Temporary Girlfriend: The Flight Instructors Ch. 01

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Megan has 'group event' with her instructors.
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Romantic1
Romantic1
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This is the second sequel to the Temporary Girlfriend series. The main characters have been introduced in the initial story and, if you're new to this series, you will find your enjoyment enhanced by reading that first. Please vote and comment. Enjoy life.

*

"November One Bravo Foxtrot descend and maintain one-six-thousand feet."

My voice rang out clear and strong as I replied to Kansas City Center, "One Bravo Foxtrot out of Flight Level two-four-zero for one-six-thousand."

"Nicely done, Megan. Now, what would you do with an engine fire on descent?" Greg asked.

Greg was my flight instructor at the Cessna Flight Center where I'd been in the process of learning about the Cessna Citation. I'd flown in this aircraft many times before and even joined the Mile High Club in it. Now I'd been getting a 'type' certification for this particularly high performance aircraft added to my 'ticket'. A 'ticket' is pilot slang for their FAA pilot's license and all the extra ratings they've gotten.

A month before I'd culminated a couple of months of intense study with a week at the Cessna Flight Center getting my commercial-instrument and multi-engine ratings. I had to take a flight test for each of those, although I combined the first two ratings in one program. After completing my training on the Cessna Citation I would take a check ride with an FAA examiner and get signed off for the sophisticated jet.

Greg, one of my flight instructors on the Citation and the one riding in the co-pilot's seat today, continued to look at me expectantly after he'd posed the question.

I started to crisply reply from memory the checklist items I'd memorized, "Announce engine fire to crew and passengers; identify defective engine," I pointed to the engine instrument cluster in the center of the panel and overhead identifying how I'd ensure I knew which engine had the problem, "shut down defective engine; discharge fire retardant system for that engine; pull written checklist that includes the following key items: identify nearest suitable airport; advise ATC; begin emergency descent; ..." I continued.

Greg took notes as I talked. In the meantime the sleek ten-passenger jet descended with all engines intact at normal speed towards one-six-thousand feet.

I'd managed to draw Greg Bellsen as my instructor the month before and sometimes his also hunky sidekick Dave Lafontaine. Like my boyfriend, both guys were 'easy on the eyes'. They had square-jaws, trim weight, muscular arms and tight buns as displayed by the tight dark slacks they usually wore. I noticed things like that -- including the occasional bulge they got in the 'right' place.

The jet I flew belonged to the Bannock Foundation -- a charitable and philanthropic organization my boyfriend-fiancée, Josh, headed and ran. Josh wanted me to be fully qualified on the jet so we could fly together to Europe, the Middle East and Africa in a few months on the Foundation's business and a bit of holiday -- even an extension of our honeymoon.

Josh and I were to be married in Andover, Massachusetts, in mid-May in the chapel at Phillips Academy. Josh had gone to school there and my family loved the idea of our marriage occurring on the picturesque campus. Except for a few final details my wedding had been mostly planned by one of my lovers -- Katelyn. She also happened to be Josh's sister and one the objects of his affection as well. We shared a lot, including both his sisters -- and their husbands -- and their friends -- and in one case the sister's wife from their ménage a trois.

Josh and I met ten months earlier at a Starbucks near our respective jobs. The next day he asked me to be his 'temporary girlfriend'. A week later, after learning of our shared philosophy about love, life and body-mind-spirit, he asked me to marry him. I accepted, however, I chose to retain the title of 'temporary girlfriend' since I liked it's catchy sound. It also inspired discussion when I used it to refer to myself or my relationship to Josh and usually ended with a renewed affirmation of his love for me -- something I never got tired of hearing,

"One Bravo Foxtrot turn right to one-six-zero degrees, descend to fiver-thousand. Contact Approach on one-two-four-decimal-five," the radio requested in my headset.

"Kansas City, One Bravo Foxtrot is through one-six-thousand to fiver thousand turning to one-six-zero for the heading and over to Approach on twenty-four-five," I replied to ATC. I checked in with Approach.

Greg said, "You're radio work is flawless, Megan. Now, tell me the key speeds for this aircraft in its landing configuration?"

