonderful pilot and was also a great instructor as he let me try a few acrobatics, always making sure we had sufficient speed and altitude before I entered into any maneuver. At last he took the controls again and we headed back towards the field. We made our approach just like I had seen him do the day before. A long pass parallel to the runway and then a steep bank and a decent to touch down on the grass beside the asphalt strip.

Once on the ground we rapidly slowed until we came to a stop and the nose dropped down. Tom released the canopy. I began to unfasten my harness but by the time I had released everything Tom was already out and offering me a hand. I climbed out and I'm sure my state of excitement was evident on my face. "Oh, Tom, thank you. That was fantastic!"

He smiled and I surprised both of us by putting my arms around his neck and giving him a quick, tight hug. At first touch I felt him stiffen slightly but in less than a second he relaxed and accepted my embrace. A quick kiss to his cheek and again I said, Thank you. Thank you, so much."

I quickly released my hug as I realized what I was doing but Tom didn't appear to be in the least offended. "You are quite welcome. I can see Sam's judgment was right - as if I ever had any doubt. You really are part bird - a true eagle, I believe. It's incredible the way you picked up handling this."

I felt my face go warm. "Well, it's not like I've never flown before, after all."

"No, but there are definitely differences and you acted like you had been flying unpowered craft for years. You have a real feel for planes, without doubt."

I helped him roll the craft back into the hanger and put it in place. When we had finished we headed back out to our cars. I again thanked him for the wonderful experience. He walked over to my car with me and opened my door but before I could get in he placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face him.

"Sandy, you are a fantastic pilot and I want very much to fly with you again. But I want more than that, also. Would you allow me to take you out next Friday night to dinner and perhaps some dancing afterwards?"

Would I ever! But I managed to retain some semblance of calm and answered, "I would love that, Tom."

"I will call and give you the details if that's all right. I think I have a good enough idea of what you like to find something interesting."

I smiled up at him. "I look forward to it. Thanks again, Tom." I climbed inside my car as he closed the door after me. I started the engine and pulled away, the usual smooth response of the vehicle feeling rough and cumbersome after the response of the glider to my feather light touches on the controls.

The week turned out to be quite busy at work. I didn't get a chance to fly at all, which, really, was probably a good thing - at least for my budget. Between what I owed Sam for the rental for last Saturday's flight and what I spent on dinner at the Brown House, I had already overspent this month.

On Wednesday Tom called me. He said we would go somewhere nice for dinner. I should dress like I had last Saturday. I was a little apprehensive about the dancing. I really didn't care for loud, fast music and a lot of modern dancing leaves me totally cold. I was comfortable with older ballroom dances and enjoyed them but hard rock was definitely not my thing. Still, I didn't want to discourage Tom by saying anything.

Friday afternoon I got home about five thirty. Tom had said six thirty so I didn't have a lot of time. I had already picked out an outfit, not that this took a lot of thought. I had a very limited wardrobe of semi formal wear. The green velvet cocktail dress would have been fine, but I had worn that last time. There was a high collar, Chinese type sheath, close fitting and slit up the sides, but it was a little light weight for how cool I expected the evening to be. Besides it might be a little restrictive, depending on just what type of dancing Tom had in mind. That left my classic "little black dress." Mid thigh length, sleeveless, fairly plunging V-neck and low back. It would have to do.

I managed to be ready by six twenty-five. Thankfully Tom didn't come early. In fact, I was to find that he was almost exactly on time. Just at six thirty he knocked on my door. I opened it and stepped back, inviting him inside. He was dressed in a gray suit, well made and fitting nicely. He looked at me and I made a small twirl. "Will this do?" I asked with only the slightest hesitation in my voice.

He started to answer and then actually stopped to clear his throat. "It will definitely do. You are absolutely lovely, Sandy."

I let my breath out and managed a "Thank you, Sir." I picked up my wrap - the cape again - and he held it for me as I fastened the clasp at the neck.

He held the door for me and waited as I locked it, then took my arm and led me down to the Porsche, this time with its top up. He held my door for me again. I was coming to believe his manners were a natural part of him. He wasn't just trying to impress me.

