Roger had made a sales pitch to the editors of Scientific Galaxy. The meeting had not gone well. His portfolio and storyboard was picture perfect. The problem was that bitch of a witch running the meeting never let it come to a vote of the board. The members never received the chance to decide if they liked his ideas or not. Virgina Loseso was the chairman of Scientific Galaxy and she was a piece of work. Most of the men called her Virgin Lost Ass, but not to her face. She was not the kind of woman one would criticize and expect to work for, or in Roger’s case, sell a story line to. The scuttlebutt was Virgina had blackmailed her way to the top of the company.

Roger was sure she had climbed to the top over the bodies of those who opposed her. She was cold, conniving, ruthless to the extreme, and cruel. He was also positive the corrupt spelling of her name from Virginia to Virgina was intentional on her mother’s part. Mom must have sensed her baby daughter was going to be a bitch when she was born.

Virgina kept up a constant attack on Roger’s draft and story line. Everyone knew it was the first draft of a fictional story to Scientific Galaxy. A first draft always has a few rough spots. They are smoothed over with hard work and careful editing once the draft is accepted to be printed. Virgina cut Roger’s draft apart with criticism as she picked at the loose ends as one would pick at a loose thread on a garment until the whole garment is ruined.

As he rode in the taxi out to the airport, Roger had a vision of Virgina Lost Ass being the lead character in his story. That would take some of the starch out of her sheets. Or in her case, probably her shorts. Roger was positive she starched her shorts and stuck a corncob up her butt before she came to any of these meetings so she could get in the proper frame of mind before the meeting began.

Before he boarded his flight home, Roger thought briefly about dropping his many months of hard work into the Dumpster. There was a problem with that idea. Airport security had tightened up so much; trash bins were in very short supply. They were guarded with armed guards who wanted to check what was being thrown away by those coming and going. Roger didn’t feel like showing his artwork to some redneck guard who might get the wrong idea and haul Roger off for questioning.

Roger’s flight out of New York was on Atlantic Air. He had no intention on flying first class but it was an odd set of circumstances that put him there. The coach section of Atlantic 241 had been over booked.

The Atlantic Hostess he was looking at would normally have been more than eye pleasing. She was young, above average beauty, and her pink uniform was designed to show off all her assets while not revealing too much. Roger did not appreciate her beauty, as he sighed in disgust and looked at the nametag on the receptionist's left shoulder. "Miss…, Janet, I do not mean to be rude but I need to get home. If you can’t get me on this flight please call Southwest or American, or one of the other airlines and see if they have a seat going to Albuquerque, New Mexico."

"Mr. Tanner, I am terribly sorry but your flight was overbooked due to a computer malfunction. It seems the communications between Washington and New York were messed up for a few minutes. When the lines were down the computers could not tell each other how many passengers were purchasing tickets." Janet looked up from her computer to the ticket he was holding in his hand. "I’m terribly sorry sir but all the other airlines are full."

"I’m sorry too. Okay, I expect Atlantic to pay for my hotel, my meals, and my transportation to and from the airport this evening." Roger had a death grip on the ticket in his right hand while he tried to maintain his composure. Normally this wouldn’t have bothered him but the meeting with Virgina Loseso had used up all his goodwill toward mankind. Keeping his cool was getting harder by the minute.

"Excuse me buddy." A man pushed by Roger and dropped a ticket on the counter. "Change of plans. I have to stay over and talk to the engineers and lawyers on our bid for that desalinization plant. They loved our bid but want to know if we can do it for the quoted price without additional cost over runs."

A tall man in a tailored suit, he looked over at Roger after he laid the ticket down on the counter. "I didn’t mean to be pushy but this is a quarter billion dollar job and I must stay here tonight to get it sewn up."

Roger sighed as he sadly shook his head. "I can’t even sell a six thousand dollar idea."

"Six thousand?" The man handed the ticket to Roger. "Here, I don’t know where you’re going but this will get you to Albuquerque."

Roger looked at the ticket. A first class ticket on Atlantic. "But?" He looked up and the man had disappeared in the crowd.

Janet put the ticket number into the computer. "That seat is open, Mr. Tanner. If you like I will reimburse you for the first class ticket you are holding, switch you to that vacancy on your coach ticket with no charge. Would that be okay with you?"

"You mean you are going to put me in first class and give me that man’s refund?" Roger didn’t believe his luck after the rotten treatment he had received from Scientific Galaxy.

"Yes Sir, that is correct." Janet waited for an okay from her previously unhappy customer.

"Uh, okay." Roger was in shock as Janet handed him a voucher for four hundred and thirty one dollars, cashable at any bank.

"Have a pleasant flight, Mr. Tanner." She left her desk and was walking down the aisle.

Chapter 2.

Roger made the Atlantic terminal for flight two forty one. The lady at the boarding ramp held out her hand. "Your ticket and name sir?"

