The Baddest Bad Boy

The curvy girl’s eyes are wide as she stares out the window at an F-14 mounted on display outside of the museum.

“It looks amazing!” she breathes before turning back to me. “As you can see, I’ve always been a little bit of a nerd.”

I grin.

“Good, me too. Well, at least when it comes to aviation and flying. You’ve hit my sweet spot, honey, and you’re going to see just how big of a dork I am.”

I take her hand as we walk across the parking lot to the front door, and marvel at how well things are going. Cammie and I have been dating a week, but what a week it’s been. We’ve seen each other non-stop for seven days, and sometimes, I’m in her bed for hours at a time, enjoying those plush curves as she moans with pleasure. But it’s more than just the physical connection. We like doing stuff together, and our date today is proof of that.

She protests when I pay her admission fee, but I wave her off.

“The gentleman always treats, remember? I should pay.”

She giggles.

“I don’t know about that. You, a gentleman? You didn’t seem like one when you were kissing my tailpipe.”

I laugh throatily, already growing hard.

“You seemed to like it. You liked it even more when I slid my driveshaft into that tailpipe.”

She giggles again, her cheeks turning fiery red because Cammie has grown to enjoy backdoor play. I eased her into it the second time we were together, and while it was uncomfortable at first, she’s a real natural. Now, she begs me for it before we even do it straight. How did I get so lucky?

But I clasp her hand, and pull her into the first hallway on the right. The first thing we see when we walk in is a replica of Kitty Hawk, the Wright brothers’ pioneering plane.

“This is just a model,” I explain. “But it’s a full-size facsimile of the original that flew in 1903.”

Her eyes go wide.

“Wow. Isn’t it crazy to think that it has only been a bit over a hundred years since humans first took flight?”

I nod.

“Yeah. In a lot of ways, not much has changed since then. There have been a lot of upgrades, obviously, but the basic concept is very similar to what the Wright Brothers realized all those years ago. I guess physics doesn’t change.”

She giggles.

“Did you ever dream of flying a plane like this?”

I smile and shrug. “I’ve flown small ones before. Not ones made of wood and canvas obviously, but you don’t just start off in a jet.”

She laughs.

“Well, the airlines have to be careful before entrusting you with lives. So what did you learn with?”

“A Cessna.”

She purses her lips, cocking her head to the side in the cutest way.

“I’m not sure what that is.”

I lead Cammie down a hallway to an exhibition on the history of flying. Inside are a number of plaques as well as full-size planes donated for educational purposes.

“This is what I started flying when I was thirteen,” I say, patting the top of a compact Cessna, admiring the propeller and metallic sheen of the body.

“Oh, wow,” she breathes. “How’d you fit in this tiny thing?”

I laugh. “I was a bit smaller then, so it was easier.”

“So you were thirteen when you started?”

“Yeah. I’ve been intrigued by planes my whole life, and like I mentioned, I’ve always worked, even when I was in school. All my money went to lessons, and I loved soaring in the skies. It took my mind off things, and it was a lot better than watching our parents drinking and doing drugs in our trailer.”

Cammie frowns. “I’m sorry, Troy.”

I shrug, shooting her a wry smile.

“It’s in the past. Like I told you, everything turned out for the best in the end. My parents weren’t qualified to be parents, and I’m just sorry it took them so long to figure that out.”

She nods.

“How about you?” I ask, changing the subject. “What are your goals?”

She laughs. “Well, I was never a great student. I did really well in my art classes when everything was hands on, but when it came to math and science and stuff, it was hard-going.”

I nod.

“Tell me about it. The only reason why I even had an okay GPA is because there’s a minimum for flight school.”

She nods.

“Oh, wow. I bet your guardians were happy when they saw those grades.”

I smile and shrug.

“To be honest, a lot of foster parents are really loving and caring, but they’re busy. I wasn’t the only child in a lot of these homes, and resources were stretched to the max. I think they were often just happy that I wasn’t in trouble.”

Cammie nods.

“That sounds tough. Like you had to grow up early.”

I nod as well.

“I did, but it’s not that uncommon. After all, your friend Caitlin had to grow up pretty fast herself.”