"Martin, do you really believe this is entirely necessary?"

"Douglas, the regulations manual clearly states that a thorough safety inspection must be performed once per annum on any plane carrying passengers in an excess of five times a year. Gertie meets those qualifications. And we both know Caroline isn't going to be performing the inspection herself."

"Fine." Douglas sighed. "Fine, Martin. But I'm going home."

Martin rolled his eyes. "I fully expected that you would..."

Douglas opened his mouth to say something, paused, and then closed it again.

"What?" Martin pressed.

"I was going to say 'Don't play the martyr, Martin.' But then I realized that it suits you. It's part of your charm. 'Martin the Martyr.' It has a certain ring to it, don't you think?"

"Was that a compliment or an insult?"

Douglas feigned shock. "Why, of course, it was a compliment."

"Yes, whatever. Just go so I can get started and hopefully get out of here in time to see Molly before she goes to bed."

"How sweet," Douglas muttered sarcastically as he left Martin sitting alone in the cockpit.

It was after 10 PM and the air field was more or less deserted. Martin was grateful for the quiet stillness in Gertie's hangar. It would help him concentrate.

He was halfway through the checks on the indicator lights and warning bells when a knock on the flight deck door made him jump.

"So you've had a change of heart, have you?" he said as he pressed the button to slide open the door.

Martin's mouth dropped open at the sight of his girlfriend, Molly Hooper, standing in the doorway. She wore a camel colored trench coat, belted at the waist, and sky high black heels. Her eyes were rimmed in smokey, dark make up and her hair, which was normally pulled up into a practical ponytail, fell around her shoulders in loose, wavy curls. He caught a whisk of a musky perfume that he didn't recognize.

"Wow...uhm...Molly...what are you d-" he started, but she cut him off.

"Captain," she said, her voice taking on a lilting smoothness that he'd never heard before, "This is my first time flying. I felt some turbulence and I'm frightened. I was hoping that seeing you would reassure me."

Martin swallowed as Molly stared at him with wide, innocent eyes, biting her lip.

"M-Molly?" he asked again. "I don't-"

The doe-eyed mask dropped from Molly's face and she gave him a cheeky grin. "Play along," she said in a stage whisper, before smoothing out her expression again.

"Oh...oh yes...I'm the Captain. I...uhm...what can I do for you, miss? I assure you that I am perfectly qualified to fly this plane. I passed my certification...not the first time exactly, but...my written scores were perfect all four times. It was just that blasted practical...but you see it's just that I was nervous. I'm really an excellent pilot otherwise. And I'm hardly ever nervous-"

Molly cut in again. "I-I was hoping that I could sit up here with you for a while. I'm sure that if I could see you in action, I'd feel so much safer knowing that my life was in such capable, competent hands."

"Actually I'm afraid passengers aren't allowed on the flight deck during the flight, per International Aviation Regulations. I could lose my license and-"

"Martin!" Molly whispered, shaking her head slightly.

"I mean...sure, come on in?" he asked.

"Thank you. May I sit here?"

"That's the first officer's seat."

Molly looked pointedly around the cabin. "You seem to be missing a first officer at the moment. I'm sure he won't mind if I borrow his seat while he's gone."

"No, he certainly wouldn't mind."

Molly ignored the inflection and sat down. She crossed her bare legs, dangling one ankle over in front of him and Martin couldn't help but notice that the trench coat had ridden up to about mid thigh...and he still couldn't see hide nor hair of whatever she was wearing underneath it. It must be terribly short.

Martin cleared his throat as his girlfriend looked around the cockpit wonderingly.

"Wow, there are so many controls and buttons up here. You must be terribly clever to know what they all do and keep it all straight," she said.

"W-well most of these function automatically. And besides I've been studying this material for basically my whole life, so I'm not...not like Douglas...what are you doing?"

Molly already had the knot keeping her coat together untied. "It's so hot and stuffy in here. You don't mind if I just...?"

"No...no...oh...Molly." Martin felt his face flush. All Molly was wearing under the coat was a lingerie set: lacy black pants and a matching bra.

"Problem, Captain?"

"Uhm..."

She put a hand on his knee and Martin noticed her nails were bright red. Molly never painted her nails.

"I'm still afraid. Can I please sit in your lap, Captain Crieff?" she asked.

"But how will I...fly the plane with you in my lap?"

Molly quickly climbed into his lap, straddling him.

"Who cares?" she said. He heard her heels clatter to the flight deck floor just as she captured his lips with her own.

He kissed her back, but still tried to speak. This was wrong. They shouldn't. "Mm-Moll..."

