Test Pilot's Daughter: Revenge

by Ward, Steve

  “What about that fly-boy of yours? What’s his name, Lazer?”

  “We’re not speaking. Told him I needed some space.”

  Hands began to creep higher as the waiter came marching in their direction. They both jerked back, innocently holding up menus. After ordering, at the risk of getting slapped, Weston decided to test the waters. His hand slithered like a snake between her legs. His heartbeat accelerated as he felt the soft skin of her inner thigh. Christina leaned her head back, then suddenly seemed to snap back to her senses.

  “No, not here!” she said briskly, as she sat up straight. She pushed his hand away and tugged down the hem of her dress. Looking flustered in a dark red blush, she said, panting, “Heather tells me you have a condo at Hilton Head.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Once you offered to take me flying in your 172. Why don’t we fly up to your condo this weekend, and you can start treating me. I could make it worth your while,” she said with a smile.

  “I can’t think of a better way to spend a weekend,” he moaned.

  “There’s only one condition.”

  “What would that be?”

  “Absolute discretion. I seriously plan on being an astronaut one day. So, it’s most important there be no record that I’ve been seen by a shrink. Second, I still haven’t figured out what’s up with Heather, so I don’t want her to know about it.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul. Trust me; I’m the master of discretion.” Weston couldn’t believe his good fortune. This beautiful coed seemed to enjoy having his hands all over her. He was about to reach under the table again when a loud chiming noise came from nowhere.

  “My cell,” she said, reaching down and retrieving it from her purse.

  “Hello. . .Oh, hi daddy. When did you get in town? Sure, no problem. I’m in Athens, but I can meet you at the train station in about an hour. Just hop on MARTA and get off at the Doraville Station. I’ll pick you up at the Kiss ‘n Ride. Bye bye daddy, I love you.”

  “Your father?”

  “Sorry, gotta go. I didn’t know he was coming. He’ll be gone tomorrow night. Call me on Thursday and let me know where and when to meet you.”

  The thought of her dad was like an ice cold shower. Weston shivered, “Fine. . .ah, sure, call you Thursday.”

  Christina turned to him with one more request. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to sit in the left seat. If I can fly a Saratoga, I feel sure I can fly your plane.”

  “Let’s make a deal. If you’ll tell me more about your kinky kinks, that left seat is all yours.”

  “Hey, if it turns you on, I’ll tell you every little detail. But, on second thought, at your age I’m not sure your ticker can handle it,” she chortled

  “Well then, Captain Matthews, we have a deal. I look forward to flying with you.” He looked forward to more than that.

  Outside the restaurant, before she could escape, Weston grabbed her arm and spun her around into a tight embrace. He pulled her up to his chest and kissed her hard on the lips. It was a long and lustful kiss, a kiss he would never forget.

  * * *

  Weston looked to the weekend with anticipation. Thursday night he called her just to make sure she was still on.

  “Christina, how’s your dad?”

  “Oh, he’s all right, I guess.”

  “I hope to be able to cheer you up this weekend.”

  “I’m sure you will. Can’t wait to see your place.”

  “You’ll see; it’s a beautiful condo right on the beach. But it only has one bedroom,” he said stealthily.

  “Well, since there’s only the two of us, one bedroom should be quite enough, don’t you think?” she said in a lusty tone.

  His motor revved to the red line. He decided to push on and said, “It’s a king size bed, plenty of room for games.”

  “Speaking of sex,” she replied bluntly, “I’m not quite sure how to ask you this, but how do you feel about bondage?”

  The idea struck him as exciting. Most of the young girls he had been with were passive-submissive. The thought of a dominate female in the package of one Christina Matthews was almost more than he could bear. “Sure, you can tie me up anytime,” he grinned.

  “Good, then I’ll bring along some of my toys. I’m afraid you’ll find me quite kinky.”

  “I’ve got some kinks of my own. Can’t wait to see what lurks on the dark side of that beautiful head of yours. Why don’t you meet me at, say, 4:30 tomorrow afternoon at the Athens Airport, ready to go?”

  “Great! As long as I don’t get snarled in that awful student traffic, I’ll be there on time.”

  * * *

  He arrived at the airport early and took his time putting on fuel, pre-flighting the airplane and checking weather. It was going to be a beautiful afternoon to fly to the beach, VFR all the way. When Christina arrived, his eyeballs almost popped out. She wore a tight fitting half T-shirt with no bra, short-short cutoffs and tennis shoes with frilly white socks.

  “Beautiful Cessna,” she said as she walked out on the tarmac. “Are you really gonna let me fly it?”

  “My pleasure.” He gave her a hug and handed her the keys.

  “Can I have the left seat?”

  “Don’t you remember our deal? Sure, Captain Matthews,” he saluted. “All fueled and ready to go. I called weather, it’s severe-clear all the way to the coast.”

  “You can put my suitcase in the luggage compartment. I want my pink bag in the back seat in case I need anything on the way. Mind if I do a quick pre-flight for practice?”

