The Road to Wings Page 3

  She secured her mask to her helmet and looked around at her classmates. About half of them had their masks back on, some were still writing, and Mike was staring straight ahead and not moving. She heard the chamber chief yell, “Number five, get your mask on!” Mike didn’t move. “Airman Rogers, put the mask on number five.”

  As the chamber technician moved toward him, Mike started jerking, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he looked like he was having an epileptic seizure. The airman rushed to him, forcefully held the oxygen mask to his jerking head, and slowly, Mike started to regain consciousness. After a few very tense minutes, Mike gave the technician an “okay” signal and clipped his mask back into his helmet.

  “As you can see from this demonstration, hypoxia can be very subtle, and if you fail to recognize your symptoms, you will black out. After a certain point, the hypoxia effects will prevent you from saving your own life. The altitude chamber ride is now over. Be alert for any signs of residual symptoms such as joint pain, ear or sinus pain, or the bends.”

  Casey watched her classmates as they filed out of the chamber. They had very somber expressions on their faces, especially Mike.

  Chapter Three

  Casey was pleased when she scored one hundred percent on the first written test of aircraft systems. A passing score was eighty-five percent, and everyone in her class passed, although some just barely. The guys were talking about going out to the Officers’ Club after class on Friday night. Casey didn’t really like hanging out at a bar with a bunch of straight men, but she needed to make an effort to connect with her classmates, so she decided to join them.

  After a long, stressful week, Casey was actually looking forward to having a few drinks with the guys. In addition to Mike, a few guys were warming up to her and even chatted with her. The Officers’ Club was divided into two sections. The tradition area, a formal place for dinners where most people dressed up, and then the casual bar in the back, which was a completely different story. This was the official place where the pilots came to blow off steam, and it was unlike any bar Casey had ever seen.

  It was one big, dark room that reeked of stale beer with a bar the full length of one wall. There were very few tables or chairs with the exception of a strange-looking long rectangular table in the middle of the room. The place was packed with men in green flight suits at five in the afternoon, and they were all very loud, rowdy, and half drunk. Casey maneuvered her way to the bar to order a beer when she heard someone yell, “Carrier landing!”

  She turned toward the commotion and saw six men hoist another man over their heads, running with him toward the long table in the middle of the room. The table was painted to look like a runway, and other men were pouring beer over the tabletop. As the guy held up in the air approached, the other men started chanting, “Whoop, whoop, whoop.” The six guys holding the man up lowered him to the table and shoved him down the length of it. He yelled as he slid down the table, getting soaked with beer in the process. Casey was stunned at this but tried not to show it as she watched the whole ritual unfold. This is going to be interesting. They better not try that with me. The men were laughing and hooting just as Captain Kathryn Hardesty walked in with another woman instructor pilot and sat at a table in the back. Well, Captain Hard-Ass is here with another woman—very interesting.

  Casey watched Captain Hardesty sit down and she heard another guy in the bar yell, “Dead bug!” The entire room of pilots threw themselves on the floor, landed on their backs, and flung their arms and legs into the air. As they wriggled their limbs, the room looked like it was filled with giant dying cockroaches. The whole bar was on the floor with the exception of her new classmates.

  “New class buys!” someone yelled.

  The bartender turned to the new students and said, “That’ll be twenty bucks from each of you for a round of drinks and for being stupid enough to not know how to play dead bug.”

  Casey and her classmates put their money on the bar while the other pilots returned to their feet, laughing, yelling, and drinking again. This is the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.

  *****

  “I don’t know why you insist we always come here on Friday nights. You know I can’t stand this macho bullshit,” Barb said.

  “I’ve told you this many times. I need to see what’s really going on with the IPs and students, and this is the best place to see the animals in their natural habitat,” Kathryn replied.

  “You have a sick sense of humor. Well, it looks like the new class has found the casual bar. More fresh meat—at least for a while.” Barb nudged Kathryn’s elbow. “She’s cute, the tall one with the dark hair at the bar.”