Molly's mouth slid over to his neck. "You must have thought about this before. You must have..." she cooed in his ear.

He had.

Molly pressed his hand against her warm, bare waist. She wiggled and twisted in his lap. She tore the captain's hat off of his head and perched it on her own, giving him a flirty smile. Something inside of him snapped. What the hell. Just this once.

"You shouldn't have done that," he said sternly. "Only the Captain is allowed to wear that hat."

Molly pouted. "I'm sorry. Am I in trouble now? Are you going to punish me?"

Martin nodded. "Take off your top."

Molly reached for his tie. "But it's already unfair..." she complained.

"No," Martin pushed her hands away. "You first. Stand up." He liked the idea of her naked while he was still fully dressed.

"Yes, Captain." Molly jumped up obediently and he leaned back to watch her. It was a bit surreal, the view. The cockpit's control panel and wide wind shield, and in front of it all was his girlfriend slowly slipping off that coat. Reaching back to snap open her bra. Stepping out of her pants. Standing naked in front of him, her hip just bumping the right hand side of the throttle. She reached up for the hat.

"No, leave it," he ordered.

He continued to stare at her silently for a few minutes, just drinking it all in. Molly curled an arm around in front of her, and he felt guilty, realizing she was growing uncomfortable.

"Come here," he smiled and Molly happily returned it, rushing back to his lap. They kissed frantically and Martin slipped a hand between her legs. He rubbed her until she couldn't return his kisses anymore, only pant against his mouth. Her eyes shut and she gripped his shoulder hard as she came with a shudder.

He was aching, throbbing now, but he tried to wait patiently while she undressed him. She'd gotten his jacket and tie off, had his shirt unbuttoned and his trousers undone, when he couldn't take it anymore. She started to get up to allow him to stand up and push them off, but he pulled her back and quickly got his cock out between them. "Just forget it."

Molly nodded, giving him another quick kiss as she straddled him again.

Martin let out a slow gust of air. He realized he was trembling. "I guess...this is the part where I'm supposed to say something clever...maybe a pun about throttles or take off or landing or something..."

Molly smiled and shook her head. He loved how her hair danced around her shoulders.

"It's ok, just fuck me," she said, in the practical, let's-get-down-to-business way that Molly handled everything. She reached between them and then slid down over him quickly.

They both went still for a moment. She was hot and so wet from her first orgasm.

"Martin," she gasped, and he was glad she'd used his given name just then.

"I have missed you, Molly," he managed to get out. He'd been out of town for nearly a fortnight.

"Me too," she whispered, starting to move.

It started out slow and sensual, but soon...

"Oooh...God...Captain...God...Captain!" Molly keened. Little tendrils of hair were clinging to her neck with sweat and he'd probably have a bruises on his shoulders in the morning in the shape of her hands. He'd never, ever enjoyed being called "Captain" so much. And that was saying something.

"Yes...faster...ahhh!" he cried. Her eyes were shut, but he wasn't able to tear his own away from the breasts bouncing a few inches from his face.

"Yes, Captain...God..." she whined in response, obediently riding him even harder.

He was getting close. "Molly...Molly...uh...permission to land?"

"Yes...God...yes!" she reached down and stroked her clit just once and he could feel her pulsing around him. She didn't keep up the rhythm as she came, but it didn't matter because he was already coming with her.

"Thank you, Captain Crieff," Molly murmured with a smirk when she was fully dressed, or as dressed as she had been when she first came aboard, a few minutes later. "I think I'll be a frequent flier now."

Martin was nervous of being seen, so they'd decided that she would leave first without him.

"Uhm...well...thank you. I mean, you're welcome. I mean, anything for a passenger. I mean, not just any passenger, obviously. I mean-"

"Sh." Molly cut him off with a finger on his lips. She gingerly placed his hat back on his head and slipped out the flight deck door.

Martin wondered if it was really so warm in Fitton in November, or if it was just the memory of his last experience in Gertie that had him feeling flushed as he boarded the plane. Good lord, how would he make it through a 12 hour flight next to Douglas sitting in the seat where he and Molly...? Douglas was sure to know what he'd done.

Martin was nervous, jumpy as they went through the pre-flight checks, but Douglas made only one, barely-interested comment.

"Martin, just because coffee is the traditional morning beverage for the average pilot, doesn't make it the right choice for you."

"Right. Sorry, Douglas. Guess I should have stopped at just three cups this morning," Martin lied.

But slowly, after hours in the air and no signs of any suspicion from his first officer, Martin began to calm down.