  “No problem, go ahead.”

  “Nice equipment package,” she said climbing in the cockpit.

  Nice equipment yourself, he thought.

  She set up the altimeter, the gyro compass, the GPS and cranked the engine. “Would you mind handling the radios, while I get more acquainted with the plane.” Her eyes gave her away; she marveled at the three axis autopilot. He knew she’d be impressed.

  “Okay, I’ll be your radio man,” he replied keying the mike. “Ahhh, Athens ground, Skyhawk Two Two Niner Four Quebec, at Epps, ready to taxi for departure to the east.”

  “Skyhawk Two Two Niner Four Quebec, taxi runway Niner. Winds calm.”

  Christina scooted down the taxiway to the run up area. She set the brake and pushed the throttle up to 2,000 checking the gages. Reading the checklist, she called each item aloud like a good student pilot.

  “Fuel pressure green.

  Oil pressure green.

  Oil temp.

  Tanks are full.

  Alternator charging.

  Vacuum 5.0.”

  She checked the mags and pulled the throttle back to the stop, then eased it forward to idle. Exercising the full movement of elevator, ailerons and flaps, she looked to Weston and said, “Ready.”

  “It’s a little heavier than your 150,” he advised. “Ease the nose up about seventy and let her fly herself off the runway. Also, you’ll need a little left rudder.”

  “Got it,” she said.

  “Athens tower, Niner Four Quebec at runway Niner. Ready to go.”

  “Roger, Niner Four Quebec. Clear for take off. Straight out approved.”

  Christina rolled onto the runway and lined up with the center stripe. She pushed the throttle full forward, accelerated, eased the Cessna into the air and started climbing to altitude. “The weather’s so clear let’s skip the radar advisories,” she said over the intercom. She reached over to touch his leg. “Besides I’d rather have a little privacy.”

  “Yes, ma’am. VFR all the way. I’ll help you watch for traffic.”

  Finally, she flipped on the autopilot and seemed to relax. For the next thirty minutes, she talked about nothing but sex, and Weston could hardly believe his luck. The sordid side of this young woman contrasted her straight-laced image. He was getting as hot as a firecracker. Although he had never tried it before in his plane, visions of the “mile high club” danced like sugarplums in his hea
d.

  “I’ve always wanted to do it in a plane,” Christina said in a sexy voice, “but I’m afraid we’d need a bigger aircraft for that.”

  “I don’t know,” answered Weston. “That’s a pretty good autopilot.”

  She rubbed his leg, and he immediately reacted, grabbing a handful of her shirt. In one quick motion he tore the flimsy garment away. Wow, he thought, gorgeous!

  “Wait a minute,” she giggled, let’s not maul the Captain. I’ll tell you what, if you must, let me do you first. I’ll try to stay sane enough to fly this plane, should that become necessary.”

  “Sounds good,” Weston said. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Something very special,” she cooed. She moved her hand further up his thigh.

  “What? Come on, tell me!” he couldn’t wait.

  “I really get turned on with cuffs. If you’ll let me cuff you, I can promise a feeling so intense your heart might not even be able to stand it. Then, if you have any energy left, you can do whatever you like to me,” she said with a sheepish grin.

  “Why girl, I do like the way you think. I’m up for anything you can squeeze out of that beautiful imagination. What are you waiting for?” He was beginning to ache with desire. He put his wrists together and offered them to her.

  “Okay, okay. Just give me a second.” She reached into her pink duffel bag in the back seat and got two sets of cuffs and a length of rope. She put one set on his ankles, tied the rope to it and ran it under his seat.

  “This is fun,” he said feeling wicked.

  “That’s nice,” she said with a purr, stopping to kiss him on the ear. “Now, be a good boy and put your hands behind your seat.”

  Weston hesitated, but lust overcame anxiety. He complied without a word, staring at her firm breasts. She cuffed both wrists, then took the rope from his feet, wrapped it around the handcuffs and pulled it down hard tying a firm knot. His ankles were pulled back tight to the seat, and he started feeling a little nervous.

  “Ouch!” he complained. “Easy there, wild woman. Loosen it a little, it hurts.”

  Blowing into his ear, she whispered, “That’s the idea.” She took out her pocketknife and cut the excess rope. She wrapped it around his neck, pulling the ends down to the handcuffs and tying them securely.

  Weston rolled his eyes back and moaned, “Oh my God! Girl, this is the wildest thing I’ve ever done. Hurry up, gotta have it right now!”

  “Wild isn’t the word,” she said with a snarl. “How about deadly?”

  He didn’t get it. Deadly? She seemed to be staring at the instruments, and he wondered what she was doing. The symbol for Plantation Airport (PLN), an old abandoned strip about 30 miles short of Hilton Head, was just ahead on the screen. “Come on, let’s go!” he pleaded. “We’ll be landing soon. If you don’t hurry, I’m gonna explode.”