We started off and I refrained from asking where we were going, just allowing him to proceed. I don't think it was thoughtlessness, but rather that he wanted to surprise me. We headed out of town on a state highway and started up into the hills. In about a half hour we turned off onto a smaller road, followed it for a couple of miles, and then turned into a gate between two large stone pillars. Another quarter miles on a crushed stone drive and what appeared to be a large - a very large - house with a circular drive in front appeared. I looked over at Tom and he said, "It used to belong to some giant of industry or something but now it's a private club."

He stopped the car and an attendant appeared to open my door. Tom came around and offered his arm at the same time handing the car keys to the attendant along with a bill of some kind. He then turned and led me up to the double door and opened it for me.

Inside was a different world from any in which I had lived. There was dark wood everywhere. Not cheap paneling, but real wood. There were oil paintings on the walls. Again, not prints, but real oil paintings. A pretty young woman at a reception desk just inside the door turned and smiled at us but before she could say anything Tom said, "Larson. I have a reservation."

Again the smile and she responded, "Of course, Sir, you are expected." Then she turned and led us down a hallway to a double wide pocket door. Inside was a dining room with a half dozen tables. Dim, indirect lighting, candles on each table along with place settings which looked to be heavy silver plate if not Sterling. We were led to a table in a corner next to a window. From what I could see we were located somewhere on a hillside looking out over nearly empty forested land.

Another pretty young girl, dressed quite well as had been the receptionist, handed us heavy menus. There were filled water glasses on the table along with empty wine goblets. However, we weren't asked about drinks. I suppose to give us a chance to decide what we were eating before we selected something.

I opened the menu and looked. I was a little surprised in that there were only four entrees available. However, they were not the ordinary type that you would find at Dennys. Beef Wellington, Cornish game hens, Baked cod in a white wine sauce, and Steak Dianne. There were choices of two types of soup or three different salads. A limited selection of sides was also displayed. Also there were no prices on the menu. I looked at Tom for a clue and he simply said, "I have never been disappointed with anything here. Not that I've eaten here that often, but they do have a great reputation. I believe I'll have the Beef Wellington."

I nodded and looked at the list once more. Perhaps just to assert my independence I said, "I think I'll try the Steak Dianne."

He asked about my choice of salad and side and when the waitress returned he ordered for both of us. Now she asked about drink and he looked over at me. "Are you planning on flying tomorrow?" I shook my head. He turned back to the waitress and asked for a Burgundy, ordering a half bottle.

When our food came it was done to perfection. I have once or twice eaten in a restaurant which billed itself as five star, that had the atmosphere but whose food should have rated no more than a star and a half. This was certainly not the case here. Dinner was one of the best I have ever enjoyed.

We talked through the meal but about nothing of importance. Just a little more getting to know each other. When we had finished Tom asked about desert. "I have heard their cherry cheese cake is very good. Would you like to split an order?"

Again I think he picked up that I would rather not eat a large desert but would still enjoy a small amount. "Why, yes, I think I would. Thank you." This, too, when it came, was perfection.

When we had finished and enjoyed a cup of tea - I'm not a coffee drinker despite being a pilot - Tom simply handed his credit card and when the waitress returned added what I think was probably a pretty generous tip, although I couldn't see the exact amount. Still, the look on her face as she took the slip indicated that she was very pleased.

I wondered where we would be going now. Before we stood to leave, Tom said, "I know from our talk last week that you are not wild about hard rock or anything like that. I suspect that your taste in dancing might go along the same lines, so I thought we might try the ballroom here. They tend to have slower stuff from the forties, fifties, or sixties. Does that interest you?"

I smiled at him, partly in pleasure and partly in relief. "Yes, that sounds perfect. I am familiar with fox trots and waltzes."

He then stood and took my hand as I rose and we left the dining room.

We turned down the hall in the direction from which we had come and quickly arrived back at the reception desk. The same young woman who had first met us was there and Tom said, "We are going to be spending some time in the ballroom now."