I replied, "There are many of them. V-LE is the maximum landing gear extended speed or one-ninety knots; V-MC the minimum control speed with critical engine inoperative speed -- about ninety-five; V-REF the landing reference speed or, today, one-hundred-twenty-on knots; ..." I thought of about a dozen more key speeds and told him.

Greg smiled at me. I'd caught him glancing at my legs, however. I'd chosen to wear a skirt for my more recent flights and training sessions, in part because I know I have good-looking legs and I wanted to tease Greg or Dave a little. Usually as soon as I got situated in the plane, I hiked my skirt up a few inches over my knees as though that gave me some extra flexibility. The last two days I'd been able to reveal my shapely thighs right up to my lacy underwear by careful adjustment of how I sat.

I'd also given up wearing a bra during my lessons. I wanted my instructors to see the excitement I felt during various parts of our lessons, particularly when our hands touched over the controls in some way.

The radio came alive again and Wichita Approach Control came on, "One Bravo Foxtrot descend and maintain 3,000 feet; cleared for the ILS Runway One Right approach." I repeated the clearance back to ATC and put the Jeppesen approach plate into the clip on the yoke. I'd flown the approach twice before this week so expected no surprises.

I lost the excess altitude and made a smooth intercept of the inbound course on the ILS -- the instrument landing system. I'd successfully added flaps at all the right parts of our descent, and now, just as we started to capture the glide slope, I lowered the gear and re-trimmed the aircraft. I could have had the autopilot handle the flying duties, however, Greg and David were having me handle every maneuver and adjustment manually since is what the examiner in the check ride would expect.

A few minutes later the beautiful jet dropped below the cloud deck and set down flawlessly on the Wichita runway. Tower handed me off to ground control and we taxied in and stopped at the Flight Safety Cessna Training Center.

Greg watched me go through the shutdown checklist, verbally calling off each item.

"Who taught you to do your checklists verbally?" he asked.

"Josh," I replied. Greg knew Josh from some training he'd taken there a couple of years earlier in the same airplane. Josh had taken a refresher from Greg for two days while I'd been working on my multi-engine rating in a rented Cessna 421. He also knew that Josh had coached me in various aspects of the large jet over the past half-year as we flew in it week after week.

"He's passing along from very good habits," Greg said. "People tend to skip items more when they go through a checklist silently. Your saying thing verbally is excellent."

"Oh, I have excellent oral skills," I told him; laughing uproariously at the double entendre I'd just pulled off. I glanced at him to see if he'd caught the double meaning; he had. I tried to look innocent.

As we exited the jet, he said, "You know, Megan, if there wasn't a boyfriend I'd make a play for you. I find you one interesting person on so many levels."

"Well," I said slowly as I looked at him with my flirty eyes, "Just because I have a boyfriend doesn't mean I won't accept your offer. And, I might add, I find you interesting too -- and Dave, I might add."

"I don't want to get cross-ways to Josh," Greg stated in a caring tone.

"Oh, you won't. We have a very 'open' relationship. We may involve others -- and have from time to time. Part of it has to do with our shared philosophy about relationships and marriage."

Greg eyebrows almost rotated up to his hairline. He asked, "Might you be willing to tell me the details of this 'agreement' over dinner. I mean, seriously, this sounds interesting."

"Yes, I'd be delighted," I said, "Providing you walk me through the Citation's hydraulic system one more time." He laughed.

"Yes, of course," he said. "I'll swing by the study room at four-thirty and we'll do a review, then we can go to a nice restaurant I know."

The study room was a posh living room with several study desks in it, a couple of white boards, and several DVD-equipped televisions. I'd staked out one of the desks for the ten days I would need to prepare for my type rating. I'd initially thought I'd knock off the rating in a week, however, I knew little about jets and most of the first four days had been a generic education about jets -- little ones, like the Citation, right up to big ones like a 747.

I'd accumulated about six volumes of manuals and workbooks in the few days I'd been there. Greg and David alternated my ground school training and my air work; however, today I'd spent almost all day with Greg. He'd done a credible job relating the generic material about jets to the Cessna Citation. We'd also focused on emergency procedures in their simulator in the morning and then taken a ninety-minute flight after lunch to give me actual flight time in the jet.