Roger handed her the ticket that had been given to him by the stranger. "Roger Tanner."

She ran a finger down her monitor screen. "Just a minute Mr. Tanner. I’m sorry sir but coach is full."

"Yes ma’am. Janet at the ticket office said first class had one vacancy." Roger wondered if his good fortune was about to turn to sour grapes again before he ever stepped on the plane?

Karen looked at the ticket number and then rechecked. "Oh, I am so terribly sorry, Mr. Tanner. You are absolutely right. You have been bumped up to first class."

She held his ticket back out to him. "Please have a pleasant flight, Mr. Tanner."

Roger walked into the boarding tunnel without answering. He heard a door shut behind him and Karen was following him though the tunnel. Obviously he was the last passenger. He was looking at his feet as he stepped from the tunnel ramp onto the plane.

"Welcome to Atlantic Airlines, May I see your ticket and have your name, please?"

The voice was ultra soft, feminine with a lilt or musical quality to it. Roger’s head snapped up as he looked to see who was the owner of that beautiful voice. He choked as he was looking at something he had only imagined in his dreams. She was a dark eyed beauty with almond skin, long black hair, a body that had more serious curves than the Indy 500. The little pink uniform over her white blouse was a mind blower. The other Atlantic stewardess’ were above average pretty. This one was a mind killer.

When she asked him a second time for his ticket, he realized he had been staring. "Uh, yeah, I’m sorry, here." Roger handed her his ticket.

"And your name sir?" She was smiling at him as if she was sharing a private joke between the two of them.

"Which one? I mean…, Tanner. Er…, Roger…, Tanner. I guess. I mean…," Roger couldn’t take his eyes off this vision of lovely in front of him. He didn’t know God made creatures like her. Up until now, he thought women who looked like her were the pictures drawn from men’s creative imagination.

She ran a finger down her list. "I show you back in coach. We are already full there."

Bridget looked up at Karen standing behind Mr. Tanner. "I see you locked up the ramp. Mr. Brevers isn’t boarding?"

Karen shook her head and stepped up beside Bridget as Roger moved over out of her way. "Mr. Tanner has replaced Mr. Brevers in first class."

Roger’s heart melted when Bridget gave him a warm smile. "I’m sorry to have kept you standing there, Mr. Tanner. Your seat is number ten." She pointed to the empty seat by the window, second row back.

"Thank you." Roger worked his way back to his seat as Bridget closed up the door.

The man in the seat next to Roger was a tall, young, slight built man. The young man nodded a greeting as Roger settled in.

Chapter 3.

Atlantic was soon in the air headed toward stops in St. Louis, Tulsa, and Albuquerque before it reached its destination at LA. Roger had turned down any offers for any drinks. He only drank a little wine on special occasions and this certainly wasn’t an occasion to be celebrating.

The young man noticed Roger was almost drooling every time Bridget walked by or stopped to ask if they would like a movie, refreshments, a pillow, or anything in particular. Bridget walked by going up to the cockpit, her hips swaying gracefully with each step on her two-inch heels.

Roger had to capture her. He pulled his briefcase out from under his seat and took out paper and charcoal. Quickly he made several primary sketches of her as he watched her fix refreshments for the pilots or walk toward the rear of the plane to take care of a passenger. It didn’t take long for Roger to decide which basic sketch he liked the best. He flipped the page on his sketchpad and pulled a couple pencils out of his inside jacket pocket. He began drawing in detail as the woman in his mind’s eye came alive on his sketchpad.

The young man beside Roger watched as Roger transferred Bridget to his sketchpad. Roger was quick with the sketches. The exact portrait of Bridget took a lot longer. It was like watching a Polaroid slowly develop in a black and white image. They were still minutes out of Albuquerque and Roger was adding minute detail to his drawing of Bridget.

"She’s a very beautiful lady."

"Who? Oh…, yes she is. I’ve never seen one who has it all together like she has. It was as if she was…," Roger was searching for the right word.

"Perfect?" The young man finished.

"Yeah, I mean she’s so…, perfect. I bet she has a couple thousand boy friends scattered from here to Timbuktu." Roger glanced over at the young man to make sure he was in agreement.

"Actually, she has only one boy friend." The young man turned his head to look at Roger.

"One? Only one? The guy must look like John Wayne, Errol Flynn, and all the other leading men."

Thinking about it, Roger gave the young man his full attention. Roger was thinking he may have been suckered in. How could the guy know anything about the beautiful hostess? True, when she stopped at their seats the guy seemed to be on more than casual terms but …, "You aren’t going to tell me you are her boyfriend?"

"Me? Not in a million years. The pilot is her boyfriend. His name is Sam. They usually fly together." He held out his hand. "By the way, my name is Mike."