She smiled at him and replied, "Right this way, Sir," leading us down a hallway in the opposite direction from the dining room. We arrived at another double pocket door and when we entered I found one very large room. There was a small raised dias or stage at one end where a five piece band was playing. Small tables lined the walls, about a third filled with other couples. An equal number of couples were on the large central floor, dancing to a waltz. The lighting was dim and indirect with, again, a small candle in a colored glass holder on each table.

We were shown to a small table on the side. The waltz was just ending and couples were making their way back to their own tables. I turned to Tom. "I never imagined this place existed. It's like something out of a past era."

"Yes, in a lot of ways. I'll admit I like modern planes and technology, but I prefer this to much of the modern entertainment' scene." I could hear the quotes around entertainment in his voice.

"Then we are in perfect agreement. Once again."

In another minute the band began another song, a fox trot this time, and Tom turned towards me ans asked, "Would you like to dance?"

I smiled and gave him my hand so he could lead me out onto the floor. I was quite happy to find that he was a very good dancer. Perhaps it's something about the touch of a good pilot on the controls that carries over, but his lead, while firm, was never forceful, just a gentle guide to what I should expect.

We moved well together for a first time. I had no doubt that if this was repeated we would become even more amalgamed. We danced several numbers before returning to our table.

"You seem to be able to guess just what I would enjoy, Tom. Is mind reading one of your talents also?"

He laughed. "Not really. It's more likely that you just enjoy the same things as I do myself."

This whole thing seemed almost to much to believe. I don't just mean the dinner and the dancing. I mean a week ago I had just experienced stunt flying for the first time and I couldn't imagine anything better. Then along came Tom - literally from out of the blue - and my whole world changed. Stunt flying was wonderful, all right, but silently, in a glider, it was even more so. And Tom. He seemed too good to be true. Physically, one of the most attractive men I have ever met. He liked flying, liked most the same things I did. AND he didn't seem to mind that I flew and flew well. Almost too good to be true.

We finally left the club about eleven thirty. Tom helped me into the car and we started back towards town. The sky was mostly clear and the stars shone brightly with only an occasional small cloud to block their radiance.

The drive back was largely silent, but not at all uncomfortably so. More companionable silence. We pulled up in front of my apartment and Tom again walked me up to my door, took my key from me, and unlocked it. My mind was in some turmoil. This was really a first date, but did I want to invite him in and if so invite him in for what? A drink, some kissing, bed? I didn't really know. I finally opened my mouth, about to make the invitation, when Tom placed his finger across my lips. "Not just yet. Let's wait until the time is right."

Then he let his hands gently grasp my upper arms and leaned forwards. Our lips met in a firm, warm kiss, but not a clutch of wild passion. He was right. We would wait, but I could see little doubt of the eventual destination.

Twice that week we talked on the phone. On Monday evening Tom called to thank me for a wonderful evening. I'm sure I ended up thanking him at least as much. Then Wednesday night he called again to ask me out for Saturday. He suggested dinner and a movie, maybe a little more casual than the last time. I was happy to accept and we left open exactly what we'd be doing.

Friday night I was at home, looking forward to the next evening when the phone rang once again. I answered and heard Tom's voice. "Hi. About tomorrow night, I'm afraid we're going to have to postpone that movie."

"Oh, something come up?" I was afraid he could hear the disappointment in my voice.

"Yes, actually. I just received a desperate call from someone who needs some parts and equipment. By yesterday, of so he said, but he settled for tomorrow. I'm going to have to take the Queen Air on a trip of a few hundred miles tomorrow. I won't be able to make it back in time."

"Oh. I understand, Tom." This time I was sure he could hear the disappointment.

Then his voice changed a little and he said, "I was wondering if you'd like to have the right seat."

"Are you serious!? I'd love that. But, seriously, Tom, I don't have any multi engine time."

"Then this will be your chance to get some. It's just cargo, no pax, and you do have a commercial ticket. Oh, to keep everyone happy, I'll have to pay you for the flight."