  Kathryn looked at Casey. She was indeed very cute. She recognized her from briefing their class but took in her appearance more closely this time. She was about five feet nine inches tall with broad shoulders, long legs, and a trim, athletic look. She chugged a beer, laughed with her male classmates, and occasionally flashed a dazzling smile. Just as Kathryn was admiring her, Casey glanced over, and their eyes locked for a brief, hot second. Casey turned away quickly, and Kathryn had a nice view of her firm backside.

  Just as Kathryn felt her face heat up, she heard another guy yell, “Carrier landing!” She watched with disdain as the other woman student from the new class was hoisted into the air and thrown across the beer-covered runway table.

  “Have you seen enough for one night? Can we please go?” Barb asked.

  “Yeah, I’ve seen plenty. I need to stop at the restroom first.”

  When Kathryn walked out of the restroom, she almost ran headfirst into Casey.

  “Oh, sorry, ma’am, I didn’t see you,” Casey blurted out.

  “It’s okay, Lieutenant.”

  “Is it always this crazy in here on Friday nights, ma’am?”

  “Yes, it is.” Then Kathryn looked straight into her eyes and put her hand on Casey’s forearm. “Lieutenant, I hope you’re not driving anywhere tonight.”

  “No, ma’am. I’m walking to my room on base.”

  “Glad to hear that. Lieutenant Tompkins, one more thing.”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Please be careful in there tonight. Don’t drink too much. Not all those guys are your friends.” With that warning, Kathryn let go of her arm, walked past her and out the front door.

  “Thanks, ma’am,” Casey muttered. How does she know my name? Why does she care if I get too drunk with these guys? She rubbed her forearm. It still felt warm from where Captain Hardesty’s fingertips touched her skin.

  Casey walked back to her room after drinking several beers at the O Club. Her first week of pilot training had been overwhelming, but she loved every minute of it—even the scary stuff like the ejection seat and the altitude chamber.

  She also remembered the feelings of arousal from her hypoxia in the altitude chamber. Combined with the stress of her first week, the beers, and the hot, lingering touch of Captain Hardesty on her arm, she was buzzing and needed some womanly attention. She called her college roommate, Trish, to see if there was any action she could get in on.

  *****

  Casey walked up to Trish’s house. She heard the sound of women’s voices and started to relax just to be in the presence of women after working around only men for the first week of pilot training. She grabbed a beer, scanned the crowd of women, and found several lovely prospects. Trish introduced Casey to her friends, and Casey gave Trish’s partner, Rhonda, a big hug. The evening was filled with drinking and laughing, and Casey enjoyed herself immensely.

  One woman in particular, Marilyn, kept eyeing Casey throughout the evening. As the party started to break up around eleven, Marilyn hung around and found every excuse she could to touch Casey or look at her. As Trish and Rhonda were cleaning up from the party, Marilyn sidled up to Casey and whispered in her ear with her hot breath, “Why don’t you stay with me tonight, honey? You look like you’ve had a long, hard week, and I think you and I could have some fun.”

&nbs
p; A shiver ran down Casey’s spine at the warm breath in her ear, and she thought, why not? Marilyn was older than Casey with luscious curves and full, ripe breasts. She had shoulder-length red hair, green eyes, pale, soft skin, and long red fingernails. Marilyn took Casey by the hand and led her out to the dark, quiet patio. Marilyn pulled her down onto a chaise lounge, lay down next to her, turned Casey’s face toward her own, and placed a warm, wet kiss on her lips. Marilyn’s lips were full and luscious, and Casey could do nothing but respond. She opened her lips and Marilyn slid her wet tongue into Casey’s mouth and proceeded to devour her with hungry kisses. She rolled on top of Casey, pressing her thigh into Casey’s center and grinding her hips onto Casey’s pelvis. Casey felt heat from the apex of Marilyn’s thighs through her clothes and knew exactly what she wanted. Marilyn wanted what most women wanted from her. She wanted Casey to take her, to dominate her, to make her moan and cry out, and to bring her to climax again and again. Casey didn’t feel any real emotional connection to Marilyn, but she certainly was aroused. She was hot and needed sex. She was more than happy to oblige Marilyn because she wanted a connection with a woman, any woman, and she wanted it now.

