Flying Too Close to the Sun by George Jehn

Flying Too Close to the Sun by George Jehn

Author:George Jehn [Jehn, George]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Published: 2021-05-05T22:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Saturday was Carol’s third flying lesson and Erik’s final one of the day. He phoned the evening before.

“I was waiting for your call,” she cooed. “Don’t forget. We have some flying to do tomorrow.”

“I didn’t forget. We’re scheduled for—”

“Four o’clock and I wouldn’t miss it.”

The day dragged on until she entered the office dressed in tight jeans, white sneakers and a light fabric, flowered blouse. From their conversations Erik now detected a different spirit, perhaps a sense of street smarts not quite going along with the innocent way she normally carried herself. More like someone who was not afraid to get down in the dirt and fight. After flying together for an hour Erik told her with a knowing grin, “Let’s conduct our post-flight de-briefing at another location.”

She drove behind him on the narrow, tree-lined Farmingdale streets replete with speed bumps Erik believed were put in place to keep the local mechanics in business, until he pulled into a bluestone driveway of a Colonial-style house.

Although he knew every inch of it, stepping inside he still felt like an unwanted intruder, a house draped in sadness. She figured this was his parent’s place and noted the lovely roses and other flora growing alongside the split rail wooden fence. Erik unlocked the door and shouted greetings to the parents he knew weren’t there.

Carol exclaimed, “I love it. It’s so old-world.” She walked around, gently stroking a few of the framed delicate needlepoint works. “These are exquisite,” she said, pointing to the needlepoint. “Who stitched them?”

“My mother. She’s good at it.”

“When will I meet her?”

“I don’t know, maybe tonight?”

“I’d also like to meet your father ‘cause—.”

“I don’t want to discuss him,” a now-serious Erik growled.

“Why not?”

“That’s a very long story,” he replied with a scowl. These feelings began to fade as he led her upstairs by the hand. “Sorry for the heat,” he meekly whispered in his bedroom, “but my folks don’t believe in air conditioning.” He went to the window and flipped on the fan. The fan-made wind made its way into the room as the rhythmic puffs of breeze washed over their bodies.

“I thought all the heat was from us? I love your room! Let me guess. You’re a pilot?” she joked, pointing to all the aviation paraphernalia adorning the shelves and walls. “And since there’s no a/c, how about letting me cool you off?”

“Cool me off? Not!” Smiling, he raised his hands over his head and she tenderly peeled off his undershirt. Taking her in his arms, the hard edges caused by thoughts of his father evaporated, replaced by others so powerful they couldn’t coexist with anything else. It felt like a love genie popped out of Erik’s personal bottle after being locked up for over twenty years. He’d been alone for so long, but now all that changed.

She tasted great as they kissed and her clothing quickly evaporated. As he inserted his middle finger into her warm wetness, with difficulty she tugged down his boxers.



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