different cause—the tenseness of a student on his first flight—it put them on somewhat the same level.
"Here are the brakes," JoNell explained, managing a businesslike voice. She pushed the balls of her feet on the tops of the rudder pedals. "Do everything I do. At first I'll actually fly the plane on my controls. You'll follow through on your controls. That way you'll get the feel of flying. Almost anyone can learn the mechanical motions of flying, but it takes a real feel for flying to make you a good pilot."
Del Toro took a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, dabbed his brow and wiped the palms of his hands.
The poor guy is really petrified, she thought. Most students were nervous at first, but he was in a dreadful state. "I'm not going to do any acrobatics today," she reassured him.
He gave her a weak smile.
He'll be okay once we get in the air, she thought.
JoNell brushed back wisps of her bangs that had tumbled to her eyebrows. She hoped she looked professional enough for Del Toro to keep his mind on flying. It had been a struggle, deciding how to dress for this first flight. She feared her usual garb made her look too girlish. On the other hand, she didn't want to encourage Del Toro's predatory inclinations by appearing too desirably feminine. So, she had worn her customary jump suit to remind him that this was not a social outing. But she had compromised on the matter of her braids. Pinning her long hair atop her head and brushing on a few dabs of mascara certainly made her look older. She was aiming for a combination of clothes, hair style and makeup so she would appear older, sure of herself, but not seductive. While she had never fancied herself a beauty, she knew that her golden hair made her stand out here in Peru where blondes were highly sought after. If nothing else, her hair would make men notice her.
"I'll operate the throttle," she explained. "You concentrate on getting a feel for the stick and the rudders. Notice how light the plane feels just before it's ready to take off. You won't have to decide when you're ready to become airborn. The plane will signal you that it's ready. If you just go with the plane, relax, give yourself over to its movements, you'll get the feel of it sooner."
JoNell kept her gaze straight ahead, talking impersonally as if she were vocalizing instructions on a tape recorder.
She called the tower, taxied, took her aim down the runway, and off they went.
In spite of the tight rein JoNell had on her emotions, she couldn't help experiencing that fantastic, giddy feeling she loved when the plane actually deserted the runway. She loved practicing "touch-and-go's" just for the thrill of takeoff. That would be one bright spot in this series of lessons she would be giving Del Toro that she could look forward to.
"First, you need to learn to hold the plane in level flight," JoNell said. "Put your feet on the rudders, hand on the stick. I'll still operate the throttle."
JoNell showed him all the proper motions, then relaxed her grip. She was impressed by his keen perceptions, though not altogether surprised. Men like Del Toro, successful, incisive, supremely confident, usually grasped instruction quickly. The plane flew smoothly, even though she had, for the most part, turned the controls over to him.
"Hey, that's quite good," she remarked with genuine admiration. "Most people don't realize that flying a plane level is actually one of the hardest maneuvers. You're doing very well."
"Thank you, seňorita," Del Toro replied, looking directly at her for a moment, a smile curling the tips of his black mustache.
The impact of his gaze brought a momentary quiver to the pit of her stomach, but she quickly recovered. In an impersonal manner, she asked, "Are you learning to fly for business purposes, seňor Del Toro?"
"No," he replied. "For personal reasons—for pleasure—"
He appeared to have somewhat recovered from his obvious fright before takeoff, although he still
"Here are the brakes," JoNell explained, managing a businesslike voice. She pushed the balls of her feet on the tops of the rudder pedals. "Do everything I do. At first I'll actually fly the plane on my controls. You'll follow through on your controls. That way you'll get the feel of flying. Almost anyone can learn the mechanical motions of flying, but it takes a real feel for flying to make you a good pilot."
Del Toro took a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, dabbed his brow and wiped the palms of his hands.
The poor guy is really petrified, she thought. Most students were nervous at first, but he was in a dreadful state. "I'm not going to do any acrobatics today," she reassured him.
He gave her a weak smile.
He'll be okay once we get in the air, she thought.
JoNell brushed back wisps of her bangs that had tumbled to her eyebrows. She hoped she looked professional enough for Del Toro to keep his mind on flying. It had been a struggle, deciding how to dress for this first flight. She feared her usual garb made her look too girlish. On the other hand, she didn't want to encourage Del Toro's predatory inclinations by appearing too desirably feminine. So, she had worn her customary jump suit to remind him that this was not a social outing. But she had compromised on the matter of her braids. Pinning her long hair atop her head and brushing on a few dabs of mascara certainly made her look older. She was aiming for a combination of clothes, hair style and makeup so she would appear older, sure of herself, but not seductive. While she had never fancied herself a beauty, she knew that her golden hair made her stand out here in Peru where blondes were highly sought after. If nothing else, her hair would make men notice her.
"I'll operate the throttle," she explained. "You concentrate on getting a feel for the stick and the rudders. Notice how light the plane feels just before it's ready to take off. You won't have to decide when you're ready to become airborn. The plane will signal you that it's ready. If you just go with the plane, relax, give yourself over to its movements, you'll get the feel of it sooner."
JoNell kept her gaze straight ahead, talking impersonally as if she were vocalizing instructions on a tape recorder.
She called the tower, taxied, took her aim down the runway, and off they went.
In spite of the tight rein JoNell had on her emotions, she couldn't help experiencing that fantastic, giddy feeling she loved when the plane actually deserted the runway. She loved practicing "touch-and-go's" just for the thrill of takeoff. That would be one bright spot in this series of lessons she would be giving Del Toro that she could look forward to.
"First, you need to learn to hold the plane in level flight," JoNell said. "Put your feet on the rudders, hand on the stick. I'll still operate the throttle."
JoNell showed him all the proper motions, then relaxed her grip. She was impressed by his keen perceptions, though not altogether surprised. Men like Del Toro, successful, incisive, supremely confident, usually grasped instruction quickly. The plane flew smoothly, even though she had, for the most part, turned the controls over to him.
"Hey, that's quite good," she remarked with genuine admiration. "Most people don't realize that flying a plane level is actually one of the hardest maneuvers. You're doing very well."
"Thank you, seňorita," Del Toro replied, looking directly at her for a moment, a smile curling the tips of his black mustache.
The impact of his gaze brought a momentary quiver to the pit of her stomach, but she quickly recovered. In an impersonal manner, she asked, "Are you learning to fly for business purposes, seňor Del Toro?"
"No," he replied. "For personal reasons—for pleasure—"
He appeared to have somewhat recovered from his obvious fright before takeoff, although he still
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