  They stole off to the guest bedroom, exchanging knowing looks with Trish and Rhonda, and ripped each other’s clothes off. Marilyn was voracious and spread her legs wide open, her glistening center beckoning. Casey’s mouth watered at the sight and scent of her. She held Marilyn’s thighs open as she lowered her mouth, deliberately tasting the delicate folds. Marilyn moaned, and she tilted her hips up, giving Casey the signal she wanted more. Casey entered her, stroking her deeply as Marilyn got louder. Casey was intent on giving her a long, slow ride, but Marilyn started gyrating her hips faster. Casey matched her deep strokes with the rising hips. Marilyn went quiet and clamped down on Casey’s pummeling fingers. Casey drove in harder and gave Marilyn exactly what she wanted over and over again.

  After Marilyn’s breathing returned to normal, she rolled Casey onto her back, settled between her thighs, and gave Casey her own tongue-lashing. Casey loved the feel of the hot tongue on her flesh and climaxed quickly with a short, hard spasm. Casey was more than happy to satisfy Marilyn many times, but she knew Marilyn could not give her what she really needed. After Marylyn dozed off, Casey slipped out of the bedroom, gathered up her clothes, and started to leave. Just as she was about to make her escape, she ran into Trish walking down the hall in her T-shirt and boxers. “Hey, girl, you leaving so soon?”

  “Yeah, I have to get up real early tomorrow and study. I have several big tests this week.”

  “Thanks for coming over. You know you’re welcome any time. We both love you and want you to knock ’em dead.”

  “Thanks, Trish, you guys are the best. Give Rhonda a big hug for me. I’ll call you next week.”

  Casey kissed Trish on the cheek and slipped out of the house. She drove back to the base for a hot shower, then went to bed. She’d achieved her objective and connected with a woman even though it was not exactly spectacular. The need to be in the presence of other women, to feel surrounded by the comfort and safety of their energy—this was what she needed more than the sex. The overwhelming “maleness” of pilot training made her keep her guard up all week. She drifted off to sleep with the lilting sound of women’s laughter in her mind.

  Chapter Four

  April 1992

  The first month seemed to fly by in a blur. The academics made sense to Casey and she continued to ace the written tests. The day Casey was waiting for finally came—their first day on the flight line. She and Mike were assigned to Good Grief flight. They reported to their new flight room at 0500 hours, looking for their names on the big schedule board. Each instructor pilot had three student pilots assigned to them, and Casey was happy that she and Mike, along with Jeff Parsons, a former enlisted Marine, were assigned to the same IP, Lieutenant Dave Carter. They went to the table with their IP’s name on an airplane sign hanging from the ceiling and anxiously waited for him.

  “Room, ten-hut!”

  They all stood at attention as the instructors came in and stayed that way until someone said, “Take seats.”

  “Welcome to Good Grief flight, the best flight in the Air Force. I’m Captain Stavros, your flight commander, and I hope you are all ready to hit the ground running. I want to introduce our head scheduler, Captain Arnau.”

  Casey recognized the woman she’d seen with Captain Hardesty at the bar. Captain Arnau was tall and slender with short, sandy brown hair, blue eyes, and a very intense look.

  “The first thing you need to know is NEVER touch my schedule board. Every day on the line with your name, you’ll see your activity for that day. Flights are written in black, sims in blue, and other assignments in green. If you fail a ride, that mission will be circled in red. We don’t want to see any red.”

  Next, they heard from the flight standardization and evaluation officer, Captain Harrison. “Every day we start with a time hack, a weather briefing, and stand-up. During stand-up you will be presented with an in-flight emergency. I will call on one of you. You will stand at attention, tell me how you will maintain aircraft control, analyze the situation, apply any emergency boldface actions, then bring the aircraft to a safe landing or an ejection, if necessary. If you analyze the situation incorrectly or state the boldface wrong, you just busted stand-up and you will be grounded for the rest of the day. I will then call on someone else until we get the correct information out of you.”