I broke open the manual that talked about the mysterious plumbing and valve system that made up the dual hydraulic systems on the jet. About an hour later I heard the door open behind me; soon two strong hands dug into the knots in my shoulders giving me a good massage.

"Yummmm," I muttered. "Do you hire out?"

"Yes, but you can't book the time in your logbook," came Greg's reply. I laughed, particularly since I still felt that building flight hours would get me to some kind of heaven faster. Hours! Hours! I wanted hours.

I put my head back and Greg stroked my cheek in a sensual manner as he turned to sit next to me. He asked, "Want to talk about hydraulics for a bit?"

I nodded reluctantly, although we were probably both aware that his thirty-second contact had spiked our sexual temperatures several degrees. He gestured for me to follow him to a white board.

Over an hour later, we'd filled the white board a dozen times with lots of diagrams and even an equation here and there. I felt more confident about this major system in the jet and able to cope with most of its dysfunctions.

"Tomorrow one of us will do the white board with you on the electrical systems of the Citation," Greg said finally, signaling an end to the day. I sighed with relief and smiled at him. My brain pleaded with me to stop feeding it new input; I was ready for some change of focus.

Greg said, "Get your stuff together and I'll take you to my favorite hang out for dinner and fun."

"Do I bring books?" I asked.

"Nope. Not tonight. You need to give you head a chance to recharge. Some dancing is probably just what you need -- me too. This place has some good bands in their lounge. After dinner we'll see what's happening in there."

While I had a car, I'd barely touched it except for a couple of pizza runs. My motel turned out to be a short walk from the Flight Center and I liked the start and end of day exercise, however modest.

Greg drove us and five minutes later he escorted me into a restaurant called Horse Feathers. A piano player in one corner of the restaurant provided some light background jazz.

"It'll get a lot livelier about eight-thirty or nine o'clock," Greg said. "This is the dinner crowd. The dance crowd will show up a little later."

We got some soda water and lime, keeping in sync with the no alcohol within twenty-four hours of making a flight that the school preached and that Josh abided by as well. Greg also ordered us some baked brie to share as an appetizer.

Greg sat back and abruptly returned to our earlier conversation, "So tell me about your 'open' relationship. I'm fascinated." He had a slightly lecherous look to his countenance.

I laughed, "Ah, the man has a one track mind." I put my hand atop his and squeezed affectionately. "You want to get in my pants? Right?" I asked him with a smirk.

Greg coughed and sputtered at my directness, "Well, NO! I mean, I think you're a beautiful woman, BUT, well, if the opportunity ... I wouldn't want ..."

I interrupted him, "Oh, stop. I hope tonight we can spend some time back in my motel room making love. I happen to find you pretty interesting too and feel close to you more each day we spend together, even if most of it is professional."

"You mean ... We're going to ... I want ... You ...," he continued to sputter but now I'd given him even more to think about since I'd reversed the tables and removed any mystique about where the evening would end.

I sipped my drink and ate a wafer with brie on it. The silence from Greg was palpable.

Finally, Greg said, "Megan, I am flattered and am honored we feel the same way about each other, but what about Josh. I like him and don't want to come between the two of you in any way at all."

"Josh approves of our having a relationship," I told him. "We even talked about it last night again when we telephoned."

"Is this what your 'open' relationship means? You can both sleep with whomever you want?" he asked.

"That's only part of the picture and the part everyone thinks about when they hear the term 'open relationship' or 'open marriage.' There are a whole lot of other parts to an 'open' friendship, however."

"Tell me," Greg said with great interest in his voice.

"Let me ask you which sounds more open: a democratic or autocratic relationship?"

"Oh, democratic," he said.

"Lots of communication or a long list of topics you can't discuss with your partner?"

He stated firmly, "Lots of communication, of course."

"Ownership of one partner by the other or two independent people sharing their lives together?" I asked.

"Two independent people," Greg said with a smile. He seemed to get the picture.

I continued with another contrast, "Denial of self to preserve the relationship versus dedication to each other's growth and evolution?"

"The latter," Greg said, sitting forward for the next pairing.

I asked, "Rigid relationship roles or flexibility in the various tasks and responsibilities in the partnership?"

"Ultimate flexibility," Greg said with a grin.

I added to the list, "A 'couples only' front or individual freedom?"

"High on the freedom scale," Greg stated.