Roger reached over and took the offered hand in a handshake. "I would hope you’re Mike, since that is the name Bridget has been calling you for the past few hours. I’m Roger. How do you know so much about her?"

"I was around when she was starting out." Mike laughed as if the joke was a private one.

"I see." Roger dropped the hand as he turned back in his seat. The world was full of Mikes. Young studs claiming to know every good looking woman. They usually claimed to have taken all of them to bed. Roger figured that would be the next story out of Mike’s mouth. Bridget had called Mike by name the few times she had stopped by their seats. But then she called Roger by his name too. Obviously the woman was not only ‘wow’ in the figure department, she also was ‘wow’ in the brains department and remembered everyone’s name on the plane.

Mike pushed his call button. Bridget came back out of the cockpit and walked up to Mike’s seat. "What do you need, Mike?"

Mike winked at Bridget as a smile spread across his face. "My friend here was wanting to ask you for a date."

Roger’s heart jumped up in his throat. He knew it wasn’t possible. But, even thinking he could date this beautiful creature was enough to jump start his engine.

"Mr. Mike James Shepard, what are you trying to pull? You mess with me and I’ll tell Morgan on you. After she gets through with you, then I might ask Sam to defend my honor." Bridget gave Mike a frown as she put her fists on her hips. Slowly a smile gave her true feelings away.

She looked over at Roger. "Mr. Tanner, I’m engaged to our pilot. You might take a good look at Mike because after this flight he is going to be dead meat."

Roger was convinced the stewardess and Mike knew each other before he left the plane. It didn’t mean much though. She was one more beautiful woman he would never see again in this lifetime, he was sure. Except for his drawing of the black haired beauty she would be a memory, thought of often.

Chapter 4.

It had been cold in New York when Roger had left the offices of Scientific Galaxy. He was glad to get back home where most people would say it was hot. He lived in south New Mexico near Las Quados right on the Mexican border. Back in his small adobe home, Roger walked into the second bedroom he used as a studio and tossed the portfolio for his story line over in the corner.

It took thirty seven days of walking or riding the desert around his home before Roger was ready to give his story line some polish before asking a publisher to look at it again. Roger needed inspiration. He saddled up Pal, his black stallion and rode him into town. It would have been quicker and easier to drive the jeep the ten miles to town but Roger loved riding. It gave him time to think and contemplate as he looked at the scenery. Most people would have asked "what scenery?" in a desert. Pal liked the trips to town. He would receive a treat from Diane. Roger stopped at the laundromat and put a notice on the bulletin.

MODEL WANTED

NO EXPERIENCE

FEMALE PREFERRED

NO SEX OPEN MIND

ROGER TANNER

There was no need of a phone number or an address. Everyone knew everyone in Las Quados. Roger was hoping Cynthia Lusus would answer the ad. Several times she had asked him for work. A beautiful black haired girl, she was seriously endowed for a young woman. Roger had called her family’s home before placing the ad but as his luck would have it, Cynthia had gone to visit relatives in Dallas.

Pal was a block down the street with his head stuck inside the General Store when Roger walked back out of the laundry mat. Roger knew Diana had probably gave Pal his favorite treat, an icecream bar. She had ruined his horse. Pal thought every time he came to town he should get a treat. And he was right. Diana always gave Pal something.

Shaking his head, Roger walked off down the street to retrieve his horse for the ride home.

Chapter 5.

Roger was still sleeping when there was a light knock on his door. He opened his eyes and stared at the clock. It was five after five and the sun was starting to peek over the horizon. Roger rolled over in bed, closed his eyes and heard another light knock. He tried to ignore them. Probably a bunch of wetbacks wanting food or a place to spend the night away from the border patrol.

There was another light knock.

Roger sat up in bed and stared out the window. "Go out to the barn and sleep with the horse."

They knocked again.

"Shit!" Roger got up and pulled on a shirt as he headed for the front door. He flung it open. "Didn’t…,"

There was a tall statuesque black haired beauty standing there in front of him. Roger choked as his mind worked feverishly to get up and running. "Uh, you…, that is…, could….,"

She smiled and laughed as she held up something in her left hand. She was holding his ad she had removed from the bulletin board. "You are looking for a model, no?"

Roger blinked as he stared. This woman was most definitely a model. She would put any model he had ever seen to shame. "Uh…, yes…, but… There has been a misunderstanding. I was looking for someone who wanted to model. I can’t afford a professional model."

She held up her right hand and placed it in the middle of Roger’s chest. She pushed him back out of the doorway as she stepped inside his house. She was staring into his eyes. "No mistake. I am not a professional model. We will work together. I need a job, you need a model."

Mike stared. He was sure when he woke up; this vision of lovely would be gone as a dream.