A chance at multi engine time, and in a Queen Air! Sure it's probably older than I am but if an aircraft is properly maintained, that doesn't really matter. There are still some planes flying perfectly well after almost a century. "Tom, I should be paying you."

"Can't do that. I don't have an instructor rating. Really, Sandy, if you weren't going I'd be paying one of my regular co-pilots and since they've already flown a bit this week, I'd probably have to pay them a bonus for Saturday work. Not to mention if I don't pay you I'd have all kinds of grief from the labor relations people. Can you meet me at the field at about seven- thirty? That should give the people bringing the cargo over a chance to get it here and loaded and let us make an eight-thirty departure time."

"I'd love to make the trip. I don't have anything scheduled for the weekend that can't wait. Seven-thirty and I'll be there."

"That's wonderful. Oh, and one more thing. Depending on weather and a couple of things at the far end, we might have to stay overnight and come back on Sunday. The company will pay for your room and meals."

Flying light aircraft one gets used to the idea that trip plans can be put on hold and overnight stays are not unusual. In fact I kept a small bag packed for when I flew cross country for just such changes of plans. But to tease Tom a little I asked, "Will they pay for two rooms or just one?"

I was sure he could tell I was joking from my tone of voice but he came right back at me with, "Well, that will be up to you. After we fly you can see where you wont to roost for the night." We both laughed but we also both felt the undercurrents of our new relationship invading the teasing.

Saturday morning I was up early. I normally make appointments on time but today I had the excitement of what I'd be doing to spur me on even more. Not just the flying although that already had me higher than I expected we'd be flying. But there was also Tom. I had to admit to myself that I was falling for him hard.

I pulled out the bag I kept packed and looked at it. I kept a change of clothes but just jeans and a shirt along with underwear. Now I decided to add a dress in case we did stay overnight and wanted to go somewhere a little more formal. Then I thought about staying overnight. The bag had no night clothes as I sleep nude. But even though we had just been teasing was there a chance I'd actually decide to spend the night with Tom? I mean he had just kissed me once but it was clear the attraction was there and mutual.

Was I really thinking about going to bed with him? If I was honest with myself I had to admit that, yes, I was, but I certainly hadn't decided. For that matter he hadn't asked me. Still, just in case, I opened the bag and added what I hoped was a sexy peignoir set.

At a quarter after seven I pulled up outside the Larson Air hanger and parked. I could see a twin engine Queen Air on the apron outside and assumed this would be the one we would be taking. As I started over towards it A truck pulled up alongside and two men got out. One moved around to the rear of the vehicle and opened the big back door while the other walked over to where I saw Tom climbing down from inside the plane. They spoke for a few seconds and then Tom headed towards the hanger while the men began to unload some boxes from the truck and move them on board the aircraft. I changed direction and met up with Tom just as he reached the small door into the hanger.

"Hi," I called.

"Hi," he answered back. "Come on into my office and I'll brief you about the flight."

We walked over to the hanger and inside to a small office along one wall. Tom moved behind the desk and indicated a chair next to it for me. Spreading a chart, he said, "The destination is near San Antonio." He pointed to a small airport not too far from the city. San Antonio has a lot of airfields nearby, including several large Air Force bases. Fortunately this field wasn't really near any of them. He continued, "I would expect about three and a half hours if there isn't much headwind. The B80 cruises at about 180 knots." He went on to point out an alternate field or two in case we ran into any weather, although nothing was really expected. Then he gave me a little technical information on the aircraft.

I knew the Beechcraft Queen Air was a low wing, twin engine craft. This one, a B80 model, was from the mid nineteen seventies but didn't have too many hours on it. Tom had been lucky in finding one that had belonged to a private owner who had died. His family just wanted to sell the plane and he was able to obtain a good price, especially for one in such good condition. When configured as a passenger carrying craft, the B80 model would seat nine pax, but this one had only two passenger seats and was mainly used for cargo. On this trip it would be strictly cargo - otherwise I couldn't have had the right seat.