"Exclusivity or mutual permission to expand and be open with others?"

"Ability to move freely without worry that you'll piss off the other person," he said.

I asked, "How about 'total fidelity' versus trust that you are your mates are 'home base' to each other?"

Greg said, "I opt for the mutual trust you'd have in an open relationship."

"So," I asked, "What would it be like living in an open partnership? How would it feel?"

He started slowly as he responded, "My eyes are opening up rapidly in this discussion but let me try. There wouldn't be the possessiveness I've felt in some relationships. I'd feel we were working towards some mutual goals yet I'd have my own goals and my partner's encouragement to pursue them. There wouldn't be any jealousy, only support and encouragement. We'd both share a lot through conversation -- share what we're doing, how we think about things and other people, what we want from life and our plan for getting it."

"Go on," I told him, "You're doing well with your list."

He grinned and continued, "There wouldn't be any 'head games' -- like one of us trying to 'one up' the other. There'd be no sacred cows in terms of conversation. Consequently, we'd align on some pretty realistic expectations about our lives together. There'd be no myths we'd be trying to propagate and no wishes or fantasies we'd be trying to hide from the other."

I nodded to Greg and he went on, "We'd be equals in the relationship. We'd be two independent people that are more because we're together. That wouldn't mean we'd exclude others, to the contrary because that would be how we'd grow and bring interesting things we learn back to the relationship -- or even bring the people back to the relationship."

"What about privacy?" I asked.

Greg thought for a minute as we sipped our sodas. Finally he said, "You could have too much 'together time' in a relationship. It'd be good to go out on your own -- to be alone or to have a private time with someone else perhaps. Sometimes, you can be in the same room with someone but you need some psychic space to chill your mind."

The waitress brought our dinners. I could see Greg appreciated the break from the intense drill I'd been putting him through. I actually thought I'd made him think harder about relationships than he had me on the Citation's hydraulic systems.

I asked a question in the area we both carefully avoided so far; "Greg, we've not mentioned sex or intimacy so far. How's that fit now that we've laid this foundation?"

He pondered the question and sipped his drink. He finally said, "It's almost irrelevant. By definition an open partnership has a deep intimacy in it so the sex must be fantastic."

"Is it a monogamous relationship?" I asked.

He thought again and said, "Not necessarily -- in fact, I guess thinking about the way we talked about trust, sharing, reaching out to others, growing and evolving through each other and with others, that it'd be unusual if from time to time others weren't involved in some intimate way -- sexual perhaps but not a requirement."

"Would the other people you brought into your open relationship be just with you or with the 'couple'?" I asked.

"Either," Greg said. "Or both or just one of the two."

"Two?" I asked.

Greg frowned, "I don't understand the question."

"Does your partnership have to be restricted to two people -- your relationship?" I asked.

"Wow," Greg said. "No. No, it wouldn't have to be would it. You could have three, four, or more people in an 'open relationship' couldn't you?"

"Yes. I'll give you an example; Josh's sister Fiona got married last May to a really nice guy -- Ray. The two of them had long before formed a relationship with another woman that they both love dearly and in every way you can imagine. Her name is Stacy and she's pregnant with Ray's child and Fiona is jumping around like an expectant father to be too."

Greg nodded as he heard the story; he chuckled.

"There's more," I said and Greg leaned forward so as not to miss anything. "Fiona, Ray and Stacy and intimate with other close to them -- like Josh and me, and Josh's other sister and her husband. There's are unbelievable support network you feel in these relationships."

Greg sat back almost stunned by what I'd told him.

I then added, "So many guys or gals think that they'll be happy when they get in the 'right' relationship so they keep looking for Ms. Right or Mr. Right. The starting place has really got to be that they're happy NOW with whom they are. You've got to be a whole person yourself to enter into an open partnership."

Greg asked, "What about when you try to change the other person?"

I laughed, "Well, that'll probably always happens but here's another perspective on it. If you form a partnership -- and say get married -- with the expectation that you'll change the other person you'll probably be disappointed in your own success and in how you perceive the flexibility of your mate. If you take someone as they are and appreciate how they are in their freedom and independence, you'll be happier longer than being mad that they haven't changed in the way you want."

Romantic1
Romantic1
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