The woman walked across the room her hips rolling with each step beneath her skintight jeans. Her boot heels clicking lightly on the tile floor with each step. She was either wearing heels or boots with a stiletto heel but it was impossible to tell as her pants leg flared at the bottom and was almost touching the floor. She had small, boyish hips and was squeezed in her jeans tighter than toothpaste. The blue silk blouse could have been painted on it was so tight.

Roger squeezed his eyes tightly closed, knowing she would be gone when he opened them again. Nope, she had stepped into his kitchen. He dumbly followed her into the kitchen where she had one of his sketchpads open on the table. He had left it there after working into the wee hours of the morning last night.

"Interesting." She turned the pages, stopping to look at some a little longer than others.

Roger still hadn’t comprehended what she was looking at, as he was too busy looking at her. She was wearing a long sleeve silk blouse that was sheer. Her black brassiere was so plainly visible; she might as well have not been wearing a blouse. She was one tall girl; slender built to the extreme.

"Uh, I really can’t afford to pay you a whole lot. I was thinking of hiring someone for forty dollars a session." Roger knew that would end this dream as she turned and walked back out of his life the same way she came in.

"How many hours?" She never looked up as she turned the pages on his sketchpad.

"I…, It depends. Half a day or more. Usually more. I get an idea and need someone to help make the idea work so I need someone to pose. If it comes together for me then possibly an hour more or less is all it takes. If I have to work to make the idea feasible then it could take all day." Surely she wouldn’t accept his offer.

She opened up the sketchpad. It was the drawing Roger had worked on last night. She studied it before turning it toward Roger. "These the kind of poses you are looking for?"

Roger’s face tuned beet red as he glanced down at the drawing she had referred to. He knew she would be gone like one of the dust devils that whirled across the afternoon desert. "It’s one of my ideas."

He pointed to the bulletin board ad she had laid down on the kitchen table. "Would you please put it back when you go back to town?"

"I’m not going back to town. Where do you work at?" She had turned her full attention toward Roger.

Roger’s face was a reflection of his feelings. He was stunned. "You mean you still want to model for me?"

She put a long slender finger with a long sharp fingernail on the ad. "You said no sex. That also goes for no pain. I’m not into that sort of thing. You don’t hurt me."

"Uh…, of course! I’m not into that myself." Roger couldn’t believe she was agreeing to model for him after all this.

"Good, when do we start?" She was carefully watching his eyes.

"Uh, ah…, I wasn’t…, I mean…, a while to get ready…"

A smile spread across her beautiful face. "I see. You work better in the morning or afternoon?"

"Both. I mean some mornings I get up and nothing clicks and other days I can’t quit until I’m so tired I don’t make it to bed." Roger had stepped up to the table to get a closer look at the black haired beauty. She had almond shaped black eyes, hinting at Asian ancestry. Her skin was so smooth and perfect he was sure she was hidden under heavy makeup. On close inspection she was wearing very little makeup. All her beauty was her and didn’t come out of a tube or a can.

The woman pointed at the centerfold picture Roger had sketched. "She’s very pretty."

Embarrassed, Roger looked at his feet, out the kitchen window, and glanced back into the living room before he answered. "I saw her on a plane. I didn’t intend to use her that way. I mean…, I never asked for permission. No one was supposed to see that. It was for my pleasure. I didn’t intend for it to be seen."

"But of course. Which means after you are finished with me I won’t be decorating the side of a bus or looking out from sleaze magazine. You will change the pictures enough where I won’t be ashamed to walk down the street?" Her black eyes were staring at him waiting for an answer.

"No, I mean yes…, I mean. I change my pictures from the actual subjects or people I work with." He was having a hard time getting his mouth and his mind on the same subject. The woman may have been slender built but her beauty was breathtaking.

She flipped back over to the back page of the sketchpad and pointed to one of the pictures. "You have these?"

Roger glanced at the pictures he had sketched. He swallowed. "I don’t have a lot of it. Some of it’s in the barn with Pal. Most of it was only an idea."

"You think what you have would fit me?" Her eyes were fixed on Roger when she asked the question.

Roger’s heart jumped up in his throat. He never expected to find someone who would model his fantasy, much less one who would be so direct. "i…, i…., i…, er, ah, I don’t know."

She nodded. "Do you use a use a camera for your work?"

"Uh, at times. I mean, only if I can’t get what I want or I’m rushed and losing the light or the subject is moving and I can’t draw it the way I want in time." Roger was perspiring in the cool desert morning air.

"Do you want to do some preliminary work this morning to see what you need or how you would like to proceed?" She picked up the sketchpad and was holding it in her right hand.

"I guess. I mean sure. Okay. Let me get some pants on and I’ll meet you in the barn." Roger waited for an answer.

She nodded as she walked past him with his sketchpad in her hand. Her heels clicking on the tile floor.

When she passed him, he smelled wildflowers and the unmistakable scent of a woman. A very beautiful woman with long black hair that hung down past her hips. Roger ran to the bedroom to find his pants and shoes.