Tom went over the preflight checklist, some emergency procedures, and a few other things. He was just finishing giving me a few differences between this and the single engine planes I had flown when one of the men from the truck outside stuck his head into the office and said, "All loaded, Mr. Larson."

"Good. I'll check that everything is secure before takeoff. Have you got a total weight for me?"

"Right here." He passed over a clipboard with several papers attached. Tom studied the top one for a moment. Then he turned to the second, quickly read over it and signed his name at the bottom. I could see there was already another signature next to his. He pulled a copy and handed it back to the man.

"OK, we'll get it there as soon as we can. I'd guess between twelve and one, but I'll give a call when we're closer."

"Great! Someone will be very happy to get that call and they'll meet you at the field. Thanks again for making the trip on a Saturday."

Tom stood and they shook hands before the man turned and left the office. Tom turned to me and said, "If you're ready we can go ahead and get started. Oh, the restroom is around the corner to your right."

Actually we both headed there before going outside the hanger. Any small plane pilot knows to do that before a flight. If not they rapidly learn.

Outside we walked over to the plane and climbed inside. I watched as Tom inspected the cargo, making sure it was well anchored. Then I followed him as he completed his pre-flight walk around. One more short walk to file a flight plan and we once again boarded the aircraft.

Tom took his place in the left seat and I settled into the right. He handed me the printed check list and I read off items as he did what was necessary. When we reached the proper point he started one engine and a little later the second. A couple of times he pointed out particular controls to me as he inspected them. We had both donned headphones against the noise and when the list was completed and the engines had had a chance to warm up he made a call to the control tower. "Tower, this is Queen Air N75, ready to taxi."

"N75 you are cleared to taxi to runway 28. Hold there and advise when you are ready to take off."

"Roger, Tower, N75."

I just sat in my seat and watched as Tom steered the craft to the end of the designated runway and turned into position perpendicular to it. Again we went through a check list. When that was completed he made sure I knew where the gear and flap controls were and said, "When I call for it, you can raise the gear. All set."

I nodded and he made another call to the tower. "Tower, Queen Air N75. Ready for takeoff."

The call came back immediately. After all, there didn't seem to be any other traffic just now. "N75, Tower. You are cleared for takeoff. Have a good trip."

"Roger, Tower, thanks. We'll try. Probably be back tomorrow. N75."

He reached over and advanced the throttles and steered the plane out onto the runway, turning it to face down the long asphalt strip. He advanced the throttles now, driving the engines to a truly loud roar. I could feel the two big Lycomings trying to pull the plane forwards despite the brakes until at last Tom released them and we began a forward roll. I had watched as he had done the weight and balance calculations and knew that with fuel, cargo and everything we weighed in somewhere near 7500 pounds, a lot heaver than the planes I was used to. But then when I flew I didn't have nearly eight hundred horsepower at my command.

We quickly picked up speed and far short of the end of the runway I felt the ground vibration stop and almost immediately Tom said, "Gear up." I reached over and moved the control and could hear the sound as the wheels retracted. I had never piloted a plane with retractable gear but was only a little surprised that I could instantly feel a difference in the way the craft flew as the plane became much more streamlined.

We climbed through the pattern and as Tom called out different flap settings I moved the controls. The B80 can climb over a thousand feet per minute so we gained altitude quickly. (Of course nothing like as quickly as in Sam's acrobatic craft.) At last we settled down on a course a little west of south at ten thousand, five hundred feet. The sky was clear with just a few high clouds and Tom said, "If the weather changes we'll have to go on instruments, but as long as everything stays nice we'll stay VFR. If we stay down here we won't need oxygen even if it might cruise a little more efficiently at fifteen. Now, Sandy, why don't you take it for a little. Just get the feel of the controls and you'll find it's not that different from a single engine."

He had already shown me how to sync the engines and mentioned a few things I should be aware of. I had never handled a multi engine but I wasn't afraid of it or anything. Let's just say I was a little cautious. After all this was not a cheap airplane. It probably cost more than I would make in ten years at my current job. Still, I was excited and quite ready as I reached forward and took the yolk. Tom raised his hands clear and smiled at me. I smiled back and began to get the feel of the controls.