  “Suffer a little longer, dear. It’ll intensify the rush.” She reached around to arrange some things in her bag. “Okay, baby, here we go.” She stretched to the back seat and pulled out a large piece of canvas.

  “What the hell?” Weston cocked his head perplexed. “What’s that odd looking contraption?”

  No reply. She gave the equipment a quick inspection.

  Oh shit, parachute! He was suddenly gripped with panic. He struggled against his bindings, but every time he pulled his arms the rope tightened around his neck. His eyes bugged, and he snorted like a pig. Confused, he could hardly breathe.

  Christina pushed her arms through the shoulder harnesses and pulled a strap across her chest, setting latches in place. She secured the harnesses around her thighs, put on a helmet and snapped the chinstrap. The getup looked strange against her bare breasts.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he yelled. “Arrrgh, eiiiiyash!” he screaming bloody murder, eyes wide in terror. “Get these goddam cuffs off me, right now!” The more he struggled, the more pain shot through his neck. Like a trapped hog, he squealed in the tone of a falsetto tenor.

  It was a true metamorphous. The girl instantly changed into another person. Christina gave him the austere look of an executioner and talked directly and calmly, “I know what you did to those college girls, and I know what you tried to do to us on the charter to Exuma. I know you had our pilot poisoned and made damn sure they wouldn’t come looking for us.”

  He reeled in pain, shocked at her knowledge of his wicked scheme. “You’re crazy!” he wailed as his mind struggled to figure out who had ratted on him.

  “Gilmore’s voice was recorded on the GPS of our charter plane. I heard her call off the controllers. Hank’s grandson overheard you talking with her on the phone before the flight.”

  How could she possibly know all that? his brain screamed.

  “I also know you’re responsible for the death of my best friend. Poor Heather’s a wreck. It’s nothing short of a miracle we weren’t all killed.”

  Weston figured denial wouldn’t work. She knew too much. He had to try to outsmart her. “I had to do something. The girl was nuts. She was like a leech. I tried to break it off early, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “Sure,” Christina smirked. “So first you proposed, then you decided it would be good fun to wipe out five innocent people. With a little plane crash, you’d be free to move on to your next victim. And you thought you were going to get away with it, didn’t you?” she got in his face.

  “It was a perfect plan.” He looked down with a frown trying to think of a way to psych her. “Christina, I’m really sorry. Please forgive me. Have a heart will you?”

  Instantly he was crying, tears rolling down his cheeks. No woman can stand to see a man cry, he thought. “I’ve got some real problems. I was abused as a child. My mother molested me. Please, please have mercy,” he weeped even louder. “I don’t want to die! Pleeease!” he sobbed.

  She looked in his eyes with fierce determination and said, “I swore over Jessica’s grave her death would be avenged. I suggest you make your peace. You’re not going to be messing with any more kids.”

  “No, please,” he whimpered.

  “The Bible says, ‘What ye sew, ye shall also reap.’”

  “You’re going to quote the Bible?” He roared like a mad man, “So what does it say about premeditated murder?”

  “You tell me; you’re the only murderer I know,” she replied. “I only did exactly what you asked me to do. You begged for it, remember? Trapped by your own filthy mind. . .no better justice.”

  Christina calmly reached up and hit the Direct To button on the GPS. She entered KBER, the letter designator for Bermuda International Airport. Then she pushed the switches to re-engage the autopilot. The Cessna 172 automatically turned to the northeast. She turned off the radios and pulled back the throttle to slow the airspeed to 95 knots.

  “You’ll love Bermuda this time of year. I hope you have enough fuel to get there.”

  “You murdering bitch! I’ll kill you with my bare hands,” he flopped around with all his might. He could almost feel the seat coming loose from its mounts.

  She wouldn’t leave it alone. “And how about that Spanish child in your apartment? How many more children have you molested? You’re not going to hurt anyone else, ever again.”

  “What about,” he blubbered on, “what about, ‘Thou shall not kill?’”

  “You couldn’t wait for those cuffs. You killed yourself, Weston. I just handed you the gun.”

  “But I thought you were. . . ”

  “Listen, scumbag! I gave you fair warning the first time I met you. I warned you not to mess with Heather.”

  He couldn’t believe how callused she was. Must be some way to break her. He tried to clear his head.

  “Christina, think carefully about what you’re doing. You don’t want this cloud hanging over you. What about your career? This is outright murder! Just take these cuffs off, and we’ll forget the whole thing.”

  “No way.”

  “If you think I’ve broken the law, why don�
��t you rely on the criminal justice system, like any good citizen?”

  “The criminal justice system in this country is a joke. It only works for the criminals.”

  “What would your mother think, if she could see you right now? Must be rolling over in her grave.”

  “You. . .” she stammered in a painful stare.

  Now we’re getting somewhere. “Your mother would. . .”

  “Listen, you piece of shit, don’t try to bring my mother into this. She wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble. She would’ve picked up a shotgun and blown your fucking head off.”