Douglas was beating him badly at a game of "People with Nice Sounding Names That Are Actually Evil" when Arthur came in with the cheese tray.

"Aw, come on, Douglas. Adolf Hitler. A doll..ff. Hitlah. He's a doll. What's threatening about that? Arthur, say 'Adolf Hitler.'"

"Adolf Hitler," Arthur rejoined happily.

"See!" Martin said, pointing at Arthur.

"You can't use Arthur. He could make anything sound harmless. Arthur, say Saddam Hussein."

"Saddam Hussein," Arthur repeated, but in his voice it sounded like a fun children's game.

"You see? And we both agreed that his name was definitely evil sounding," Douglas went on.

"Did your girlfriend enjoy her tour of the plane, Skip?" Arthur cut in.

The flight deck went deathly silent and Martin could feel Douglas' eyes boring holes through his head.

He forced a chuckle. "What are you talking about, Arthur?"

"Your girlfriend. Molly. She stopped round for a tour of the plane on Thursday after we landed. I ran into her as I was searching for...well...I thought I'd dropped a set of rather important keys."

"What keys?" Martin asked, stalling.

"Mum's car keys," Arthur answered. "So did she enjoy it, her tour?"

Martin cleared his throat. "Oh...yes. She did. Thanks for asking. Oh is that Brie? I thought you said we'd run out of that kind last week."

"That's good, Skip, because I was rather worried she didn't, considering that nasty business with Captain God."

"Captain God?" Douglas was practically salivating. He could smell blood; he just hadn't found the body.

"Yes. I came back on board to look for the keys, 'cus Mum thought maybe I left them in the microwave. I said 'Why would I leave them in the microwave?' and she said 'A question for the ages.' Anyway, I came back on to look for them, and I heard Molly shouting at Captain God. Who's Captain God, Skip?"

"Well, thank you, Arthur. I think you'd better get back to the passengers. Is that a call button I just heard go off? I'm sure it was. You'd better go," Martin said hurriedly.

"But Skip-"

"Arthur, maybe you'd better tell us exactly what you heard," Douglas suggested.

"No, really-" Martin began.

"Well I came on board and I heard Molly shouting, 'Oh God...Captain...God...Captain...God.' from the cockpit. You two must have really been having a row with this Captain God fellow."

"Martin!" Douglas gasped, feigning shock and awe. "And what did you hear next, Arthur?"

Martin silently prayed for double engine failure.

"Well, nothing. Because then I found Mum's keys and ran back to the office to give them to her."

"Let's get the small pleasures out of the way first," Douglas said. "Where were the keys, Arthur?"

"In my pocket."

"Bingo. Now for the really big fun. Who is Captain God, Martin?"

Martin blushed and sputtered. "Well...I...he's...a guy...a Captain...who...a Captain..."

"I do believe I've heard of him. Terribly irritable man who flies for Air Intercourse. I can see why Molly found him difficult to get along with. Thank you for the goodies, Arthur," Douglas finished dismissively.

As Arthur left, the flight deck descended into awkward silence.

"Thank you, Douglas," Martin finally said.

"You're welcome, Captain." Douglas couldn't hide his smirk.

"And you...won't tell Carolyn?"

"No, Martin."

"Or...bring it up again?"

"I wouldn't go that far, Captain. But everything has it's price."

"Oh come on, Douglas! I thought surely you would understand. You've probably done...that dozens of times."

"Going for flattery, are we? Actually, no. I haven't."

Martin didn't have to fake his surprise. "What?! You haven't?"

"Nope."

"All the stewardesses you claim to have shagged and you've never had sex in an aeroplane?"

"I didn't say that, Captain."

"What?" Martin pressed.

"Never below 7 kilometers."

Martin groaned.

Bing-Bong.

"Good Evening, Ladies and Gentlemen. This is first officer Douglas Richardson speaking. On behalf of all the crew, but particularly the Captain, Martin Crieff, I'd like to welcome you on board this MJN air flight down under. We hope to provide you with an experience so satisfying that you'll have no desire to copulate with any other airline in the future. The intercourse between flight crew and passenger is an intimate, sacred act and we do believe you'll find these particular relations impossible to reproduce elsewhere. The local temperature in Melbourne is a sultry 32 degrees Celsius, and we've just reached the climax of our journey, cruising at about 10 kilometers over India. Thank you for flying MJN air, and may I wish you all a very happy ending to your travels with us."

I hope you liked it. Comments are always appreciated and adored. And cuddled. And tucked into bed with a glass of warm milk.