In a very short time I began to feel quite comfortable with this plane. It responded nicely to the controls and I quickly lost any apprehension I might have had about flying it. Besides, if anything happened, Tom was there just on my left.

For the next thirty minutes I flew the airplane. A couple of times Tom gave me some advice to make things a little easier, but overall I found I was having a ball. After that half hour he did take the controls back for a while to give me a break even though I felt I could have kept going for much longer. I think he noticed how I felt and after I had checked our position against the chart, compared actual times to estimates and fidgeted around in general, he asked if I wanted it back again. I happily took him up on the offer and he settled back, letting me fly the plane. I'm sure he was keeping track of our progress as once or twice he told me to alter course slightly to correct for the winds. Still, there was no question that I was flying the craft: No back seat (left seat?) Driving from Tom. I took that as quite a compliment.

Sometime after we had left Waco behind us on our right Tom made the call so our arrival would be met. Then as we neared our destination he took the controls back with an almost apology. "I'd better take it now. Sometime when we're a little lighter I'll let you practice some landings, but it would probably be better if we're unloaded the first time."

I smiled at him and replied, "Sure. I'd hate to prang your nice aircraft. Not to mention someone might be a little unhappy if I damage the cargo." He laughed in response as I lifted my hands from the yolk and leaned back in the seat.

Although Tom was now flying he had me make the call to the tower and go through the prelanding checklist with him. I also watched closely at what he did so that if I ever did get a chance to try a landing myself, I'd have some idea of what might be different from what I was used to.

Once on the ground we taxied over near the edge of the small field where I could see a parked van bearing the same logo as the truck which had brought the parts to the plane this morning. We shut down the engines and climbed out of the cabin. Tom went over and shook hands with one of the men. They spoke for a few seconds and then the two began to retrieve things from inside the plane. This only took a few minutes. Then they compared things as they were loaded into the van with the list on the paper Tom had given them. Finally, after everything had checked out, they signed for delivery, shook hands again, and drove away from the field.

I helped Tom move the aircraft over to a tie down and followed him inside while he closed out the flight plan and made arrangements to have the plane refueled. He also checked the weather expected for the afternoon and for the next day and found it to look much the same. With good weather still expected the next day he suggested and I quickly agreed that we stay the night and fly back on Sunday.

By the time everything was done it was nearing one thirty. He turned to me and asked, "Ready for some lunch?"

Lunch? I had been so excited I had completely forgotten about eating. Now that he mentioned it, however, I realized I was getting a little hungry. Still a little surprised that I had forgotten about food I said, "Sure. I had actually forgotten about it but I am getting a little hungry."

"Do you like barbecue? I know a little place near here that has some of the best Tex-Mex I've ever tasted."

"That sound wonderful! I love that stuff."

We went back inside once again and Tom managed to find a car we could rent. With that and the plane taken care of, we retrieved our bags from the plane and put them into the trunk. Tom held the door for me before going around to take the driver's seat.

We started away from the field and Tom commented, "You know, you looked like you had been flying twins for years. You really are a very good pilot."

I felt slightly embarrassed. "Thanks," I said. "I doubt I was really that good but it didn't feel too different from a single."

"It isn't really. Mostly just more of the same with twice as much to watch. But, yes, you did quite well." Then after a short pause, "This your first time down here?"

"Yeah. I've been to Fort Worth but no closer. But it still looks like Texas."

He laughed. "It still is Texas although I'll admit that does cover a LOT of space." After a second he added, "I once surprised some people when I told them that Texarkana is closer to Chicago than it is to El Paso."

I laughed with him. "Yes! It's the only place I've ever seen with four digit numbers on the Interstate mileposts."

For the next few minutes we spoke about some of the places we had been and would like to see, but then we turned onto a small road and in a half mile pulled up beside a small, single story building with a sign outside, "SAM HOUSTON BARBECUE."

Tom shut off the car and came around to open my door. The place didn't look like much. I could only think of a small, family run place. It seemed surprising it could survive out here, probably six miles from the nearest small town. "Best food of this type I've ever had," he commented.