  “Nothing like being humiliated in front of the whole flight,” Mike whispered to Casey.

  After the flight room briefings, Casey, Mike, and Jeff listened intently to their new instructor.

  “I’m Lieutenant Dave Carter, but when it’s just us, don’t call me ‘sir,’ call me Dave. I want you guys to be the best studs in this flight because how you fly reflects on me. I want you to work together to learn this stuff.”

  He reminded Casey of a mellow California surfer dude. He briefed them on their first simulator ride to introduce checklists flows, starting the engines, takeoffs, and straight-in landings. Jeff had the first sim, so Casey and Mike studied furiously while they were gone.

  Casey was nervous and excited as she walked over to the sim building with Lieutenant Carter. The cockpit forward canopy was replaced with large television monitors that projected a visual scene for the pilots to see as they were flying the sim. The IP could change the view out the windscreen to look like day or night, fog, snow, or even zero visibility. They walked past giant terrain model boards with three-dimensional miniature landscapes and a camera gliding over the surface. The camera was controlled by the pilot flying in the sim to give a visual picture out the cockpit windows.

  Casey climbed into the simulator and put on her helmet. Lieutenant Carter showed her how to strap in, run the preflight checklists, and how to start the engines. She smiled as she heard the sound of the jet engines whine as she started them. Even though she was in a simulator and the sounds were recorded, it felt real. They practiced several takeoffs, turns, and a few straight-in landings. Casey was surprised at how sensitive the control stick was, much more responsive than the Cessna 150 she’d flown when she got her private pilot’s license. She barely touched the stick and she was all over the sky. By the time the sim was over, she was sweating and exhausted.

  They continued with basic sims for the first week as they got ready for their first flights in the real airplane, the “dollar ride.” The tradition was that the student would “pay” the IP one dollar for giving them their first flight like an homage to the early barnstorming pilots. Casey had butterflies in her stomach the whole day but was disappointed to see that she was in the last group of students to fly their dollar ride. Jeff was scheduled to fly first with Lieutenant Carter, and Mike was flying with Captain Hardesty.

  “Oh crap, I’m flying with Captain Hard-Ass on my dollar ride,” Mike said.

  “Hopefully, she won’t be too mean to you since it’s your first flight.” Casey tried
to reassure him.

  There was a buzz in the air as the IPs came in to brief the missions. The dollar ride only happened once in a pilot’s career, and it was the beginning of something special. Casey listened and took notes as Lieutenant Carter briefed Jeff on their first flight. She would be as prepared as she could be when it was her turn to fly. She sensed Captain Hardesty’s presence behind her before she heard her voice.

  “Lieutenant Harris, are you ready to go fly?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I am,” Mike answered as he jumped up out of his seat.

  “Let’s brief up in the flight commander’s office since all the tables are being used.”

  Casey felt a pang of jealousy as everyone got ready to fly while she had to wait.

  After an hour and a half, the first period students and IPs started to return. Casey saw Mike walk in with a giant grin on his face, a deep red mask mark across his face, and wet hair plastered to his head.

  “So, how’d it go, Mike?”

  “It was great, and I saw so much. It’s a thousand percent better than the sim.”

  “How was Captain Hardesty?” Casey whispered.

  “She’s good. She showed me tons of stuff.”

  “She didn’t scream at you?”

  “No, she made me feel really comfortable in the jet. She even showed me some acrobatics.”

  Just then, Lieutenant Carter stormed into the flight room cursing and swearing. He was covered in vomit from his chest to his knees, and the disgusting smell started to fill the flight room.

  “Jesus, Dave, couldn’t you change into another flight suit before coming back in here? You reek,” Captain Arnau said.

  “I don’t have a spare flight suit with me, goddamn it. I need to go home and change.”