Well, there were a dozen or more vehicles parked next to it. I say vehicles. There were two cars besides ours and the rest were pick ups. As we neared the door I began to catch the scent of the food inside and I had to admit it did smell wonderful.

A waitress showed us to a small table against one wall and handed us a single page menu. Just typed and laminated in plastic. We looked at these for a few seconds and I finally asked, "Any particular recommendations?"

"Everything I've ever had here was great, but I think I like the pulled pork best."

"OK, I'll try that."

"Want a beer to go with it? We won't be flying before tomorrow morning."

I felt slightly embarrassed. "Actually I don't like beer. I'd like a coke instead."

Tom leaned closer. In a teasing voice he said, "Don't like beer? Just don't let anyone here overhear that." He stopped for a second and then with a smile said, "I'll just let them think you're not old enough."

I felt my face go slightly red but just then the waitress came over and Tom ordered for both of us. "We'll both have the pulled pork platter. I'll have a draft and could you bring the young lady a coke?" I felt myself redden even a little more, but I don't think she noticed and quickly turned to place our order.

When the food came it really was wonderful. Not just the pork itself, but the barbecued beans, fried potatoes and cole slaw was also superb.

When we left and went back out to the car Tom said, "Since you've never been here before would you like to visit the Alamo? It's close enough we can drive there and then come back and stay closer to the field without it being too late."

"I'd love to. I've seen pictures but like I said I've never been anywhere near here before."

That's what we did. We drove into San Antonio, spent a little time at the historical location, stopped somewhere for an early supper and then headed back towards the field. By the time we left the city it was dark and as soon as we got out into the country side the view of the stars was fantastic. I commented on this and Tom agreed. Then, while we were still ten miles out he suddenly turned into a side road. I had just seen a sign that read, "Johnson Park," but before I could ask, Tom said, "I remember stopping here one other time. There is a great view of the sky form the parking lot." Then as though he had just realized I might take this the wrong way added, "Unless you'd rather not, Sandy. Just let me know."

"No," I smiled at him in the dark. "Remember, I'm a pilot, too. I love the stars."

In a half mile or so we pulled up a slight hill and into a small parking lot. We were the only car present and Tom pulled to the far edge where we could see out over the open landscape. He turned off the engine and suddenly quiet enveloped us. Only occasionally were there any sounds of distant traffic. Mostly there was just a quiet breeze and some rustling leaves. Once we heard what I think were a pair of F-16s from one of the bases nearby, but they were fairly high. We watched their nav lights as they crossed the sky in front of us and heard their quiet thunder fade into the distance.

I had barely known Tom for a week. He had taken me flying twice and we had gone on one real date, but that was all. Still, I felt very comfortable with him. With almost any other man I had known no longer, I would have been watching for him to show the signs that he would rather I were someone else. Other fliers rarely lasted even past one date before the relationship began to cool and non-flyers often didn't make it that far once they learned what I did for fun. But with Tom everything just felt comfortable. That's the only word that comes to mind.

The car Tom had found to rent was a convertible. He hadn't particularly wanted one but at a small, non-commercial field you were lucky to be able to find anything. Now, with the top down we could see most of the sky. The breeze was slightly cool but not excessively so and we both relaxed and leaned back into the seats.

For quite some time we just sat there, talking quietly, sometimes about flying, but mostly about each other. We were getting better acquainted and I, at least, was liking what I was finding and I'm pretty sure Tom was also. Once again there was a flight of jets, but these were high overhead, their sound just barely heard, but we could see four distinct sets of lights. I couldn't tell if these were sixteens or something else but I'm sure it was four fighters on some night mission.

We weren't paying any attention to the time but suddenly we both noticed the silver radiance of the rising moon begin to light the open prairie in front of us. Both of us were flyers so we were aware of the phases of the moon and realized this must make it nearly ten. I think we were both surprised that the time had slipped by so quickly.

Tom straightened slightly and said, "I didn't realize it was so late. Do you want to go back and get a room?"

I replied, "If you want to head back. I'm not tired and it is lovely out here. Do we need to leave at some particular time in the morning?"

"No, not really. Any time tomorrow is fine."

"Then let's stay a little longer."

I could almost feel his smile as he replied, "Sure." Then he leaned back and I felt his arm rise and rest across my shoulders.

Now it was my turn to smile and I settled a little closer and let his hand close over the top of my right arm. I moved my head to lean against him and said, "Thanks, Tom. Not just for the flight but for everything. Mostly for being who you are."

I'm not sure he really understood what I meant. How could he know how much trouble I had had in finding a man who wasn't either afraid of me or at least put off. But, then again, maybe he did understand.

We sat like that for some time, occasionally talking quietly but mostly just being together. Then one time when he turned to say something and I turned to answer him, we froze, our faces only inches apart. I felt my pulse speed up and a funny feeling started deep in my stomach. I knew what was coming and just desperately hoped I wouldn't spoil it somehow.

I didn't. Tom's lips moved slowly closer and I shifted slightly to meet them. Lightly at first and then with a little increasing pressure the kiss lasted for at least a minute. As we separated, although only by centimeters, I think Tom was waiting to see if he had gone too far, although my own participation should have reassured him on that point. But I helped make that more certain by initiating the next kiss myself.

It was nearly midnight by the time we decided to leave the park, but a lot had happened before that. Not everything, by any means, but it had become a very serious make out session. I say that lightly but it wasn't just erotic activity for either of us. Of course it was erotic but I mean that wasn't everything. In fact, it wasn't the most important thing. I mean I'll admit I've slept - well maybe not slept, but gone to bed with - a few men mostly for the erotic thrill. As I've said, a deep relationship was generally not in my cards. But with Tom it felt that the romance was topmost - the sexual excitement was just icing on the cake.

When we did slow our activities and considered going back I managed to say, "Tom?"

Catching his own breath he replied, "Yes?"

"Tom, do I still have the choice of one or two rooms for tonight?"

He looked at me and then leaned forwards and placed a quick, non-erotic kiss lightly on my lips. "Yes, my lovely Sandy, the choice is yours."

I drew a deep breath. "Then I choose one. One with a big bed, if possible."

He smiled and said, I'm sure we can find one. And we did. There was a state highway quite near the airport and we pulled into the parking lot of one of the large chain motels. I remained in the car while Tom went inside. When he returned he handed me a keycard and said, "They had a choice of two queens or one king bed. I chose the king."

I gave him a quick kiss and replied, "You chose ... wisely."

We skipped breakfast and didn't leave until almost noon. Still we found things to keep us busy. As it turned out I didn't need the peignoir I had packed at all. Or anything else while we were in the room. When we left I put on the jeans and shirt I had brought for flying. I hadn't even needed the dress.

It definitely wasn't a one night stand. Tom and I continued to date and our relationship grew stronger by the day. It wasn't just the sex although that was fantastic. Tom even initiated me - or, he tells me, we initiated each other - into the Mile High Club. In a couple of weeks there was no doubt that we were in love with each other. In less than two months it was obvious we were quite serious in our relationship. A little over three months and Tom gave me a ring which I accepted with enthusiasm.

Now it has been four years almost to the day since we met. We've been married for three and a half of those years and we find we are more in love each day. The sex hasn't cooled either. Both of us are ready to climb into bed - or anywhere else we can manage - whenever we can find or make a chance. I never have needed that peignoir. Not even once. I now am checked out on multiengine craft and gliders. Tom says it won't be long before he gets me qualified on jets. He even says there's a chance a friend of his in the Guard might get me a ride in an F-16. Not only doesn't he mind that I fly and fly well, but he is happy with the fact.

Sometimes I think just how unlikely the whole thing seems. But sometimes when you are least expecting it, and with no warning at all, your whole world can chance completely. I mean I was just flying which I loved but having an awful time trying to have a romantic relationship when one day the most wonderful man in the world came to me. Right out of a clear blue sky.